#so your sitting isolated at a table in the corner while everyone else around you plays

[lumiilys]

Baby Stede who is a picky eater being made to sit and finish his plate of food in the school cafeteria while everyone else gets to go and play outside :( and he can’t stop crying cause he feels humiliated but the idea of actually eating the food is even worse

[kayhi808]

They Met in Delacroix

Masterlist

You had followed a man down to New Orleans, thinking he'd be the love of your life and you'd have a future together, only to have him break up with you. You didn't have family to turn to, so now you're by yourself trying to make someplace feel like home.

You met Sarah through the restaurant you worked at. Sarah owned a commercial fishing boat, so she'd sell fresh seafood to the restaurant. You didn't have many friends. Your ex was very possessive & controlling. He kept you isolated, so when he dumped you, you were really set adrift with nothing & no one.

Stopping off at the table you were folding napkins at, "Are you working this Saturday?"

Shaking your head, "No, I'm on Sunday this week."

"Good, my big brother will be in town for a couple weeks and I'm having a cookout. Come by the house."

"Oh, I don't kn..."

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. What else do you have planned?" Standing there with her hands on her hips but with the sweetest & most understanding smile. "Come early & spend the day. The boys miss you." She squeezes your arm on the way out.

And that is how you find yourself in Delacroix, driving down the road to a house by the river. The wind blowing through your hair from the open window of your truck that has seen better days. You really need to get your air condition fixed, but that's another expense you can't afford right now. As you pull up to the house, your nerves get the better of you. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. You didn't quite know what to wear. You picked a long boho dress. You felt cute in it. You grab your dessert and slam the door to the truck.

"Y/N!!" Sarah's youngest, AJ, runs towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Quickly followed by Cass, the oldest. You wrap your free arm around the both of them the best you can, dropping kisses on them. Her boys were the sweetest. "What did you bring us?"

"AJ, where are your manners?" Sarah materializes, taking the box from your hands, giving it to AJ to put it the house. "I told you to just bring yourself," wrapping you in a big hug.

"I made cheesecake. It's needs the fridge." Sarah tells AJ to put it in the fridge & he nods while running back to the house. Returning her hug, "Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Of course! Come, let me introduce you to my brother." You turn the corner of the house, "Sam, this is Y/N. My brother Sam & his friend, Bucky over there." You give a small wave.

"So you're the one I've heard so much about lately," before engulfing you in a warm hug that makes you blush. This was such an affectionate family. "I think my nephews are fighting over who gets to marry you."

"Uncle Sam! Stop! Don't...God!" Cass & AJ scream immediately. Cass tries to bean him with a football which Sam easily catches, but that didn't stop Bucky from going to your side with his hand out protecting in case the ball came your way. He looks down at you with eyes as blue as the Louisiana sky, "I'm Bucky."

"Hi, Y/N." The tall handsome brunette leaves you breathless. "I...I'm going to see if Sarah needs my help." You walk towards Sarah who's trying to stop a fight between the boys & their Uncle. You look over your shoulder at Bucky & he gives you a smile when he catches you.

******

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of activity. By the looks of it, the entire town of Delacroix will be there. All 116 townspeople. I mean, Captain America & the Winter Soldier are HERE. Who wouldn't want to meet them?

When people started to arrive it got overwhelming. Not in a bad way. Everyone was having a great time. People were so warm & welcoming towards you. It was a lot though. The loud music, laughter, kids yelling & chasing each other around. It was a great party. It just left you out of sorts.

Thinking to escape for a bit, you went to your truck only to find it blocked in by a couple dozen other vehicles. You end up dropping the tailgate to sit on. You needed a little bit of solitude to recharge your social battery. You lay back in the truck bed, legs swinging over the side, listening to the music from a distance.

"Are you alright?" You hear his soft baritone & you prop yourself up on your elbows. It's Bucky.

"I'm fine. Just needed a lil break."

"Mind if I join you? It gets to be...A LOT, " nodding back at the house. You shake your head and shrug as he hops up onto the tailgate & lays back on the other side of the truck, closing his eyes. You go back to doing the same. "This is nice." There's a peaceful silence. You were in the in-between of falling asleep and being awake. "When should we be heading back?"

You turn to him, "When we feel recharged or when we smell food."

He opens his eyes and smiles at you, "Food?"

"I'm hungry. They've got such good food there. I'm still not used to the amazing food down here."

"You're not Louisiana, born & raised?"

"No sir, I'm from all the way out West, California."

"How'd you end up here?"

You turn away & close your eyes, "Bad life choices."

"We've all made a few of those."

You look at him, "I'm sorry."

He gives you a sad smile, 'I'm sorry, too."

"I think I smell ribs." Bucky chuckles. "I'm positive I smell ribs." You sit up & hop off the truck. "Ready to head back?" You hold out your hand to help pull him up. He groans but hops off the truck & closes the tailgate for you. You run around to the front to grab a sweater from the front seat.

You head back to the party when you hear, "And where have you two been??" You gasp as Sam walks over frowning, looking all parental.

"Shut up, man."

"I...Bucky just walked me back to the truck so I could get my sweater." Holding up your cardigan.

"You don't need to explain yourself to him." Sam starts laughing as you hurry yourself away. "Why do you have to be such a jackass?"

"AJ & Cass are going to beat you up! You got some stiff competition for her."

"All I did was walk her to her truck."

"MmmHmmm"

******

After dinner, the guys moved the tables to make way for dancing. You had a blanket spread out on the side where you sat and watched everyone. Even the little kids paired up and we're dancing. They were so entertaining. You haven't laughed this hard in a long time.

A slower song started up and you see Bucky headed your way. Butterflies started circling your belly. He has such a sweet smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N?" Cass comes running up to you, cutting Bucky off. "Would you dance with me?" Your eyes quickly dart to Bucky and you see his glare which makes you giggle. "Cass, I'd love to dance with you." You take his hand and he practically jerks you off the blanket which makes you laugh harder. With your hand in his Cass runs you out onto the dance floor. You hurry past Bucky and you swear you heard him growl.

Since you danced with Cass you had to dance with AJ next, but he got distracted and left you on the dancefloor to run off with his friends. "The nerve of some people." You spin around at the sound of Bucky's voice. You look up at his smiling face. He steps up to you, taking your hand in his, his other hand, lightly at the small of your back. "Finally, my dance." And every dance after that was his.

[luna-lunera-morada]

Breathe

a/n: Hey everyone! This is my first fic so my writing definitely needs some work but I hope you enjoy it :) Also if there's anything I should add to my warnings pls let me know.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Finals are right around the corner making you hyper focused on your studies and nothing else, not even your health. A certain super soldier steps in to take care of you.

Warnings: stressed reader, angst, fluff, lack of food and sleep ~ (I think that's it)

Word count: 1.3k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Memorize.

Read.

Memorize.

Write.

Read.

Memorize.

It was a vicious cycle that you dared not to get out of. The computer screen at your desk has been on for days and feels hot to the touch from overuse. You could surely say that about yourself too.

Finals are coming up, quick, and not a minute can be wasted. Getting good grades have always been extremely important to you. Striving for the best and getting straight A’s every semester, you weren't going to change that pattern now.

Blinking hurts. You can already feel the damage your eyes are taking from endless hours of staring at a screen. If you looked in a mirror you’d probably mistake yourself for a raccoon with the dark shade of your eyebags. When was the last time you slept? What time is it? Having what you like to call study isolation makes the days blur together into one big blob. You look down to your phone.

4:55am.

Throwing your head back in your chair, you groan. “Oh god.”

But you always tell yourself, “Just study a bit more. Then you can take a break.”

That dream break never comes though. Like a tunnel that keeps growing, pushing the light farther and farther away. You can study for a little bit longer, right?

✧✧✧

Bucky walks into the shared kitchen at the compound for lunch. It’s Sunday, meaning it’s Wanda’s turn to cook. His stomach is grumbling at just the thought of it.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam had just gotten back from a week long mission in the knee deep snow mountains. All he needs is a good meal and his girl.

“Hey Wanda, where’s Y/N?”

She turns her attention from the stove. “I think she’s in her room. Haven’t seen her in a while so I’m not sure.”

Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. Y/N never goes a day without talking to Wanda, they’re inseparable.

Wanda sets Bucky’s plate on the table. The smell of Chicken Paprikash fills the kitchen. “Sit and eat first, we all know that mission was a pain.” She walks back to the stove. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. please call everyone into the kitchen.”

The A.I. takes a second to respond. “Mr. Stark has requested for the phrase ‘chow time’ to be used when calling for a meal.”

Wanda stops stirring the Parikash and puts a hand on her hip that is still holding the spoon. She sighs, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you call chow time, please.”

Bucky chuckles and sits down, draping his black jacket across the chair next to him to save you a seat. The A.I. responds, “Certainly Ms. Maximoff.”

The sudden sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice through the audio system lurches your head off of your desk. Your cheek lights up with pain and you can already feel the pattern of the keyboard on your face. Did you fall asleep? The dried drool from your mouth to ear confirms your suspicions.

“What did you say F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You rub your face trying to fully wake up.

“Ms. Maximoff has called chow time in the kitchen two hours ago. You did not respond and I am programmed to send you a reminder.” You turn to check the time. How long have you been asleep?

2:00pm

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You had slept for so long, how could you let this happen?

A rumbling wave comes from your stomach. Wanda’s supposed to cook today and everyone in the compound knows for a fact that her food is the best. Your stomach says go to the kitchen. But you can study for a while more. I mean this is what you get for sleeping so long. The study hours need to be redeemed somehow.

You sit up straight in your chair and crack the stiff joints on your body.

✧✧✧

An empty seat next to Bucky during lunch and now dinner. It wasn’t unusual for you to miss a meal once in a while but Bucky returned from a mission today. On days like these you’re stuck to his hip, pecking him on the cheek, and squeezing the living life out of him. Something’s definitely up.

Bucky walks to your door with a plate of leftovers in his hand. He knocks. “Doll, are you in there? I brought you some food.”

You freeze. Was that?

What day is it? You know it’s Sunday but what’s the actual date?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. what’s todays date?”

“Today is Sunday January 29th, 2023.”

January 29th.

Bucky is supposed to be back today. Bucky’s back!

You jump off your chair and race to the door to open it. Bucky’s wearing his gray sweatpants and a black jacket. Yup, he definitely got back today.

“Hi doll, you weren’t at lunch or dinner so I brought you foo-”

You knock the words out of his mouth with the sudden hug you give him. Your head digs into his chest. God how you missed this smell.

He chuckles, “I missed you too.”

Bucky starts to feel a warm patch on his chest followed by small sniffles. He places the plate on the floor and leads you to sit on your bed. Your head burrows itself further into his chest.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Instead receiving a tight hug around his waist while the sniffles grow louder. He grabs your shoulders pushing you back to look at you.

“Talk to me, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

You stare into his eyes. How could you forget he was coming back today. Any mission could be his last and your heart glowed when he returned. It was like a habit, every time Bucky came back you would be waiting outside the quintet with the biggest hugs and kisses he could ever receive. That was until other priorities overtook your mind.

“I’m sorry.” The words mumble they're way out your mouth. Afraid if you spoke louder you’d break into sobs.

“What are you sorry for Y/N? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Of course he would say that. No matter what you do he always looks over your flaws as if they didn’t exist. His hand runs up and down your back helping you control the sudden breaths breaking through your body. Taking a couple seconds to control your breathing, you look up.

“I forgot you were coming today I was supposed to be on the landing bay waiting for you I was just-”

“Breathe Y/N.”

He looks around the dark room and finds that the only thing lighting it is the computer screen. Balled up pieces of paper circle around your chair and scribbled flashcards litter your desk.

“What’s going on doll? Tell me please, I don’t like seeing you in distress.”

Tears touch your lips and the salty taste fills your mouth. “I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“My finals are coming up and my studies have been taking up my mind. I was so focused that everything slipped my mind.”

Bucky sighed and pulled you onto his lap as you nuzzled into his chest. “Oh honey.”

Your sniffles die down and Bucky takes a comfortable breath in. “How about…” He tickles your stomach causing streams of laughter and giggles to make their way out. “...We put some food in here, snuggle in bed, and watch a movie, yeah?”

You sure could use a break, and how could you say no to what he has to offer. You close your eyes studying the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” Your arms wrap around his torso. “Thank you, Buck.”

“For what?”

You sit up in his lap, “For always being there for me even when I don’t do the same.”

He looks down and secures your head in the palm of his hands. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re there for me in more ways than you know. Just knowing that you’ll be here when I return is the only thing that keeps me on my game during missions. I gotta get back to my best girl.”

You smile, “I love you Bucky.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

A smirk splays across your face. “That's not possible.”

“Try me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! This is my first fic and I’m so excited to make more. I’m really new to learning the navigation of what it takes to have an account like this, so any tips are greatly appreciated <3

[loderlied]

✈️💤🐈🤔 for zeke?

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

i actually think zeke would love travelling! getting to see as much of the world as he possibly can would certainly have been a goal of his had he grown up under normal circumstances. sadly he is pretty much confined to baldur’s gate only pre-game, even if he is allowed to pursue his career as a detective. never even considers that it might be something he’d enjoy because of his father/position in the cult before he gets tadpoled. while excitement about seeing new places is understandably dimmed by the whole “maybe turning into a squid” and “brain got scrambled by sister” deal, he still finds some joy in it though.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

went into it a little here already but. you know this man is a mess. you cannot call what he does “sleeping” most of the time. he is very jittery and his brain is very full too many thoughts for sleep. has to be coerced or forced to go to bed. thank you for your services sceleritas and (later on) shadowheart <3 and throwing tomatoes at gort for making it so much worse. if he does sleep he probably has at least one new bruise when he wakes up because he moves around so much. talks during his sleep constantly. shadowheart girl i am so sorry. he’d also be one of those people who can sleep standing, sitting or with their eyes open and it’s really creepy lmao.

🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

oh. you are asking the hard ones for our pal zeke huh. to properly answer this i’m gonna have to let you in on a lil secret of his that he’d gut me for telling anyone: he is so fucking lonely. not just lonely but he wants to be liked so desperately. “but romeo why is he such a creepy lil asshole then?” well. sometimes you are child of the god of murder and want to drown the world in blood. sometimes you spit venom at everything around you because you think father’s love is all you ever should need. sometimes you are massive dweeby dickbag who with his straight up annoying as hells flaunting of his stupidly big brain and making fun of you for “being an idiot” and constant cruel comments somehow tries to impress you?? sometimes you just grow up in the cult of bhaal and i don’t think that i have to explain that you will not find friends there. sometimes you weasel your way out of it for a couple hours a day to pursue being a detective but then you meet a guy who ruins you inside and out and turns your already bad paranoia into “everyone is out to kill me” levels and isolates you from everyone but him, even tries and succeeds in this with your fucking sister and of course your already more than strained relationship is so many more cracks closer to crumbling. sometimes you painstakingly find out that the only person who really understands and completes you is also your ruin. ezekiel my man your answer to this question truly does not matter because you will not keep friends in this life. your red thread with gortash will strangle you and everything in between.

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

he does make that 🤔 face a lot probably lol

knows so much random shit. his area of expertise is obviously crime/murder/deduction shit but still

nail biting. they’re so disgusting lmao

crouching on chairs. putting his feet on the table. bah

snorts a lot. condescendingly or when he laughs

really intense stalker stare that he loves to give you from the darkest corner of the room. most people don’t notice because *points at +15 to stealth* but it’s awful

awful handwriting oh my god. gortash can decipher it but no one else even attempts lmao

rips the skin off his lips. bites them too

lots of scratching. does that until he’s completely open and bloody when stressed, which is pretty much 24/7 let’s be real

lots of stuttering when he talks.

either talks in very short, blunt to the point answers or gives you unhinged rants there’s no in between.

swears like a sailor but uses very complex words at the same time, often in the same sentences.

you can also very much tell that he learned to speak very late in life as his enunciation is clearly off in some areas.

generally just an awful conversationalist. interrupts people constantly, especially if he feels like what he has to add to the conversation is more important.

very pouty. constantly.

blushes very easil— *i get stabbed by what appears to be a shadow to you and it disappears as quickly as it appeared*

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Scars (6)

Chapter 6: Show me, Please

Alice was shy, sneaky, quiet, and hard to get to. Natasha had been trying to get to her or corner her, but she rarely, if ever, left her room. The girl was just gone.

"I can't get to her," Natasha said, flopping next to Clint on the couch. "She's like a ghost. She's gone with the wind, invisible, was never here, she's a spy and doesn't know it, she's-"

"You could just leave her alone," Clint said. "Did you not hear what she said the other night? She is a child who has been isolated for the majority of her life, just now being reintroduced to society at 17 years old. She's not well, and you chasing her isn't helping. Just leave her alone she'll come whenever she's ready. You need to stop bombarding her with questions. Remember, the only one she knows is Tony. " he continued casually to flip through the tv channels while glancing at the ceiling occasionally.

Natasha knew that Clint was right. Running around stalking the girl wasn't going to get her to talk. She was usually more collected than this, but having something or someone so close and not knowing a thing about them was something Natasha didn't like. Especially when everyone else was so nonchalant about it; she was a spy, for crying out loud.

On Christmas, she gave everyone scrapbooks filled with blackmail, yet she couldn't find anything about this girl. Natasha had literally gone through every database possible to man, even databases people weren't supposed to know about. She couldn't find anything on Alice Stark. She even called Professor X, The well-known telepath and Headmaster of a Mutant/gifted only School, to help; he did find out who she was; he confessed to knowing and keeping tabs on her for a very long time but wouldn't tell Natasha anything else, but he did say something along the lines of "The child was put in a bubble for a reason Ms. Romanoff please  ..... don't pop it "  now Natasha was even more interested in the girl.

Why am I the only one wondering, Natasha thought to herself

"Because you're always used to knowing everything or pretending to know everything. And this one time, you know nothing, and everyone knows you know nothing, and you don't like it." Clint answered casually as if she actually spoke out loud to him. He knew she wasn't. And she knew he knew she wasn't. "Plus, I went through Tony's stuff and found out that the first rule on her long list of rules to stay here was not to use her abilities. She isn't going to tell you if it risks her getting sent back. This is her first taste of freedom, her only taste of freedom.

"Shit," Natasha cursed, finally realizing the effect she was having on the poor girl.

"you just lost your cool for a moment. Next time you see her, apologize," Clint said, then picked a bowl off the coffee table. "I've given you advice and knowledge. Please make me more popcorn". Natasha rolled her eyes, but never the less made the man popcorn.

-

Alice had a new hobby/habit, people-watching. Or, more accurately, watching people through surveillance cameras. She'd often watch the team do mundane things such as training, eating, cleaning, playing games, and just being domestic. It made her feel much better than actually sitting in the room with them and made her less anxious.

Due to this habit, Alice accidentally caught part of Clint and Natasha's conversation. She listened to Clint defend her as she realized how desperate Natasha was to find her secrets. She was really working herself, trying to find out her abilities.

Would it really be bad if she showed them? They were the Avengers, after all. It's not like they would tell anyone else. And she didn't want them to not like her. She had really been putting Natasha through the wringer. 

These were the only people she knew the only people communicated with she couldn't lose them over the trust or a petty rule, right?

Her Father wasn't home, he had gone to a company meeting with Pepper he was in California and they were in New York. He'd never know, right?

Alice paced the gym floor heavily she had finally given into Natasha and decided to show her what she was asking, for now, she was waiting. Too busy pacing, Alice didn't notice Natasha and the rest of the team.

"Alice" Finally, she noticed the team that had gathered for her. "You wanted to show up something?" Steve said 

She nods, taking a few steps back " I- I...powers?"

"Uh yeah, no shit- I mean, yes, we'd like to see "An elbow from Natasha set Clint straight.

"Dad....don't-" Everyone nodded before she could finish completely understanding.

"Listen, Alice, if you don't want to tell us, that's okay. We're okay with that. We don't want you to get in trouble or anything -"

"Shut up, Rogers." Sam scolded Steve.

Taking a deep breath stepping forward to a punching bag, she bites down on her index finger until she bleeds, "she's hurting herself" Clint made the obvious observation, letting the blood drip from her finger blood spill on to the floor taking another breath shaky breath she flicked the blood off her finger into the direction of the punching bag. The team didn't know what they expected but what happened surely wasn't it. As soon as the blood drop hit the punching bag it ripped off the chain bursting open, hitting the back wall and leaving a massive dent.

"That was... AWESOME," Clint said, running up to Alice before remembering boundaries. Everyone bombards her with questions. Alice didn't really answer any questions, more or less just stood there and smiled. 

They liked her,

-

"Tony, are you paying ?" Pepper asked, frustrated she had been talking to air for the last 20 minutes. "No, sorry. Watching Alice," Tony said as he watched the footage of his daughter breaking the #1 rule he said not to. "she's in trouble"

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[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

___________________

This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

___________________

For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

[tyler-lawson]

The Meet - 02 - I Am Not Amused

My partner and I left our detainees in their isolated, locked interrogation rooms while we returned to ensure that order had been restored in the custom's line. When we emerged from the side hallway, two men, both dressed in athletic shirts and tight-fitting t-shirts approached me. Both had been heavily engaged in the verbal shouting that had happened in the circle, and I could presume they were likely connected with our unexpected guests.

They both looked to be in their mid-20s, fit, exhausted, and concerned.

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Jason, and this is Ian. We are the coaches for the guys you just dragged back there. Can we go see them?"

"Not right now. We need to let them both cool off and speak with them."

"Can we just wait here until we are able to see them?"

"Huh. I can't have you just wait here, we need to make sure that everyone goes through customs. But, once you are through, I can bring you back."

"Okay, great! We will go do that. Uh... should we take their bags, or do you want them."

"I will take them. You are right in not going through custom's with someone else's bag."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that would be sort of a problem, eh? Heh." He tries to joke.

"Yes, sir. It would be." I reply, stone-faced.

I take the duffle bag and suitcase from them, and set them just inside the secured door. The two coaches walked off toward the line. My partner and I worked through the rest of the line, speaking with people who had seen what had happened, and getting statements.

The coaches made it through customs, and I found them a little while later, sitting on a bench with a small pile of various luggage around them.

"Alright gentlemen, is this all of your luggage?"

"Well, it is ours and the boys." I get everything sorted so that I know what items belong to whom.

"Alright, sirs. Please turn around and put your hands on the wall."

"Uh? Why?"

"You have passed a security checkpoint, and I am now taking you back behind it. I have to detain you as part of our security protocols."

"Wait?! Can we not? We didn't do anything."

"If you would like, you can head to your hotel now, and your players can contact you when we are finished with them."

"No, no. Fine."

Both men turned and put their hands on the walls, frustrated at the turn of events. I frisked both of them; it was quick as neither of them had any pockets in their clothing whatsoever. They were both wearing short athletic shorts, shirts tucked into them, and had compression shorts sticking out beneath the hems of their shorts. They both seemed to me to be dressing to relive their own competitive days.

I pulled out two pairs of hinged ASP handcuffs, pulled each of their hands behind their backs, and quickly zipped the cuffs around their wrists. I walked both of them back through a secure door, and put them in another interrogation room, the one furnished with a table and two chairs. I sat them down, and left them in the room.

***

I went back to check on Braden and Matthew, and found Braden fast asleep, passed out on the hard, wooden floors. Matthew was wide awake, sitting huddled in the corner, and he twitched as I opened the door.

"Stand up." I ordered, and he did, shakily. He was wearing a worn yellow t-shirt and long black lounge pants, and a pair of flip flops on his on his feet. He warily stood, hugging himself as he stepped away from the wall.

"So, son, want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Uh, I am not really sure. Braden has always been a bit of a douche, but, I don't know what happened. He just kinda freaked out."

"He said you attacked him first. Want to explain what that was about?"

"No, man. I didn't do anything."

"You sure about that?"

"No, like. I guess. Look, my bag kind of fell into him. I guess it hit him in the junk, but he just went wild."

"Sure. Anything else you want to tell me."

"No, no. What. What is going to happen now?"

"Well, I am going to talk with Braden once he is awake, and get his side of the story. Before that, I am going to get some pictures of your injuries."

"Uh, okay. Sure."

"Great. Let's have you stand up against that wall there." I say, pulling out a camera and starting to get some pictures. "Tip your head back, I need to get your neck." He does, slightly hitting his head against the wall as he does. "Nope, okay. I am going to need you to take off your shirt, that bruise is a bit too big."

"Uhh, sure." He said, slowly peeling his yellow t-shirt off. His lounge pants hung off his hips, and his pure white Fruit of the Loom underwear stuck up over the waistband. He held his shirt over his abs, trying to hide his sagging pants with his arms wrapped back around himself.

"I need your arms out of the way. Put them down by your side. Stand up straight and tall, shoulders back. Head back."

He signed heavily, standing tall, putting his head back. He put his shoulders back, pushing his toned chest out, and stretching his smooth abs. His white underwear clashing starkly against his black pants.

I got pictures of all of his bruises, finding some on his chest and ribs as well.

"Any other injuries I should picture?" He felt himself a bit, and said, "I think there are some on my thighs."

He tried to pull the legs of his pants up, but they got caught on his large thighs. "You are going to have to go the other way." I said. He blushed heavily, and then started dropping his pants, trying to keep them covering as much as possible as they came down over his white boxer briefs. He showed me several bruises in the middle of his upper leg.

"I need a good picture of them. Drop your pants and lift the leg of your shorts up. He flushed red as he tried to lower his pants to his knees, holding them with his left hand as he pulled up the leg of his boxer briefs with his right. "Stand up, move your hands out of the way." He flushed bright red, his face and chest, as he stood up, his pants dropping down around his ankles, his white boxer briefs lifted up to barely covering his crotch. I got good pictures of everything, then finally let him put his clothes back on.

He sighed a huge sigh of relief as he pulled his pants back up, and pulling his shirt back over his head. He adjusted his underwear through his pants, picking out a wedgie he had given himself and pulling the legs of his boxer briefs back down to mid-thigh.

"Alright. Wait here, I will be back after I have talked with Braden."

***

When my shift finally concluded around 10, Braden was still not awake. I passed on monitoring the airport to the next shift, grabbed a chain, and brought it into Braden's interrogation room. I sat reading a book while listening to him snoring on the floor. He was curled up on his side, his shirt pulled up revealing a pair of blue boxer briefs under his pants. He had apparently thought to kick off his shoes, leaving him in just his black socks.

Around noon, Braden finally started to rouse. He woke with a start, realizing he did not know where he was, and clamped his eyes shut as he looked up into the bright fluorescent lights above him. I put my book down on the table, and stood up.

"Braden, stand up." I ordered, my voice echoing in the small boxy room. He struggled to his feet, blinking as his eyes adjusted and he started to orient himself. He stood, stretching his arms high above his head, and flexing his back left and right, adjusting the kinks that undoubtedly formed from his alcohol-fueled nap. His Tommy Hilfiger shirt pulled up to his midriff as he did this, giving me a great view of his sagging jeans and blue boxer briefs.

As he finished stretching, he grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and tugged it down over his sag. He seemed remarkably non-chalant about the whole situation.

"Hands up, stop reaching for your pants." I commanded "Face the wall so I can frisk you." He twitched quickly, putting his hands back up and turning to face the wall, still not really awake or paying attention. He put his hands on top of his head, again pulling his shirt far up off his sagging jeans and boxer briefs.

I grabbed his hands on top of his head and frisked his shirt, down his arms and onto his chest. My hands went down his front, over his pecs, down his abs, off his shirt, along his stomach and down to his tight blue Ulru boxer briefs and back up his sides. Down his back, onto his blue covered butt.

I put my hands down into his pockets and his jeans slipped lower on his hips. My hands went around to his front, in his front pockets, over his junk and down to his crotch. I pulled out his phone and wallet, and put it on the table next to us. I frisked down his legs, down to his socked feet, and pulled his feet up off the floor to feel the souls of his feet.

(Pictures and request courtesy of @saggerjordancuffed. Greatly appreciate it.)

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Jigsaw Puzzle Bonding Time With The Brothers and Undatables

.

Warning: Uncensored Swearing

.

If there is something I know that serves as a good bonding time is getting one of those huge fucking Jigsaw puzzles, get a big ass table, sit everyone's butt down and start finding the corners.

.

Lucifer

He bought the 2000 pieces cursed jigsaw puzzle for you after a lot of pestering (and the power of puppy eyes)

Helped set up a table in the common room and left you to your own devices, he has work to do.

He is the type that puts in a piece or two everytime he passes by the unfinished thing, refusing to participate the group session but still giving a helping hand.

Sometimes he can end up getting distracted and you may find him standing in an awkward position with a concentrated frown on his face as he tries to find the dammed piece tha t completes the part he is building, leaving the picture unfinished makes his perfectionist self have a nervous spasm.

If you call out his attention he may either (run away) go back to work or actually ask you to join him, teasing you whenever you are struggling and potentially turning the whole thing into too much of a heated atmosphere, like, does he need to sit this close he's basically on your lap-

Overall it is a very de-stressing thing he enjoys.

.

Mammon

At first he was skeptical. What fun would a jigsaw puzzle be anyways? It takes too long and it has no purpose at all.

You may need to tell him to sit the fuck down and have a bonding time with you or else he is not going to focus on the thing.

The kind of guy that puts the wrong piece on the wrong spot and refuses to agree that it's wrong. They're all the same colors! How the hell is he supposed to work with this thing?!

He is only good at the corners because the pieces are different from all others, but once it's over he may end up getting a migraine from looking for pieces.

Either way he will still have fun because it's you. Even if it's killing his eyes if you are having fun he is happy.

You guys manage to finish the puzzle somehow.

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Leviathan

This boy loves it.

He may actually get too much into it just like he does with his games.

That said, now you guys have a full fucking collection of completed jigsaw puzzles you can use as decoration for the house or something.

Some of them are most likelly anime themed.

You will never finish a 10000 pieces jigsaw puzzle in so much little time than when you are with him.

He keeps most of the completed puzzles as if trophies in his bedroom, afterall, they were made with you!

.

Satan

The nonchallant casual puzzle builder

The moment you sit down with him around the pieces, this man becomes a multitasking chatterbox.

He can easily finish big jigsaw puzzles in one single day, but he takes his time just so that he has some quality time with you~

It turns into a really fun experience specially since Satan isn't imune to mistakes but because he is very knowledgeable it just makes it more ridiculous.

You will catch him stopping on his tracks out of nowhere as he has to give the current piece he is holding a second, long glance.

Then he will proceed to glare at it and put it aside, he may look okay and back to normal but oh he is definetelly going to find where that one single fucking piece fits even if it is up Lucifer's ass.

.

Asmodeus

Another multitasking chatterbox

Probably won't stay for too long, those pieces dry his skin and make his nose itch.

He's actually pretty good at it tho, seeing he most likelly has a good eye to spot color differences and such.

Will use the bonding time to spill the tea and trash others, but further into the session he may get relaxed enough to actually spill out some of his genuine feelings and emotions.

Puzzle bonding time may become a way for you both to have quality time together in a private setting that doesn't involve anything frisky.

He will flirt with you tho, it's part of the package. You signed up for it the moment you made the pact.

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Beelzebub

Choose the themes wiselly, if any of them resemble food he will eat the pieces.

Taking that out of the way, he enjoys it. May actually end up taking it too seriously and actually refusing to go sleep to finish the thing.

You will also get the experience to see Beel grabbing food and eating it without using his hands. He doesn't want to dirty the pieces afterall.

He is an average puzzle builder, but instead of building parts of it outside and only linking it together to the puzzle after it's done he is the type to build in said pictures right into the puzzle itself, picking pieces here and there and helping with many places at once.

Sit on his lap while you guys are at it and he will ascend back to the celestial realm.

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Belphegor

This bitch.

Will not take it seriously at the start.

Have you ever seen a picture of a jigsaw puzzle of a horse but instead of joining the pieces someone just organized the pieces together in the shape of a horse?

That someone is Belphie

There is a garden? He will take all the flower pieces and just, place them there, not even linking the pieces. What do you mean he has to, just because it's filled with empty spaces it does not make is less of a garden, and no he is not being dramatic what do you take him for.

Will actually start to help at some point. He is the type to build the pictures separatedly but just leaving them just where they were supposed to be but not actually linking the pieces to the puzzle.

Expect him to fall asleep at some point, most likelly in the middle of a conversation while holding a piece.

He will slowly fall sideways, let him perish.

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Solomon

Another bitch.

Just like Belphie but instead of putting the pieces on the spots they were meant, he just builds a whole fucking different picture.

Like how the fuck did you make an umbrella with those pieces, there isn't even one in the actual puzzle-

He will use a spell that will make this entire session into something more exciting.

That exciting ranging from being stuck inside the puzzle and bulding it from within to having the actual picture of the puzzle move around as you fucking build it.

He still manages to finish it.

What the fuck are you even Solomon

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Simeon

An asshole.

He is good at it, he knows exactly where the pieces fit, but he will still watch as you struggle with a smile on his face.

Will make so many ominous and mysterious comments the entire thing just feels like you are bulding up an ancient jigsaw puzzle that if ever finished would end the entire world except for you and you would need to live the rest of your days in isolation as you hear Simeon's voice in your mind everytime you make a decision repeatedly asking 'are you sure' with that fucking I-Know-The-Answer-But-I-Won't-Tell-You smile of his-

You take a break from the session because of a minor existential crisis

He decides to actually be normal when you come back and you both have a good time.

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Luke

Excited baby.

He is happy to spend time with you, will most likely bake cupcakes or cookies or some kind of snack for you guys to eat while at it.

Will get grumpy at some point because his eyes are getting tired and its making all pieces look the same.

He is so proud once it's finished tho.

Make it an re ocurring thing, finishing hard jigsaw puzzles always puts an extra layer of pride to his steps.

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Diavolo

Finding a spare time to spend with the demon lord is difficult, but thankfully whenever he is free he is happy to invite you over, specially if now he can use finishing the puzzle as an excuse.

He takes his sweet time. The puzzle is indeed basically an excuse to spend time with you so he won't make much effort, opting to talk while he casually looks at the pieces, mesmerized by them, and takes forever to actually link them, if at all. (He has grabbed one and just placed it back down many times).

He will have a bittersweet smile in his face with every completed puzzle.

He keeps every single of the completed ones as decoration everywhere in the castle.

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Barbatos

Oh the mysterious man.

Is he an expert at jigsaw puzzles? Is he just pretending to struggle to not make you feel bad?

Either way he is having a lot of fun.

Will also use it as an excuse to hang out with you but may not stay too long. More often than not your puzzle bonding sessions were interupted by something urgent or unexpected. Being the demon lord's servant is not easy.

Always has another jigsaw puzzle at ready whenever you guys finish one. It will most likelly have more pieces than the previous one, he likes increasing the difficulty of things.

Drinking tea while building jigsaw puzzles together at the dinner table? This is where you find it

.

.

(Shout out to my best friend who gave me a 1500 pieces jigsaw puzzle as a birthday present that served as inspiration for this post)

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter thirteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1715

It was hard to pay attention to the scene around you. It was chilly outside that day, the sky dull grey. Rain fell continuously, taking ten or so minutes to catch its breath before starting right back up to disappoint those hoping for some sun. Your friends -- Jean, Connie, and Sasha -- had pulled the bedside table out in front of you, all sitting around it. Everyone had a hand of cards, though you were unsure exactly of what game you were even playing as your thoughts traveled elsewhere. Hange had cancelled on you that day for a meeting; you weren't worried, though. The progress you were making practically promised that you would be back to normal within a few days. You had mixed feelings on that standpoint; it was hard to deny the good times your injury had brought you, and it would be sad to return to your normal life. You wondered how much would change.

Not that things weren't changing anyway.

Levi's words still rang through your mind as if he was next to you, repeating them in a whisper only you could hear over and over. "You looked too far into it." Your brain had chosen to torture you that day -- replaying the events of last night until you had no space for anything else to enter. It was cruel. Once again, it started at the beginning.

Levi entered your room, same as always, with his teapot and two cups. You were, same as always, sitting in your bed, patiently waiting for his arrival. Something was different, though. You smiled at him and said hello, expecting at least an upturn of the corner of his mouth in reply. He didn't acknowledge you. Wordlessly, he put everything down and pulled the table out between the two of you. Doesn't he typically say something by now?

He poured your cups without looking you in the eye, sitting straight up instead of leaning back and getting comfortable. Your face started to fall. "Is something wrong?" you asked him, furrowing your eyebrows. This was not the mood you expected tonight.

He didn't answer you immediately, taking a sip of tea and crossing one leg over the other before he finally looked up at you for the first time. His face was hard, but his eyes faltered. They were soft, and almost sad-looking. They assimilated with his face rather quickly, leaving you to wonder if it was your imagination. You decided it wasn't, however, when his free hand twitched forward then returned to its place. He wanted to reach for you. Why wasn't he?

"No," he answered bluntly, taking his eyes away from your face and going back to his tea.

"It's your turn," Jean told you, as he had to do every time it came back around to you today. "Is something bothering you?" You snapped out of your trance and locked eyes with him. He looked concerned. You laid your cards down and drew another, silently debating on telling him the truth.

"I'm fine. My leg is just bothering me a little bit." Connie and Sasha looked like they believed you, but Jean knew better. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he expected an explanation later. You wondered if you were prepared to give it.

To your right, Sasha was snacking on a potato she had sneaked back from lunch, leaving grease on her cards as she played her turn. It had been a while since you last spent time with her. Directly in front of you, Connie paid you no mind. He looked intently focused on the cards in his hand, as if he was trying to decipher some sort of ancient code. He looked like he was giving up when he finally discarded. Then, on your left, Jean eyed you warily. He already had his play picked out; all he had to do was lay it down before it was back to you.

This was getting repetitive.

After a while, you managed to get a little bit of conversation out of the man in front of you. It was not nearly as much as it usually was -- just a bit of small talk. It was enough to make you feel more confident. You wished it wouldn't have been; confidence was not what you needed in that moment. You wished you had depended more on your intuition that something felt wrong, because it surely was.

You had started to yawn, sleep pulling at your eyes. You grinned at Levi, and he lifted his eyebrow just barely. "Last night was nice," you told him, gearing up for the question. He didn't say anything, but that was no less than typical for him. He waited patiently for you to continue. You shouldn't have.

"I only have a few days left here. You don't have to stay in that chair all night," you moved over to give him some room. "Catch up on some more sleep with me?"

"No, thank you."

Embarrassed was an understatement.

The game was over. You were all too bored to play another round. Connie and Sasha soon packed up and left, mentioning something about going to see Ymir and Historia. You and Jean were left alone, concern still covering his features.

You really didn't want to talk.

Jean wasted no time. As soon as Connie and Sasha had left and the door closed behind them, he turned to you. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

You sighed, tugging at a strand of hair that hung in your face. "Levi was acting weird last night. I feel like an idiot," you said, wary of providing details. You were mortified. You looked too far into it.

"Weird how? Stop being all shy. You can tell me anything," he replied, laying his hand on top of yours. A single comforting touch. It was familiar.

"He made it pretty clear that he doesn't feel the way I do. He wasn't the nicest about it either."

"What the fuck is your problem, Levi?" you finally asked him, sick of his nonchalant way of pretending everything was absolutely normal.

"I don't have a problem," he answered calmly, as if he expected your outburst. You wanted to scream.

"I find that hard to believe. Before you walked in that door tonight, the last thing that happened between us was a lot different. You slept with me. You held me, and rubbed my shoulders, and played with my fucking hair. You gave me your shirt. And now you come in acting like none of that ever happened?" You found yourself raising your voice, and reminded yourself that the infirmary was entirely public. As if it would take more than one harsh word from Levi for you to forget that and get even louder.

"You looked too far into it." His tone was cold and harsh and seething, but his face was not. It was confusing, the melancholy glint of his eye and soft set of his features. It was hard to notice in the moment, though, as you were already filled with rage. "Do you honestly think I would have done those things if not to comfort you?"

You were taken aback. You stuttered on your words for a moment before you finally stumbled along a suitable reply. "I didn't think you'd do those things even to comfort me, Levi. I thought--"

"You thought that maybe I felt the way you feel about me. I don't. It's inappropriate for you to even think that way." You felt tears start to well up in your eyes, from anger or sadness you weren't sure. "What was I to do?  I did what I did to comfort you. Nothing more. I don't want to talk about this. Goodnight."

You felt utterly demolished. Without another word, you turned away from him and squeezed your eyes shut. When you woke up, he was gone.

Jean nodded as you finished telling him what happened, his face looking somewhat sad. He reached his arms out to you, unsure of what to say. You let yourself fall into them, fighting back tears until they finally prevailed.

At least you had him.

---

Levi sat at his desk in his suite, a fresh pot of tea perched at his side as he worked on Erwin's latest assignment. The sky was dark and rainy, the prospect of nicer weather looking rather bleak. The sight of tears in your eyes had been the itch on his mind all day, leaving him unable to focus. He was angry.

Anger was not unfamiliar to him. It was uncomfortable, of course, but not abnormal. Being angry with himself was most common, and this was no exception. Why did he allow himself to get so close to you?

He considered for a moment that he was wrong, that maybe it wasn't the inappropriate mess he foresaw when he looked at you a bit too long, or reached out his hand to caress you. On the other hand, he was your superior, and you were known to make trouble. What would his peers think? What would yours? It was difficult for him to come to any other conclusion.

He was no stranger to isolation. He considered the people he had allowed in before, knowing that, besides Erwin, they were all gone now. No matter how invincible you may seem, he could not deny that you were in danger every single day, as all of the scouts were. That was made apparent when you were injured. He didn't understand why that thought made him want to get even closer to you.

Despite all of this, he still felt a strange feeling when he looked at you. This was the only new thing -- the anger, the isolation, and the fear were all entirely normal, but the way he longed for you was not. He laid his head in one hand; it ached with confusion.

He straightened up when he heard a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he asked, somewhere deep down hoping it was you. When Commander Erwin came in, he refocused -- but the last thought in his mind was that he couldn't continue on with you, no matter how badly he wanted to.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

please tell me if you wanna be removed from the taglist so i can make space for other readers!

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[httpsexistence]

Hey! Not sure if you were taking an request. But if you are, could you do an imagine with reiner where he takes notice of a shy girl and he tries to get her to fall in love with him?

I love reiner braun so much that it hurts 😩

he would literally do this🏃🏼‍♀️

warnings: mentions of isolation, mentions of violence, using the term su!cidal maniac to address eren, female reader

**not proofread

i really like this idea, so i’ll probably make it a multi-part series :))

--

“SHUT UP, HORSEFACE!”

“HORSEFACE?! AT LEAST I’M NOT A SUICIDAL MANIAC!”

This was how every single dinner had gone in the 3 years you have been in the Training Corps.

‘Not this again.’ You think to yourself, lifting your glass up to your lips to take a sip of the bland drink. Eren and Jean both got up from their seats and grabbed each other by the shirt, bumping into the tables as they fought.

“Guys, stop!” Armin exclaims, pulling on his hair in a panic. You sigh to yourself and get up, your half-empty cup in hand. 

“I’M GONNA PUT YOU IN YOUR PLACE, ONCE AND FOR ALL!” Jean screams. You hurriedly walk to the door, lifting your drink up to your mouth once again.

Big mistake.

Jean shoves Eren, sending the boy tumbling right into you. The contents from your cup rain down on your face and clothes as you and Eren tumble to the floor.

‘Goddamnit.’

“WAY TO GO, HORSEFACE!” Eren shouts before turning to you. His narrowed eyes grow less harsh as he gets up and looks down at you.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!” The brunette boy ignores Jean and holds his hand out.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks. You ignore his hand and get up yourself, wiping your face with your long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m fine.” Turning around, you walk out of the building, no one saying a word as your footsteps became inaudible.

“Who even was that?” Jean asks, sitting back down with a tick-mark on his forehead.

“Dunno.”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Are you all stupid?” Mikasa says in her normal monotone voice. “She’s been here for 3 years, just like all of us.”

Golden eyes tear away from Mikasa and towards the door that you had walked out of just seconds prior.

“What’s her name?”

--

The bright light of the sun shines on the grounds as it rises, illuminating the camp with a hazy light. Birds sing their morning song as you exit your barrack, the other girls still sound asleep in their beds. You hug yourself as you walk around the grounds, protecting yourself from the morning wind.

“You’re up early.” You nearly scream at the new and unexpected voice, jumping in your place. The voice lets out a friendly chuckle. Turning around, you see a large, blonde boy with golden eyes looking down at you.

“Y-Yeah, I guess.” You twirl back around and try to continue walking, but he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place.

“C’mon, I won’t bite.” He says, making you blink. “I don’t recognize you. Never seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

“Oh.” You look back over your shoulder and see him staring down at you with interest. “I-It’s Y/N. Nice to meet you, Reiner.”

“Pretty name for a pretty- wait. How do you know my name.” Letting out an airy laugh, you face him fully, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I pretty much know who everyone is.” You say, shrugging. “Besides, you’re the most popular boy in our class. Of course I know who you are.” Reiner looks down at you, completely dumbfounded.

‘This girl knows everyone in our class yet none of us have ever payed attention to her.’ Reiner thinks.

“I’m surprised Bertholdt isn’t with you.” You continue, averting your eyes away from his. “You two are normally attached at the hip.”

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty much impossible to wake him up. He won’t get up unless there’s a titan attack or something.” He chuckles to himself while you let out a small giggle, your hand covering your mouth as crinkles form in the corners of your eyes.

‘How the hell have I never noticed her?’ The boy curses to himself. ‘She’s a damn angel.’

“Everyone else is going to be getting up soon, so we better get going.” You say, smiling up at Reiner. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You lift your hand up in a wave as you walk away from the boy, who was glued in his spot, watching you closely.

‘I’ve got to make her my wife.’

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 2

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1849

Warnings:  Pregnancy and minor language on chapter.

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 2: Anger Issues

When Marya returned home from school that day we were all ready to meet her.  Marya was sixteen years old, a little taller than I was, with dark hair and light brown eyes - just like Bruce.  Those weren’t the only things she’d inherited from her biological father.  She was extremely intelligent and had been skipped ahead a grade in school.  There had been talk about skipping her ahead more than that, but it wasn’t something encouraged in schools due to the strain it has on children’s emotional and social development.  So instead she was finishing up high school with her peer group while taking college courses as electives.

She also had her own little green problem.

Her powers worked differently from Bruce’s.  She could turn into a hulk, and that transformation could be triggered by extreme negative emotions - not just anger, but when she was really sad or anxious too.  Unlike Bruce though, she never had to worry about sharing her body with another person.  When she changed she was always herself and generally she had such precision control over the transformation that she could do it on command, much as Bruce could after the bonding ceremony all those years ago.

She looked around suspiciously at us as we called her over to the couches by the large window, typically the place where we had family meetings.  It was usually where we spoke to the kids if they had done something they probably shouldn’t have.  We took an approach with our parenting where they didn’t usually get in trouble for misbehaving.  Rather we tried to think of a real-world consequence for what they’d done.  For example, if they were fighting they had to sit down and listen to each other’s grievances and then work out a way to both come to an understanding about how the other feels and try to make each other feel better.  It didn’t always work, but we figured it was better than arbitrarily making them go sit in the corner.  So it made sense that she’d think she was in trouble for something.

“What’d I do?”  She asked, dropping her backpack on the ground while she stood looking at her gathered parents.

“Why don’t you tell us?”  Sam teased.  “And we’ll tell you if that’s it.”

“I’m not falling for that,” Marya snarked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Honey, sit down,” Steve said, gently.  “You’re not in trouble.  We just need to tell you something.”

Marya sat down carefully, looking at everyone with deep suspicion.  “Is someone else pregnant?  Are you trying to populate Earth with just our family?”

“No,” Clint laughed.  “What the hell?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Honestly, honey, I sometimes think the same thing,” I said.  “But that’s not what this is.”

“Your Aunt Angela came to visit today,” Steve explained.  “She’s giving up the throne of Asgard.”

“Does that mean Riley’s going to be queen?”  Marya asked, looking over at Thor.  “I can’t believe my sister’s going to be the queen of a whole other planet.”

Thor shook his head.  “Riley is still too young to rule by Asgardian standards.  My people - our people - would consider that the equivalent of having Zak as their king.  I have to step up and take the lead.”

“Which means, we are moving to Asgard,” Steve finished.  “I know that...”

“What?”  Marya yelped, interrupting Steve as she blinked at us.  “When?”

“Within the month,” Steve said.

“But I have school!”  Marya shouted.  Her fists clenched and she started to turn green at the edges.  “And what about my friends?  You can’t just take me away from everyone I ever knew!”

“Mar,” Bruce said, gently.  “Deep breath.  Get that under control.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel!”  Marya shouted, slamming her hands on the coffee table and sending a large crack through the heavy wood.  I jumped a little, startled at her violent reaction, and the green started to creep into her arms starting at her hands, making her muscles swell and double in size.

Sam moved forward and crouched in front of his daughter, taking both her hands in his and looking into her eyes.  “Marya,” Sam said with a gentle yet commanding tone.  “I know you’re upset, but you need to talk about this rationally.  If you can’t talk about it, you’re gonna have to go to your room to cool off first.”

She started crying and pulled her hands out of his.  “It’s not fair!” She cried.  “I don’t even get a say about whether or not you take me away from my friends.  My whole goddamn planet?”

“Honey,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around Marya’s shoulders.  “I know this is tough.  I really do.  But we’re partially doing it for you.”

“I don’t see how taking me from my friends is somehow supposed to be good for me,” she grumbled.

“Alright, kid,” Natasha said.  “I’m going to give you some harsh truths here.  You’re going to lose them anyway.  Maybe not all of them anytime soon, but the ones you would have kept in your life you’d have had to watch age and die.  Just like we all have done and are with our friends and family.  We want to save you what’s happening with Rose.  We don’t want you to have to fall in love and then watch them fade out while you’re stuck looking like you can’t buy a beer.”

Marya started crying harder and fell into Steve’s side and Wanda glared at Natasha.  “You didn’t have to be so harsh,” Wanda snapped.

“Well babying her wasn’t doing it either,” Natasha argued.  “She needs to hear it.  She might not like it, but going to Asgard is what’s best for her.”

“Can’t I even finish school?”  Marya begged.  “I could stay with Eddie - or Rose.  Or one of my friends.  And then… then I’ll come.”

“There will be school for you on Asgard,” Thor said.  “And it will teach you things that far outreach anything any of you have learned on Midgard.  Riley and Pietro both attend and they learn of the world tree, and alien languages, advanced mathematics, and magic.  You are already holding yourself back to fit in, daughter.  You would never have to hide any part of you in Asgard.  Not your intelligence, and not this -” he tapped her arm where it was still tinged with green.

“And I’ll make it so you can talk to your friends here.  We’ll set up a line of communication,” Tony added.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll make sure my kids don’t go without Tumblr and Instagram.  Imagine how many followers you’ll get posting selfies in Asgard.”

“I already have a tonne of followers, dad,” Marya sniffed.  “I’m a Skjodbærer.”

“Yes, you are,” Tony said.  “And don’t you forget it.  The whole universe is yours.”

“We’ll make sure we come back to visit,” I said.  “We all still have friends here, and places we like to spend our time.”

“Yeah, who’s going to annoy Katie-Kate if I’m not around?”  Clint joked.

Marya let out a small laugh that was still more tears than actual laughter.  “I’m sure she’d hate not being annoyed by you.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Clint said and patted Marya on the thigh.

“We aren’t doing this to punish you, Mar,” Sam soothed.  “I promise.  We’ve all been talking about this for a long time, and we were going to wait, but your dad can’t anymore.  He has to go and rule his kingdom.  And sometimes we have to give up what we want to do for what we need to.”

Marya let out a long slow breath and nodded.  “I know.  I know, dad.  They’re still my friends though and I’m still sad about it.”

“I know,” Wanda said.  “Being sad is normal.”

“Can I have a goodbye party?”  Marya asked.

“Look who you’re talking to,” Tony teased.  “The biggest.”

She sat silently for a moment and nodded again.  “If I really hate it, can I come back again?”

“You need to give it a proper chance,” Steve said.

“I will,” she assured him.  “I just… I don’t…”

“If you really hate it, you can come back,” I said, cutting Steve off before he had a chance to reply.  “We won’t like it, but our kids being happy and healthy is the thing we want most.  We just think… in the long run, this is the best option for that.”

“I know,” Marya said.  She looked around at anyone and kicked at her bag.  “Can I go now?”

“One thing first,” Steve said, tapping the table where she cracked it.  “What are we going to do about this?”

Marya sighed and looked at it.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And…?”  Steve pressed.

“And… I’ll go see if I can find someone who can repair it.  If I can’t, I’ll shop for a suitable replacement.  And… and I’ll volunteer at the soup kitchen for the Sundays before we leave as a stand-in for the fact I don’t need to earn money to pay for these things.”

“Good girl,” Steve said.  “Dinner will be at 6.30.”

Marya stood up and grabbed her back.  “Okay.”

“Marya,” I said.  “We love you.”

She smiled a little and nodded.  “I love you all too.”

We watched her disappear up the stairs and Bruce sat back and ran his palms over his scalp.  “I really need to help her deal with her anger.”

Bucky patted his arm.  “It’s usual teen stuff.  We’ve seen it before -” he gestured to me “- we’ll see it again.”

“Yeah, but when any of the others got upset we didn’t have to worry about them breaking the building,” Bruce said.

“Umm… do I need to remind you about that tantrum Riley had that meant we had to remodel her room,” I said.

Bruce chuckled and nodded.  “Right.  I guess.”

“It won’t hurt to work with her more,” Sam said.  “But don’t think that her having a temper is on you.  She’s hyper-intelligent and smart kids often deal with anxiety because they’re always thinking ten steps ahead about all the potential terrible outcomes.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony snarked.

“Yes, Tony, you’re a genius, we all know,” Bucky teased.

“I do not like that I am the reason for her distress,” Thor said.  “We could always go back to how it was before Angela took the throne.”

“And barely get to see you?”  Clint said.  “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“That’s not going to happen, Thor,” Steve said.  “We’ve been talking about this for a while.  It’s time.  Sometimes kids have to move because their parents are.  It’s not fun for them.  But she will adapt and it is better it happens sooner than for her to fall into this society's expectations for when she should be doing things.”

Thor nodded, though he didn’t look completely convinced.  

“Alright,” Clint said, clapping his hands.  “Enough about moody teenagers.  We have a lot to work out.”

“It’s going to be a big change,” I said.  “But we’ve gotten really good at those, and in my experience, they always worked out for the best.”

// NEXT

[bvccy]

Nothing to Despair | Preview 1 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

RATING: it's pretty naughty but there's no bad words so Idk

WARNINGS: None, just softness and kissings and the hint of unrequited love

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: I'm currently working on something new, and as it might be a W H I L E until it's ready to post, I thought I'd share a snippet to tide you over. Now, the rest of it is only partly done, but I’ll just say I made myself cry while writing it. You’re all going to suffer, it’s gonna be GREAT. It starts soft and angsty but it will get very dark and smutty. On that note, do let me know if you’d like to be tagged once the full thing is published. It’s gonna be also on AO3 anyway.

Enjoy! :D

While he waited in his room for her to finish getting dressed, he was actually grateful to see Steve had texted him. Bucky read the message in passing then called without thinking.

"Hey, bud." came Steve's voice, happy but surprised and sounding just a bit tired. "Was afraid I wouldn't catch you in time."

"Hi, no, we were just about to go out."

"You ok? Sound a bit—"

"Everything's fine, Stevie, don't worry. So what's this club you mentioned?"

"Wanted to let you know about a little place SHIELD found out about. A few of your favorite people been making appearances, thought you'd be interested."

"Is that right… Where is it?"

"Not far from the hotel, I'll give you the address."

They sat through the first portion of presentations in a shared silence that was common but heavier than usual. She was as effortlessly nice to him as before any of their little fights, but distant, always distant underneath the smooth pleasantries.

They went for the lunch break with everyone else, and with every opportunity, Bucky kept his eyes on Hamelin. He was talking with the lady from Spain again and sitting more closely than usual. He'd seen him have lunch with a few of the other attendees as well, but she seemed to be his most frequent companion.

As they were about to part, Hamelin passed her a note so surreptitiously as to seem a handshake, but Bucky noticed. They left together, and as they passed the great big doors of the restaurant, Hamelin went in the usual direction of the auditorium, while the woman went a different way. From Steve's call that morning, Bucky had an idea of where that might be, and knew better than to miss the opportunity.

The girl was just finishing her meal, sitting in silence across from him. He thought about tailing the lady on his own, but the idea of leaving his partner in the same room as Hamelin, even with all the other conference goers, didn't sit well with Bucky. He paid for lunch, and as they walked out together he led them toward the lobby.

"A little side-trip." he smiled at her confusion. She wasn't surprised by that anymore, and went along as always.

"What is this?" she asked as they approached a decrepit looking building, not a ten minute walk from the hotel. It looked utterly uninhabited, but a lit stairway leading down betrayed its use.

"Just checking something out." he said as he led them onward, one arm secured on the small of her back.

They went through a rusty looking door at the bottom of the stairway, a squeak announcing them to a few shadowy figures ahead. People looked at them then turned away in disinterest, minding their own business. The faint sound of jazz floated through the corridor, and red lights lit the way forward.

They arrived inside what was a sort of dance-club, mellow and warm and smoky. A few patrons gathered around old wooden tables, some sitting at a dirty wet bar; a pianist and singer performed slowly on the small stage up front.

Bucky scanned the place, not seeing anything suspicious yet, if you didn't count the clandestine nature of the whole thing. Heavy red curtains decorated the walls, and beyond some he could just about see doorways. He held the girl closer to himself, just in case, and heard her wince in disgust as she spotted some of the couples grinding against each other in the dark.

"What are we doing here?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Just stick close to me, honey." he smiled down at her, pulling her more possessively to him.

He led them to one of the empty tables in a red-cushioned alcove, stained with alcohol sprinklings and cigarette ash, from where he could easily watch the entrance.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks. Will you be ok here a minute?" he asked as she sat down and took her jacket off.

"Yes, yes." she sighed.

"Ok…" Bucky smiled, and right before he left remembered to ask "By the way, what would you like?"

She thought for a second, and decided "Absinthe, please."

"Bit strong for you, isn't it?"

"I'll need a good disinfectant for this place." she smirked.

Bucky grinned, then went to the bar.

He was back soon enough with drinks for the both of them, and sat beside her to scan the place. He held her close to him, one arm flung around her shoulder, the other resting on his glass of gin. Nobody bothered or approached them, or even looked their way much; discretion seemed to be the rule of the place.

The girl sipped her drink, melting slowly into his side as it soothed her nerves, though she still regretted it every time she looked up and saw something she didn't like.

They were there for a quarter of an hour before sharp footsteps echoed from somewhere to the left, almost unnoticeable underneath the music. Bucky followed the sound to one of the far walls, and sure enough a figure passed through the curtains, almost as if materialising from the dark. It was the Spanish lady, looking rather nervous and out of place as she walked with another man who was older and broader, with a professional look to him. He led her out, and several minutes later came back to disappear the way he'd come, through the curtains.

The girl noticed it too, and looked up at Bucky suspiciously. Catching her gaze, he shrugged with a smile and instantly she knew they had work to do.

He led them across the room, toward the walls, walking along inconspicuously as they made for the entrance they'd seen. The heavy material parted for them to reveal a hallway, dark and very cold and even more poorly lit than the bar. Trash littered the corners and broken old furniture was piled up in places, waiting to be thrown away.

Wordlessly, the couple walked through hand-in-hand. They reached far enough away that the sound of music faded, where bits of graffiti, partially covered or scraped off, decorated the walls under the flickering lights. Some drunk was passed out on the floor, his legs sprawled across the way. Bucky and the girl stepped over him and went on, and met another pair a bit further, cuddled together on the ground as they fiddled with a package between them.

Finally, they reached a corner the led on to a more well lit path. Bucky and the girl looked at each other and quietly agreed to go on together. They didn't make it a few feet until he stopped her, Bucky just barely making out some voices through the walls. Three men, by the sound of it, speaking in Russian. They talked about payment, one week or two, verification, doubts, and counter-offers.

When Bucky heard their voices draw further, then closer again, he started moving the girl back and going the way they came. The men were coming out, and were bound to find them.

She didn't seem too frightened, following his lead obediently, and that gave him a bit of courage to try and find out more. Stepping past the dizzy drunks and vagrants, Bucky stopped them both in the middle of the hallway.

"They're going to see us." she whispered with worry.

"I know, but we gotta get into their office." he said, looking at the far end of the hall. The men should come through any second.

"But if they catch us…"

"They're not gonna catch us, doll." Bucky pulled her closer as he stuck his back to the wall, his metal arm covering the length of her spine securely, black glove holding the back of her neck.

They both looked with concern at the shadows lengthening around the corner, and in a heartbeat Bucky made his decision.

"Kiss me." he whispered, turning his burning gaze down toward her.

"What?"

"Come on, kiss me."

"I can't." she choked, looking up pleadingly into his eyes. "I can't, I can't…"

Just as the far off voices announced the near arrival of the men, Bucky took her face gently in his hand and pulled it up to him, turning it just slightly enough that his lips caressed the corner of her mouth. From the side, it looked good enough to pass for the real thing. His other hand went to her leg and hooked it up around him, fingers curled around her thigh and caressing its inside from underneath, raising her skirt enough to flash the red lace trimming of her slip, the edge of her stocking, and those naughty black garters.

She gripped his lapels to hold on, fearful but tight enough to seem passionate, and she pressed herself against him. She closed her eyes tightly, and even in the shadow of all the other feelings — more erotic, more sensual, frantic — Bucky most of all relished the gentle tickle of her lashes against his cheek.

He held on to her and she to him, shocked under his kiss — that wasn't a full kiss, as much as he could make it, and she was grateful to him for at least that. She grounded herself on the hard planes of his body, broad and heavy as a wall but radiating with a furnace-like heat against her chest and stomach and all the way down between her legs. His mouth caressed the side of hers in tender waves, warm and damp and surprisingly soft, while the tips of his fingers stroked the inside of her leg.

Her hands let go of his lapel for the second it took to grip onto his shoulders, pulling herself even closer and hiding in his body as the men passed them by. Bucky held her tighter and tilted his head just enough to look through the corner of his eye at the back of them, while his fingers caressed her skin with a mind of their own. The men were far enough away and soon were out of sight, going through the curtain and out into the jazz club. He closed his eyes and swallowed a moan, in disbelief at just how hot and soft her thigh could be, and as his fingers crawled upward toward an even deeper warmth, Bucky felt her tense and tremble, and he let her go.

Her leg slinked its way back to the ground while he lifted his lips from her, and as they slowly let each other go they were hit again by the coolth of the corridor. Bucky steadied her, and himself, with a hand on her shoulder, and searched her blushing and avoidant face.

"You good, doll?" he rasped, feeling as winded as she looked.

"Yeah…" she gasped into his chest. Above and unseen by her, he licked the remnants of her taste from his lips and swallowed greedily, while the girl brushed a dry hand across her mouth to wipe him away. "Let's hurry, before they come back."

It was an easy enough job for Bucky to break into their office, though he took his time to pick the lock as quietly as possible and mindful of any alarm triggers.

He gave her one of the two small flashlights he carried in his pocket, and they started looking through the messy old place, sifting through files and folders and open drawers. None of it felt right, those didn't seem like the sort of guys to leave stuff just lying around. And sure enough, inside a stocky wooden dresser, nailed into the bottom of it, was a compact safe. Bucky called the girl over, and she held a light for him while he looked it over.

It had a number of dials and buttons, and the metal didn't seem so thick that he couldn't break it open, but he didn't want to be too obvious about their intrusion. Bucky felt around the edges of the box, and considered picking it open before he noticed an even safer entry point.

He looked at the girl with a cocky smile, and she raised a brow at him.

"Another shoe?"

"Hairpin this time, darlin'."

She sighed and pulled one from her hair. Carefully, Bucky stretched and twisted it into an L shape, then pushed it through a small hole in the corner of the box while he kept pressure on the dial that opened it. He didn't have to twist it around much until the lock was opened from inside. With no risk of picks scratching or breaking the keyway, there would be no hint it was ever opened.

"You know, if we decided on a career as burglars, we could live like kings." she whispered with amusement.

"Don't temp me." Bucky grinned.

He sifted through the safe's contents, pulling out folders and stacks of cash in various currencies. The papers were in multiple languages, including the local one, but they didn't have time to go through it all. They decided to risk it and take the folders with them, which Bucky hid at his back, beneath the jacket. It wasn't until they were back out into the club that the girl remembered she'd left hers behind.

They went back to their seats but couldn't find it anymore, and the bartender said he hadn't noticed anything. It didn't have pockets nor any identifiable mark, so they weren't too worried about its loss. They gave up on it quickly and went back to the hotel.

[coffee-imagines]

Wrong Houses

part two

Pairing:  Draco x weasley!reader

Warnings: Ron being a little bi- okay but like I guess arguing if that counts

A/N: I guess readers age also implies being Ron’s twin so rip Molly

Summary: The Weasleys had always been put into Gryffindor… until you

———————————–

You had never been like your other family members, so your first day at Hogwarts was nerve wracking. You could remember it like it was yesterday, riding on the train with your brother and meeting Harry. You’d even remembered the argument you had with Draco when he started talking bad about your family. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have hit him if it weren’t for Ron pulling you back.

You sat down on the chair after Ron, and you squeezed your eyes shut hoping you’d get Gryffindor. Everyone in your family was a Gryffindor and you didn’t know what you’d do if you broke that cycle. 

“Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor.” You mumbled over and over again, the hat seeming to take the longest on you than anyone else. Deep down you knew there was no chance you’d get Gryffindor, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t beg to be put there anyway. The sorting hat teased you, going over all your thoughts, taking your true feelings into consideration instead of your need to be the same as your family. You could tell the hat was about to speak, and you held your breath. 

“Slytherin!” The hat shouted, making the whole great hall go silent. You sat in shock, not knowing what to do, already reading the look of disappointment coming from your family who were all sat at the Gryffindor table. You slowly rose from the chair, reluctantly making your way to the Slytherin table. You shook the hands of all of the shocked Slytherin’s that had no choice but to accept you into their house. The hat was never wrong.

“I suppose you aren’t as bad as the rest of your family.” Draco stuck his hand out for you to shake when you sat down next to him. You reluctantly grabbed his hand and shook it, not knowing that in just a few months the two of you would be inseparable.

You and Draco never left each other’s side during school, the rare occasions were the times Draco seemed to make an ass out of himself. It seemed you were the only person that could bring the good out in Draco, both of you understanding each other more than anyone else could. Your family situations weren’t the best, both of you worried about disappointing your families by the way you’d both act. You had felt your family’s disappointment already, first getting sorted into Gryffindor, and then getting into a relationship with a Malfoy had put a strain on your relationship with your brothers. It wasn’t hard to understand why Draco acted the way he did, but it took a while to actually see it.

“What are you thinking about?” Draco whispered down to you one day while you were hanging out in the common room, making you look up to face him.

“I can tell they’re still disappointed.” You explained, your head on Draco’s lap, both of you on the couch in the common room, playing with his fingers. “With me being a Slytherin, and dating you.” You added when he looked down at you confused. Draco sat up, giving you a small nudge with his legs so you could sit up with him.

“You are not a disappointment Y/N.” Draco stated firmly, holding your face so you could look at him. “You didn’t have control over where you were sorted, you didn’t belong in the Gryffindor house and the hat knew that.” He assured you, caressing your cheek.

“I just wish I was like them.” You shrugged, hugging him and nuzzling your head in his neck. “I feel like if it weren’t for my hair I’d probably have been taken in by them.” You explained, Draco’s hand rubbing small circles in your back.

“It’s going to be alright Y/N.” Draco whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Only two more years.” He continued, resting his head on top of yours.

You had planned on moving away from your family as soon as possible. It hadn’t been that you didn’t love them, but you knew you didn’t fit in as well with them as they did with each other. The second you and Draco started dating you talked about the future you wanted. It hadn’t been weird for either of you, being best friends since your first year had its perks once you started dating.

The longer your fifth year went on, the more distant it seemed that Draco became. He started helping Umbridge, and you had to hide Harry’s secret club from him anytime the both of you spoke to each other. You and your family members didn’t talk much during the club, but you weren’t surprised. The twins had been fine with you being in Slytherin, but the second you’d went public about your relationship with Draco they’d gotten distant. You didn’t blame them, you knew they still needed time to come around to the idea, but Ron had been a different story. Ron would find ways to remind you of the disappointment you had brought upon your family by being different.

When the club had been caught, you were shocked to see Draco standing at the opening along with everyone else that had come to bust you. Your eyes interlocked, both of you not really knowing how to feel in that moment, but you didn’t have time to do much before you all left. You’d talked to him about it that night, making him understand why you had kept it from him, just as he’d kept his extra activities with Umbridge somewhat of a secret from you. You thought it would all go back to normal, your O.W.L.S coming up had put everyone on a studying binge, but it hadn’t distracted a certain Weasley enough. 

You were sitting with Draco during lunch, both of you laughing and even occasionally feeding each other and sharing your food. You’d ignored the sound of footsteps approaching you, assuming that it had been a group walking by, but the flash of red from the corner of your eye made your head turn. Ron was fuming, walking ahead of the rest of your sibling who looked like they had been trying to reason with your brother.

“You have some nerve!” Ron shouted, making your eyebrows knit together.

“Excuse me?” You asked, having no clue what he had been talking about whatsoever.

“You told your little boyfriend about our club and you both framed it on Cho.” Ron accused, making you scoff.

“Are you daft?” You asked, standing up from where you’d been sitting so you could be face to face. “You think after everything, I’d go and give away something that I was actually a part of with all of you for once?” You asked, feeling Draco stand up behind you.

“Well you had to go off and become a Slytherin and get with Malfoy! It’s like you aren’t even a part of this family!” Ron yelled in your face, gesturing to your boyfriend who was standing protectively behind you, his hand on your shoulder.

“I didn’t have a choice! You think I wanted to be put into Slytherin and disappoint everyone?!” You yelled

“Well you disappointed us anyway.” Ron spat in your face making you flinch. You felt that you had, you had even known it deep down, but there had been something about Ron saying it right to your face that made it hit you harder than it ever did. Ron’s face seemed to calm down, instantly regretting his words when he saw the look on your face, the rest of your siblings behind him finally realizing just how isolated they had kept you from them since your first year.

“Okay.” You whispered with a nod, your voice cracking at the end before you turned on your heel, walking down the hall and away from everyone. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the tears for as long as you could, hoping you could get to your room and not see any of your siblings until you would have to go back home.

———————————–

Tag list: Let me know if you’d like to be added

@mathletemadison @severuslovebot @izzytheninja @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @dogglefoggle​

[helpinghanikan]

Shared experience seen by one

Mathew Murdock x Reader

Sum:  Movies, books, TV and more have brainwashed the world into thinking your soulmate is one romantic comedy away. But life is never that easy, nor is that cheesy.

AN:  I've had this in the back of my mind for awhile. Full disclosure; I'm not good at emotions and I try my best not to make the reader out to be an overly emotional caricature. Spoiler alert, I have failed at both.

“A blowup bed is not that hard to set up, just stay with me instead of waiting for the right place.” Karen had said when you mentioned the impending move to the city. “In fact, you need a job? A very underpaid job?”

The red strand of fate came along during your move. It sometimes tangled while packing, it bended and dipped during the trip, and tightened when reaching Karen’s place. That was how Fate’s strand works; it bounces and moves as you and your soulmate does. It will sway and bounce with your gestures and hand. Although weightless it can be a physical thing to touch and grab, but it takes focus. With enough focus you and Fate can play a game of jump rope; swinging it around with your soulmate on the other side as the anchor. Jumping over the strand like a schoolgirl was Fate themselves. Having a great time watching their chosen couple use the bond to both find eachother and have fun.

Jump rope was played through most of your journey: toying with it on the bus and fiddling while filling out paperwork. It was twirling around your fingers as Karen gave advice for your first day at Nelson and Murdock. “Just bring something food related and they’re gonna love you. Something hearty though, we get enough pastries.” She said then heading out, reminding you to show up around seven.

Just like your nose it’s easy to forget that the strand is there. Just another color that makes up the world all around. It’s only when you reach the building that you notice your strand flat as a table, leading you right into the building.

It’s nothing new for the strand to lead straight ahead. Younger people and children will commonly ignore whatever they were doing before and follow their strand right into the unknown. “Maladaptive following” is the technical for these moments of distraction. Adults will even fall victim to it from time to time: Stopping a business lunch or jog to follow their red strand into the street or some building. Articles and urban legends float about the world stating that many have met their chosen this way. In reality it’s one of the leading causes of death by vehicle for minors.

Now it’s a question whether you were following your strand, or if it just happens to be going in the same direction you were originally headed. Fate was holding your strand so tight it was flat, bouncing as your hands stabilized the box but stayed tight as Fate pulled you forward.

Fate drags your strand into the highest, smallest gap of the elevator’s door. Lifting your head to watch it slide through was giving it too much hope but watching it with eyes was mature enough to acknowledge it without going crazy. Yet as the elevator reached it’s floor, and the strand led straight out, your heart couldn’t help but speed up.

In fiction the sight of your soulmate is portrayed so romantic. There was a few seconds of staring at the shared strand, then at eachother which leads into eye-contact and then a funny/cheesy/romantic line; “I’ve waited so long,” “more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” or even just “hi,” followed by breathy laughing. They all ended in the two taking a few steps right into each other’s arms.

Your personal situation started off like this. Following the strand across the room and to the man who was your chosen. Following further until the strand was wrapped in a bow on his pinky, on the same hand which held a white cane.

Karen is talking somewhere in the background of your focus. She reaches out towards you in a gesture that is followed by the blonde man stepping up to you with a closed mouth smile. It’s only when he gets to his own name that your ears start to work again.

“-Everyone calls me Foggy, though. It’s good to have join up.”

With the world moving once more the sandwiches almost topple from your hands. Both from trying to get a handout for a proper shake and from realizing no words had come out when you entered.

“Yeah, it’s…hi. I brought lunch, or dinner, or…yeah, they’re just sandwiches.” Were the only comprehensible words that could come out. No matter how hard you tried keep looking at the man in front of you, your eyes kept glancing to the end of your strand.

As the box is taken by Mr. Foggy the second man second, the man at the end of your strand, steps up. Although his face is staring right at you it almost impossible to see his eyes through the glasses. What lines you do see through the glass are likely imaginary; your brain trying to come up with someway that you are special enough to see through his shields.

“Hi, Mathew Murdock,” He says, unfortunately professional.

You shake his hand as well, just as professional but with wondering eyes. Starting at the brown hair with tinges of red in the right light, to the glasses over his eyes which keep you from seeing their color. From his suit without a tie to his hand that held yours in a shake. Where two bows sit side by side, the closest they have ever been.

Fate came along with you at Nelson and Murdock. Instead of being a fellow employee trying their best they just hang around and grinned at you. Sitting on the edge of your desk, playing with the window until Karen had to slam it shut. Blaming it on the faulty building rather than the smirking being that was standing in the middle of the office. Using barely a finger to keep the red strand from touching the floor. Staring you in the eye as they rub your strand between it’s fingers, teasing you with the truth that may not be believed by your chosen.

The entire day is spent as someone else. You were a lightweight as their first party, drinking too much and trying to hide it. Karen was patient as she explained everything but there was still the pressure in the back of your throat. Word vomit threatening to come out at the sight of red, of Mr. Murdock, or of stupid fucking Fate. The latter of which still pulling on the string. Both to keep it from touching the ground and to encourage their chosen couple to do something.

Staring at the abyss between your spot in the corner and Mr. Murdock’s designated office was hypnotizing. Your strand was lightly swinging with Mr. Murdock’s movements. Watching through peripheral vision his fingers drag along paper, reading through touch as he moves the strand without meaning to.

Karen was patient as you struggled to pay attention to the instructions she was giving you. It was too late to say anything about the strand to Mr. Murdock, and this office was way too small for any kind of personal conversation.

“Are you okay?” Karen’s voice is softer than a whisper against your ear. Already leaning over your shoulder, you didn’t flinch at her suddenly speaking. Instead looking over to your new boss and leaning back into Karen. “Sorry. Mr. Murdock and I…And I’ll tell you later.” You whisper, refocusing on the earthly reason you were here.

By the end of your practice there was still no reaction on the side of Mr. Murdock. Although both rude and in bad form a goodbye couldn’t come out while leaving. Instead just a wave towards Mr. Foggy and Mr. Murdock and leaving the door open behind you, Karen following quickly behind. Her heels clip-clapping through the hallway in time with your name called out once, twice…

“Son of a bitch, Karen, I messed up. I don’t know, and now I messed up.” It’s coming out faster than you meant to. With both frustration and almost

Word vomit was finally free to spew. Before the elevator even arrived you were telling Karen everything; about the strand, about the nerves and how you messed up so greatly by not saying anything. When the elevator finally arrived, Karen was guiding you forward. Knowing better than to try and talk anymore while still within Matt’s earshot.

When anyone asks Matt if he eavesdropped, he’d argue; “Of course not, I don’t exactly have a choice with this.” Which was only a half truth, in reality he was a nosy bitch. But it was all for the greater good; clients and their family say the most important things behind closed doors, cops lie and only tell the truth when they think the world isn’t listening, and he just wanted to make sure Karen didn’t get him something he already had.

So, it’s only natural that he listened along as you left.

It took years to try and isolate the noises around him. It was still a struggle to separate them when he first covered his face and climbed to the rooftop. It still hard sometimes, especially when he’s only half focusing, and especially when Karen’s heels can’t be turned off like a radio.

Buried under the heels was your voice. Coming out quickly with a heartbeat to match. “Our strands are connected, and I didn’t say anything and now I don’t know what to do and I can’t say anything now and…” Karen’s soft but sharp voice stops the storm of thoughts coming out. Keeping them at bay until the elevator joins the fray.

It takes longer than it should for Matt to connect the dots. Strands are connected, didn’t say anything…His hands have wondered off of the paperwork in the time it took. Running over the cracks and bits of worn wood from his desk. Dragging up the old crumbs and coffee cup papers that wedged into those gaps. Pulling the smells up and muddying the waters of his sense, hiding the conversation outside until it was impossible to find the women in the hallway.

Matt only had the strand for a short time before the accident. After that it was an overwhelming part of the world. A constant touch on his finger that distracted from something more important. Taking longer than normal people to get used to it, and only a short time after that to completely forget it’s there. It’s been a while since he’s even thought about it: only during selfish moments with a girlfriend. Trying to seek out the vibrations and slightest effect it would have on his chosen. After finding none he’d forget about the strand and move on.

Turning his wrist, he finds the strand once more. Closest he could compare the material to was silk, but it was too soft and slick for it to be that. Tugging on it brought tighter resistance than normal; his chosen’s weight keeping Matt from dragging you right back to him. The resistance getting weaker the more he toyed and the farther you got from him.

There was this urge that goes through everyone when they finally find their chosen. The urge to talk or know them. To hold them tight and find every and any reason that fate had chosen them for eachother. But this was another urge that Matt had to keep down, at least for now.

Yes, that’s what he’s best at, keeping things down. This would have to be different than his old relationships. No trauma bonding over kidnappings as the Devil or making the first move like the suave lawyer man he knew he was. This would be…natural, an organic relationship made by lying to eachother until one finally caves and tells all Just like a suave lawyer.

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (1/?)

Summary: When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Do you know what’s a great way to distract yourself from writing and other responsibilities? By writing a story that you shouldn’t be writing. So, here we are, and I hope you enjoy 😂

On AO3 | Here | 

-/-

June

The ocean water runs over his toes before disappearing, heading back to its home beyond the sand. It’s a cool contrast against the heat of the sun that’s warmly beating down on his skin, but it matches the chill of the beer bottle against his palm. Who knows what time it is? From the emptiness of the beach, Killian is guessing it’s mid-morning, but seriously, who the hell knows anymore?

Likely everyone other than him.

After more water washes over his feet and up his ankles, he decides the water is too cold to stay standing this close to the shoreline, so he walks up the path to his house and closes the gate behind him. He sits down at the bench by his pool and then buries his face in his hands before moving to take a sip of the beer.

God, he hopes it’s not truly the morning because he’s one second away from tipping the bottle enough for the beer to tumble down his throat.

Killian yanks it away and tosses it to the ground. He expects the damn thing to shatter against the tile, but it doesn’t. It rolls away into the grass, spilling a little beer with every turn until it stops against the tall grass lining the gate. Killian bends down and picks up another bottle, popping it open, then pouring it out. He does the same thing over and over again until his grass is fertilized with alcohol.

At least his body isn’t.

What a thought to have (presumably) so early in the morning.

His eyes close, the sun no longer blinding his vision, and he starts picking up the bottles, chasing them around and cursing himself for even buying the damn case in the first place. He has no clue what damn day it is, but he does know that it’s too damn early for him to be drinking. And if he’s going to get wasted and waste his day, he might as well do it with rum or whiskey. He doesn’t even like beer.

Killian chucks the bottles in the bin resting against the side of the rental house and goes through the side door into the kitchen. It’s clean today, all the white countertops empty of plates and pitchers and the junk that accumulates over time. The living room is clean as well, all the pillows in the right place, the throw blankets over the correct corners of couches, and he can see vacuum lines in the rug. He’s sure if he were to walk to the mantle, it’d be empty of dust. Ariel must have sent someone in to clean yesterday while he was away from the house. He’s got to have her stop doing that. He’s thirty-five years old. He can clean the house he’s staying in. He doesn’t need her taking care of his life for him.

Though, it is literally her job, but Ariel takes things far past being his manager. He doesn’t know anyone else who does all the things she does for their client, especially when he isn’t bringing in the same amount anymore. Sponsors aren’t exactly lining up at the door for disgraced football – not the American kind as everyone here believes – players, but he still has a few hanging around and good enough investments that he’ll be alright for a long while. Bored as hell with too much time for him to wander to bars in Martha’s Vineyard before talking himself out of them and sitting in a twenty-four-hour diner all night. He’s got his favorites. One has better coffee than the others, but the booths aren’t clean. Another has clean booths but a piss excuse for coffee, and his favorite has a selection of pies that have him eating in ways he hasn’t since he was young. Still, they’re all pathetic little places for him to spend his time so he doesn’t drink more than he can tolerate.

At least no one knows him here. It’s actually why he’s here to begin with. There are obviously less famous towns and places in the world, but he wanted to be near the ocean, wanted to at least have that if he was going to be in disgraced isolation. This area has beach for miles and different nooks to disappear into, and so far, it’s nice. He’d rather be in London or New York, but he knows this is better.

He collapses onto the couch and sees a note on the coffee table in Ariel’s neat script. When was she even here? Honestly.

Killian, Eric and I are in town for the week. Please come to lunch at our house. We’d love to have you! I know you don’t have anything better to do, so don’t bother calling me with an excuse. Hope you enjoy the clean house!

-   A

He runs his hand over his face and scratches at his too-long beard before fumbling for his phone and checking the date and time. It’s half past eight. He can get two, maybe three, hours of sleep now, and he’ll only look half as pissed as he feels when he makes his way to Ariel and Eric’s house a few miles over in Tisbury.

At least he isn’t actually pissed. Always the positives, he guesses.

-/-

Ariel’s house is covered in gray shingles with white trim. The shutters are cherry red, much like her hair, and while there are obvious updates to the place, it looks just as it did in the pictures he’s seen from when Ariel was young. She was raised here, her father a local fisherman, and while she now resides outside of London, on occasion, she returns to Tisbury for a holiday. It’s why he chose to holiday here even if he’s over in Edgartown on the beach in a house too large for one person. He spent years listening to her talk about her childhood, and then visiting when she married Eric here, and he wanted that calm sense of relaxation.

Right now, however, he wants nothing more than to be back in a city. The firing squad won’t be as intrusive there where he can get lost in a crowd instead of being the center of attention.

Killian opens the unlocked front door that squeaks on its hinges, and he immediately smells garlic bread baking in the oven. She must be making her pasta, and his stomach growls for real food. As he walks through the hall at the entrance of the house, he notices that everything is the same, all the family portraits are in the same places, there are a few too many nautical decorations, but it all works. Killian looks into the kitchen, sees that it’s empty, and calls out for Ariel and Eric, no answer. He takes the liberty of checking the oven, and when he notices the bread is slightly overdone, he grabs an oven mitt and takes it out, placing the tray on the stove.

Where the hell are they?

He pushes open the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and he sees two figures toward the side of the yard. Killian sighs and walks over to them, only stopping when he realizes it’s three people instead of two.

Ariel and Eric are talking to a gorgeous woman in a pair of small white shorts and a fitted polo. She’s got long, thick blonde hair pulled off her neck, and he can’t stop glancing down at her legs. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to people anymore, unless of course they are paying attention to him, but he cannot help but notice her. Because she’s stunning, of course, but also because he wasn’t expecting to see anyone else. He thought they would be isolated, and his gut tells him to turn around and run.

He doesn’t.

“Hello?” he starts, and they all turn to him. “I, uh, took your bread out of the oven.”

“Oh shit,” Ariel mumbles. “I forgot I’d put the bread in the oven. Is it burned?”

“No, I think I saved it just in time, love.”

Ariel’s shoulders deflate, and then she’s closing the distance between them, hugging him tightly, before Eric does the same and claps him on his back several times. He’s missed them, and it feels good to be embraced by something other than a heavy blanket. When Eric releases him, Killian can see the woman still standing in the yard, shifting on her feet.

“Hello,” he greets, nodding in her direction.

“Hi,” she nods back.

“Oh, Emma,” Ariel begins, walking over to her and grabbing her arm, “this is my friend, Killian. He’s staying on the island for awhile. Killian, this is Emma. We rent the house to her for most of the year, so we’ve invaded her home this week, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Emma says. “You guys basically give me the place for free, and I picked up some extra shifts at the club. I’d never be home anyway.”

“What do you do, love?”

“Not your love,” she corrects, and he feels the sting even if he uses the term for many a woman, “and I’m a manager at a little place by the shore, but sometimes during the summer I’ll wait tables at the local country club for extra money. The people will treat you like shit, but at least they tip well since they have no concept of real-life money.”

“What’s the restaurant?” he asks. “Maybe I could eat there.”

Her brows raise, and he gets the feeling she’s not a fan of the idea of him disturbing her at work. He gets the feeling she’s not a fan of him at all. Funny, his first impressions are usually better than this.

“The Blue Dog Tavern.” She points to the logo on her shirt. “I actually have to go there now. I just had to drop by and get my shirt since my boss is coming by today. I’ll stay out of your way when I get home tonight,” she tells Ariel and Eric. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Ariel sighs, smiling at Emma, “we’re the ones disturbing you. I promise, it’ll be a fast week, and then everything can go back to normal.”

Emma nods with a tight smile, and he definitely gets the idea that she isn’t a fan of having Ariel and Eric here. He wouldn’t be either if he had to share his home with his landlords. She walks away into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her, and Killian makes a note of the restaurant she mentioned, not necessarily to see her but to venture somewhere that isn’t a twenty-four-hour diner.

“Is that why I couldn’t stay here?” Killian asks. “Because you already rent it out?”

“Yep. Plus, it’s not on the beach, and that was your request. This isn’t really to your taste anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, A?”

She shrugs and walks toward the kitchen. “Nothing. I’ve got to finish cooking. I was just about to put the pasta on the stove when Emma came in through the back gate, and I got distracted. Thanks for saving the bread, Jones.”

“Is she okay?” Killian asks Eric.

“Yeah, mate, she’s fine.” He claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “And what she meant by that is that you’re an ex-football player who is hiding from the world and is used to a certain kind of luxury. You’d lose your mind living in this house for months. It’s smaller than a quarter of your flat back home.”

“I would not lose my mind living here. It’s charming.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “You would. I think the giant crab pillow in the living room would be what pushed you over the edge.”

“That thing is still here?”

“It’ll never leave, and I’ve offered to pay Emma to get rid of it many times. I think she throws it out, and it finds its way back inside.”

Killian snickers and settles down on the bench of the dining table they keep outside, letting Eric follow. He feels like he hasn’t talked to another human being in ages, and he’s only been here for a few weeks. “You know her pretty well then? Emma?”

“No,” Eric starts, waving his hand, “no, no, no, no. You cannot go there.”

“What the hell are you on about? I can’t go where?”

“Emma. You can’t go there. She’s not a one-night stand for you. She lives here, takes care of it since we’re gone all the time. You can’t mess that up. Ariel would murder you if you screwed this arrangement up.”

Killian flashes a smile, the ones he’s used to get whatever he wants a million times. There’s an art to being in the public eye, one he figured out only to ruin it all over again, but he still knows the old tricks. Smile, be charming, never let them see any hesitation in your actions. If a question is too invasive or the answer to telling, redirect. It’s all about the redirection. Killian was never one to lie, but he was certainly one to evade, especially toward the end when he couldn’t handle hearing what everyone had to say.

Here, he doesn’t want to admit that Eric might be right about him, but mostly, he’s tired of people controlling his life because they think he can’t make good decisions.

“What?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You think I’m not capable of simply asking about a woman?”

“I think you are, but I don’t want Ariel to have any reason to kill you.”

“Eric,” Ariel yells from the kitchen, stopping Killian before he can speak, “set the table! We can eat in fifteen.”

Saved by the bell. Or the Ariel.

He hates himself a little for rhyming in his head. If this is how he thinks sober, he’s not sure he wants to stay this way.

“And Killian,” Ariel calls, “you can make the lemonade!”

Okay, so maybe he can, if only because Ariel will kill him if he collapses into the pit again, and she won’t be the only one. He’s had a few downfalls into drowning in alcohol since coming here. Maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s sadness, who the hell knows? What he does know is that it makes the demons all disappear for the night, sometimes the morning too, but then it all comes roaring back in screaming color.

And with a hell of a screaming headache.

One or two drinks every few days, he reminds himself. That’s what he’s working with, and besides the few slips, he’s been pretty damn successful.

Killian heads inside to help Ariel, though he thinks he hinders her more than helps since he can’t find a damn thing, but eventually they get it all done and eat. Mostly, he has to listen to Ariel give him a briefing on things he has to do over the next few weeks. He has contracts to sign, video interviews and conferences to attend, and they need to happen at certain times. That’s a bit obnoxious, but he can’t complain. He’d be the biggest ass in the world if he did, and he’s certainly already in the running for that title. People still want his face and brand to represent them, and he doesn’t even kick around a ball anymore.

Fools. All of them.

Ariel asks him to stay for dessert, but he’s already eaten too much off his usual diet. Old habits die hard, and he isn’t working out like he used to. Maybe he’ll take up running again soon, but right now, the thought is exhausting. Killian excuses himself from the table, hugging the Fishers goodbye and wishing them goodnight. He’s sure he’ll see them before they return to England and go back to their regular lives. Ariel still has Will and Rob to manage, so she can’t spend all of her time on him. There are other pieces of work out there.

The streets are crowded as Killian drives back to his rental house. Tourists and native islanders alike are out to go to dinner or bars, likely a party or two, and while Killian is tempted to take a turn and go out himself, he doesn’t. He continues along the GPS guide back to his rental house until the garage door is closing behind him.

Day seventeen of being here - now that he knows the date, he’s reminded of when he arrived - is done and dusted, and he cannot wait to close his eyes and go to sleep. He’s been running on fumes all day.

Once inside, Killian quickly showers and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, collapsing under the covers of his bed as soon as possible. So, of course, that’s when his phone rings.

“It’s bloody half past one in the morning where you are.”

“And only half past eight where you are, so why are you in bed? You look horrible.”

Killian groans and pinches his nose as he props the phone up to get a better look at the screen. “Thanks, Els.”

“No problem.” She flips her blonde braid over her shoulder, and despite the time, she looks as if she could be up and ready for work in minutes. “I was up, couldn’t sleep, and I figured I needed to check on you. I’m sorry I don’t have the girls with me.”

“Did you tell Ally and Sophia I love them?”

“I tell them every day, but I think they’d appreciate it more if they heard it from their actual uncle.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Good,” Elsa sighs. She adjusts herself on her couch, pulling her blanket up higher on her body, and the familiar pang of guilt hits Killian. It happens anytime he talks to just Elsa. The girls act as a buffer, and he feels guilty for using them like that. He feels guilt about a lot of things. “How are you?”

“Good,” he lies. “Really good. I think I’m going to take up real running again soon, maybe finally check out the gym in the basement of this house. What about you, love?”

“I’m okay. Work has kept me really busy, which I like. I have this one house with the biggest garden I’ve ever seen, and designing it has proven to be a bit of a challenge. But I miss spending time with the girls. Anna has been such a big help, though. I love having her here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that’s great.” Killian runs his hand through his hair, yanking at the strands, and sinks a little further into the bed. It’s nice that Anna is around, that she’s been around this entire time while Killian fucked off across western Europe and then eventually to America. Yet again, he’s let someone he loves down because he’s an absolute tosser. “It’s nice to have a family you can count on.”

“Hey, don’t start that again, Killian. I’m not here for self-pity. You’ve had a hard year, and you needed some time away. No one is blaming you for that.”

“I’m not the one who lost my husband, love. I wasn’t left with two little girls with no father.”

Killian tilts his head up so he doesn’t have to see Elsa as water gathers around his eyes. Today was an okay day. Started off rough, but it ended up being alright. Now he’s gone and made Elsa talk about Liam’s death instead of having a normal conversation with her.

“My grief doesn’t negate yours, darling. You lost your brother, who was your best friend, and you lost the career you spent your entire life building. We can both be sad. It’s not a competition.”

Killian blows air out his nose and blinks the forming tears away. “How’d you get so wise?”

“Well, you see, when a child with a head the size of a football comes out of your vagina, you get special emotional intelligence. It’s something to do with all the hormones and pain.”

Killian finally looks down at his phone to see Elsa laughing, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You make me glad to be a man.”

“You should be glad. You’re at least fifteen steps ahead of every woman in the world. Now, come on, I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing. Have you made any friends?”

“What am I? A lad in reception?”

“No, because my child in reception has many friends.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Well, I met the loveliest waitress last night. Reminded me of my Gran, and, uh, today I met the woman who lives in Ariel and Eric’s house. Don’t think she was a fan of me.”

“However could a woman resist your charms?”

He laughs, even if he doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and this time when he sinks a little deeper into the bed, it’s for comfort and not to hide. When Killian got the news Liam died in a Naval accident, it felt like his world was ending, that the ground was crumbling underneath his feet. He was at the club warming up to head out onto the pitch, and suddenly his sacred place wasn’t so sacred. He couldn’t understand any words leaving Elsa’s voice over the phone. Everything was ringing, and his legs collapsed from underneath him.

He’ll never forget that day. One moment everything in his world was right, and then it wasn’t. and he’ll never get over the fact that Elsa has been the one who has had to continue holding him up when she lost someone too.

“Well, if their names are Ally and Sophia Jones, they are experts at resisting my charms.”

“Unless you give them sweets.”

Killian chuckles. “Those are my good charms.” Elsa smiles and yawns on the other end of the line. “Els, I think you need to go to sleep. I promise to call the girls tomorrow.”

She nods and flips her braid over. “Don’t go breaking your promises to them.”

“Never, love. I’m a man of my word.”

Or, at least, he used to be. His word seems to falter lately, but mostly only his words to himself. Killian looks out the glass doors and windows toward the ocean, watching the water crest much like this morning, but he hopes that tomorrow morning he won’t be standing there with a bottle of beer in his hands.

Maybe he can keep that promise to himself at least.

-/-

-/-

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(You can be added or removed at any time. I don’t know where my list went, so I’ve just taken it from my last story 😘)