#started trying to reblog something again once a week to no success (except for one time in december i think it was?

[jayswing101]

Hello hi sorry for all the sudden reblogs tonight 😅 my reblogs haven't been working properly since like November and they just started being normal again, so i was kind of. Mass reblogging a bunch of the posts i had wanted to reblog before but couldn't. I'm done now tho!!

[let-me-write-shit]

You writing is soo cool, you're amazing! I don't know if you are taking requests, but what about a famous Y/N and meets professor Harry and he is like "I don't want to teach you, you are famous" and she is like "you are going to teach me and fall in love with me😏" and well, idk the idea just came to my mind and I thought of you to write it hahaha. Love your writing, keep doing it 'cause you are great!

 Word Count: 9,443 LONG AS SHIIIIT

WARNING: FILTHY SMUT!!!!!!!! (I put ******** before and after the smut so you can skip if you’d like

A/N: Thank you SOO much to @mylittleangel9403 for this request and I’m SOOOO sorry it took so long. Turned out a lot longer than I anticipated. Not sure if you wanted this to be smutty, but I just couldn’t help myself. Also, shoutout to @gwenlovesharrystyles for the help on this imagine! Much appreciated!!Enjoy!

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Professor Styles

“Ma’am, respectfully, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Harry leaned forward in his chair, fingertips pressed together, aware of the large presence that sat beside him, his voice almost a whisper. “We’re already several classes deep, and as you know, my class is very difficult. She’ll be at a disadvantage going in, not to mention the students already in my class. The distraction isn’t fair for them.”

“Professor Styles, I don’t need to tell you how much this means to our University. I understand your concern, and I have every faith in you to help miss Y/L/N catch up to speed and keep your students in-check.”

He could feel the eyes of the famous singer on him as she uncrossed her legs and sat straighter in her chair. In his peripheral, he could see her burly manager, who stood in the back against a wall, take a step closer behind them like a bodyguard waiting to pounce. But for some reason, Harry had the distinct impression that Y/N could do without protection. He thought she was tough enough.

“Sir,” Y/N spoke softly and respectfully. Harry turned, seeing a reflection of yellow in her eyes as the sun shone through the window onto them, and he couldn’t help but think she was putting on an act for the Dean. “I know that the circumstances are...unusual. But, I promise I will do everything in my power to not cause any distraction in your class. I’ll sit in the back if that helps. Whatever it takes.”

The young professor took a deep breath, taking in her words. He looked around the room in thought, feeling everyone’s attention on him all the while. Some of the rumors about her seemed to ring true. Y/N had this energy about her that made it difficult to focus or think straight. She hardly took her eyes off of him throughout this entire meeting.

Harry sighed in defeat and nodded, “Alright. I trust she’ll be given the syllabus and information on everything she’ll need for my class?” he asked the Dean.

But before the Dean could respond, Y/N chirped, “I’ve already gotten it and I’m prepared to start next week.”

“Well, that’s settled, then,” the Dean grinned, victoriously, “Welcome to our school, Miss Y/L/N. Unless you have any more questions, you are free to go.”

Y/N stood up with a smile, followed by the Dean and professor. She stuck out a hand and shook them, saying, “Thank you so much. I look forward to starting on Tuesday.”

Her burly manager opened the door for her and she began to make her way out. And as Harry collected his things to leave, the Dean quipped, “Oh, Professor Styles. Before you head to your next class, I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

Harry watched as Y/N closed the door behind her, almost certain he saw a wink, before setting his things back down and taking a seat once more. He listened as the Dean encouraged him to do all that he can to ensure Y/N had a good experience here, explaining how big of a deal this was and how Y/N taking his class might encourage more students to enroll.

Harry listened, respectfully, but wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes. It annoyed him that he was expected to baby Y/N and bend to her will solely because she was a rich and famous singer, and he refused to play a part in that. If she wanted success in his class, she would need to earn it just like the rest of his students.

When they finished their conversation, he was already running late for his next class. Again, he collected his things and made his way out of the office. As he speed-walked through the administration, he was surprised to see Y/N still there, sat on a chair beside her burly manager, talking. When she noticed him, she instantly jumped to her feet and raced up to him.

“Hey,” she said, simply, keeping his pace as they continued out of the administration building and into the main campus.

“I’m running late to my next class, Miss Y/L/N. Did you have a question, or can this wait?”

Her voice was so flippant that it bordered arrogance, “Just wanted to thank you again for letting me join your class this late into the semester.”

“It’s not me you should thank. I don’t agree with it and I won’t baby you. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I suggest you start reading your books so you’re not lost in my next class. Your classmates have worked hard to get to where they are and I’d hate for you to be the reason for a halt in their progress.”

“I think you’ll find that not to be the case.”

She was so smug that it caught him off guard. The looming of her large manager two paces behind him as they hustled down the walkway was even more noticeable now, along with the many whispers and stares as they continued. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, perplexed.

He debated whether to ask, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness or that he’d entertain her malarky. But his curiosity got the better of him.

“Miss Y/L/N, why are you taking my class?”

“Why not?” she smirked in response.

He sighed, annoyed that he was even going along with this, “We both know you don’t need to go to school, especially for Advanced Musical Theory. Why are you only taking my class?”

Her voice was softer and more sincere this time as she spoke, “I’ve always been interested in Music Theory and wanted to take it before my career kicked off. And I heard you were one of the best teachers in your field.”

For a split second, in that moment of sincerity, he thought he might have just seen her, the real her, behind all the fame and money and act. But her innocence faltered as she quickly shuffled in front of him, making Harry fumble to a stop.

Her eyes were more seductive now as she hushed, “Besides, I heard about how hot you were and I needed to see it for myself. And I’m not disappointed,” she looked at him through her eyelashes.

Harry could feel the warmth rise to his cheeks, extremely aware of her manager’s presence behind him and the few students nearby, staring. He was sure his face was bright red right now as Y/N’s smirk only seemed to grow.

Harry was aware of his reputation around campus for being the ‘hot teacher’. He wasn’t a stranger to the gossip or the occasional student trying to make a pass at him. And, honestly, his ego enjoyed it. But he’d never crossed that line with a student before and she would be no exception.

He did his best to compose himself and continued past her, Y/N following behind, “I’ll ignore that and just give you fair warning,” he started, “My class is hard and you will not be given special treatment just because you’re famous. I promised the dean I’d get you caught up, and I will. Your class is every Tuesday, and you can meet me in my office after each lesson for an hour for the next few weeks until we get you up-to-date on what you’ve missed. I will not play into your games.”

“Yes, Sir,” she pouted, teasingly, and again, jumped in front of him, holding a hand out and smiling, “Looking forward to next Tuesday.”

Harry looked at her suspiciously, pausing for a moment before ultimately giving in and taking her hand in his. But before he could respond, she pulled herself closer to him. So close that she was practically whispering in his ear.

“But just to warn you, not only will I ace your class, but by the end of the semester, I’ll make you call in love with me.”

Her breath was so hot and her words were so unexpected that he stood there, stunned, while she pulled away, winked, and walked back towards her bodyguard, heading back from where they just came from. She waved to a few students that recognized her, and she looked back once to blow a discreet kiss before she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Harry watched after her, stunned at her assertiveness while people were watching. But he shook it off and continued to his class, mentally preparing himself to break the news to his students.

The anxiety in the week leading up to the start of Y/N’s first official day in Professor Styles’ class was becoming more frequently accompanied by the Dean’s constant checking in on him to make sure everything was ready, more students visiting or showing up to class, and even more excited whispers. Harry, on the other hand, did his best to push it aside, not getting what all the fuss was about.

He had done his best to prepare his students for their newly joined classmate, even sending out mass reminder emails to those in his class to please be courteous and warning them to avoid distraction. But when he pulled up to the school that day, he noticed more students than normal just hanging around, scanning all over campus like they were scouting for something.

Harry quickly realized that they were waiting to catch a glimpse at the famous singer and he snorted, rolling his eyes. Kids were so predictable. He slipped his lanyard with his ID around his neck, grabbed hold of his coffee and briefcase, and got out of his car, heading towards his classroom.

The Professor smiled and nodded at the students that greeted him in the hallway, proud that he knew each of them by name, continuing to his class. He knew his students would already be there, by now. Harry was usually always a few minutes late and he assumed that it gave his students more than enough time to ogle their new addition to the class.

But, when Harry rounded the corner and saw Y/N leaning up against the wall, arms crossed and alone, his nerves increased.

“Harry,” Y/N beamed when she spotted him, practically skipping over to him.

Harry raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat, “It’s Professor Styles,” he warned, earning a sarcastic nod while he continued, “Why are you not in class?”

“I thought we could go in together since I’m new.”

“I’m your professor, not your babysitter. Go on in next time,” he said as they approached the door. Before turning the knob, he paused and faced her, “While you’re here, I’ll explain to you what I explained to them on the first day. I’m a pretty easy-going teacher because I know how hard this class can be. You can eat in my class, you can have your phones out, you can come in wearing pajamas, I don’t care. However, the biggest rule in my class is that you treat people with kindness. We do not judge in this class. We don’t interrupt people or talk over others, we don’t make others feel inferior. My class is a safe space for people to be their authentic selves and we respect that. Can you do that?”

Y/N’s stance softened and she grinned, nodding, “Yes. I can do that.”

“Good,” Harry nodded, “I’d like you to take a seat towards the back of the class for today if you don’t mind. I’d rather they pay attention to me than the back of your head.”

“Whatever you say, Professor,” Y/N exaggerated his title, her lips twitching up in a lopsided smile.

He looked down at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes, trying to size her up, before he gave in and turned the knob to his class. The buzz from his students loudly chattering amongst each other instantly stopped when he walked in, closely followed by the singer. Harry vaguely noticed that not only was every single one of his students present, but they all looked slightly more put-together than normal. He snorted under his breath, dropping his briefcase on his desk, taking a sip from his coffee cup, and placing that down, as well.

“Morning!” He called out, earning a chorus of greetings in return. He gestured towards Y/N who was making her way up the steps towards the back of the class, “I’m sure you all know who this is. We are incredibly lucky to welcome Y/N in joining us this year.”

Y/N stopped climbing the steps to smile brightly and wave obscurely at everyone, “Hi!”

Harry nodded towards her to keep moving. She rolled her eyes, playfully, and continued while he explained, “I know we’re all excited to have her here, but I want to remind everyone that while we’re in the room, we’re all students, and that includes Y/N. Let’s all focus on what we’re here for, so we don’t get lost when mid-terms get here, yeah?”

After another muttering of agreeance, Harry noticed Y/N getting settled in the back and he nodded, starting the lecture, “Okay, what I’d like to do is a one-minute warm-up on today’s exploration on duple and triple meter. So, I need everyone to stand up.”

The rustling of chairs echoed and screeched as students got to their feet. Soon, they were marching along to Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles, everyone laughing and feet stomping on the ground. He felt proud, seeing all the smiling, attentive faces in his direction and happy that throughout the lesson, nearly everyone had seemed to grasp everything that he was saying.

But, each time he glanced up in Y/N’s direction, he noticed that not only had she not even so much as picked up a pencil or opened her laptop, she had not looked away from him even once. He made a mental note to reprimand her after class and continued on.

When the lesson came to an end, Harry thanked the class for their cooperation and the students began to pack up their belongings. He watched as Y/N was met by a group of kids who were considered to be more ‘popular’ around campus. He saw her friendly smiles, but could barely hear her over the noise.

Once Harry managed to gather his things and toss his now-empty coffee cup in the trash, he approached the group, earning a pleasant round of hello’s by the students. One of the girls, Jesse, made sure to bat her eyelashes a little more and lean closer than necessary as she spoke.

“Great lesson today, Professor Styles. I did have a few questions about musical texture and was wondering if we could meet privately so I could get some more clarity on that?” she asked, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers.

Harry was used to Jesse’s incessant attempts at flirting with him and getting him alone, but he never took the bait, “I’m sorry, Jesse, I have no free office hours available, right now. But please shoot me an email with all of your questions and I’ll gladly help you out.” He heard sniggering from her friends as her face shifted into disappointment and he turned to Y/N, “Miss Y/L/N, when you’re done here, please meet me in my office so I can get you caught up.”

“Yes, Professor, I’ll be right there.”

He waited twenty minutes before he finally heard a knock on the door. He had half a mind to ignore it and let her stand out there, annoyed that he was wasting time trying to help an entitled celebrity who clearly had no interest in his class. What was the point? But, he thought back to the Dean, and reluctantly made his way to the door.

“Your students seem to really like you,” she confidently walked in, taking a seat on top of his desk and tossing her bag on one of the chairs, crossing her legs. “Especially that girl, what’s her name? Jesse?”

Harry blinked and slightly shook her head back before closing the door and rounding the desk she sat on towards his chair, not bothering to give the statement a response. But that didn’t stop her from continuing, “She’s like, in love with you. Well, maybe not in love. But you definitely make her horny.”

“Y/N!” You shoot back at the brassiness.

“She’s hot, I’ll give her that. But she’s definitely got that ‘daddy money’ vibe to her. She and her friends invited me to a party next weekend. And that kid, Mark, gave me his number. He’s pretty hot, too. Looks like some kind of jock.”

Harry nodded, shuffling his papers, “He’s here on a full-ride soccer scholarship.”

“Damn, I’m good,” Y/N leaned back, pressing her palms flat against the top of his desk, impressed with herself.

Harry looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. He wished he could say that her confidence astounded him, but honestly, he wasn’t that surprised. He could hazard a guess that her success was probably all handed to her. She joked about another student being given ‘daddy’s money’, but if he had to guess, she was probably the same.

He set the stack of papers down beside where she sat on his desk and looked up at her with a sigh, “Miss Y/L/N, my desk is not a chair. Please have a seat.”

She slithered down off the desk and plopped in a chair opposite him, scooting it closer and crossing her arms on the top, waiting for him to speak.

He relaxed his shoulders and continued, “You didn’t participate much in class today.”

“Well, you told me not to be a distraction.”

“Yes, but you’re still a part of the class. I expect more participation from you in the next class. And that includes note-taking. You won’t pass my class from memory. For now, I need to get you caught up.

Harry spent the next hour trying to get her caught up on the very first day of his class, which she interrupted every ten minutes, or so, going off-topic or asking very personal questions like ‘do you have a girlfriend?’ or ‘how many students have you been with?’ None of which he answered. When there were about ten minutes left in their time together, Y/N interrupted for the eighth time that hour and Harry groaned, unsure that she had retained any of the information he had provided her so far.

“What made you want to do this? Teach Musical Theory?”

He looked up at her and paused for a moment and she stared at him, her head cocked to the side. She looked genuinely interested, and it wasn’t often that he got asked these questions. He decided he’d entertain her, just this once.

Harry slid the paperwork away from him and sat back in his seat, “I’ve just always been interested in music since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, so have I. That’s why I became a musician. There are so many jobs in the musical field, why music theory?”

“Well, I am a musician. Not as big as you, obviously, but I have a small band and we play gigs around town. But the more I deep dove into music and the history behind it, the more I got into musical theory. It was a hobby and a passion before it was a career. And I guess I just wanted to show people how fun and interesting it could be.”

Y/N nodded, seeming content with his answer before saying, “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good teacher.”

“You’ve only been in one class,” he chuckled, sitting up again and straightening out his papers once more.

She giggled, “Yes, but it doesn’t take long to know when a teacher is good or not. I see the way you interact with your students and hear the way they talk about you. Everyone seems to love you. It’s part of the reason why I chose to come here.”

“My reputation precedes me?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” she grinned, before softly speaking, “You know, we’re not all that different, you and I. I’ve been passionate about music for as long as I remember,” she laughed and said, “I remember when I was seven years old my mom took me to the library and I must have read at least six books, cover to cover, about Chopin. I knew everything about him and even named my pet rabbit after him. Everyone thought I was crazy.”

“Classical music?” Harry questioned, surprised.

She nodded, sitting up, “I’ve played piano since I was two.”

Harry pursed his lips, nodding his head, “Never judge a book by its cover.”

They stared at each other for a moment, silence filling the room. She looked more innocuous now; harmless as she sat with one leg crossed over the other. By this small conversation she had, she could see bits of himself in her eyes and it made him bring his guard down. For a moment, he was fascinated.

But her expression changed, more curious, as she asked, “So, how many lucky girls get the chance to have this one-on-one time with hottie Professor Styles?”

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples, “You exhaust me.”

“Or guys, I’m not judging,” she shrugged, “Though that would totally suck for Jesse. She’s really crushing.”

“I’ve never dated a student and I never will,” he said blandly.

“Never say never,” she smirked, “Why not?”

“Because they’re kids and it’s inappropriate.”

“Kids?” she snorted, “You’re barely four years older than most of your students. And everyone is of legal age.”

“I am not having this conversation with you,” he said, packing his things, “Our time is up. I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you in class next week.”

She grinned, gathering her things together and following him towards the door. As he reached for the door handle, she quickly put a hand on top of his, stopping him from turning it and making him look down at her as she said, “Don’t forget, Professor. Never say never.”

He watched as she opened the door and slipped out, turning her head once to wink back at him before she rounded a corner.

Harry found himself nervous and somehow anxious for the following week to arrive. It was the first time for years he had gotten there before any of his students. Every time the door opened and a student arrived, surprised by his early presence, he noticed he would jump and whip his head in the direction of the door. He tried to tell himself that he was just jittery or had too much coffee this morning, but he knew that wasn’t the reason.

When Y/N walked through the door, he felt his heart start to race.

“Good morning, Professor,” she smirked at him as she made her way up the steps towards the back of the class.

He nodded but didn’t respond. He felt stupid for not knowing what to say. There were so many options; hi, hello, how are you? Nothing. Harry watched out of the corner of her eye as she made a dramatic show of pulling out a notebook and a pen, sitting back in her chair and propping her legs up on the desk, making her short skirt slip up her thigh even more, waiting while she tapped her pen on the paper while the other arm was crossed over her stomach and her thumb grazed against her mouth.

He shook his head, pretending to search his briefcase for something as more students started to arrive, annoyed at himself for letting her get to him. In his four years of teaching, this had never been a problem before. How was she doing it?

Y/N waved as the group of kids she was seen talking to at the end of the last class squeezed in and they all excitedly waved back, making their way back to the seats in the row in front of her, spinning in their seats to talk. He wondered what they were talking about each time he saw her laugh or look down at him and hold eye contact.

The lecture started smoothly. He had them do another goofy exercise to get them ready for the class and was able to keep everyone’s attention as he explained notes and scales. Harry noticed the singer scribbling down in her notebook and was relieved to see she was taking notes this time. But what shocked him, even more, was her participation. The Professor, although known to make teaching and learning fun, was also known to ask a lot of hard questions throughout the class. Most, of which, the students rarely knew the answers to. That’s why he was surprised to see Y/N’s hand raised after nearly every question he asked, and even more taken back when her answers were right. Every single time.

Students began to become amused, automatically looking in between the two when a question would arise, and giggling at the incredulous expression on his face when she had, yet again, gotten the answer right. If he didn’t know any better, he would bet that by next week the class would turn it into some kind of a drinking game. He could have sworn he saw Y/N giggle under her breath and even blow a kiss.

After class, once again, Y/N was grouped on the steps by the rows of desks with Jesse, Mark, and their other friends. Y/N would twirl her hair and smile towards Mark and seemed to have him wrapped around her finger, but Harry also noticed how she’d look over Mark’s shoulder at him and bite her lip. She knew he’d be watching, and he hated himself for it.

Quickly, he packed his things and left the room, heading to his office to wait for her there, wondering what they were talking about. He closed the office door behind him, tossed his briefcase on the floor beside the paper shredder, and decided against turning the lights on. He blamed it on a splitting migraine, but it was really because there were too many intrusive thoughts running through his mind that he was doing everything he could to ease it, including pacing the room.

The attempts, however futile, were short lived. Minutes later there was a soft knock on the door and Y/N emerged, closing the door behind her, strutting right past him, and plopping on top of his desk again.

“How was that for participation, Harry?” she asked, propping a foot on the arm of his chair which made her skirt shimmy up her thigh just enough that if he were to look, he was sure he’d be able to see what she was wearing underneath.

He took a gulp and fought hard not to look down, lightly pushing her leg off of the arm of his chair so that both of her legs now hung down, taking a seat and crossing his arms, “It’s Professor Styles, and you did very well in class today, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Told you that I’d be a good student,” but her smile turned devilish as she spread her legs apart further and bent down closer to him, “But I can be bad if you’d like.”

“Please get off my desk and take a seat, Y/N. We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Whatever you say, Professor,” she exaggerated, slowly slipping off of his desk and rounding to the other side.

Again, Harry tried his best to catch her up on lessons she missed, but it hardly seemed to get anywhere with Y/N’s constant interruption of inconsequential questions and arbitrary thoughts that seemed to almost pour out of her mouth without thought. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath a few times. She wasn’t boring, he’ll give her that much.

The more she fought against his attempts at teaching her, the more he realized that they weren’t going to get anywhere unless he gave her a little of what she wanted. So when she asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” he sighed and ran his finger through his hair, giving in.

“No, I don’t. And why do you insist on coming to these meetings if you aren’t going to pay attention?”

“I am paying attention. You were talking about themes and motives of the piano and violin in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,” she said, confidently, crossing her arms, “I just think that it would be easier to come to class and learn if I knew my teacher a little better.”

He rolled his eyes at this attempt, but a smile crept on his face anyway, “What do you want to know?”

She smiled, sitting up, eagerly, “Well, it’s good to know you’re single. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

He sighed, uncertain why he was even taking part in this conversation, “A little over a year.”

“And you haven’t tried again since?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been busy.”

“Or you were heartbroken.”

The response stung a little. She was right. And that annoyed him even more. How did she do this? Get under his skin so easily? Instead of answering that, he retorted with, “Well, what about you? You’re obviously single, otherwise, you wouldn’t be flirting so much with your professor or the soccer star.”

Her smirk stretched wider, “Oh, are we jealous of Mike?”

He scoffed, grabbing the few pieces of paper off of his desk and attempting to organize it in the side filing cabinet, “No, I’m not jealous of a student.”

“Mhmm. Well, for your information we were just talking about the party they’re having this weekend.”

He tried his best to look confused, although he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that party since she mentioned it last week, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s on Saturday. Not sure if I’m going yet. I’m sure my manager and PR would have my head if I was caught getting sloppy at a college party. Not good for the image,” she whispered, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, “College parties aren’t all that great, anyway.”

“I’m sure,” she said sarcastically, “Anyway, I have a concert the night before, so I’m usually exhausted by the next day. You should come.”

“To your concert?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, “Unless you don’t like my music?”

Harry shrugged, “I haven’t really heard much of it,” he lied, “but my sister’s a big fan.”

“Well, I’ll put you down for a plus-one. As long as it’s just your sister.”

Harry felt a lump beginning to form in his throat and he shook his head, “I already have plans for Friday. But thanks, anyway.”

She shook her head, nonchalantly, “Well, offer still stands if your plans fall through.”

He tried his best to reroute the conversation back on topic and was thankful that she seemed to finally go along with it. But as it neared the end of the hour, he felt her eyes on his face more and more. He looked up in the middle of his sentence and froze when he saw her eyes on his. She seemed entranced and almost out of it. And something seemed to pull him into the same trance as her.

It was the first good look at her that he had gotten since their first meeting. Her skin looked soft and her eyes sparkled when the sun’s rays shone on them at just the right angle. He hadn’t noticed until now that the bridge of her nose was slightly elongated and somehow endearing. And her lips. Those lips.

Y/N shook her head and stood up. It was the first time that she seemed to be caught off guard, and that stroked his ego a bit. He glanced down at his watch and noticed that they had run overtime and he gasped. She seemed to realize, too. Hurriedly, they both began to collect their things, but in the frenzy, she accidentally flicked her pen off the desk and it ricocheted on his side, landing on the floor near his briefcase.

“Oh!” he heard her mutter, rounding the desk where they both hastily attempted to grab it.

Harry was the first to grab it and as they both stood up, they were face to face with each other, inches away. They froze, again, unable to move. He saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before; nervousness. Y/N was always such a confident force, and to see her any less than that admittedly made him gratified, like he had obtained a victory. But he, himself, was losing the battle. She was breaking him down one wink at a time, and he had never felt so weak in his life.

He could feel the strain of his desire pulling him closer towards her, the gloss on her lips looked enticing. If no one stopped him soon, he wasn’t sure if he could hold off much longer. He saw her eyes begin to flutter shut as the gap between them closed. Her sweet, minty breath swirled in front of his lips, he could almost taste it. And then a loud knock on the door echoed around his office.

Y/N flew against the wall while Harry awkwardly knocked his elbow against the back filing cabinet just as Jesse haughtily belted into the room. Her wide smile slowly screwed up into trepidation at the awkward tension that filled the room as the professor and singer avoided eye contact with each other.

“Jesse!” Harry quickly spoke, “What can I help you with?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d be finished. I just had a few questions about the essay, but I can just email you.”

“No, no, it’s fine, come in. Y/N was just on her way out.”

“Okay, cool,” Jesse smiled, stepping in further and placing her things on the chair opposite his desk.

Harry watched as the two girls exchanged friendly smiles, but he could see the slight embarrassment behind Y/N’s as she made her way towards the door.

“Don’t forget about this weekend!” Jesse called out after her, “I’ve never seen Mark so excited for a party before.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Y/N faked a laugh, sharing one last concerned look with Harry before closing the door behind her on the way out.

All week he found himself analyzing all of the occurrences that led up to him and Y/N almost kissing. He debated his sentiments, trying to logic every feeling of vulnerability and affection away with a simple explanation. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to pay attention to his work, constantly stumbling over his words of forgetting what he was talking about. When his class ended early on Friday afternoon and he sat in silence in his apartment, he stared at the blank television screen, contemplating whether or not he should take up her offer to attend her concert.

He paced the floor, opened and closed the fridge, tried to scroll through his social media apps, or read a book, anything to keep her mind off of her. He picked his phone up and stared at the home screen for a few minutes, constantly unlocking it when it got dark. With a final sigh, he opened it once more and dialed a number, putting it up to her ear.

“Hello, ya nimrod. What’s going on?” He heard his sister’s voice ring through the other end.

“How do you feel about going to a Y/N Y/L/N concert tonight?”

“You serious? Tonight? Bloody hell, yeah, I’ll go!”

“I’ll pick you up in two hours.”

Time only seemed to drag for Harry, left with nothing but his thoughts. It was enough time to go back and forth on whether or not he was making the right decision. Ultimately, he decided to go. He had already invited Gemma and he would feel guilty for bailing after getting her hopes up.

The sun was beginning to set and Gemma was singing loudly to Y/N’s lyrics in the passenger seat beside him. His palms were sweaty, gripped tight against the steering wheel. As the song ended, Gemma turned the volume down and turned to her younger brother.

“How did you get Y/N Y/L/N tickets, anyway? I didn’t know you listened to her like that.”

“I don’t, really. I mean, I’ve heard a few songs. But she’s my student and invited us to come.”

“She’s your student?” Gemma laughed, amused, “Cut the shit, Harry. How? Did you win them on the radio or something?”

“I’m serious. She’s taking my class.”

“What?” Gemma gasped, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think to.”

“You didn’t think to tell me that one of my favorite singers is a student of yours?” Gemma clarified. Eyebrows furrowed, she sat back and huffed, “Some brother you are.”

“Hey, now! I’m bringing you to her concert, aren’t I?”

The walk up to the ticket booth was one of the most humiliating things he had ever experienced as he uncomfortably explained who he was and that he was invited by the singer, herself. It took two people and a member of her staff to vouch for him before he and his sister were escorted through the venue and entered the pain event area through a private entrance that led them towards a VIP barricade towards the front of the stage. Thousands of screaming fans surrounded them, and Gemma looked around, shocked at the scene.

“This is insane!” Gemma shouted in his ear, bouncing on the balls of her toes.

Harry had to admit, it was pretty cool to see all of these people here for Y/N. He felt a sort of pride for her that he wasn’t quite expecting. And it didn’t take long for the lights to dim and the music to start.

He heard her before he saw her, and he felt his heart start to race again. He tried to play it off by the screams and the thumping bass, but when she finally came into view, he felt like he had been bolted to the floor, unable to move or talk or even smile. He was just stunned. Seeing her on stage was surreal. He knew of her, first, but it was hard for him to dissociate ‘student’ Y/N from ‘famous’ Y/N.

When they caught eyes and she realized he had come, a smile stretched across her face behind the microphone. He couldn’t help but mirror her, his shoulders relaxing as he managed a gentle wave. She walked closer to them on the stage, singing down at them, and he could hear his sister repeating ‘Oh my god, oh my god’ beside him as Y/N waved back in their direction.

Y/N was talented, there was no denying it. And the way that she interacted with her fans, you could tell that she was grateful for every second of it. It was touching. She was knocking down his assumptions about her little bit by little bit. He always thought that she’d be a spoiled, ungrateful celebrity, but that seemed to be completely false.

By the end of the concert, he had eased up and began to jump around, goofily, with his sister while Y/N watched, dancing around on stage, laughing and singing. Finally, the burly manager he had seen on the first day of their meeting with the Dean had approached him and his sister, informing them that they were invited backstage and to follow him.

His nerves began to rise in his chest again as they wove down several corridors until eventually, they stood before a door with Y/N’s name taped on it. The manager knocked loudly and waited a moment before they heard her voice on the other side call out, “Come in!”

With a turn of the knob, Y/N was now seen. She was in a new, more casual change of clothes and her hair was now up, but with visible beads of sweat lining her forehead and neck, she took a long swig of water.

“Hi!” she called, capping her drink and beckoning the two in, “Come in, come in! I’m so glad you came!”

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you,” Gemma tip-toed closer to her, smiling coyly as the door was closed behind them.

“It’s nice to meet you, too!” Y/N grinned, giving Gemma a much-wanted hug, “Please tell me you’re Harry’s sister.”

“Yes, I’m Gemma, his older sister.”

“Oh, thank god. I was worried he’d bring a date,” Y/N said, boldly, “He’s been playing hard-to-get.”

“You’re interested in my brother?” Gemma asked, astounded, “You’re way out of his league.”

Harry’s mouth fell open as Y/N laughed, “Yeah, and you’d think that’d be enough for him, wouldn’t you? But apparently he’s got standards,” she hyperbolized, rolling her eyes.

For an hour, Harry watched and laughed as Y/N and his sister talked and got to know each other more. They made jokes at his expense, and exchanged stories from their childhoods, shocked by how similar they seemed.

“You grew up around here, right?” Gemma asked the singer, taking a sip from her second beer of the night.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, about fifteen minutes from here.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, knowing the only residential area in a fifteen-mile radius wasn’t exactly known to be the best neighborhood. Y/N seemed to gather his thoughts, further explaining, “It wasn’t always easy. My siblings and I were cramped in a two bedroom apartment and we didn’t have our own phones until well into our teens. I missed out on a lot growing up, but my parents did their best. We had everything we needed. I was lucky to be able to get all this and get them out of that apartment. My parents deserved a big house and a yard. I owed them that much.”

“How did you do it? How did you get to this point?” Harry asked, astounded.

Y/N shrugged, “Right place, right time. I was found singing at the mall for a small gig at a Christmas event. The rest is hard work and history.”

Harry shook his head, speechless. He felt guilty for passing judgment on her before, assuming that it was all handed to her and that she had got her start because of her parents' connections. She was self-made, smart, and deserving of every bit of success that came her way.

After one more round of beers, it was getting time for them to leave. Harry could see the excitement in her sister’s eyes start to be replaced by fatigue, and as much as he wanted to stay and talk some more, he knew he had to get a jump start on grading papers.

He set his empty bottle of beer down and Y/N frowned, “Time to go?”

“Yeah, should probably head out,” Harry nodded, pausing for a moment and taking in the frown on her face. He didn’t have time to think before he blurted out, “Want to join us for the ride?”

Her eyebrows raised and her lips twitched up into a smile, “Yeah, sure.”

Gemma let Y/N take the passenger seat and Harry felt tense as he drove, hand shifting the gears right beside her leg. He smiled every time he heard her laugh, though he couldn’t quite pay attention to what the girls were talking about. He was able to gather that they exchanged phone numbers before he reached Gemma’s house. His sister gave them both kisses on the cheek before bounding up the steps to her home.

The silence was deafening and Harry was certain she could hear him gulp as he turned to her and asked, “Where to?”

He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t need to ask. But to hear it come out of her mouth was something almost too much to handle, “Your place.”

He reversed out of the driveway, barely croaking out, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” she asked, turning towards him.

“You’re still my student.”

“So? We can just talk.”

Harry turned and looked at her, giving her a knowing look, “You know it’s not to just talk.”

“Why can’t it be? You don’t have any self-restraint? Is it because you like me?”

Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he fumbled out a, “No.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?”

“......Fine.”

There wasn’t another word uttered for the rest of the journey to his place and he began to overthink. Was his apartment clean? Had he done the dishes? How messy was his room? Did it smell? He knew he should have gotten that diffuser from the store last week.

His nerves rose as he led her up to his apartment complex, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it was, for the most part, fairly tidy. Y/N walked past him, scanning the scene, and as he locked the door he also held his breath, waiting for her to say something.

“Nice view,” she noted, briefly looking out of the window before turning to face him.

He tossed his keys on the entry table and motioned towards the kitchen to his left, “Drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Tea? Coffee? Water?”

“Water’s fine,” she said, making her way towards his living room.

He took the moment to catch his breath, trying to regain control of his thoughts before joining Y/N on his couch, handing her the drink. They both took a swig and he felt her eyes bearing holes into him, again.

When he set his drink down, he turned to her, “You’re very intense, you know.”

She smirked, leaning into the couch some more, “Yeah. I just know what I want.”

“And what’s that.”

“You.”

The immediate response caught him off-guard, but he wasn’t surprised by the answer. At this point, he knew exactly what she wanted, and was only feeding his ego more. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by her and hadn’t thought about the same, but a part of him liked the chase.

He chuckled, sitting back, “You’re my student.”

She moved closer to him, more energetic this time, “I just happen to be into Musical Theory, that’s all.”

“You’re still my student,” he grinned, amused, patting her leg.

“So, what if I drop out? Would that change anything?”

Harry’s grin faded and his hand stayed where it was, resting on her thigh. He stared into her shining eyes again, seeing the seriousness behind them, and he froze, unsure of what to say. Would it change anything if she dropped out of his class? He wasn’t sure it would even need to come to that if she kept looking at him like that any longer.

His eyes flickered from her eyes, to her lips, and back up to her eyes as she waited for a response. He debated whether or not to just give in and kiss her right there. She wanted it, he wanted it, why keep fighting it? There weren’t any rules against relationships with students at his University, not like they’d even fight him on this one; they’re the ones that basically told him to give her everything she wanted.

But when he didn’t respond, Y/N pulled back away. He slumped, kicking himself for not pulling a move sooner. And after a moment of silence, she asked, “Hey, is it okay if I use your shower, real quick? I’m still sweaty from the show and I feel gross. I can take an uber home afterward.”

A million thoughts ran through his mind. Was that a move? Or an invite? Should he ask to join her? Why did she have to leave? He could drive her home, she didn’t need to take an Uber. But the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Uh, yeah, sure.”

He showed her to the bathroom and went to grab her a towel from the linen closet as she adjusted the knobs and stuck her hand under the flow of water, gauging the temperature. By the time he got back in, she seemed happy with the warmth of the flow and took her hair out of its bun, placing the hair tie on the edge of his sink. He hung the grey towel on the rack beside the shower.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he muttered.

She smiled, “Thanks,” and before he was fully out of the room, she began to pull at the ends of her shirt. Quickly, he scurried out of the bathroom and closed the door to give her privacy.

Once out, his hands shot up to his forehead and he crouched, mumbling to himself a frustrated, “Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you? Idiot!”

He sat impatiently on his couch, waiting for her to finish. When he heard the screech of the knobs turning and the pressure from the water fade, he shifted his position and quickly forced his attention elsewhere, trying to act casual. But when he heard the creak of the door opening, he turned his attention to see Y/N standing in the doorway, bathroom light glowing behind her, hair rang out and damp, clutching the towel around her body.

His eyes widened a bit as she spoke, “Do you have clothes I can borrow? Mine are still covered in sweat.”

“Uh, yeah, probably. In my room,” he stammered, getting to his feet and leading the way to his bedroom.

She followed, her feet lightly padding the wood floors. He felt almost embarrassed to have her in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like it was dirty and he didn’t have anything oddities displayed, still, it was an intimate space, and to have her there felt personal.

He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser where he kept his pajamas and motioned towards it, standing up straight, “You can borrow anything from here.”

She bent down in front of him to rummage through, giving him a better look at her back. It looked clean, soft, and supple as droplets of water still lined her back and dripped from the ends of her hair, getting absorbed by the thin white towel she had wrapped around her. When she stood up, he took a step back and she turned, holding one of his oversized white t-shirts and a pair of his plaid pajama pants.

He stood there, unable to move as she stared at him, raising an eyebrow. And still, as she tossed the clothes on the bed behind him, he found himself, once again, rooted to the spot. A smirk started to form on her face and her voice was soft and playful as she spoke.

“How’s that self-restraint going?” she teased.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her. And when her playful smile began to shift into something more alluring, he held his breath, watching as she untucked the towel around her chest and let it fall to the ground. His eyes instantly dropped to her exposed chest and he felt his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his chest as she stepped closer to him, barely twelve inches, refusing to take her eyes off of his.

“I know you want to,” she whispered, stroking his arms before taking hold of his hands, lifting them and placing them on her chest, “Touch me.”

He felt his erection becoming uncomfortable as he ran out of room in his pants for growth, massaging her chest. His attention roamed back up, locking eyes with her again. There was no stopping it.

************************************************** In a bout of passion, they threw themselves at each other, hungrily attaching their lips to one another, tongues circling and roaming the other’s mouth. Y/N tore fabric after fabric off of him as they spun, grabbing at each other roughly and without deliberation. Soon, they were both naked and knocking into walls and tripping over clothes.

Harry pushed her up against the dresser as she grabbed hold of his dick, pumping her hands up and down his shaft as he moaned into her mouth.

“Does that feel good, Professor?” she bit his lip with a smile.

“Ungh,” he grunted, pulling away. He spun her around so that her back was to his chest, and forced her down to bend over his dresser, propping one of her legs up on the top of it before he got to his knees, burying his face in her muff.

She cried out, “Yes! Teach me, Professor!”

He flicked his tongue inside of her, lapping up all of her juices while he rubbed himself. He could have kept going for hours, but he could feel her legs start to tremble. When he stood up, he slapped his cock on her ass a couple of times, swiping his tip against her entrance enough to get it lubricated before slipping right into her.

Y/N threw her head back, breathing, “Oh my god, you feel so good, Harry.”

He wrapped an arm around her neck while his other hand clasped over her mouth as he grunted, “Professor Styles,” before sucking on her shoulder blade.

When he loosened his hand from her mouth to take hold of her hip, she whined, “I’m so sorry, Professor Styles. I’m not always bad.”

“No, Y/N,” he pulled out of her, spinning her to face him, tempting her as he walked backwards towards his bed, “You’re my good girl.”

The back of his legs hit his bed and he scooched himself back, letting her climb over top of him, straddling his hips. She bent down, biting his lip again as she lowered herself onto him, gasping as her cunt swallowed him up.

She leaned back, letting him get a better look at her, breasts jumping up and down along with her. He ran a hand from her cleavage down to her navel, grazing her soft skin and watching as her mouth formed an ‘o’, scrunching up her eyebrows in pleasure as she called out his name.

“That’s a good girl,” he breathed, an arm behind his head as he watched, “Make me cum.”

She rode him faster, breathing heavier as he continued to grunt, propping himself up now and suckling on her skin. Her breaths became more shallow and her movements more rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself onto him even harder. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her down onto him, even more, to go deeper. He could feel her throbbing around him, which only made him more aroused.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he breathed, “Cum on my dick.”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and with three more pumps she let out a scream as she said, “Pro-fessor Styles!”

He smirked, quickly flipping her on her back and pumping harder and faster into her as her legs wrapped around his waist. She panted, squeaking as he grunted into her. He looked into her eyes which were full of lust as she stared back into him and he could feel himself start to build up. Even faster now, knowing he was about to finish, he smashed his lips down on her quickly before pulling out and squirting his jizz on her stomach, letting her rub out every last drop.

*******************************************

He collapsed on the bed beside her as they panted, trying to catch their breath before he got the strength to reach down and grab his shirt for them to clean up the mess.

When he turned to face her, she smirked, “Do I need to drop your class? Or can we fuck in your office next time?”

He let out a breathy laugh and mumbled, “That depends. Are you going to the party with Mark tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to?” she retorted.

With a deep breath, Harry shimmied closer to her, nuzzling his head into her chest which made her wrap her arms around him, running her fingers through her hair as he whimpered, “No.”

She laughed, kissing his curly brown locks, “Told you I’d make you fall in love with me.”

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

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans @gwenlovesharrystyles , @harryswinterberries, @gucciboots, @golden-grande, @ilovedogs1989 @f4llingfairy

[harryspet]

everything he wanted | peter parker

[WARNINGS] aged up peter x named oc (but limited physical description), noncon/dubcon sex, oral sex (public?),unprotected stuff, jealous peter, cheating

This is my first ever challenge and it’s for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ ‘s What’s Old is New Again Challenge! I chose the prompt  “I fell off my pink cloud with a thud.” - Elizabeth Taylor. Roo has AMAZING dark fics so, if you aren’t already, please give her a follow and check out her works!

In which Mia’s wedding is tomorrow and Peter has the damning information to stop it from happening.

Please like, reblog and let me know what you think!

Word Count: 3.4k

Mia was like family to Peter. He remembered the weekday afternoons when they’d get off the bus together and she’d watch him until his mother came home. They’d put puzzles together and make stupid videos of them lip-syncing to pop songs. She was a few years older than him, beautiful and charismatic so it was only natural that Peter developed a small crush on her. Well, small would be an understatement. But Mia had always belonged to someone else.

First, it was her parents that controlled her, forcing her to practice her dancing day and night while maintaining a 4.0 in school. She resented them for that but she’d never do anything but say kind words to their face. Peter was the only one who knew how she despised her dance competitions. Once she got to high school, Peter saw less of her as he was forced to face the challenges of middle school by himself. Then she met Sawyer and suddenly she didn’t need Peter to console her. He was only a boy. How could he understand the complex workings of a teenage girl?

Peter didn’t hate Sawyer but it was difficult to be cordial when he knew Mia was making a mistake. Becoming Spiderman gave him a distraction though and he craved that. It was the only thing that kept him from thinking about how Mia didn’t need him anymore. He was sure that he didn’t even cross her mind as she went off to college.

It took Mia a few more years to realize that Peter was a man. He was a freshman in college and she was starting her Master’s degree. She wanted to be an author and how perfect was it that Sawyer had just begun his big job at a publishing company. Even their careers were compatible except Mia wasn't writing. Couldn’t write. Couldn’t decide on what would make her unique and it seemed her career was over before it even began.

She solved her problem by getting wasted at Happy and May’s fourth of July barbecue, “Peter, could you take her upstairs to the guest room?” May asked him and he tried not to seem too eager as he nodded, “She needs to sleep this one off.”

He lifted the girl from her place on the couch with ease and she immediately began to wrap her arms around him. He could smell the alcohol coming off of her but he did not let it distract him from savoring her warmth. “Wait, I-I . . . I left my drink downstairs,” she mumbled close to his ear. Her breath tickled his ear and a shiver ran down his spine.

“No,” he spoke quietly, shushing her, “You’re done for the night, Mia.”

She whined.

He carried her into the guest room to tuck her into the bed. He should’ve left it at that. Should’ve. But he lingered. He had to. He was showing so much self-restraint just by not tearing off her clothes and ravishing her.

“I wish you were ... twenty-one. We’d have fun together…,” She smiled but her eyes were closed as she started to nuzzle into the sheets.

“I’m sure we would,” He should already be gone but he leaned over her body and began to caress her hair. He could’ve sworn he heard her purr as his fingers ran through her scalp. Down her shoulder and then down her arm. He had to stop himself before his hand got lower.

His lips pushed into a thin line of frustration as he looked over once more. He pulled at the comforter, covering her body, before slipping out the room. As he closed the door behind him, his hands curled into a fist.

+

No one else could but with his heightened senses, he heard the thudding from downstairs. He got out of bed, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, and slipped out of his room.

He found her in the kitchen, clad in a robe, and rummaging through the fridge. She hadn’t even noticed he was there until she shut the fridge door. Her eyes went wide and she almost dropped the three cartons of ice cream she was carrying.

“Some things never change,” Peter said, smiling at her. As he approached, she pushed his shoulder playfully. He was shirtless and her eyes seemed to wander but not for long.

“Shut up, four in the morning is the best time to eat ice cream,” He shook his head, walking around the kitchen island to grab two spoons for them.

He handed her the spoon from the other side of the island as she slid over the carton of cookies and cream ice cream. She remembered his favorite, “Are you feeling better? I thought you’d sleep until next week at least.”

Whatever grin that was on her face fell and she stabbed at her strawberry ice cream with her spoon, “I feel great, Peter,” and then she lifted her face to show him a fake smile. She was beautiful, he thought, even when she wasn’t being genuine.

“Really? Because I recall you best wasted before the sun even went down. I’ve never seen you drink so much … you used to say you’d never be someone who acts like that.”

“Well, I changed my mind. That was before I knew of the healing properties alcohol contains,” She stuffed her mouth with icecream and Peter assumed that the ice cream also contained her healing.

“You can tell me. You used to tell me everything, Mia,” He cocked his head to the side, trying to read her face. She sighed, leaning on the counter as she covered her face in her hands, “Is this what a quarter-life crisis looks like?”

He expected her to laugh, poke fun back at him but it took him only a second to realize that she was crying. He mentally cursed as he hurried around to her. “Mia, please don’t-” He placed a calm hand on her arm before she suddenly crashed into him, and he enveloped her in his arms.

“I’m a failure, Peter. I’m never going to be a good writer. I’m never going to be successful. School is a waste of time. I’m pretty much wasting everyone’s time. My parents especially. Sawyer. He wants to marry me but I’m nothing. And soon he’s gonna realize that and I’ll be alone. My parents won’t want me. And now Aunt May is gonna think I'm drunk. She’s never gonna see me like that girl I used to be. They look at Sawyer and they’re proud. They look at you and they’re proud. You saved the entire world for god sake. Why am I even here on this planet?” He wasn’t sure if she breathed through during her whole spiel. Her arms wrapped around his midsection and his hands caressed her back.

She cried harder into his shoulder.

“You’re not a failure, Mia. This is just a blip in your grand plan for your life. You’ll get through it and you will be a great writer. Even if it sucks, I’ll buy enough copies myself to keep you from going broke,” She laughed for a moment before going back to choking on her sobs, “I know your parents and I know Aunt May, they love you. Even . . . e-even Sawyer. That girl you used to be existed only to please others. Now it’s time to focus on you and what you want, no matter what they think. They’d never leave you. And even if you didn’t have them, you’d have me. No matter what.”

He gently pulled her from him, holding her face so she was staring into his eyes, “No matter what, do you understand?” She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

That was the first time she saw Peter like that. Like a man. Emotionally intelligent. Strong and inviting.

She couldn’t stop herself as she leaned into him and kissed him gently. She pulled away, her eyes wet and wide as she realized the mistake she made. “Peter-” He didn’t let her dwell on it long because he was pulling her in and smashing his lips onto hers.

They melted together. She needed to feel better, feel love and feel like she was needed. He needed her and she was everything he ever wanted. His hand found her waist and pulled her lower body even further against him.

He lifted her quickly and set her on the kitchen island, spreading her legs and setting himself between them. “You’re so beautiful,” He breathed into her ear, leaving a kiss there, then on her jaw and then down her neck. She only moaned in response.

Her robe was already slightly open, revealing her bra. Peter’s hand fumbled with the string and it fell with ease.

“P-Peter, I don’t think we should,��� He understood that she needed to pretend that she didn’t want this. Peter only smirked, placing a kiss on the skin of her breast before his fingers found the fabric of her panties. She grabbed his shoulder and he finally looked at her. Really looked at her, “Peter, this changes everything.”

She was just scared, he thought, of what they could be. “I know,” He stated concisely, “But this is what I’ve always wanted, Mia. You’re what I’ve always wanted. I love you.”

Mia knew it was wrong but she said those words back, knowing his “I love you” meant something completely different than hers.

Peter urged her to rest back as he lifted her legs onto the counter and slowly slid off her panties. At that point, she was free for him to devour, and his head slipped between her thighs. Right there on the kitchen counter.

She came once. Then again. And another for good luck, Peter thought.

They were interrupted, though, by a tired voice calling from upstairs, “Peter! Mia! Are you guys eating ice cream in my kitchen this early in the morning? You two aren’t kids anymore, you know?”

No, they certainly weren’t.

+

“You look great,” Sawyer complimented, giving his fiance a little spin as she twirled in her soft pink dress. It was strapless, accentuating her breast, and flowed down to above her knee. It was something her future mother in law had picked out and that she absolutely adored, “You should wear it to the movie premiere.”

Right, the movie premier. A year ago, she was completely at rock bottom but things were so different now. She had made an amazing friend, ten months ago, an extremely accomplished writer who’s already had three of her novels adapted. The woman had been reading her work and critiquing it but she insisted that Mia had talent. Raw talent not many people could harness.

She could get a book deal one day and, with a blurb from such a famous woman, who knew how successful she could be.

Mia looked again in her mirror and she loved what she saw. Sawyer, the rock on her finger, her new mentor, and this dress. She pecked his cheek and he continued to button up his dress shirt. Brunch was happening soon and tonight was her bachelorette party. Tomorrow she’d be a married woman and she finally was proud to be someone Sawyer could love.

She was running a brush through her hair when Sawyer suddenly got a call. He smiled at her as if to say he was annoyed to be getting a call from work the day before his wedding, and she returned it.

Sawyer was doing very well at his job too. His father described him as “practically running the place only after two years”. And he was always sweet to her. Someone who paid attention to the small things. Completely devoted.

Everyone they met had always said, even though they were both young, they could tell Mia and Sawyer were meant to be together.

After deciding her hair was as perfect as it was going to get, she left the bathroom. Their hotel room was gigantic, a presidential suite that they’d come to consummate their wedding. After that, they were jet setting across the world for three weeks. She was the most excited for the three nights in Paris.

As she stepped into the master bedroom, her heart stopped as Peter entered the room. He shut the double doors that connected to the living room, clad in his spider suit except for his mask. His eyes finally met hers and he looked her over as if he was an addict and she was his fix, “You look gorgeous,” He said, solemn because he knew that dress wasn’t for his eyes.

There was no way he walked through the front door. He must have come in from the balcony.

“Where’s Sawyer?”

Peter’s eyes darkened at the mention of that name, “Busy,” He stepped further into the room, admiring all the beautiful details. He threw his masks onto the bed and sighed.

“Peter, please-”

“I didn’t kill him, okay. And he won’t remember a thing,” Peter wished he could kill him. Sawyer was the reason that he couldn’t have Mia. Her eyes were wide with fear, “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

There were dark circles around his eyes and his bottom lip was bleeding, “Why are you here?”

“For you, Mia,” Peter spoke as if his intentions were obvious, “I don’t want you to marry him. I want you to choose me.”

“The wedding is tomo-”

“I know,” Peter slouched onto the bed, his palm on his forehead, “I was going to let it happen. I was this close to letting you ruin the rest of your life.”

“Peter, what happened with us was a mistake,” And she twisted the knife further into his already bleeding heart, “I thought my feelings were obvious when I ended things last year. I love you, Peter, I do. But you’re like a brother to me.”

He moved his hand, turning his head toward her, “What is it you want me to do? What would make you say no to him?”

“Nothing,” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Now, leave. You can’t just show up here like this the day before my wedding!”

Peter sat up on the bed, his fiery gaze burning holes into her, “I don’t want to threaten you, Mia.”

“Then don’t,” Mia’s lips trembled as her eyes narrowed on the door. Her phone was on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. If she yelled for help, maybe some housekeeper would hear.

Peter noticed. Of course, he did, “Mia, don’t-” She had already decided to make a run for the door but as soon as she got close, his webs had covered both the door handles.

She looked towards the balcony doors and, he was too quick, those doors were snapped shut too. As if he were reading her mind, a web shot out to grab her phone, before slammed into pieces on the door behind her. “You’re insane!” She screamed as she began pounding on the shut door.

He was standing now but still close to the bed, “Don’t you think Sawyer deserves to hear about last summer? I mean, yeah, we ate ice cream but I also tasted a lot other sweet things that night,” She felt her heart stop, “May will kill me but she deserves to hear about it too. It was her kitchen counter, after all.”

Mia froze, and tears stung her eyes, “You can’t, Peter,” She faced him, “You can’t.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” He was with her, wiping her tears a second later, “I won’t. I won’t. But we do things on my terms.”

She stared at him, a sad and incredulous look on her face, “I can’t cancel my wedding, Peter. I can’t do that to Sawyer.”

His eyes went black like a flip had been switched, “Then give me everything else.”

He grabbed her, lifting her before bringing her to the bed. She landed with a bounce, attempting to crawl away before he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, “I’m sure you don’t want to be tied down with webs, Mia, so I wouldn’t fight this if I were you.”

With her legs hanging off the bed, he reached for her dress. “P-Peter, please be gentle,” She begged, struggling against him.

“You had your chance for that,” He pulled down the top of the dress, revealing her breast, before resorting to ripping it down the middle in order to get it off. Her bra and underwear were small obstacles as well.

This wasn’t him. He was a sweet, caring boy but she had made him a monster.

He threw the material to the side before raising his right arm. A holographic keyboard floated around his forearm and with a few taps, his suit began disappearing scale by scale. “Get on your knees,” He commanded and she stared, dumbfounded. Staring over his naked torso, she realized he was even more muscular than the year before. Before she could open her mouth to protest he said, “Now, your fiance is right out that door. Don’t make me wait.”

She hesitated again and his bare hand snapped around her neck, dragging her forward until she was forced to her knees. Until she could feel the full force of his powers and realize she was helpless against him. Against his love for her. She couldn’t stop him, she knew that “This. Isn’t. You,” She gasped for air.

“Do I look like an illusion, angel?” She didn’t answer and he slowly let go of her throat, “Touch me, start with your hands.”

She scowled up at him and he shot her a warning look. One that said, I have the information that could ruin your life. Burst the bubble around the perfect little life you created.

So she did. She held his length in his hand, stroking up and down slowly. It didn’t take long for it to grow harder in her grasp. Tears still in her eyes, she pushed on. She wasn’t guilty last year but she was now.

Peter groaned, ordering her to look at him every time her face fell. He loved the feeling of her hands around him and the sight of her on her knees, “Very good, angel,” He praised, a sinister smile on his face, “Now, open your mouth.”

For a moment, a brief one, she thought he would be gentle with her since she was complying. She was wrong because as soon she opened her mouth, he shoved his length inside. She choked, saliva beginning to run down her chin but this only seemed to encourage him.

Her hands pressed against his rock hard thighs as she tried to gain some control. He only pushed away from her hands and held her head tighter. He bunched up the locks of her hair and pushed her head forward. In and out and then over and over again. Her eyes stung even more now

She swore a growl rumbled through his body as he thrust into her mouth. The desire he had for her was carnal and, at his mercy, she wasn’t sure how she’d turn out after he was done ravishing her.

“Good girl,” Peter grunted, “That’s it,” He pulled away from her mouth, a trail of saliva dripping from her mouth down to her thighs. Peter relished in the idea of waking up to a sore throat tomorrow and having to think of him as she said: “I do”.

Besides that, the greatest satisfaction would come from finishing inside her.

Mia understood she was coming next but, as Peter forced her to stand and pushed her onto the bed, she expected some sort of warm-up. Instead, he simply spread her legs, crawled on top of her and pushed inside of her.

He gripped her thigh with one hand and the other rested beside her head. With him pressed against her, she had no room to escape the full force of him. She came quickly, faster than she expected, but the pressure inside her seemed relentless. He seemed to find the right spot every time.

She cried out before she could bite down on her lip to silence herself. It only made him thrust harder, deeper and faster. He kissed her, deeply, and took in the moans that were being forced out of her, “You’re mine,” He grunted, “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love me.”

Another orgasm was already approaching for her and, despite all that had happened, she wanted it, “I-I’m yours,” She breathed, knowing that was what he wanted all along, “I love you.”

She’d never belong to her husband. Not when Peter would be there to claim what was his at any moment he could. 

That was all he ever needed and, with those words, he buried his face into her neck and finished deep inside her.

Peter swore she’d be the only girl he ever loved.

+

Hopefully you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading and if you’d like to read more then check out my Perer series called “Little Doe” ! My requests are OPEN

Also, if you’d like to be added to a Peter related taglist then leave a comment or send me an ask!

[bryan360]

My reactions through my Nintendo E3 2021’s highlight picks

Hey guys! You know me from what been checking on E3 announcement last week. I even did my other posts to mention it of 🐰Mario + Rabbits sequel game and 🏁🏎Forza Horizon 5 as my interests picks.

June. 13th, 2021 - Link Here

June. 14th, 2021 - Link Here #2

Now it's finally time that I can talk through Nintendo E3 2021's announcement of games and content; after reveals back in June 15th that I should've bring this sooner, but due to working on my other tasks that I'm gonna save it til today. Hoping that I had time for free time to explain of what I feel for Nintendo E3 2021 Direct reveal for this month of June; especially which one that I finding most interested so I could added through my wishlist on eShop app. So today, here's my interesting picks for Nintendo E3 reveal this year; whether you agreed or disagree of how it goes when you suggest other was. I know if everyone so close to look forward the Switch Pro reveal, but it seems that it didn't happen anytime soon. Anyways, now get into my picks that I screenshot and edited through last week's Nintendo Direct I've managed.

First top left - ✊😈Kazuya Mishima joining Super Smash Bros Ultimate

First off, I knew that there will be at least one Super Smash Bros DLC Fighter reveal; before saving the last one for coming months this year soon. What's really unexpected to see though is a second Bandai Namco fighter after 👻PAC-MAN, but sadly its not Lloyd that if everyone hoping he would've upgraded from a Mii Costume to a true fighter yet. (Like we ever getting another sword fighter once again. 😒) No, it was actually ✊😈Kazuya Mishima from the Tekken series. My reaction was caught my attention since it started when he carrying Ganondorf to the lava pit and so does other fighters that is really dark. Except for Kirby that thankfully knows how to get away, but still. If I remember his origin through reading wiki site though, at time he used to be good until his father Heihachi sees him as his weakness. Later when Heihachi kills one of the family members that Kazuya been fond of and being thrown by his father in the cliff until he eventually climbs back up when his devil gene activates. Ever since then, Kazuya is now antagonist for the recent Tekken games so far and seeing him to match fight against Smash was an unexpected sight. I remember the time after hearing Masahiro Sakurai's interview where he consider Heihachi to be playable for Smash 4, but pass over due to implement his moveset to be difficult. But here we are seeing for Kazuya instead that it really sure takes time to deliver. After his moveset through his reveal could be challenging to work it out on command. Let's just wait to figure out once Sakurai will finally bring us his next presentation next week, but for now knowing this Tekken fighter joining Smash was a unique idea that Sakurai managed to work it out.

Second top right - 🌟Mario Party Super Stars

How about that when where seeing the next Mario Party game brings us? Despite the recent 2018 Super Mario Party, this will be the twelfth installment to be heading Nintendo Switch this year's 🎃October 2021; this time having 100 remastered minigames like I've seen them before on previous Mario Party games. My reaction was good to see how it continues on, but sure miss that time I remember from my childhood for the original first Mario Party game on the N64 console. So what's get me attention is the recognized boards such as 👑🎂Peach's Birthday Cake makes a comeback! It looks the way that I remember from playing the N64 game when the layouts off frosting goodness and the song to match as well. It was really something when it comes from Nintendo and their past N64 games I have memories fond of. 🙂👍🏼

I give this Nintendo a good move when trying to bring back Mario Party again as a E3 reveal, but maybe just maybe if it will be this good from previous Mario Party games in terms of selling copies. Who knows? *Shrug*

Third middle left - Metroid Dread

However, if you really looking forward a new Nintendo game coming to October 2021 early is a most recognized franchise making a return....meanwhile Metroid Prime 4 is still in development. At least knowing this game can take us time before the fourth prime game can be finished, but man that everyone went crazy after the reveal of Metroid Dread! It the return of 2D Metroid game in action after the success of Samus Return for 3DS back in September 2017. My reaction was surprised and impressive for the looks and feels about this game's tone; especially the haunting part where the robot named "EMMI" (but don't be confused with the word Emmy as an Emmy Award like if would funny. 😅) trying to catch up with Samus and it's game over....😵 I think I could add this into my wishlist and it would be the first time I'll be owning this Metroid game for my Switch system. Fact: Metroid Dread was originally plan as a Nintendo DS title way back in mid 2000s, but sadly being cancelled due to technical limitations.

Fourth middle right - 💣WarioWare Get It Together

I was hoping if Warioware could come back for the lastest Switch system and they finally called. However, this game will take a different approach than doing minigames of yourself, but with your characters do it for you. For this latest Warioware game of picking noses, it'll be having one of the characters such as Wario, Mona, Jimmy T, 9-Volt, and others to do on all minigames with their strengths and skills they can managed. My reaction was pretty good knowing that Nintendo is making this a unique idea than doing a same microgame gameplay style from previous ones, but in a fun way. Cross my fingers if I'll be saving this as a digital download version. Like that time I actually got "Warioware Touched!" for my 2DS/3DS handheld system back in April 2016, but sadly lost it of deletion unfortunately....😧 Link Here #3

Fifth middle bottom - Game & Watch The Legend of Zelda

And finally is something that we're hoping to expect during almost halftime of their E3 direct reveal. Knowing this year is The Legend of Zelda 35th Anniversary, you probably hoping they can bring something to celebrate one of the most recognized series run. While it was shocking to know they won't be having plans to do; even for me that I finding baffling for Nintendo would do this. At least they wanted to make up for it by having to released the HD remastered version of Skyward Sword coming next month and giving us a second look for the upcoming Breath of the Wild sequel until it'll be released next year....eventually. What's my pick though is the Game & Watch version for The Legend of Zelda; the same thing of what it made for Super Mario and during its 35th Anniversary run last year. For this next one will have 3 related Zelda games: 1987 original, Zelda 2: The Adventure of Link, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening, and a special Game and Watch version of Vermin, but playing as Link as he trying to clobbered the octoroks instead of moles. Looks like it'll be a different take from what the Super Mario version have, but hoping it won't be the limited edition once maybe I could get one of those a try. So for my reaction was pretty alright. 🙂👍🏼

Overall:

Man that is the list for my interests picks I gotten, but after watching Nintendo E3 Direct for this year sure worth it at the end. It was very impressive direct despite of absent games not being showed like Bayonette 3 or Metroid Prime 4, but with other announcements such as Metroid Dread and Mario Party Super Stars does give us something for the win.

What did you think about this list of my interesting picks for Nintendo E3, though? Give yourself some likes and reblogs for this post I bring. Anyways, I'm just gonna check on my P-Pal's secret art trade part for me that I should've done it early. Sorry about making this post that I took hours to finished, @murumokirby360

[imaginesandideas]

humid

roughly 4k words, originally posted on my A3O account. a late summer memoir; NSFW. reblogs, comments, suggestions and all kinds of support are more than welcome ✨

[whispers] y’all should really play Hozier’s “Work song” or “NFWMB” for this one 🖤

It’s been a tough couple weeks. Well, months. And it’s especially hard cause you’re living together, you’re married and yet you’re passing each other by. Not willingly for goodness sake, but you’ve been barely finding time for each other lately and it’s killing you. He’s not dealing great with it either, but he keeps the facade to avoid worrying you more. He’s learnt that at work obviously. The same work that has been keeping him away from you for so long.

You’re not better though. Everything has changed after you finally got your degree. The studying was hell, you were mostly tired and overworked. But Flip? He was by your side through highs and lows and was always super supportive. If not for him you probably wouldn’t have done it at all.

But after that you were met with another bunch of obstacles. Cause despite your earnest efforts, finding a decent job in the Colorado Springs area was a rather difficult task.

You went through successive stages of education but it never meant that someone would be willing to give you a chance. And again Flip was the most supportive husband - he would drive you to your interviews insisting that it’s „no big deal” and that he won’t be late for work, cause the work will wait for him anyway. You found his presence by your side in those moments  extremely comforting. As you were driving around town he would reach out for your hand to hold it and place a kiss at the back of it. Such a simple gesture but for you it meant more than words. You knew that it was an affirmation, it was him reminding you that you’re strong, that you’re capable and that no matter what happens he’ll be there. For you and with you.

And you simply couldn’t help but glance at him lovingly as he was entirely focused on the road, making sure you get there safe and on time.

 And finally, after many unsuccessful attempts, you got the job. It wasn’t a job of your dreams, but it was good for a start. You were earning enough to support your household budget and to take some of the worries off Flip’s shoulders. It was the independence you’ve been seeking, but it also meant that you’d have to get used to your lives continuously not coinciding.

You didn’t even realize when 6-hour shifts have turned into 10 hours. And then those 10 hours turned into a lot of paperwork you’d do during the weekends. But that’s okay, you thought, Flip was also busy at the station or going on missions so you couldn’t really be mad at yourself for doing all this extra work, right? And it was also pretty rewarding cause soon enough you got promoted and had even more complicated tasks to execute. It also came with bigger money, but all of a sudden you realized that you don’t even have the time to go and spend it on something.

Soon enough it dawned to you how little time together with Flip you were actually getting and the thought itself made you feel sick. Cause if you were to count all the moments you two had for each other during the week, it would have to be all the hours asleep and alarming amount of rushed goodbyes and kisses as you pass each other by in the hallway of your home.

Passing each other by - that’s what you were actually doing and it was driving you insane. But what could you do, you were trapped between the current project and all the upcoming ones. You were trapped between Flip’s and your own work schedule. Separated by the obligations that lay with your shoulders.

„That’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you!” His voice is heavy with exhaustion but you can sense that he’s smiling as you’re talking on the phone.

The manager position was more than you could’ve dreamed of, especially after such a long time in your current job, but the offer was so generous and unexpected that it took you a moment to process it. But first, you needed to call Flip. Partially because you wanted to know his opinion but also just so you could hear his voice.

„Well I have yet to agree but yeah I’m pretty excited.” You smile to yourself. „I mean, it’s a big step and I’ll have to get used to the new workplace but yeah…”

„You’ll do great baby. You’ll handle it like a fighter, I’m sure of it.” He’s really so proud of you and no distance could ever hide it. You can practically see his eyes shining with pride. „I love you.”

You sigh sadly.

„I love you too baby.”

„… and miss you.” He adds in a hushed tone.

„I know, I do too, you have no idea how much.” Suddenly you feel glad that you got to talk now, during your break with none of your coworkers around. It’s not like you’re ashamed or anything but you just don’t want people gossiping about the state of your marriage or you in general. It’s your moment, one out of very few you get to spend with your husband, even if it’s on the phone. And you’re just sad, your voice almost breaks as you’re speaking. „I know it’s probably just all the work and stress but I think I’m going crazy sometimes.”

„That bad?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes but you know he’s only teasing. „I know baby, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. All this paperwork from the last case got us locked up here for days. Even Ron had enough of it and left earlier today. Promised he’ll be back tomorrow morning but I wouldn’t bet my money on it.”

You nod mindlessly. Gnawing on your bottom lip you decide to take your shot.

„How much of it do you guys have left?”

„The case data? Uhh, for at least a day or two I think. Why?” You smirk but keep your voice on the same note.

„I might be wrong but I remember that chief once mentioned that you still have that overdue leave?”

He pauses for a moment, most likely trying to recall that conversation but soon enough he’s back on the line.

„Yeah I think there was something. I’ll ask him again but I believe there was a week or two.”

„Okay so, uhm, how about you get the paperwork done and we both take some time off? Just you and me, no work, no phonecalls, no distractions.” At this point you can barely hide the excitement in your voice and you don’t even care. This may be your last chance so you just hope he agrees.

„God yes, that’d be perfect!” He smiles widely and you can’t help but smile too. „What about your new job though?”

„I’ll handle that, don’t worry.”

„That’s my girl.” The smile he has at that moment will stay with him for the rest of the day, he has no doubt about it.

 Time flies when you’ve got loads of work and things to look forward to. Those days flied by like a rocket and there you are, all giddy and excited as you walk towards your home. You decided to buy some groceries on the way and grab your order of italian takeaway from that restaurant you used to visit quite often when you were still only dating. Despite the tiredness and the overwhelming heat of the day you try to keep your mood uplift, the thought of well deserved time off with your husband is making all the work worth it. Cause he is worth, and you know that both of you deserve this more than ever.

The late-summer sun is setting low over the city and the woods and you stop in your tracks to catch that last glimpse of golden light. Who would’ve thought that one day you’d miss small things like this - slowly walking home, admiring the view. But you promise yourself to care more from now on. It’s a brand new chapter of your life and you decide not to waste a single moment that’s worth remembering. And you want to remember this, remember this day.

You set your purchase on the kitchen counter and drop your bag on the couch. Flip did not set the hour precisely but you guessed that he’ll be late, the usual.

After you put the food in the fridge - you specifically ordered pasta to be semi-raw so you could reheat it at home when the right time comes - you grab the bottle of leftover wine that you intentionally didn’t finish the last time. Now that you’ve got a couple days off it won’t matter if it’s not the weekend yet, you’re starting yours early. Besides, it should help you relax a bit, loosen tense muscles. And that icy liquid just feels so right as it reaches your tongue, perfect for a hot evening like this one. With a glass in one hand you step out on the porch but the air is still way too heavy with heat and you return inside.

After yet another sip you set the glass on the table and choose to change into something more comfortable. Ideally something thin, cause even back inside the air was pretty humid. Barefoot, you step inside your wardrobe and the coolness of it makes you close your eyes in bliss. The summers here were great, you loved the sun and the nature flourishing, but if you could trade one thing it would have to be the heat, especially during the night.

By the time you come into your bedroom you don’t even know what time it is, you’re too drowsy to care. Maybe you’d just wait in here, lay on these silky sheets you just recently bought for the summertime sleeps. You’ll keep one eye open in case if he comes back soon. You won’t fall asleep no way. No way…

 Jolting awake you notice that the light is turned off, the whole room is dark and aired but still pretty humid as if someone left the window open. And it’s almost completely silent, except for the steady breathing beside you. There’s warmth spreading over your waist where his arm rests protectively and you smile. Once your vision accommodates to the darkness you see his sprawled out form, so pale in the night shades of your bedroom. He even got rid of the tank top he’s normally wearing to bed and you assume he must have felt just as hot as you.

You also realize that you must have fallen asleep before he even came back, cause you can’t seem to remember anything after changing your clothes in the wardrobe.

His embrace feels better than anything else in the world and you wish you could’ve stayed like that forever but your throat feels so dry that you decide to gently slip out. It’s no surprise that you still feel dizzy as you stand up, suddenly remembering the alcohol and the fatigue of workday. As quietly and carefully as possible you sneak out of the bed and then out of the bedroom, leaving Flip alone underneath the sheets.

One glass of water isn’t enough so you pour yourself another one. It’s been hours since dusk yet the air feels so heavy and hot as if during the day. Your skin feels sticky, like it’s covered in some sort of sweet syrup.

„You minx.”

His raspy voice coming from behind startles you at first, but his hands swiftly sneak around your waist before you get a word out. And you don’t even mind the warmth radiating off his body onto your back, engulfing you as he closes the distance between you both, that closeness is almost relieving. You haven’t been this close in a very long time.

„I thought you were asleep.” You say softly as you reach out to caress his face and he nuzzles his cheek into the crease between your shoulder and neck, kissing along your tense muscles.

„Can’t sleep without you. I need to know where you are.” He mumbles and you smile.

 It’s true, even when away on a mission or an investigation - he always calls. He knows when you’ll be back from work and wants to make sure you got home safe. That’s the protective side of his that you’ve learnt to adore, even if one could consider it an annoying trait.

With his vast work experience, the things he’s seen over the years but also the love he had for you from the very first day, he couldn’t just simply overlook your safety. You were that one string keeping him grounded and sane thorough all the madness in his life, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d lost you. It was almost like a ritual at this point. Him calling you from the station before you head for bed, sometimes you calling him at the hotel when you know his workday on a mission is over. Not only does it calm both of you down, it’s also a chance to have that much needed time to talk about ordinary things.

„I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I had some wine, I don’t even remember when I passed out…”

„It’s okay. You work so hard, you deserve some rest.” His voice is soothing in your ears, almost as soothing as his soft lips traveling up along your pulse point. „And I was tired too.”

„Was? Past tense?” You whisper chuckling and his grasp on you tightens, he’s pulling you in even closer almost inhaling you whole. His hands run up your sides, gently cupping your breasts before they retreat, then climb up again, this time underneath your shirt. Ever so slowly, teasingly his fingertips dance over your skin, over your slowly hardening nipples. And despite his bodily warmth it still sends shiver down your back. 

He whispers but it feels like a thunder echoing along your neck.

„You already know.”

Your bodies move in unison as you turn around to face him. His face glows of late summer sweat in the dim light and it only accentuates his rough features, from cheekbones to jaw. He gives you a few seconds, enough to get a good look at his shadow-toned figure - arms,  thighs, collarbones, stomach and that strong chest - at your Flip, before he pulls you in once again. This time his hands are even greedier, his movements are more desperate. But you’re right there to reciprocate, bringing your own needy hands to his dark, sweat-tangled locks. And when his lips finally meet with yours it’s like breathing. It’s natural, it feels necessary. It’s like magic but better, cause there’s nothing realer than this.

„I missed you. So so much. I missed this.” He whispers in between kisses hastily. His voice is hushed but deep, like in a tantric prayer. Like a spell.

„Flip.” You call out quietly, a whisper echoing in the darkness. He hoists you up, you watch his arms flex in the corner of your eyes, hands clutching on your thighs for dear life as he places you ever so gently on the counter. Safe yet so close to the edge.

His movements are sensually slow, so different from the way you’ve remembered him. With lips parted you let him kiss away the tension from your shoulders, arms, neck, wrists…

„Let me.” He half asks half states as he sinks low on his knees. Your eyelids grow heavy with each touch of his plump, warm lips on your ankles, calves, below your knees, along your thighs. „My love, my queen.”

You don’t remember him him like this and you’re hypnotized. He’s like a drug flowing through your veins, heating you from underneath the skin. Like he’s controlling your whole body, its motions, you.

„Baby please.” You’re begging. Flip likes that, a lot.

„Say it again.” It’s the depth of his voice, the booming of it that wakes you up from this trance you’ve been stuck in. And he’s looking at you with those cinnamon-spiced honey eyes of his. The eyes that are now locked with your own hazy gaze.

He kisses your ankle without even looking away and it’s like fire burning you from underneath and that icy breath tingling on your skin.

„Please.” A whine.

„Again.”

„Please…”

It comes out nearly a whimper, but he’s relentless, his face stoical like a cliff. Proud, patient, waiting.

He’s tempting you, testing you as if it is the devil himself kneeling beneath your feet. Encouragingly grazing his fangs along the luscious skin of your thighs. Awaiting your surrender. Your submission.

„Say it like you mean it.”

Your heart is shaking in anticipation. It feels so wrong and yet you give in.

„Phillip, please. I need you.”

And he bites in, sucks in, leaves blooming marks like petals scattered around a bouquet of fresh wild peonies.

He devours you entirely, completely. Trembling, you’re losing control, in fact you’re giving it away, right into his eager hands, lips, hungry eyes.

 By the time his mouth reaches your clit you’re already blissed out, encouraging him with the motion of your hips, quietly gasping, begging for air, begging for more. Begging for no air at all.

It’s like you’re breaking apart, your body and mind conflicted yet something, someone, keeps them tied together, seals them with each caress. Your nerves are tingling but at the same time are so numb, like he’s crawled inside you, slick as a snake. He’s controlling you, the rhythm of your breathing, of your heart.

And your heart feels like a volcano, hot and ready to explode from your heaving chest.

„Y-yes, there, please.”

Your slick and his spit are one. Your inhales are synchronized with his lips. Perfect harmony, only it’s not quiet, it’s loud on his tongue, loud as the gasps leaving your mouth and even louder in your brain.

With your vision clouded you gaze down and that’s when it hits you.

Your limbs involuntarily shake, wave after wave crashing over you and within seconds you can barely breathe. Your mind is filled with light, like sun setting over beach, the sounds  of ocean rustling. You’re divided, both here and out there, not even sure which one is which cause all of these sensations feel so real.

There’s this immense hot heaviness climbing up your torso. It covers your ribs, moves swiftly over your cleavage, rests below your breast, on your heart. His hand reaching out to touch you even more. So gentle and loving yet so delightfully demanding.

„Yours.” You whisper even though he doesn’t question it verbally. It’s in the air and you just repeat it like echo, like a mantra.

Fingers dig into the counter, seeking support. He knows you’re almost there, he can feel it through your uncontrolled trembling, your spasming cunt. And so he catches you, holds you grounded, holds your thighs firmly apart with his strong hands. Somehow it doesn’t even matter that it’s the middle of a hot night, it doesn’t matter where did your underwear go, if the sun is about to hit your faces within the next few minutes, cause all you care about is him. And you keep chanting his name with that haunting promise.

„Yours Flip, yours. Yours.”

If only you could see these honey eyes as they drown in the sound of your voice, the eyes that can’t speak but still reflect his love for you - selfless, filled with adoration and respect. In his eyes you’re a statue, carved and perfected thorough the years, and now he’s bringing it to life.

Your body goes tense one more time, from head to toes, from the crown of your head and along your spine. He slows down, he wants it to last, he wants to feast on you for the rest of his days and even more, but he needs you to be fed.

And gods, he’s feeding you with everything he has, with the twirls of his tongue, with his own spit sticking to your sweat covered body, the tiny bites and that gloriously filthy loud sucking.

 It’s your arms that give in first and you lean back on the counter covered in sweaty bliss. His hands that kept your your thighs apart loosen the pressure, though you’re fairly sure of the bruising that will come out of it. The beauty of pleasure and pain.

Slowly he pushes himself up from his knees. And- fuck, he’s so in love with you he would propose to you the very next day if only that didn’t already belong to the past.

That’s when your eyes open. You catch him staring but he’s staring at you the way no other person ever did. Not like a prize, a plaything, no, he’s fucking mesmerized. All he sees is a goddess and the look in his eyes, his face says it all. It’s that tiny smirk on his stupid-beautiful face that cracks your heart open. You wonder how dare he tongue-fuck you into oblivion just to be so puppy looking seconds later. It’s like he’s testing you again.

„I fucking love you, y’know that right.”

„Phillip Zimmerman, how dare you. I should be the one saying that right now.” You chuckle but soon enough he gently grabs you, sitting you upright, his arms wrap around your waist yet again, eyes glossy with love. You’re speechless cause it feels like falling in love for the first time, this moment, him holding you close like this. You know this, you two have been like this in the past but you thought you’ve lost it somewhere along the way. Life can be rough, can be painful and sometimes just utterly normal, boring even. But here you are, gazing at each other longingly, maybe more in love than ever before because it’s no puppy love anymore, it’s a full-grown one.

His eyes follow the lines he draws with his fingers along your cheekbone, cheek, jaw before stopping at your chin. And he stares. Stares into your eyes.

He’s thinking how perfect you are, your face carved with determination, struggles but also beauty, and this immense love. He’s thinking how fortune must have helped his blind senses in catching you. And how he never wants to let you go.

He’s so lost in thought and so you take over finishing the sentence he meant to make. You seal the confession with your own lips, deepening it, making the words mean something beyond their definition.

With your eyes closed your hands glide over his face. You feel the softness of his skin, but also each of the tiny scars, the moles, the small imperfections that make Flip the person you know. Your person.

Your lips detach and you already miss their fullness, you miss the way they belong together.

„I meant that, you vixen.” He exclaims half-teasingly, but you know he’s sincere. You know him well enough to recognize it, so you just smile.

„I know. And I do love you too, so much. I really missed us.” As you speak he cups your face yet again but allows you to continue, not wanting to interrupt your thoughts. You were always better with words than him. „And I’m so proud of us, super-proud of you. How you grew over the years, how you’ve gotten better at everything you were already great at. And, like, grateful. For everything you do, for being so supportive and for being there for me an-”

„You better cut this sugary bullshit or you’ll make me so soft ’m not gonna be able to fuck you later.”

„Cutting it right now!” You pretty much cry it out and he chuckles flashing that full-blown smile of his, the one that’s reserved only for you.

„Good girl.” He says and you half-expect him to run off with you to the bedroom, but instead he kisses your forehead and pulls your arms over his shoulders. „But first, sleep.”

„What? No, no nonono. Babe, Flip, no, put me down. I can’t leave you hanging like this, let me-”

„No. Sleep. We need some more sleep first. Besides - I caught that small yawn you did 5 minutes ago, and you tried to freakin’ hide it from me so you’re not getting away with this one.”

„B-but…”

„I promise, we’ll catch up after a nap. Look, we woke up in the middle of the night and now it’s almost dawn.”

His words make your head spin in direction of window and you can’t believe he’s right as the first beams of sunlight hit your eyes. And of course you yawn on the spot, cause he’s really just has all the points.

 So you just nuzzle your head in the crook of his marble neck as he carefully hoists you up. You stay there, wrapped in his love through the finishing moments of night, and through couple more hours as both of your bodies rest covered in silky sheets, with limbs tangled together, breathing steady. Even when the air gets humid again covering your bodies with another layer of sweat, you don’t mind. You’re no longer against the heat, not if it’s the heat he covers you with, not if it’s the heat of you together.

[laprincesaelena]

EOA Discord Ship Appreciation Week Day 3: Growing Old Together

a/n: hey everyone! sorry i’m a day late on this one, once i start writing something, i tend to like, not stop, and that’s what happened with today’s fic lol, it took me much longer than i expected! but, regardless, here it is! today’s fic is a bit different, focusing on a different couple (though, there are mentions of gabelena lol, but you could always fill in gabe’s name with your character of choice :) ), our beloved king raúl and queen lucía!!

basically, this fic is a what if. what if the king and queen of avalor’s story had gone slightly differently? what if king raúl and queen lucía hadn’t even left to work on the carnaval floats before shuriki arrived? in this au, raúl and lucía receive the happy ending they deserve, and they live to see many more family moments and milestones than they would in canon.

(also, for the sake of the fic, let’s just say in this au, avalor gains a new ruler once the heir becomes of age, not when the current ruler dies. okay? okay :) )

anyways, before i do exactly what i did while writing this and write wayyy too much, i’ll stop myself here. a quick thank you to everyone who’s been liking, reblogging, and leaving wonderful comments on my fics so far, you don’t know how happy they make me!! and a very special thank you to @procrastinateland , for providing the beautiful art to go along with the fic!! hope you all enjoy!!

fic is below the cut!

“Got everything, cariño?”

The queen of Avalor was busy packing the carriage with boxes full of colorful decorations to decorate their latest float for the upcoming Carnaval celebrations. Carnaval was Lucía's favorite time of year, and she always looked forward to designing, building, decorating, and of course, riding aboard the kingdom's infamous Carnaval parade floats. She and her husband, King Raúl, were headed to Castillo Park to check up on the progress of the floats, and to add a few touches to their own.

"Yes, yes, everything's here!"

One could barely see the king steadily walking down the steps of the palace, for he was carrying a stack of boxes that rose to practically over his head. Lucía couldn't help but shake her head as she turned to see this sight, and met him at the bottom of the stairs to help him out. She reached up to take the box at the top of the stack, revealing her husband's face behind it.

"Need a little help there?" she joked.

"I may have underestimated my balancing skills.." Raúl replied, beginning to place the rest of the boxes in the carriage. "But luckily, everything arrived in one piece!"

"We aren't even to the park yet, don't speak too soon!" Lucía responded.

"Have fun, you two!"

The royal couple turned to the sound of Luisa's voice, who stood at the door of the palace with her husband, Francisco, and Princess Isabel, who was waving goodbye to her parents. The two waved back, and Lucía blew a kiss to her youngest daughter.

"Thank you!" Lucía called to them. "We'll see you at dinner!"

Just as the king and queen were about to step into the carriage, the sky suddenly began to turn gray. Large clouds rolled in, some of them having a dark green hue to them. Raúl protectively wrapped his arm around his wife as they stepped back, trying to get a sense as to what was going on.

Suddenly, floating out of the green haze, emerged a figure. The closest royal guards rushed to step in front of the monarchs, their swords drawn, ready to protect their rulers at any given moment.

Lucía tightly held onto her husband, and noticed how his face began to grow pale. As the shadowy figure approached, Raúl instantly recognized their identity.

"Shuriki.." he whispered.

At the very sound of her name, Lucía could feel her heart sink. For the past few months, Avalor had been involved in various defenses alongside their allied kingdoms against the wicked sorceress. Thankfully, all of these efforts against her had been successful, and Shuriki had not been able to take over any of these kingdoms. But as it turned out, Avalor was the next target on her list, and they were gravely unprepared.

"Everyone, inside! Now!" The voice of the captain of the guard echoed throughout the courtyard as the royal family quickly made their way into the safety of the palace. But they knew a few troops were no match for Shuriki, she could infiltrate the palace in a matter of minutes. A plan had to be put in place, now, or Avalor didn't stand a chance.

For little Isabel, all of this happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, she was waving goodbye to her parents on the palace steps, now her and her family were running for their lives, having mere moments to reach a safe haven. A moment later, the princess had a sudden realization. Her abuelos were here, her mamí and papí were here, but one member of her family was nowhere to be found.

"Elena!" she called. "Where's Elena?"

Raúl had been calling out orders to royal guards and staff members as they rushed through the halls, but hearing his eldest daughter's name immediately shifted his strong demeanor. His Elenita was nowhere to be found, and was possibly unaware of the danger she was in. He frantically looked around for a moment, hoping Elena would miraculously appear.

"Elena!" he called, quickly checking in each room they passed. "Elenita!"

Lucía too, joined in on the frantic search for her daughter, but a moment later, she felt just the slightest bit of hope.

"The amulet!" she cried. "The amulet, the one we gave her for her birthday last year, will always protect her from harm!"

"But what if this sort of magic is an exception?" Raúl asked, fearing the worst. "Or what if she doesn't have the amulet on? We have to find her, Lucía!"

"Ay, don't put those thoughts in my head, cariño!" Lucía replied. "I hope we find her before we escape, I truly don't want to leave without her, but she has magical protection, we don't! Hopefully this will all be settled before we even need to escape, so we can-"

But before the queen could finish her sentence, a magical blast was heard from behind them. Shuriki was closer than they thought, they had absolutely no time to waste. The royal family picked up their pace, before they encountered their royal wizard, Alacazar.

"Come, come quickly!" he called out to them. "I have a spell to protect you! But we must perform it now, or it will be too late!"

The royal family had no time to decide on where their hiding spot would be, or where they would escape to if Shuriki did manage to take the throne. Their safest and fastest option was Alacazar's spell, so that would have to do. The wizard quickly explained that this spell would protect them inside of an enchanted painting, one that not even magic as powerful as Shuriki's could touch. As the family posed together for their 'portrait', Lucía couldn't help but think of her oldest daughter. In her final moments outside of the frame, she prayed for Elena's safety, that the amulet would protect her from harm, and that once Avalor was freed from the wicked sorceress, their family could be safely reunited. The Castillo-Flores family held each other close as the incantation was recited, and a moment later, a new family portrait, with one missing princess, was displayed on the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

41 years later...

"Tlahcuilolli apartad, tlahcuilolli apareced, tlahcuilolli vivid!"

Elena bit her lip and clasped her hands tightly together as she watched Mateo recite the spell that would hopefully free her family from the enchanted painting. She had missed her family so much being separated from them for forty one years, and so hoped that she'd be able to finally reunite with them.

A moment later, a magical haze encircled the painting, and soon, the silhouettes of her family were pulled out of the portrait. Once the haze had cleared, Elena saw her family, safe and sound, as if no time had passed at all. Tears of relief filled her eyes as she ran right over to her family, being met by a tight embrace by her little sister.

"Isa!" she cried as she held her sister close. "Oh, I've missed you so much.." Elena then pulled back, just to take in this moment that she'd been dreaming of for so long. Isabel was still the adorable, intelligent, and innocent little girl she had last seen all those years ago, even down to the dirt stains on her dress.

Then, Elena looked up at her parents, who looked just as relieved to finally be free and reunited with their family.

"Mamí, Papí!" she exclaimed, and pulled them both in for a hug.

"Oh, Elenita.." Raúl said, holding his baby girl close. He feared if he let her go one more time, he would never see her again.

Lucía too felt her eyes fill with tears as she embraced her daughter for the first time in decades. "We were so worried about you, mija.." she said, before cupping her daughter's face in her hands. "You're alright..you're safe..the amulet really did protect you!"

"It did.." Elena replied with a nod, placing a hand on top of her mother's.

Elena then wrapped her abuelos in a hug, she had missed all of her family so, so much, and it felt so good to finally be reunited with them. But, Shuriki was still on the throne, their fight for the kingdom wasn't over just yet.

After a short but sweet family reunion, Elena, along with the Enchancian and Avaloran royal families, made their way onto jaquins to join the revolution stirring in the villages below. With the help of the brave people of Avalor, the forty one year reign of Queen Shuriki was brought to an end. Avalor was finally free once again, and the royal family was reunited for good. It was the happiest day in all of Avalor, and kingdom would rejoice for weeks on end. That day, it seemed as if life couldn't get any better. But, the kingdom's most prosperous and happy years were yet to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four years later..

Raúl and Lucía stood proudly beside the Avaloran throne, in a ballroom filled with dignitaries, family, and friends from all over the world. Their beautiful Elenita was turning twenty years old today, but that wasn't the only event the kingdom was celebrating. After four years of experience as Crown Princess, along with learning plenty about ruling from her parents and grandparents, Elena was finally ready to become queen of Avalor.

Trumpets sounded to announce the princess' arrival, as the chief of the castle announced, "Crown Princess Elena Castillo Flores, please come forward!"

The doors to the ballroom were opened, revealing the future queen. Elena was dressed in a breathtaking blue gown, with floral embroidery across the bodice and bottom of the skirt. A red velvet robe trailed behind her as she carefully walked down the staircase. As she made her way to the throne, Elena smiled at all who had come to celebrate this day with her. Though her stubborn sixteen year old self insisted she'd be able to rule all on her own from day one, she knew that she wouldn't be the ruler or woman she was today without each and every person she passed by entering her life.

But, who had supported and guided her the most of all through this difficult journey was her family. Elena would often think of if her family hadn't survived the ordeal with Shuriki all those years ago, and how she would have ever become queen without their love, support, and guidance. She was so, so grateful they were here with her today to crown her, she had no idea where or who she'd be without them.

Once Elena reached the throne, she pulled each of her parents in for a hug, before turning to face the crowd. She stood as regally as she could for her last few moments as crown princess. Armando gently handed the crown to the king, who would have the honor of crowning his daughter the next queen.

Holding the crown above her head, Raúl took a moment to look down at his daughter, so proud of the woman she had become. He then announced, "It is with tremendous pride, that I crown you, Elena, Queen of Avalor!"

The golden crown was placed upon the young queen's head, and the ballroom erupted into cheers. Elena lifted her head with a smile, she had worked so hard and been through so much to finally achieve this moment.

Raúl stepped back and wrapped his arm around his wife, who took his hand tightly in hers. The former king and queen looked over at their Elenita, their baby girl. Even though they had mentioned it hundreds of times that day, and they would certainly continue to, they were just so, so proud of their daughter. They had no doubts that she would be one of the greatest queens to ever reign, and that Avalor would continue to thrive under her rule.

The next part of the ceremony would soon commence, where the queen would choose a partner for the first dance of the evening. Elena stepped forward, and approached her three closest friends. She bestowed a new title upon each of them, even naming her younger sister the Royal Inventor. But, she still had not chosen a partner to dance with.

Elena paused for a moment, and pretended to be in deep thought. "Now, I believe I have a decision to make.." she said, before turning towards her parents, and reaching her arm out to her father.

"Papá, no one has helped me learn how to rule more than you. Would you honor me with the first dance?"

Raúl couldn't help but gasp, as he could've sworn Elena would've chosen one of her closest friends to dance with, or even her grandfather. Sure, he knew he had been a mentor to her on her journey to become queen, but this came as a pleasant surprise to him. And of course, he would accept. He placed his hand to his heart, and bowed his head to his daughter.

"Of course, mija." he said. "It would be my greatest honor."

Raúl approached his daughter and took both of her hands in his. He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead, and looked down at her with the proudest smile possible. "I'm so proud of you, Elenita."

"Thank you." Elena replied with a smile. "I couldn't have done any of this without you. Now, about that first dance.."

But, before they could begin the first dance, or even before any music started playing, Francisco spoke up.

"Wait!" he cried. "I didn't stay up all night writing a song for everyone to play for you for nothing!"

Elena tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean, everyone?" she asked.

Then, Lucía, Isabel, and Luisa, along with Francisco of course, stepped forward, and reached their hands to the side.

"Guitars!"

Their guitars were then handed to them, and the quartet began to play a song written and composed specifically for the occasion.

Elena couldn't help but smile, she couldn't believe her family had gone through all the effort to write a song just for her first dance! But, said first dance hadn't begun just yet, what was she waiting for? She took her father's hands in hers, and the two of them began the first dance of the coronation ball.

By the end of the song, Elena and Raúl weren't alone on the dance floor. Just about every guest was dancing in their own ways alongside them, having a wonderful time. As Elena went over to dance with her friends, Lucía pulled her husband right over for a dance. The two of them laughed and smiled as they danced to the beat, they felt as if the golden days of Avalor were returning again. Brighter days were ahead for the kingdom, and they both knew that their Elenita, their shining light, would be a guiding light for Avalor.

¡Viva la reina! Our Elena! Our love will always shine so bright!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Approximately two years later...

In the kingdom of Avalor, every day is bustling, busy, and bright. Today was no different. But today, excitement was in the air for a very special reason. Villagers were lined up and down the streets of the city, waiting for the moment to arrive. Some had claimed their seats days in advance, either paying extra money for it, or by having a bit of a camp out on the sidewalk. Children waited eagerly with small Avaloran flags in their grasps, some even held up posters or drawings that they had made themselves. Their parents were quite tired, but they knew that being here was a once in a lifetime event. But, it wasn't only the village that was filled with both chaos and excitement.

Inside the palace, the staff was busy preparing the castle for this very special event. Rulers and dignitaries from all over the world would be visiting Avalor, so the venue had to look its very best. Every member of the royal family was busy getting themselves ready for the day, but Queen Elena's room however, was where the most activity was happening.

Lucía held back tears as she placed a veil over her daughter's head, her Elenita was to be married today. The moment she stepped back to see the bride's final look, her breath was taken away. Elena wore a strapless dress, with red and gold embroidery swirling across the bodice. The bottom of the dress was long and flowing, including small details of lace, with a six foot train trailing behind her. Her long, dark brown hair was rolled into a bun, one of her favorite formal styles. Underneath her veil was her usual tiara, the rubies casting a scarlet glow whenever the sunlight hit it. The young queen was the epitome of a beautiful royal bride.

"Oh, mija..you look absolutely beautiful.." she said, having to wipe a tear or two from her eye before they fell down her cheeks.

Elena couldn't help but tear up as well as she watched her mother's reaction. "Mamí, stop it, you're going to make me cry too!" she said.

"Oh, no, no..no crying until at least the vows, you can't ruin that beautiful makeup of yours!" Lucía replied. "You look absolutely perfect, Elenita." she added, taking her daughter's hands in hers.

"Thank you.." Elena responded with a soft smile. "I still can't believe this is actually happening.."

"Neither can I!" Lucía agreed. "It feels like just yesterday you were born, it was one of the happiest days of my life..and now look at that little princess! She's all grown up, she's now the queen, and she'll soon become a wife.."

"It only took me forty six years." Elena joked with a laugh, referring to the four decades they had missed while being trapped in enchanted objects.

Lucía laughed as well, she needed a quick laugh to distract her from how fast her daughter had grown up. "Well, I'm sure those forty six years were well worth the wait, right?" she asked.

Elena smiled and nodded at the thought of her soon to be husband. She was so thrilled to be marrying Gabe, she was the happiest woman in the world with him. Thankfully, her entire family had known him for just as long as she had, so he fit right in with the royal family, and Raúl had no hesitation on giving Gabe his blessing to marry his daughter.

Then, a knock at the door signaled that it was time for members of the wedding party to begin their journey to the cathedral, and that included Lucía. The former queen held her daughter's hands tightly and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good luck, mijita." she said with a smile. "I'll see you at the altar."

A few minutes later, Raúl entered the room to escort his daughter downstairs to the carriage that would bring them through Avalor City, and to the ceremony. He too had to pause for a moment to take in the beautiful sight that stood before him. He simply couldn't believe how his little Elenita had grown so quickly, into a strong, confident, and beautiful woman. Each and every day, he would be reminded of how proud he was of his daughter, and how far she had come.

"Elenita, you look simply breathtaking." he said as he approached his eldest daughter. "I changed my mind, I don't think I'll be able to let you go at the end of that aisle." he joked.

Elena couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that, even though she knew, if it were his choice, he probably wouldn't let her go, not wanting to accept how fast she had grown. "You should've thought of that before you gave Gabe your blessing!" she joked.

"I know, I know," Raúl said. "But I'm just joking, mija, I'm thrilled for you both." he added with a smile.

"Thank you," Elena replied, returning the smile. "I'm thrilled too, a little nervous, of course, but still so, so excited."

"I'm sure you are." Raúl responded with a nod. He then sighed, and looked his daughter over one more time. "I'm so proud of you, Elena." he said. "From the moment you were born, I always have been the proudest man in the world to have been your papí. As each day went by, I thought I couldn't possibly love you any more. But each new day, I was proven wrong. I am so incredibly proud of the young woman, queen, and now, well, almost wife that you've become. I love you so much, Elenita."

Elena wrapped her arms around her father and pulled him in for a hug. She was just so grateful to have such a loving and supportive family as she did, she wouldn't want anyone else by her side to celebrate this special day with her.

Once she finally let go, she turned to pick up her bouquet of poinsettias, perfect for her mid-December wedding. She then took her other hand and held her father's tightly. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Raúl replied with a proud smile.

Elena and Raúl walked hand in hand to the front door of the palace, where a carriage was waiting for them. The coachman opened the door with a bow, and both he and Raúl helped Elena to get inside. It was quite a task with her long train, but thankfully, everyone fit comfortably.

A moment later, the carriage began moving, and they were off. On the way to the cathedral, they passed the many villagers who had been waiting for hours for the queen's carriage to pass by. Elena waved to the people of Avalor with a smile on her face, and even gave a special wave to small children who were seated atop their parent's shoulders. After a carriage ride full of smiling and waving, they finally arrived at the cathedral.

Isabel smiled from the front doors, and began to walk down the steps to meet her sister. As the maid of honor, it was her job to make sure her dress stayed in perfect condition, which meant she was in charge of the long train on the way inside. The coachman opened the door, and Elena began to step out. With that came the cheers of the villagers who had managed to get a spot close by to the cathedral. Elena looked around and took everything in. The cheering villagers, the bells pealing, the thought that in just a short while, she would be Gabe's wife. Isabel took the back of her sister's train in her hands and lifted it up, and Raúl  began to lead her inside. Before she reached the entrance, she turned around and waved to the cheering villagers with a glowing smile. She took her papí's hand in hers and held it tight, as they began to walk inside.

Inside the cathedral, she was greeted by her wedding party, who were all in position, ready to walk down the aisle the second the music started. They all gave Elena a smile, and Naomi shot her a reassuring 'thumbs up'. Isabel made her final adjustments on Elena's dress, and began to walk to her place. Once everything looked perfect, and everyone was ready to go, Elena took a deep breath, and the music started.

The journey down the aisle felt like miles for Elena, tightly holding onto her father's hand as he led her closer to the altar. She smiled at each person she passed by, the joy and excitement of the occasion had spread to practically every person in attendance. Elena's smile grew even bigger the closer and closer she grew to her future husband, this still felt so surreal. But, this was a reality, and she couldn't be happier.

It was a bittersweet moment for Raúl once they reached the altar, especially as he passed Elena's hand over to Gabe. But, with a nod of approval and a warm smile to his son-in-law, he knew that his Elenita would be in the best hands. He kissed his daughter on the cheek before heading to sit beside his wife, but before he could, Elena pulled him in for a quick hug.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

"I love you too, Elenita."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight years later...

"Abuelo! Abuela!"

Lucía and Raúl turned to the sound of their granddaughter's voices as they ran into the parlor. Six year old Catalina Blanca and Carolina Lucía were dressed identically, quite fitting for them being identical twins. They wore a dress of ruby red satin, with short puffed sleeves and an attached ribbon at the waist, tied into a perfect bow in the back. Along with the dresses, they wore matching paten-leather shoes, and a red bow headband to keep their long, dark brown hair out of their faces. Occasionally, even their abuelos had a tough time telling them apart, but the easiest way to differentiate the two was by their personalities.

"Oh, mijitas, you both look so beautiful!" Lucía said, as Carolina fell right into her arms. "You're going to be the best looking girls at the parranda tonight."

"You think so?" Carolina asked with a smile. "I think I'm the best looking girl every day!"

Lucía laughed softly and held her granddaughter close, Carolina was always the one to take pride in her looks. "I know so." she said.

"Abuelita, which songs are you going to play at the parranda tonight?" Catalina asked, already cuddled up in her grandfather's lap. Her and Raúl were particularly close, as Catalina was the heir to the throne, and would follow in her mother's footsteps to become queen one day.

"Oh, just the usuals," Lucía replied. "Let Love Light the Way, Hearts Full of Cheer.."

"I wanna play!" another little voice cried.

Three year old Luis Raúl poked his head into the room, and had clearly overheard some conversations about playing a song. He was absolutely enthralled with his family's love of music, and couldn't wait until he was old enough to learn from his bisabuelo Francisco, his abuela Lucía, or his mamí.

"Well, I do have my guitar handy, if you'd like play a song for us before we go," Lucía offered with a smile.

Luis nodded excitedly, and sat right beside his abuela as she reached over to pull out her guitar. Lucía placed their guitar in front of the little prince, and he began to 'strum' a song for his family. Of course, he played about as well as any three year old could, but to Lucía and Raúl, it was music to their ears.

Just then, Elena and Gabe made their way into the parlor, with two year old Marcelo Roberto in his papí's arms. Elena almost didn't want to interrupt this sweet moment between her children and their abuelos, but they did have a parranda to get to!

"I didn't know we were having a concert before the parranda!" Elena joked with a soft laugh. "Your guitar playing sounds wonderful, mijo, maybe you can lead the parranda next year!" she said to her son.

"Well, he will be learning from the best, won't he?" Raúl asked, looking over to his wife with a smile.

"Oh please, if that's the case, Elena learned from the best, and turned out to be even better!" Lucía replied.

"No, no, I think he should learn from his abuela, so he can grow to become a better guitar player than the both of us!" Elena suggested.

"Now that's more like it!" Raúl responded. "One day, I'm going to see this little one's name up in lights!" he added, reaching down to ruffle Luis' hair, which made him giggle.

"So, is everyone ready to go?" Elena asked.

With a unanimous yes, the royal family made their way downstairs to head into town to begin their annual Nochebuena tradition.

As the family made their way downstairs, a thought crossed Elena's mind. She had a gift for her family that she wanted to give them tonight, but by the time they came home from the parranda, the kids would be going to bed.

"Oh uh, wait!" she said, to catch everyone's attention.

The rest of the family stopped and turned around, wanting to know what may have been forgotten this time.

"How about we go and put the stockings on the mantel? We haven't yet, and by the time we get home, it'll be time for the kids to go to bed. Let's go!" Elena told them and motioned to her family to follow behind her.

Lucía raised an eyebrow with a smile. Her daughter had something up her sleeve, but she didn't know what. She glanced over to her husband, who shared a similar expression.

They soon entered the family room, which was decked with traditional decorations passed down from generations, and some that had been handmade by Elena and Isabel over the years. All of the children's stockings, which had been customized by Isabel, were laid on the table, and the kids rushed in to take theirs and hang them above the fireplace. Gabe helped to hold each of his children up one by one, so they were able to reach the metal hanger. Elena put up hers and Gabe's, but there was still one left on the table, one that was smaller than the others. Elena stood back and waited for a moment, curious as to who would notice it first.

Surprisingly, it was her youngest son, Marcelo, who toddled over and picked it up. He walked over towards his abuelo, not knowing what to do with it.

Raúl picked it up and looked it over. It was small, and it didn't have a name written across its top like the others. "Elena, what's this?" he asked.

Elena simply shrugged, and waited for her other children to make a guess.

"Do I get another stocking?" Carolina asked, hoping it would mean more candy for her.

"No, it's Marcelo's, they're both small!" Luis said proudly. That made sense, that had to be it!

"Catalina, do you know what it is?" Elena questioned. Catalina already seemed to possess logic beyond her years, so Elena was curious as to what her daughter would come up with.

"It doesn't make sense, we each have a stocking, with our names on it, and Luis, Marcelo has his own, so it can't be his, but I'm not sure who it belongs to!" she said.

Catalina was stuck. No matter how many situations she came up with in her head, none of them seemed right.

"Well, it does belong to someone, someone in our family.." Elena hinted.

Carolina's face suddenly lit up. "Is it abuela or abuelo's? They didn't hang a stocking yet!" she exclaimed, confident that she had solved her mother's riddle.

"Oh, we'll gladly take an extra stocking!" Lucía joked, pretending to reach over for it. "More dulces for us!"

Elena laughed and shook her head. "No one's gotten it yet!" she said. "Here, I'll give you another clue. This member of our family is not here to celebrate Navidad with us this year, but they will be here next year!"

Catalina was sitting in deep thought, putting all of the pieces together in her head. Not here this year, will be next year, a member of the family, no name, and the size of the stocking had to symbolize something. Suddenly, Catalina gasped.

"A new sibling?"

With that, Elena looked at Gabe, whose eyes were wide. All he could say in response was, "oh no..."

Elena laughed and smiled. "Yes!"

Catalina and Carolina held hands and jumped up and down in unison. Luis was also very excited, clapping his hands and smiling wide. Marcelo didn't truly know what was going on, but he knew it was something good. "Yay!" he shouted excitedly, though it sounded more like he was saying 'ray!', which made his reaction even cuter.

Lucía and Raúl were thrilled as well, they absolutely adored being abuelos to their four beautiful grandchildren, they couldn't wait to welcome one more.

"I'm so excited for you, mija!" Lucía said, wrapping her daughter in a hug. "You're certainly going to have your hands full, now aren't you?"

"I sure am!" Elena agreed with a nod. "But I've managed to survive with four, how bad could one more be?"

"Oh, I've heard that before, about three children ago." Lucía joked.

"And you two thought you had your hands full with this one, huh?" Raúl chimed in, as his youngest grandson reached up to him, wanting to be in his abuelo's arms. He picked Marcelo up and tossed him in the air, making the toddler screech in delight.

"Well, though our hands may be full, our hearts are even fuller." Elena said.

In the moments leading up to the parranda, Raúl and Lucía took in this moment surrounded by their ever growing familia. They couldn't help but wonder what would've happened on that fateful day over fifty years ago if they had left to work on the Carnaval floats even a moment sooner than they did. There was a good chance that they would've never lived to witness their daughter take back their kingdom and free Avalor from Shuriki's reign. Raúl may have never been able to place the crown upon his daughter's head to crown her queen of Avalor, or proudly walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Lucía may have never been able to see how breathtakingly beautiful her Elenita looked moments before she was married, or witness the moment her daughter became a mamí. They thought of their four, soon to be five, beautiful grandchildren, who they never would've been able to meet. Becoming their abuelos was one of their greatest joys in life. While they couldn't help but wonder about if a single thing had gone differently, they wouldn't have wanted their lives to have turned out any other way.

[hecohansen31]

Rev Up Your Engines

Team Manager! Ivar x Team Manager! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I did this small thing for @dreamwritesimagines‘ challenge (her fics are actually one of the first that I ever read and they are the ones that inspired me to start writing and be active in the ‘Vikings’ fandom).

I do hope you’ll like it and this might be a series (although after October I’ll stop writing other stories).

Also I just wanted to give you a few heads up since this is set up in a MotoGP AU:

FIM=the guys who check regulations and other stuff (give penalties and check the circuits).

There are three steps before qualifying (FP1, FP2, FP3) (which are basically free practice) and there there is qualifying and the race.

If you need anymore info, I am here.

If you liked this, please consider leaving me some feedback, either through a comment or a reblog, I’d just apprecciate to know if you like this kind of thing or would be interested in others.

Feedback makes us writers write faster, and our heats beat stronger!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Having a rival such as Ivarr can be the worst nightmare for many, even more for you, who seems to be his latest prey outside of the circuit.

WORDS: 5,5 K

WARNINGS: Bullying, Misogyny, Mention of Dementia and Herat Problems, Troubled Family.

Women in sports were only welcomed in two ways: silent or in bikinis.

And you weren’t in neither of the positions.

You were actually in the worst position for a woman in a sport like ‘MotoGP’.

You were the daughter of a stable owner, having inherited the whole stable after your father’s heart problems had obliged him to stay behind.

Your hands were already hands in the family business, operating through a more secluded area, mostly in the social media market, when your father had asked you to take care of his beloved stable, the thing that had always brought him away from you.

And you had taken it onto yourself.

Although you barely knew anything about the dangerous sport.

You had at first tried your best through informing about all the important things of the sport, although your researches had been mostly done by yourself, because the team wasn’t very cooperative, even more after you had shown your interest in the more practical side of it.

Everybody expected you just to sign checks and party with the pilots.

So, when you had suggested innovations to both the team and the bikes, you had been met with weirded out eyes and annoyed dismissals.

And you had to admit that the whole thing was heavy on you, who had never liked the whole biking panorama, mostly because although your father had been thoroughly a fan of it, you had grown with your mother, separated by a father that spent more time at the stables than at home and eventually this had brought your mother to exhaustion, making her run away when you were barely fifteen and you had been left to raise yourself on your own.

Still, ignoring your obvious disinterest, you had done everything in order to pass the winter tests and present yourself with a powerful team of mechanics and a duo of young but promising riders, coming to the first competition with hopes and expectations, just to get your idiotic riders to crash into each other.

And you had been greeted with the laughing of all the other teams on the team radio.

To say that you were displeased it was an euphemism and you had almost thought of seriously leaving the reigns of everything to the whole mechanic team, but eventually you had just tightened your teeth and got your idiotic riders to collaborate, through threats and small smiles.

And eventually you had set yourself to become fourth in the ‘constructors’ championship’, something that wasn’t bad, in the slightest, even more because your father, in the latest years, had always hung lower in the gradings…

… but as you had slowly started to raise in the motosport climate, you had soon understood that it wasn’t simply your own team who didn’t like your presence, but also others…

… more specifically the team that was in third place in the constructors’ championship: the Lothbrock.

It was also a family-established stable, the sons having inherited it from their father, but unlike you, they weren’t only an all-male group, but also they had stuck on the circuits for much more time than you, not only having more experience, but also having more complicity with the whole team.

Ragnar Lothbrock had created the team with the few money he had received from his own father, siding with a bigger stable, and eventually growing to fame and success as he gained slowly more and more freedom, which lead to him creating his own independent stable.

His sons had inherited it after his untimely death and if what their father had done was extraordinary, what they did was miraculous and extremely fulfilling, although they hadn’t yet won a championship, unlike their father.

Not to talk about the fact that Hvitserk, one of the youngest brothers, rode on the satellite team, ‘Lothbrock: The White Tire’.

They were highly competitive, even more because exactly like you, in their father’s late years they had lost much of the prestige for their own stables, although as of lately they had come to good places both in the riders’ championship and the constructors’.

All of this had been obtained under the lead of the youngest brother, Ivar, covering the same position as of you, in the team, setting himself apart from his brothers, and being the most competitive, although in a very non-sportive way.

And as of lately his focus had ended up on your own team.

Which was an obvious choice since you were the ones that were the closest to them and had one of your riders ended up on the podium the following week, you would have passed them, catching the third place.

So, flashforward to the following week, and right as you were partying for your first rider’s third place, champagne all over your clothes, you had been asked to follow the security to the commission, because that your rider��s podium was actually being discussed.

‘Your rider ended up on the green’ had tried to explain to the member of the staff, who had come to you to give you the bad news, as they passed you a piece of paper with a written complain.

Signed by the Lothbrocks.

‘I do know of that, but…’ you had shot back, already red from anger, as a few of the spokespeople of your team came near to you, trying to ease up with diplomacy the whole discourse ‘… he fucking got pushed by the Lothbrock driver’.

You knew perfectly that the rules required for the pilot who ended up on the green to lose a position, but at the same time the FIM had allowed your pilot to reach the podium with no complain.

And it was justified since the Lothbrock driver had basically thrown his front bike against your own, without any solicited contact.

Which had made them end up in the green.

They should be actually the one under investigation for having irresponsible driving.

‘… we are sorry, but you’ll still need to come to the headquarters immediately’.

But you had had to take a bit of time to scream in a bag, not wanting to ruin your riders’ party, and once you were halfway done with your breakdown, Cameron, your head of the mechanics, came to you and tried to calm you down, explaining that you hadn’t any fault in this.

‘I just fucking hate Ivar Lothbrock’ you had muttered, as you swiftly changed your dirtied team-shirt with a new one, in order not to give to your mortal enemy any reason to doubt you or challenge you, at the meeting ‘… why do you have to fucking try every dirty trick in the book, when you could spend the same time getting your fucking bike to be better?’.

‘We don’t all get a team manager with a brain’ had commented the man, softly smiling at you, because there wasn’t much he could do, in such a situation.

But you’d definitely report the incorrect behavior of the stables to the FIM.

‘… just breath calmly’ Cameron had then suggested softly ‘… don’t attack him and don’t lower yourself to his dirty tricks. We know we weren’t at fault for doing that, the FIM ruled it out, they are just being annoying’.

‘… more like assholes’ you uttered under your breath.

But in the end, there wasn’t much you could do, except being calm and talk quietly in order to get the FIM to realize that the Lothbrocks’ pretenses were solely abusing their time.

But as you stepped in, facing Ivar Lothbrock’s annoying arrogant smirk, you were halfway through having a hard time stopping yourself from hitting him square in the face.

‘… you were making us wait’ he simply commented almost as a justification for his shit face, as he crossed his arms over his chest, already plopped in his chair meanwhile behind him stood his older brother, Ubbe, looking as happy to be there as you.

‘… sorry your Majesty’ you muttered, gaining an harsh look from the team manager, although it was laced with surprise, because as soon you’d catch him looking at you or trying to stir up a fight, you’d back off, ignoring him.

He wasn’t used to you answering him.

‘… I was partying with my pilot’ you added just for the extra burn.

‘Congrats…’ he uttered, as impressed with you as he was with the dirt beneath his nails.

‘Gentleman and…’ the FIM inspector assigned to your case recalled you order “… lady”.

You sat down, keeping your gaze on whatever was in front of you, not wanting to give Ivar the satisfaction of even letting him bother you.

‘… Mrs. (L/N), you have already received a preview of why we have asked you to come here, but I’d like to explain it to you again’.

Oh Gosh, didn’t you love some ‘mansplaining’?

As if you hadn’t read the regulations yourself, consulting yourself with your own pilots and a team of experts.

‘I do know that it is against the rules to go through the green side, and that if a pilot do end up on it on the last lap, they lose a position…’ you retorted quickly, not wanting to lose any ground you stood on ‘… but my pilot didn’t go on the green, he was pushed in it… by Mr. Lothbrock’s pilot. You can obviously see it…”.

“That’s a whole other process” commented harshly the FIM inspector, sending you a glare that said clearly to stick to what you knew and not interfere with this.

But you were fucking pissed.

Even more when Ivar looked like he was extremely pleased with the FIM inspector’s behavior

“It isn’t a completely different process, but…” you tried to protest “… it is easy actually: hadn’t my pilot been pushed he wouldn’t have been thrown on the green. You didn’t rule him out of the third place after the race was finished, why would you do it now?”.

Because it was Ivar who protested.

And because you were an easy prey.

You were the one thing man like the FIM inspector didn’t want between their feet: a woman.

One in power and with many questions.

You could seem completely paranoid.

But had the same thing happened to Ivar, none of these questions would have been sent his way.

“My pilot was trying to overtake yours, the push was accidental” commented Ivar, probably because he had felt like he had been called out by your words, sending the FIM investigator an innocent look as if to say ‘you are crazy if you thought I did it on purpose’.

“… even if it was…” your whole tone seemed completely disbelieving of Ivar’s affirmation “… my pilot didn’t go on the green on purpose”.

“But he ended up on it” muttered the FIM inspector, something that you couldn’t deny, since the cameras of the stewards had caught “… and we have to be stricter with these rules, many have been daring more and more… and it won’t take much before this sport will end up being dangerous than it needs to be”.

“… it has already happened and you weren’t as severe with it as with me, although the pilots used it to their advantage” you muttered, feeling some kind of desperation cursing through you “…in moto 2, there was a similar thing happening and Martin, who went on his own in the green, wasn’t penalized”.

The whole situation was starting to be unbelievable and very much heavy on you, not solely for the fact that being diminished by the inspector in front of everybody was pretty humiliating (and to add something to it, the whole act being witnessed by a smirking Ivar Lothbrock didn’t help) but you couldn’t help but be heartbroken solely at the thought of letting your pilots know that they’d have to step down the podium.

Many would have thought it was a simple sacrifice, but they didn’t know the competition between all the pilots, but also all the sacrifices they made on their own to train to be the best of the best.

“… it’s moto 2” it didn’t seem in the slightest a justification to you, but you had noticed that fighting didn’t help, and neither did calm words or retorting ones “… we’ll announce it, tonight, this way you’ll be able to warn your pilots, and he’ll have to give back the trophy…”.

You had to say that your mind had zeroed after that affirmation, as your eyes found the satisfied ones of Ivar, slowly pushing himself up to talk with his older brother, Ubbe, probably expressing to him his happiness at having managed to make your stable keep your previous position.

Fourth, behind them.

But worse, you felt like a child being reprimanded in front of somebody that you hated.

An embarrassed shade of red coated your cheeks, but you endured it, making a mental note to require another FIM inspector to analyze the case, preferably not a misogynistic idiot.

After the reunion was over the FIM inspector dismissed you and Ivar.

The man immediately raised himself up a bit slowly, to set himself up on his crutches, helped by his brother, although he looked annoyed by the unwanted help.

He had been born with a genetic problem that made the bones in his legs brittle, a big disappointment for a father that had not only been a biker, but also had pushed his sons in the game as soon as they could walk.

So, part of you knew and understood Ivar’s bitterness and his desperate desire to prove his late father wrong, expanding his legacy.

You knew yourself how heavily a dynasty could hang on a child’s shoulder,

But this didn’t allow him to fucking destroy you to simply build yourself up.

You stood after him a few seconds later, seeing and witnessing his strength as he pushed himself on the braces and crutches he wore and trying to still your whole body so it wouldn’t tremble from rage once you got up.

You had to admit that Ivar was as beautiful as he was cunning and you weren’t surprised to know that the whole Lothbrock clan had admirers everywhere, having become a meme on the net, almost like a band with their own groupies.

He had beautiful tormented blue eyes, something that was common among the brothers, but his were definitely the most gorgeous, hauntingly active, unlike Ubbe’s matching glance, annoyed and tight, polite but in no way as firey as Ivar.

You would have loved to have him as a competitor.

But not this way.

And this was enough for you to raise yourself, as you strutted out, having a pilot to inform and a few interesting things to say to the journalists, who had already started filling your own stand.

But before you could do anything, Ivar’s hand shot out to you, hooking itself on your wrist, something that made you turn around extremely fast, hitting the man on the hand which held your hand, the grip loosening itself as he made a few steps backwards.

Probably because you looked like you could have burned him alive, on the spot.

“… I just…” whatever evil thing he wanted to say seemed stuck on his tongue.

“I have a pilot to inform” you muttered immediately, as you exited his grip and moved to turn around, just to have a brilliant idea and turning around for the last word.

Because he might have won the battle...

… but he hadn’t won the war yet.

“I fucking work with my team, instead of using dirty tricks for my own bidding”.

You had many times accused Ivar of using ‘dirty tricks’, but everytime it had been concealed between nice and soft words, the ones you used with the press, avoiding cursing and smirking the whole time  to make the accusals seem more a joke.

You almost expected Ivar to reply something mean as you exited the building, but he simply looked like he had lost any ability to talk, his brother behind him having to shake him lightly to get him to react and right when he opened his mouth again to speak, you were gone.

It was better not to waste your words on a crook.

The news of your pilot being dropped from second to third place had been the scandal of the whole following week, which you had spent in a small island in Greece to relax a bit, you had come back home to journalists storming your house.

‘I can’t make any comments’ because you had been warned not to, since a second investigation was in place, although Christian, your first pilot, had had to already give back the trophy already ‘… we’ll see and I am hopeful that the right choices will be made’.

Which meant that you hoped the Lothbrock would push back the appeal.

They had also been stormed with journalists and attack.

Although the FIM inspector hadn’t had much interest for your version, the media had been actually very interested in hearing your own side of the story, alongside the fact that the audience cheered for your squad since it was ‘a true underdog story’.

You had built a team from scratch after years of failures and you were swiftly raising to the Olympus of bikes.

Ivar’s reply had been the same of yours, just shorter and colder, and the Lothbrocks had chosen to make him disappear from the latest posts on their social medias, instead pushing forwards his brother, who had been scoring a lot of points in the latest race, although the satellite team was much slower than the official squad.

But it was a win.

And it had made you regain the strength to face Ivar again the following week.

But you had had another big storm coming for you.

Your own father.

You had a complex relationship to your father: you obviously loved him, but you knew the feelings weren’t reciprocated

Your father hadn’t ever made you miss anything, except love.

You knew it could be worse, but to this day you found it difficult to face your father.

Even more when it happened in front of your mortal enemy.

Your father had been already in the stables when you had arrived, after releasing an official message about the sanction you had been undergoing for the last race’s ending.

He had been talking with your engineers, as you entered, everybody looking as uncomfortable as you, exchanging small talk with the man, although he immediately pushed for more information on the technical side of stuff.

Your pilots looked bewildered and with an annoyed smirk you simply tried to catch your father’s attention, to bring him away from the garage, this way the engineers could work in peace.

But you didn’t arrive halfway through the box that he was already vocally attacking you.

“Where the fuck are Trenner and Lobon?” asked your father, as you grimaced.

“… you have actually fired them two years ago” you muttered.

Your father’s heart problems hadn’t been the only reason why it had been suggested to him to slow down, but he had started showing signs of dementia.

He had forgotten your name the day you had come to visit him in the hospital and even worse, he had asked the names of pilots that had been in your stables, years ago.

“… I shouldn’t have…” he looked shocked as he always did when you revealed to him that he had forgotten something, which you did graciously, having discussed with his doctor about the trauma that acting like that might cause him “… do you think they are still on the market?”.

“They are retired, dad” again, calm tone and sweet words “�� but what are you doing here? You should be at home, relaxing”.

“I heard the shit the Lothbrock threw on us” Gosh, you should have told his nurse to stop letting him see TV, even more the sport section “… what the fuck have you been doing in my stables?”.

His disappointment hung heavily on you and it stole your breath for a minute, but you regained your coolness immediately.

“I have been trying to do my best and we have reached new heights” again your tone was attentive and careful, slow and peaceful, but the end of it had an exasperated note and your father sent you an annoyed look.

He was clearly thinking that you were an undisciplined child.

Not that the undisciplined child was actually him.

“… the Lothbrocks have been playing dirty” you said it with your voice on low, since the garage next to you were the Lothbrocks’ ones, and you knew that many eyes were set on you “… I have the medias on my side, don’t worry dad”.

“Instead I fucking worry!” now the attention was definitely on you.

And with the side of your eye you noticed that Ivar was coming up right now, an earpiece in his hands showing that he hadn’t been aware of the convo till right now.

You tried to usher your father, lightly pushing him away to try to bring him away from all this attention.

“Too much of anything, you never know how to quit” uttered your father loudly, again, but he lost the second part of the discourse, lightly, his eyes shifting on Ivar who was suddenly close to you, probably trying to get pass the crowd of journalists.

Stealing a bit more of info and trying to pass unnoticed.

But your father’s eyes caught onto him quickly.

Changing completely attitude as he approached the man.

Although now you couldn’t deny that Ivar now, up closer, and under your father’s watchful gaze looked much younger than you had perceived him.

And definitely blushier.

“Lothbrock, fuck you are grown” commented your father, as you gently tried to catch his hand, playing the devout daughter’s part, as you tried to get him to shift away from Ivar.

Nobody knew about your father’s dementia and you tried to keep it away from the flashes of paparazzi, since it’d get many investors to back off and you needed them for at least this season.

Then had you proved your worth, you could have handled your father’s dementia publicly.

“… Mr (L/N)” Ivar called out to your father, smiling brightly although it was obvious he’d like to continue his trip “… it’s nice to see you again, we thought about you…”.

“Don’t bullshit me, boy” you hated your father’s presence, but you had to admit that seeing Ivar back off from his usual arrogant attitude was a bonus “… I know you fucking took advantage of it, but I am back to fucking stay”.

You stopped yourself from rushing your eyes to sky because if there was one place your father would go to immediately after this conversation, would be the medical center.

His heart was still weak, and he would just bother the mechanics.

And his demeaning behavior made you extremely uncomfortable.

You hadn’t had to take on his stables, after his sickness had made it impossible for him to handle it firsthand.

You had accepted because you thought it’d make him happy and proud of you.

But now his disappointment was heavy on you.

You weren’t certainly the best, but it had been years since the team had been stuck in the midfield and you were slowly bringing yourself to exit it, coming towards the fourth and third place.

If you couldn’t obtain his appreciation and respect through doing this, there wasn’t much you could do.

“… tell your father… tell Ragnar, that we are coming for the podium this time” your eyes opened completely, and you couldn’t deny that your hands started shaking, at your father’s obvious show of his lacking health.

You rushed to try to cover his phrase, but Ivar smiled softly at the man, something that you had to admit didn’t make him look like some kind of dangerous snake anymore and you smirked softly at that, returning the smile, with no intention to.

“… I’ll tell him, but we won’t let it go that easily” his voice was full of playful competition and you wondered where the heck was this guy when you were fighting for the podium, instead of the spiteful athlete you had been meeting constantly “… have a nice day, Mr. (L/N) and (Y/N)”.

And then he moved off, making you aware that he hadn’t ever said your name, till now.

And it sounded strangely so beautifully from his lips.

“That fucking wanker” commented your father as he went away, right as you remembered the assholish behavior he had always had with you.

And that now he knew about your father.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

You had been basically just laying face down on your hotel bed since you had come back.

Your father had been actually joined by his nurse, after you had found him in the paddock, and they’d be staying just for the qualifying set-ups and then see the game from home, since you didn’t want to have to worry about him and the pilots, at the same time.

He had actually gotten to know them and being surrounded by the whole atmosphere had helped calm him down, alongside his nurse knowing how to deal with him.

The entire situation still managed to make you worry, but you had been able to focus on FP1 and FP2.

FP3 and qualifying looked like they’d be stressing, but you had just received the news that the problematic of the previous race had been resolved with a win for you, and soon your pilot would be having back his trophy, and your team would regain the point.

You were officially back on top of the Lothbrocks.

And strangely you hadn’t heard anything from them.

Which was worrying.

Even more now that Ivar had officially witnessed your father’s conditions.

You were already expecting a sanction of having made him come in the garage although he wasn’t on the list of the people allowed inside of it.

So, you were just waiting and trying to ease all the anxiety in your body.

There were so many things that could go wrong.

So, you weren’t surprised when you heard a knocking on the door.

You were surprised when it turned out to be Ivar Lothbrock.

Your first reaction was to almost slam the door, but you held it quickly, knowing perfectly that there were many journalists in the same hotel and it was already scandalous that your open rival was visiting you.

Outside of the paddock.

“What do you want?” it wasn’t laced with annoyance but genuine curiousness, because you couldn’t find many reasons why Ivar would be here.

If he wanted to complain about the fact that you had gained the upper hand in the investigation, he could have reported it to the FIM, not to you.

“… were all the FIM investigators finished?” you muttered, now true sarcasm in your eyes “… and they decided to send you for some fucking idiotic claim, again”.

“I actually came here to apologize” the words seemed to burn on his tongue.

And you were again startled by the fact that he had just done something that you never thought you’d see him doing.

“… what?” you asked, sure of not having heard right.

“I didn’t realize that my behavior towards you was this offensive…” you didn’t understand the change of heart, hence you regarded Ivar as a dangerous beast ready to eat you up, had you lowered your attention “… I might have exaggerated”.

“Erase the ‘might’ “you weren’t able to stop yourself from the pure sarcasm in your reply.

“I have exaggerated my competitiveness against you”.

You didn’t honestly know what to say, simply settling up on torturing your bottom lip, as you bit it to try to keep your face in a calm expression, although you didn’t know whether you should be careful with what you said, assuming this was some kind of proof.

Or you should have just laughed at his face.

Either ways seemed very tempting.

“… I just came here to apologize” he repeated shooting you a look as if to understand your expression, probably because he expected it to be some kind of relief.

You blessing him with accepting his apologies.

“I don’t care” it was the words that you found more fitting for the entire thing “… I can’t even believe you”.

Ivar looked, in that moment, like he might have eaten the sourest of fruits that he was ever given, and he lightly bit off his own bottom lip, before lightly swiping his finger across it and nodding his head.

“… I understand it” he didn’t seem to, but you didn’t say anything more “… I just thought that I’d try my luck”.

“… and I hope that you won’t say anything about my father” you knew that uttering out what you just said might have been dangerous but Ivar looked like he was under a train because you hadn’t accepted his apologies.

“Don’t worry, in the slightest” he replied, raising his hand in front of himself “… I don’t mean to tell anybody”.

Which reassured you greatly, although you didn’t trust Ivar fully.

And you were halfway through pushing the door in his face, when he continued on talking.

“… I actually…” he looked as uncomfortable as you, but strangely you couldn’t bring yourself to close the door in his face.

It must have been because of those puppy dog blue eyes.

“… when did it start?”.

“The heart problems started it” the doctors had also explained to you that your father had been undergoing a rather stressful period that had brought both the problems to speed up during the years, eventually destroying both his heart and mind.

“Shit” muttered Ivar, and you honestly didn’t understand why he wanted to talk about this.

Was he seriously thinking of gaining as much info as he could and then sell you over to the medias?

Because it would have just resulted in a loss for him.

“… yeah, we are in big shit” you repeated “… I am trying to keep it hidden from the investors, since I know they wouldn’t trust my lead”.

Again, that light bite of lips and Ivar lowered his eyes to his feet, something that convinced you that maybe just maybe… he was hiding his own emotions.

“… when my dad died, the investors all left us and went to Lagertha’s side, we almost had to sell it to her” commented Ivar and you couldn’t help but be surprised, because the Lothbrocks had always been one of the best stables, both for the money and for the pilots.

You did know that Lagertha’s stables, ‘The Shieldmaiden’, their rivals,  had been having quite the fight with the Lothbrocks, but you hadn’t ever thought it was rooted that far.

And this time you weren’t able to keep your face straight and Ivar probably recognized the surprise on your face.

“… it was all over the magazines”.

“I don’t read that shit” you had stopped since they had critiqued you.

You didn’t want to be held back by critiques or false information about your private life, in your work.

You had always grown up with the constant pressure of what others would say about you, because you were your father’s daughter and now that you had to come onto your own reputation, you would have done everything in your power to build it.

Instead of listening to what others created.

“I might have been wrong about you” commented Ivar, and you couldn’t deny that strangely it seemed almost like a compliment, on the mouth of the arrogant boy.

“Did you peg me for some kind of vain spoiled brat?” and strangely a smile came onto your face.

Becoming even bigger when Ivar blushed lightly.

“… I left out the ‘spoiled’ part out”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh on your lips.

“Well, I still think that you are an entitled asshole”.

“You are not the first one to think that for sure”.

And before you knew it you were both laughing loudly.

Enough to attract a few fellow guests of the hotel that sent you annoyed looks.

Something that made you move closer to hide yourself behind the door.

Although your exchange with Ivar was completely innocent, you knew that the press would have turned it all around.

“… I know this might be… I know that you might have better things to do than listen to an entitled prick…”.

“I said ‘asshole’ “ you shot back, as Ivar’s severe face turned into a smirk.

“… ok sorry… but would you like to come and take out a coffee? It’s on me for last Sunday’s dirty trick”.

You breathed out heavily.

Everything in you itched to reply a happy ‘yes’, but your whole body wanted for you to be attentive and to act in the best way possible.

Because what Ivar proposed might have been a dangerous trap.

But you were just exhausted from acting like you had a broom up your ass.

And you had to admit that you felt like Ivar probably felt the same.

He had clearly opened about the problematics after his father’s death.

And in case it was a coffee less to bother about.

“… I am coming but just know that my bed is very comfy, so if you are annoying… I’ll just ditch you for it”.

“Ok, you are definitely a spoiled brat”.

---

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[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…  

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.  

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?  

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a  bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.  

But you don’t have it.  

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you  and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

[quicksilversquared]

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 4

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock… doesn’t exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Two more battles passed with Pavona's role reduced to the sidelines only, her only contribution to the battles being her amok. The restriction still chafed at her, of course, but since her cold had only gotten worse Lila had to admit that maybe it was a good thing that Hawkmoth wasn't expecting her out. She felt absolutely drained and exhausted by the time she detransformed after each battle, and it was only because she was fantastic with make-up that she managed to hide how terrible she felt from her mom and everyone at school.

Normally she wouldn't hesitate to jump on the opportunity to get even more sympathy and help, but who knew who Hawkmoth was? He could be anyone and have eyes anywhere, and she couldn't risk her poorly-timed illness getting back to him. A minor cold was one thing, but this whatever-it-was was out of hand. That didn't mean that she was an invalid or something- she could still participate via her amok, obviously, since that was the only way that she had been participating for the last several fights- but he might decide that her judgement would be impaired by her being sick or something ridiculous like that and take away the Peacock.

At this point, Lila was scrambling just to keep the Peacock in her hands at all. Having some power was better than none at all, especially when it came to Ladybug and trying to defeat her.

(At this point, Lila had to see Ladybug defeated. Her blood boiled more and more every time she saw the stupid bug- how dare she be so smug about beating the akumas and sentimonsters? She should be- what, Lila didn't know for sure, but every time she and Chat Noir defeated the supervillain's monsters, Ladybug had this stupid little smirk on her face and Lila just wanted to wipe it off.)

Still, even with Pavona operating from the sidelines, Hawkmoth hadn't been happy with her. He had snarked about how bad he thought her amoks were- as though he had a leg to stand on, considering some of his akumas in the past!- and acted as though they were super-weak, even though he and his akuma were definitely hiding behind her amoks and making them do all of the hard work. If Lila hadn't been worried about losing her Miraculous before, she definitely was now.

And then Hawkmoth showed up at her window again, late at night, and Lila's heart dropped straight into her stomach.

No! No, she hadn't gotten enough of a chance to prove herself! She hadn't gotten to really fight Ladybug and get under the superheroes' skin. She just needed a little longer, another week or two and some advice to get back on track so that she could be a strong partner for Hawkmoth. It wasn't- it wasn't like she was actually incompetent!

Hawkmoth rapped at the window again, looking less than impressed with the delay. Lila startled out of her thoughts, then scrambled to go get the window and let him in. She didn't have much of a choice, really.

If this was the end of her time as Pavona, hopefully- hopefully- Hawkmoth would at least keep akumatizing her so that she could have more chances to defeat Ladybug. Hopefully she hadn't screwed things up so badly that he was going to decide that he wasn't even going to have her as an akuma anymore.

"Good evening," Hawkmoth said stiffly once he had crawled through the window and straightened up inside of her room. His eyes flashed to her neck, where the Peacock pinned to her shirt. She had had it under a scarf earlier- thankfully her cold made for an easy excuse as to why she had suddenly started wearing scarves- but it was annoying to wear scarves for longer than strictly necessary and she had taken it off as soon as she went to her room for the night. "I trust you are well?"

"I- yes, thanks," Lila managed, vaguely puzzled by the inquiry. Hawkmoth had never asked after her before. She was there to be a tool and a help, not to be coddled and watched after. "A-and yourself?"

"Good." Hawkmoth glanced around her room, then back at Lila. "I came to give you an update. I'll be out of the city soon, starting this upcoming Saturday and extending for at least a week. It's unfortunate, but unavoidable. I figured that I should probably let you know so that you wouldn't wonder why there weren't any akumas, and to let you know that you are not, under any circumstances, to try to battle the superheroes during that time. And that includes sending out amoks." He fixed her with a long look. "And I will have a very close eye on the news, so I will know if you disobey orders. And if you do..."

The silence hung in the air, threatening and ominous. Lila quashed the urge to gulp and glance towards her door, towards the room where here mom was sleeping.

"I won't try to fight them," Lila said hastily. "I promise."

"Good. We both know that it would end in disaster anyway." Hawkmoth's voice was curt, clearly not about to waste time sparing her feelings. Lila thought that that was rather unfair, really- disaster was such a strong word- but she would probably feel a bit on edge without the assurance of both Hawkmoth and one of his akumas. "I hope to send out a couple more akumas before I leave. With any luck, one of them will be successful."

Lila nodded, refraining from saying anything. Luck didn't exactly seem to be the supervillains' thing, but maybe they had been wearing down the superheroes more than they realized and a strong sentimonster and akuma combo would finish them off.

A supervillain could only hope.

"Anyway, that's all I came about," Hawkmoth added when Lila didn't say anything. "Continue to stay out of battles but be ready with a sentimonster, that's all I ask."

Lila nodded again, feeling like a bobblehead doll. "Of course. I can manage that."

"I should hope so. I'm hardly asking for a miracle." Hawkmoth sneered at that, then headed out the window. Lila stayed where she was for a minute before hurrying to close the window and lock it, pulling her blinds shut so that Hawkmoth couldn't spy on her.

And then she rolled her eyes. Seriously, that was all Hawkmoth had to say to his partner? He could have given her tips to help her improve her skills as Pavona for her to work on while he was gone, or ideas that he wanted her to implement! She might not listen to all of them- after all, he had been failing for a lot longer than she had- but it would be useful information to know, at least, and then she could come up with her own ideas based off of his.

It was like he wasn't actually interested in improving her abilities as Pavona before Mayura took the Peacock back over again. Like he wasn't actually interested in winning.

(Or like he had given her up as largely a lost cause, but Lila wasn't going to think that way. No, the entire problem laid with him, not her.)

Still, she wasn't about to lay down and let Hawkmoth's incompetence spoil her opportunity. Lila could practice fighting while Hawkmoth was gone- not with an opponent, of course, just by herself, that would have to be enough- and then maybe she would be good enough to rejoin him on the front lines and try to kick Ladybug's butt again. She could make her excuses with her mom and head out after dinner- not that she really needed excuses, as if her mom would ever stop her from going out- and then do a bit of jumping around and kicking in the relative privacy of some abandoned warehouses or something. There were bound to be a few around Paris, right?

...maybe she would just practice in her own room after school or something. Actually searching out warehouses and walking over to them sounded like too much work. Maybe the neighbors downstairs would complain, but really, who cared?

(And if they said something to her mom, then Lila would just say that she had take-home exercises for gym that she had to do to help catch back up to where they were meant to be after the school was closed for so long, or maybe she could say that she still felt very behind the other students after transferring and so was trying to get in the same kind of shape that they were in. Her mom would eat up either excuse, Lila was positive, and ta-da, problem solved.)

Maybe Paris was going to get a week off from akuma attacks, but Lila wasn't going to let the week go to waste. She was going to train, and prepare, and-

Lila's thoughts got cut off by a round of painful coughing, her throat pulsing in pain with every cough. She grimaced, reaching for her water bottle in an attempt to sooth the ache.

Well. She would train and prepare and all that, as long as this stupid cold went away.

  Three days into her akuma- and Hawkmoth-free week, Lila decided that really, hand-to-hand combat was overrated.

After looking at more than a few at-home training videos, it became very obvious that getting to a level where she would actually be able to hold her own in any sort of fight would take a lot of time (and effort, which- ugh. No, thanks). It would be impossible to put in that sort of work and make any sort of meaningful progress before Mayura reclaimed her Miraculous, or at least Lila assumed so. She hadn't exactly been told when that might happen, but Hawkmoth had made it clear from the start that this wasn't going to be a long-term thing.

Besides, Hawkmoth had made it clear during their final fight before their break that she wasn't going to be returning to the front lines as Pavona anytime soon, not even on a trial basis. So Lila abandoned that idea.

(The attempts at exercise were also wiping her out in- in minutes, really. Sometimes even only a minute of moving fast was making Lila struggle to catch her breath. It was starting to get a bit concerning.)

That didn't mean that Lila wasn't going to do anything with the Miraculous while Hawkmoth was gone. No, she wasn't going to put up with Duusu in return for nothing. Even if she wasn't allowed to send out amoks to fight Ladybug and Chat Noir, there was so much more that she could do with the Peacock. It hadn't occurred to Lila before, but the amoks could look like anything- or, more importantly, like anyone.

Maybe Marinette had finally shut up with trying to call out Lila's lies for the time being, but it never hurt to have some evidence on her side. She didn't have to be transformed for her sentimonster to stick around- she had learned that after several battles- so she could put up some poster backgrounds, make some sentimonsters that looked like the celebrities that she had claimed close connections with, and ta-da, she would have bought herself a good year's worth of no questioning of her stories. Maybe she could even sneak into the school over the weekend with a Marinette-sentimonster and take photos of it breaking into Lila's locker or otherwise acting absolutely terrible. That should be enough to get even Adrien to abandon Marinette's side, which. Well.

If she couldn't get her revenge on Ladybug while she was Pavona- as much as Lila hated to admit it, that was looking increasingly unlikely that they would defeat the superheroes any time soon- then at least Lila could get some revenge on Marinette for being such a pain in the butt.

Lila smirked to herself. That was such a good idea, and she was glad that she had come up with it. She would have to brainstorm more to hammer out the details of what she would make "Marinette" do- maybe stealing from Lila's locker and then cornering Lila in the bathroom and yelling at her?- but it was definitely something that she had to do while Hawkmoth was away.

Things were really looking up, pieces the puzzle falling into place. And after feeling so crummy for the past several weeks, it was about time things went her way. With a little luck, the ugh feeling from her cold would leave soon, and then everything would be perfect in Lila's world.

Or maybe not perfect, since of course Ladybug would still be out and insufferably smug, but close enough.

The photos, Lila decided after a bit of thought, could wait until Saturday. Her mom was going to be gone all day, so Lila would have all morning to do her transformations, and she would have the rest of the week for her to gather up her posters and other props so that her pictures would turn out perfectly. And- making it even more perfect- the class had been talking about getting together for a group picnic in the park on Saturday afternoon, so Lila could show off her photos right away. She could scope out the school, too, and figure out how she could get into the building on Sunday with her senti-Marinette without being noticed.

Once school let out on Thursday evening, Lila patted her pocket to make sure that she had her wallet and detoured off of her path home, towards the bus stop to head across the city to a poster store she had been to before. Her wallet was going to take a hit from the stop- posters weren't cheap, which was annoying since really, anyone could point a camera and print a picture out- but her mom had given her more money on top of her allowance to buy hot drinks for her throat all week and she hadn't spent it because her classmates were bringing her hot tea, so at least she had gotten a bit extra to spend.

"Ooh, are you getting decorations for your room?" Duusu asked eagerly from her collar as Lila stepped inside the shop thirty minutes later, fully fed up with Paris traffic. "There's some pretty ones! Do you even have space on you walls? Or you could rotate stuff, maybe-"

Lila tried and failed not to sigh as she did her best to tune out her kwami. Honestly, as much as she didn't want to give up her powers, she really couldn't wait to be rid of Duusu. Clueless and naive were both excellent ways to describe the peacock kwami, and it was pretty irritating to deal with.

Seriously, after being with a supervillain for who-knew-how-long and then with Lila for several weeks, one would think that Duusu would actually get used to a less-than-honest way of thinking. Sure, it might also be annoying to have Duusu judging her outright all the time, but the idiocy...

Gritting her teeth, Lila prowled down the aisle that was most likely to have the posters she was looking for. Honestly, the idiocy was worse. Then she had to decide if she wanted to even try to explain- which sounded annoyingly like justifying herself, which she didn't have to do- or just ignore Duusu's increasingly bewildered and off-base questions.

"Ooh! What about this one? It's a lovely flower field!"

Lila spared the flower field poster a glance before continuing to scour the shelves for the scenes she wanted. There were a couple specific city streets that would work perfectly, and then maybe some generic backstage scenes. If she could find some that were set inside a mansion or a palace then she could do some poses with sentimonster royalty. Since no one in her class had seen the inside of Prince Ali's castle or Buckingham Palace, it wouldn't matter if she couldn't get posters of the insides of those places.

Thankfully, the shop was well-stocked. Lila found everything she needed- she was going to get to take a lot of pictures, her evidence was going to mean that people's trust in her would be absolutely unshakeable- and checked out, trying not to grimace as the price tag mounted up.

She would just take the pictures and then return the posters, but apparently the store had a no-return policy when it came to getting a bunch of posters and then trying to bring them all back. It was annoying, but if she had to pay to keep her lies in place, then she would. It was worth it.

(Besides, she could always sell the posters online or something once she was done with them. It wouldn't be all of her money back, but it would be some, and that was better than nothing.)

Lila tucked her posters deep in the bag that the shop provided- she didn't want to risk anyone she knew seeing her with the posters, and they were all too big for her school bag, even all rolled up in the poster tubes- and headed out, eager to get home. While she didn't exactly need to rush back to her apartment to work on homework- several of her classmates had been 'helping' her by sending her either the answers or pictures of most of the work required for the problems, so several hours of homework ended up taking about half an hour instead, just copying things over and scanning whatever reading Ms. Bustier had assigned- Lila didn't exactly feel like dealing with Paris rush hour.

Besides, the longer she was out with her posters, the higher the chance that someone would see her. Maybe most of the class wouldn't think anything of it- Lila could always lie and say that she was getting the posters for her mom, showing places that she had worked, since it wasn't like the outside of the tubes showed the pictures- but she preferred to not have any trails at all, in case that brat Marinette tried to claim that she was in front of posters and that was how she got the pictures. If one of the classmates saw her now and then heard that then...

Well, she was no Max, but Lila figured that the chances were at least 9/10 that they wouldn't think anything of it. But she didn't want to risk anything.

Not when she was so close to cementing her reputation for good.

  Lila set up her room on Saturday as soon as her mom left for work, sacrificing her weekend lie-in. The posters came out and got unrolled, and Lila tacked them up around her room, one after the other. She set up some lamps to mimic the light sources in the photos- something she had learned to do after one of Marinette's none-too-subtle comments about the shadows not matching up during one of her video calls- and then set out changes of outfits for between pictures. She had spent the previous evening coming up with poses and figuring out what clothes she should wear with what setting and which celebrity, so all she had to do was follow her checklist- complete with reference photos- and it should go smooth as butter.

(She also had a bowl heaped with fruit for Duusu set out and ready, to recharge her kwami in between goes. Once she got going, she wasn't going to stop for anything, and that included her kwami's annoying appetite.)

Duusu had watched the entire proceedings with his head tilted to the side, the picture of confusion. He had been incessantly asking questions at the start, but finally- finally- fell silent when Lila snapped at him to shut up already. She didn't need his input, as absolutely useless as it was. All she needed was his powers.

"Duusu, transform me!"

Blue light flashed and Pavona smirked from her spot in the middle of the room. She hadn't transformed all week, and the feeling was even more amazing than she had remembered. She was powerful, she was fearless, she was invincible. Her confidence in her plans- well, obviously they were foolproof, and she was a genius for coming up with them.

It was pretty obvious that being sick had been muting how incredible transforming felt, or maybe she had just been feeling so miserable that she hadn't been able to truly appreciate it.

(Pavona coughed a few times seconds later, then scowled. Seriously, couldn't her cold be over yet?)

"All right, let's make a Jagged Stone!" Pavona announced to no one in particular, grabbing a button off of her bed. She had grabbed them from her mom's emergency sewing kit that morning, in case she couldn't recall the amoks once she was done with the sentimonster (after all, before now, they had all been purified by Ladybug) and had to simply smash the possessed item. With a grin, Pavona called up her power and the first sentimonster bubbled to life.

It was a perfect replica of Jagged Stone, though the eyes were perhaps a little blank. That was fine, though- the rock star was a little on the strange side anyway, a bit spacy and distractible. If he didn't seem 100% there and people could see that in the pictures at all, they would probably assume that he was just thinking about a new song that had popped into his mind or something.

"Detransform me," Pavona ordered as she strode forward, snagging senti-Jagged as she passed him and dragging him along with her. "Come on, we're taking some photos!"

"Pho-to," senti-Jagged said slowly, stumbling after her. Clearly it wasn't smart like an actual human, but that didn't matter. All she needed was his face. Lila shoved it into position, maneuvering its arms and face into a happy pose before hitting the timer button on the camera that she had set up and taking her position next to senti-Jagged.

"Look at the camera!" Lila demanded, pointing at the camera. She glanced to the side- good, it was listening, or maybe it was just coincidence- and then leaned close and beamed at the camera. One click, two, three photos, and then she could relax. "Okay, now a selfie!"

Click, click. Click, click. Lila snapped the photos, one after another, then looked through them. There were a few that just looked a touch unnatural, but the rest were fine.

"Okay, we're done," Lila told senti-Jagged. "You're dismissed."

It didn't move. It hadn't understood.

Of course it hadn't understood, that was dumb for her to even think for a moment that it might. Senti-Jagged was as dumb as bricks. Besides, telling it to vanish obviously wasn't going to work. She had to use her powers to recall the feather somehow, unless she just wanted to stomp on the button.

She transformed, and then Pavona looked towards senti-Jagged again. She didn't have any more of an idea of what to do to recall the amok then she had had the first time, so she just stomped on the button and snagged the feather out of the air. Senti-Jagged let out a surprised shriek as it dissolved, but Pavona ignored it in favor of getting another feather out and ready.

Prince Ali was going to be next, Pavona had decided. Then it would be Clara Nightingale next, followed by Ladybug, then a couple other celebs that she had claimed connections with. One after the other, no problem at all.

Was it going to be a lot of work? Maybe. But it was well worth it. And with every new character she made, they seemed to have more life to them. There was more of a spark in their eyes, they understood French- to some degree, at least- and their poses came completely naturally, and she had even been able to take a few short videos. That was pretty nice, but it did mean that they seemed to recognize that they were going to stop existing before she stomped on their button and begged her not to make them go. That was a bit annoying, but it wasn't about to deter her at all. Their pleas fell on deaf ears as Pavona wiped them out of existence and reclaimed their feathers.

She didn't have time to cater to their whines or try to explain to them why they couldn't stay, nor did she want to even bother with it. It was a waste of time.

After all, they were gone now. Why bother caring about their feelings? They were a tool, not a living being.

"And done," Pavona said happily once she had reclaimed the last of her feathers. She was feeling pretty drained and tired now, but that was hardly a surprise. She had gotten up earlier than she normally would on a Saturday to get everything ready, and then she had been going full-tilt ever since. She would have to keep working, honestly- she had to go through the photos and pick out which were natural enough to keep- but the transforming and set-up and staging was all finished. "Detransform me."

Duusu spiraled free of the brooch, making a beeline for the remaining bit of fruit left in the bowl. Lila barely spared him a glance as she headed for her computer, eager to dive right in and see what she had. Another coughing fit gave her momentary pause, but Lila wasn't about to let that deter her for long.

Some photos had to be cropped to hide the exposed edges of posters because she hadn't quite gotten the camera angle right, but that wasn't much of a problem. Others she cropped just to change things up and make the photos not quite so similar. The videos turned out to be useless, unfortunately- listening to them back, it was very obvious that there was outside noise from the street and from the neighbors above her- so they had to be benched until she could figure out how to edit that out. Or, more likely, until she had time to transform again and re-do those clips, hopefully while Bigfoot upstairs was out instead of stomping around.

For now, Lila had to get going or else she was going to be late meeting with the rest of the class.

As soon as her photos were loaded onto her phone, Lila snatched it up and stuffed it in her pocket, pushing herself to her feet and heading for the door with a spring in her step. She knew for a fact that Marinette was going to be there, so with any luck the photos would be enough to thoroughly ruin her day. Maybe they would be enough to start the process of ruining her friendships, too, since Marinette was hardly going to start believing Lila even with the photos and that would make her look pretty bad in her friends' eyes. That was going to be great-

Lila's progress was brought to an abrupt halt by a hacking cough before she reached the apartment door and she was forced to pause and lean heavily against the wall as a wave of lightheaded dizziness passed over her.

Ugh. How was it that her cold was coming back, but worse? She hadn't gotten any dizzy fits since the previous weekend, and certainly none as bad as that. Lila grimaced as the wave of dizziness and nausea passed, then pushed herself back up straight.

It didn't matter. Lila had her fabricated evidence in hand, and she wasn't about to let something as inconsequential as germs stop her.

[youarejesting]

Limited Edition.3 Burger

[FULL MASTERLIST] [Limited Edition Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: All audiences Genre: Fantasy, Comedy, Fluffy Fluff, Adventure. Pairing: Bts x Friend!Reader Words: 1.3K

Summary: It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will recieve a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

"Anything else?" You asked them, holding in a bright smile and suppressing several squeals. They were just so adorable they could fit on your palm. You had to remain somewhat serious while these tiny men, they were still adults.

So you made sure to discuss their order with the utmost professionalism. Each agreeing to eat one burger between themselves and share a small sprite on Hoseok’s insistence.

Taking the phone you added something for yourself and hurriedly placed the order. You knew you could eat their leftovers and save yourself money, but you weren’t that close yet and thought it too intimate. “It will be here in fifteen minutes, in the meantime. I have to make a grocery list.”

You pulled out a pen and paper and started writing down your usual things like milk, bread, meat, cereal but you froze. Would they get sick with the sudden change of diet, what was their usual meals in Korea. 

“What do you boys want to eat?” They thought for a brief moment before shouting out some suggestions.

“Kimchi fried rice”

“Samgyeopsal”

“Seolleongtang”

Freezing in place, you didn’t know how to make any of these things. As you wrote them down, Seokjin must have noticed your confusion and touched Jungkook’s shoulder. He gave the younger boys a look trying to calm their enthusiasm.

“We would be happy with whatever you make, we can’t expect you to know how to cook all these things” The eldest assured you, the boys all deflated looking embarrassed.

“I like spaghetti” Jungkook looked up hopeful and you wrote it down with a smile. That you definitely knew how to make.

“Steak” Namjoon grinned then held out his small hands in defense “Only If it is not too expensive”

While you waited for your food to arrive, you began thinking about where they would sleep and what they needed to live. They would have to go to the toilet and shower and so much more. You didn't know how this would work. Wanting to give them independence and privacy whilst also wanting to protect them from harm. Heaven forbid any of them, got hurt, or drowned in the toilet.

The food arrived, breaking you out of your thoughts. Everyone all gathered around, You unwrapped their burger and sat watching them while enjoying your own meal. Taehyung excitedly ripped open a ketchup sachet and proceeded to splatter sauce everywhere.

They all froze mouths hanging open in shock, the ketchup splashed across the bench. Pressing your lips shut tight you tried to hold yourself together. They turned to you as a collective trying to gauge your reaction, but you turned away unable to hide the shaking of your shoulders.

“Are you upset?” Taehyung’s voice a feeble sound, as he placed his hand on your elbow. You could feel the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“We will clean it up” Jimin called and they tried to grab a napkin from the bag, Seokjin and Jungkook grabbed the napkin at the same time and Jungkook ended up pulling too hard and Seokjin ended up tackling Jungkook.

You couldn’t hold it in. Laughing hysterically the tears flowing, you walked away with your hands on your sides. “I don’t think she was mad” Hoseok giggled taking a bite of the burger and pointing. “She has a cute laugh though.”

After lunch shenanigans, you were lost in thought once more. How could you bring up such an issue, like toileting and showering they were not only celebrities but they were boys.

"What do I do about your toilet and shower habits, I don't mean to be weird.” You blushed, “it's just, I don't want you getting hurt falling into the toilet or basin or anything"

They blushed "Oh, we will figure it out. Please do not worry."

"I might be able to make something" you hummed and began brainstorming. “Can you hold on for a little while while I make you some toileting facilities?”

“Actually I have to pee?” Hoseok blushed, you wondered how you would go about this, when they all nervously admitted they needed to go as well.

“We can just go outside we are boys” Namjoon assured you, scooping them up, you carried them outside. Turning around to giving them privacy in the grass. You were humiliated for them but what else could you do?

“I am so sorry, I will make something work”

“Please do not stress we are boys and human just like anyone else”

“Except now really tiny” They looked at each other and you bit your lip snorting, “Sorry I have been holding it in but, you are all so cute, anyone this small would be”

They seemed to relax watching you slowly grow comfortable enough to talk more freely. Giving them your iPad you sat them on your bed with a plate of the few leftover snacks from your pantry. They were quick to open Netflix and argue over movies. 

“Watch this one.” You selected one at random “Not only does me choosing the show stop you arguing, but I also want to watch it, so you have to report to me if it is any good. I will be back as quick as I can be, please don't get hurt”

Racing to the mall you went into a multitude of shops. The first was the most important a toy shop, where you bought a dollhouse one that had working lights. At the craft warehouse, you bought a bunch of fabric, foam, and elastic. From the town’s hardware store you purchased a large length of thin black hose, silicone, thin metal, and some thin balsa wood. After that you quickly walked the grocery store, before you driving home exhausted but excited.

You had never been so creative in your life but there were so many videos and tutorials only, especially for mini cooking so when you got home, you immediately got to work. You began by modifying the dollhouse bathroom adding tiny black hoses as piping. You added little pipes to a few water bottles you had outside of the house the bottles would act as little water tanks.

Once the bathroom was done you began on making their beds taking the simple bed frames and painted them. You got up stretching your back, neck, and shoulders before heading out to make a small amount of dinner which was some cheap ramen. Making sure to test the dollhouse lights, it was a success but the rooms were so old fashioned. 

The cupboards attached to the walls had working drawers and each had a few clothes hangers inside. You removed all the dolls and moveable furniture and began making mattresses out of foam and covering them in some fabric. You were so thankful for the sewing machine you had inherited from your grandmother and the few pillowcases you had made in home economics back in school.

In no time you had made enough beds for the seven and with the leftover foam two long couches. You used the extra fabric to make curtains and yawned checking the time. It was midnight and the boys were asleep on your bed. You pressed on, you needed this to be complete for them, they were real adult people despite their size and wouldn’t enjoy being treated like babies.

You took the time following a tutorial and eventually made a working stove that worked with a tea light candle you had fished out from your emergency kit. Looking over the house you knew you couldn’t get everything done before morning so you decided to make everything look pretty. 

You took different paints and painted the rooms soft colors, made the beds, and with a few popsicle sticks and string you made them tiny pictures for above their beds. Happy, that they came with clothes so they would have enough to wear without you making more things. You weren’t ready to make clothes that small.

Setting the dollhouse securely on your large computer desk, it was three am and you were covered in wood chips, paint, and glue. Deciding it was best if you had a shower before bed. Taking a hot shower to work the aches and pains from your neck, you could have almost fallen asleep under the all-encompassing stream of hot water.

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[unichrome]

I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (11/15) - I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7100 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: Welcome to Storybrooke... Last flashback of this story. In fact, almost the entire chapter is a huge flashback, which makes me a little nervous about your reaction. Still, I had a great time writing it and it felt like it was kind of a tribute to the show as I tried to include several significant elements from Storybrooke. I hope you like it :)

//

Chapter 10: I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

Killian - December 2019

Killian couldn't believe what just happened. It was as if by the time Emma finally pressed her lips to his, his brain had stopped working properly, his mind plagued with pictures coming in flashes while he felt like his body might combust.

Although it had been a few minutes since Emma ran away, he hadn't yet been able to recover, not when he still had difficulty catching his breath. Not when his lips still tingled, craving for more; not when he could still feel a soft humming under his skin. But above all, he felt slightly dizzy, the memories that clustered in his head too powerful to be stopped, making him unable not only to process what had just happened but to react to Emma's sudden departure.

He would have gone after her if his legs had responded to him, or at least would have tried to stop her or talk to her, but he hadn't even been able to utter any sound. Instead, he remained paralyzed and in a state of astonishment that he had not yet recovered from.

After letting out a deep breath, he leaned on the door, letting his head rest against the smooth surface as he put a hand to his mouth and brushed his lower lip with his fingertips. He then closed his eyes, his tongue licking his lips in a desperate attempt to retain the vestiges of her taste while an unstoppable wave of memories took up residence in his mind. Unable to fight them, he simply gave up and allowed that incredible moment that he had treasured as the most precious of dreams to finally come true.

Storybrooke - Fifteen months ago

When Liam announced that they would take an unexpected trip over the weekend, Killian could barely contain his enthusiasm, especially when he learned that Emma would also accompany them.

Killian didn't even care that the absence of the three of them during the weekend would imply that they would be depositing the reins of The Kraken in the hands of Robin and Ruby. But if his brother, who was the business expert, considered it feasible, he wouldn't be the one to complain. Especially since, after all, as Liam had assured, it was a business trip.

Emma didn't think it was, apparently. Something that Killian found amusing in a way, since she seemed to care more about the success of the business than the owners themselves, or at least one of them.

"I don't quite get it. Wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to travel in the middle of the week?" Emma asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Killian watched her reaction carefully, praying silently that she wouldn't want to stay behind and not travel.

"I'm afraid it's not possible, lass. I already have an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon," Liam explained without giving further details. Killian internally thanked Liam that he hadn't suggested that Emma stay behind. "In addition, there's this place that we are going to visit that is only open on weekends. So, there is that," his brother added, giving his voice an enigmatic tone while raising an eyebrow.

That's how they ended up in Liam's car on Friday morning with Storybrooke, a small town in Maine, as a destination. The trip did not start well for Killian, since last night he hadn't been able to chain together more than two hours of sleep in a row. Probably because of the nerves generated by the prospect of spending three whole days with Emma in a different environment, for once.

Emma had spent the night in their apartment so they could leave earlier the next morning. So when he had risen sporting the obvious signs of lack of sleep, far from showing a little commiseration for him, Liam and Emma had found in him a target for their jokes. To make matters worse, his brother had decided to betray him, offering Emma the passenger seat, so he had to resign himself to occupy the back seat, all alone.

"It's too early to be in a grumpy mood, little brother," Liam addressed him through the rearview mirror. "Don't take it personally, but Emma is a better co-driver than you."

On that, he agreed with Liam. Emma was better than him, not only as a co-driver but practically in everything, except perhaps in singing, but he wasn't going to admit that out loud. "It's younger. Besides, you're using the bloody GPS, why do you need a co-driver?"

Killian heard giggles coming from Emma, but at least she kept silent. The last thing he needed was the two of them allying against him once more, taking advantage of his moment of weakness.

"You're right, I'll put it another way. Since Emma has already ingested her morning dose of caffeine, her company is much nicer than yours. Better?”

In response, he let out a huff of annoyance as he grabbed his phone and connected the earphones, ready to ignore the other two throughout the trip. Emma decided to join the party before he even had time to put the earbuds in his ears, though.

Even from his position, Killian could see her playful expression through the mirror in the sun visor. "Come on, Killian, you're such a drama queen. We did it thinking of you, so you can sleep all the way."

He was tempted to do just that, but the lack of sleep was wreaking havoc on him, pushing him to act like the immature person he was sometimes. So instead of sleeping, he dedicated himself for the rest of the trip to keep Emma busy in her co-driver job.  

  "I'm hot, turn on the air conditioner." 

"It’s cold now, can you turn up the temperature?"

"The radio's volume is too low." 

“I hate that station, can you switch to a different one?"

 Killian wasn't sure what was driving him to act in such an impertinent way, but he seemed unable to stop, to the point that he soon managed to spread his bad mood to the other two occupants of the vehicle.

Only when the Welcome to Storybrooke sign came into view did he manage to relax and remain silent, focusing instead on observing the landscape through the window. His brother and Emma probably appreciated the break as they also remained silent, the music of his favorite station the only sound that resonated inside the car.

Even without getting out of the car, Killian detected a particular aura in the streets. It was as if the thick forest that bordered the town had functioned as a kind of time portal sending them back to the 80s. It was a quaint place, no doubt, so he was immediately attracted, his tiredness and his previous irritability gradually fading as they moved along the main street.

That improvement in their moods was fleeting, though. It lasted exactly five minutes, the time it took to park the car in front of the bed and breakfast where they would be staying and discover that there was a misunderstanding with the rooms booked by Liam.

"See? Here, Mr. Jones, a double room." The person behind the counter, an old woman with gray hair looking at them over her glasses, insisted, an exasperated expression on her face as she pointed to the hand-written reservation on a notebook, which seemed to be at least the same age as the woman. No sign of any technological device on the counter, unless we consider a phone that looked as old as everything else around.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I don't know if I explained myself correctly. I contacted by phone a week ago to reserve two rooms, one single and one double." Liam raised a hand with two fingers up, to emphasize his words and then waved the other hand to encompass the three of them. "Besides, as you can see, we are three people." Although Liam maintained a polite tone, Killian did not miss the hint of irritation in his voice.

"That won't be a problem, Mr. Jones." The woman waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "There is enough space to place an additional bed."

"And what about if you get us an additional room instead?" It was almost fun to watch Liam struggling to stay polite but gradually losing his patience.

"I'm afraid it won't be possible, sir." The old woman affirmed, her tone not apologetic at all.

Killian exchanged a furtive glance with Emma, who kept her lips pressed together as if trying to hide an incipient grin. Liam instead seemed increasingly annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose before addressing the woman again. "And may I ask why?"

"We're celebrating a festival in the village during the weekend. It is quite popular in the surroundings, so we already have all the rooms reserved, I'm afraid." Just when Killian was about to intervene, suggesting Liam to let it pass, that they would find another accommodation, the woman continued as if she had read his mind. "I must also add that this is the only establishment of this kind in the town."

"Of course it is," Liam grumbled under his breath, though not low enough that Killian wouldn't hear it. Emma, on the other hand, let out a snort before speaking.

"Come on guys, it's not like it will be the first time we sleep under the same roof. It's not a big deal," Emma assured as she shrugged one of her shoulders.

"So a double room then?" the woman behind the counter asked as she held what looked like a heavy metal key in her hand. Liam simply nodded in silence. "Good. And now if you are so kind as to wait here for a few minutes, I will inform my assistant to install the additional bed."

"Uhm, thank you," Liam muttered as he grabbed the old key.

"I guess there will be at least two beds," Killian commented a few minutes later as they climbed the stairs after they were told that the room was available for them.

There was one king-size bed.

And a tiny cot.

After leaving their belongings in a corner, Killian and his brother began to inspect the room while discussing possible sleeping arrangements and tried to locate an alternative that could function as an improvised bed.

"At least the bathtub is an adequate size."

"Guys..."

"And that armchair seems quite comfortable."

"Guys..."

"Look, there are several blankets inside the closet."

"GUYS!" The two men snapped their heads in the direction of Emma, who remained in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, a scowling expression on her face. "Are you guys seriously discussing sleeping options when we already have full space for all three? What is this, a kind of old fashioned chivalry act or something?” She didn't even give them time to reply, since she immediately added, "I'm the one who will sleep in the damn cot."

They had managed to piss her off, if the tone of her voice and her sulky expression were an indication, but Killian felt a special predilection for the fire in her gaze that appeared on these occasions. He was tempted to continue teasing her, but he thought better and instead tried to offer an explanation.

"Swan..."

"Don’t Swan me," Emma cut him off abruptly. "You two can share the large bed. That's final." Killian and Liam exchanged one last look and then Killian looked back at her with an apologetic expression, scratching behind his ear, while his brother remained quietly beside him. They knew it was better not to argue with Emma in these situations. "And now, can we continue with our plans?"

"Just for the record, Swan. This wasn't about you. Rather, I wanted to avoid sharing a bed with him. Believe me, sleeping with Liam is probably more torture than sleeping in that awkward contraption."

His comment got a smile from Emma. Liam, on the contrary, let out a snort while rolling his eyes, although that wasn't enough to stop Killian. "Can you imagine hearing a constant snoring in your ear while he keeps stirring in bed while he sleeps? That's my brother." Killian kept teasing Liam, nudging him with his shoulder as he stifled a laugh, earning a glare from his brother.

"Of course I'm the one to blame here. Why doesn't that surprise me?" Liam shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. "Now that the sleeping arrangements are made, can we get out of this room now? We have an appointment." Liam's voice revealed that he was upset, not only because of Killian's comment but because of the previous awkward situation with the old woman. "And I don't snore."

This time Killian couldn't suppress a chuckle bubbling in his throat while Emma also burst out laughing, approaching Liam and tapping him on the shoulder. "Sure, Liam."

This weekend was going to be definitely interesting, to say the least.

//

They went to have lunch at the diner adjacent to the B&B. The place had a retro air that seemed consistent with the rest of the town, but at least the food was delicious, so tasty and greasy. It turned out that the diner was also run by the same old woman who had attended them in the other establishment. Liam's face of disbelief when he saw the same woman behind the restaurant counter was hilarious. This time, she —Mrs. Lucas, they learned — was much kinder to them. 

Still, she subjected them to visual scrutiny from behind the counter while they placed their orders. Whatever it was that she observed, she must have been satisfied because she didn't hesitate to serve the dishes herself while offering first a speech about the town and its inhabitants, and then go on to question them in a not so subtle way about the reason that had led them there, as well as to inquire about more personal issues.

Although it might seem odd, Killian didn't feel uncomfortable with the interrogation and, if the expressions on their faces were an indication, neither of his two companions seemed to be either. It might be the atmosphere around them, or the spirit of these small towns, where everyone knew each other and looked after the others. In addition, the interrogation allowed them to finally know the real reasons for their trip to Maine. Or at least one of them.

Liam planned to carry out some remodeling at the bar, including installing a new bar counter with an even more naval look. That's why they were meeting Marco and his son, August. Following the footsteps of Mrs. Lucas, these inhabitants of Storybrooke seemed equally welcoming, immediately engaging them in an animated conversation where the trio were told part of their story. Marco was a master carpenter who worked in a small workshop located on the ground floor of his house. Despite his age, he was still active, receiving sporadic help from his son August, who was also a writer.

Killian was not sure how Liam had known about their existence, but he only needed a simple look inside the workshop to know that his brother had made the right choice. Not only because of Marco's evident skill working the wood, but also because he seemed like a really kind and considerate person.

Once they finalized the details of their request, they found that they would have the rest of the day free, so they decided to integrate with the rest of the population and discover more aspects of the quaint town and its inhabitants. And what better way than to go to that popular festival that was being held there?

The festive environment was evident with a simple glance at the streets. Killian was surprised because he hadn't noticed those details when they first entered the town a few hours earlier, but now he could see how the facades of the shops were decorated with pennants and colored garlands. Following the crowd, they arrived at a square where they had installed numerous stalls offering handicrafts and food. 

Everyone seemed friendly and, except for some suspicious looks, they were treated kindly and even were encouraged to participate in the numerous activities developed at the festival's heart. It was a pleasure to see both his brother and Emma enjoy themselves in such a carefree way, without worries, without pressures, just being carried away by the rest of the people around. Liam couldn't have been more correct in getting them out of their usual routine for once.

They were even introduced to the local sheriff, Graham Humbert, a guy who, like the rest of the people around, seemed kind and welcoming. There was something about him that Killian didn't like at all, though. He didn't particularly enjoy seeing how his eyes lingered on Emma more than necessary or how the smile on his face seemed to widen every time he addressed her. An unpleasant sensation settled in his stomach as his lips drew a tight smile. Killian had to resist the urge to place one of his arms on Emma's shoulders and draw her towards him in a possessive manner. 

To his relief, the encounter with the bloody sheriff was quite short since he was on duty, working to ensure the safety of the event.

"If I didn't know you so well, I'd say you were jealous." Emma's words in his ear caught him off guard. He had remained so distracted watching the sheriff walking away that he hadn't even realized that she had approached him until she almost touched him.

"Good thing you know me so well then, don't you?" he managed to reply in a careless tone as he waggled his eyebrows and his lips curled into a grin.

In response, Emma gave him a skeptical glance before turning away again in search of his brother, who had stopped at one of the stalls. After letting out a sigh and shaking his head, Killian had no choice but to follow her.

//

Killian woke up early the next day when the sun had just begun to appear. He was not surprised to see Liam lying beside him sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping between his partially parted lips. At some point, he might have kicked the covers away, since he laid on the mattress with nothing wrapped around him.

His eyes then turned to his other side, seeing Emma lying asleep on the cot. Unlike his brother, she was wrapped up, only her head remained exposed. Although the contraption didn't look particularly comfortable, that didn't seem to have affected her, since her relaxed features denoted that she was having a restful sleep. Killian allowed himself these moments to delight in the serenity that radiated from her as a well-known song began to play in his head.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away dreaming I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

It was as if the lyrics had been written to describe that precise moment. Of course, they weren't sharing the same bed, and they weren't even lovers, but the feeling was the same, nonetheless, at least on his part. He was grateful that he still had the music and the possibility of expressing his feelings through the lyrics. He made a mental note of including that song in his repertoire. Maybe there would come a time when he could dedicate it or another equally romantic one to her.

The need to reach out his hand to touch her, even if it was to remove a strand of hair that partially covered her face, was almost irresistible to the point that he needed all his willpower to look away and curb his creepy stalker behavior.

After one last look at her, he finally got up from the bed and walked stealthily toward the bathroom. Emma might not seem uncomfortable while she slept, but it was more than likely that she would wake up with her usual moodiness. So, taking advantage of having woken up so early, he thought that a visit to the diner was in order, at least to provide his sleeping beauty with her daily dose of caffeine.

Several hours later, the three of them were already walking through the streets of Storybrooke, this time with a new destination, the docks. The stroll was quite pleasant, not only for the good company, but for the warm temperatures and the sea breeze that caressed their faces. He definitely liked this little town, where time seemed to have stopped or at least seemed to pass more slowly, allowing them to enjoy the small pleasures of life.

Killian suspected that it wasn't a walk through a random place, but one that had a specific purpose. But Liam, showing off his usual stubbornness, had refused to reveal the mystery. "Be patient, little brother, all in due time."

Well, it seemed that the time had finally arrived. The first thing Killian's eyes fell on when they reached the docks was the magnificent vessel moored there, occupying a privileged place that made it stand out from the rest of the boats.

"Is that...?"

"Aye. An actual restored pirate ship." From his expression of ill-concealed pride, it seemed as if he owned the ship instead of being a simple tourist who had been fortunate to find out about its existence.

That didn't imply that he downplayed his merit. After all, they were here because of him. There was also no need to feed Liam's ego, though. Emma thought differently, of course.

"For real?" She looked surprised, her eyes traveling intermittently from Liam to the ship while her mouth hung open. "This is awesome."

"For real." Liam nodded his head vigorously to emphasize his words. "And what's better, they organize guided tours every weekend. That's the reason we couldn't travel here any other day."

"I wonder if they will allow us to take pictures of the interior, to get inspiration, you know." Killian couldn't help a smile of affection from spreading on his lips. Emma was so involved not only in their lives but in the business that she had ended up adopting their passion for the sea.

"There's only one way to find out. Shall we?" Liam asked as he offered Emma his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

The Jolly Roger. That was the name of the ship. It seemed obvious that this wasn't its original name but rather it was the one that its owners — or the people in charge in the town — had adopted to be in accordance with the place. Still, the name couldn't be more appropriate.

When they arrived at the pier there was already a group of five people waiting there. They didn't take long to be called and shuffled by way of the access ramp onto the main deck of the ship where they met with three other people. The smile Killian was sporting faltered a little when she saw that one of those people was none other than the bloody sheriff.

Killian clenched his jaw and resisted the temptation to take a look at Emma to check her reaction. Instead, he focused on the three guys in front of him.

"Hello everyone and welcome aboard the Jolly Roger!" Graham was the first to speak, addressing the group with an affable expression and a broad smile. "As a town representative, I would like to make a short introduction before the tour begins." Graham's eyes traveled through all attendees, probably to make sure he had their attention before continuing. Killian didn't miss that his gaze lingered a little longer on Emma than on the rest — Or maybe he was imagining things — Bloody hell! He needed to pull himself together and stop those thoughts.

"As you may have already learned thanks to my uniform, I'm not the captain of this ship, but a mere sheriff. Unfortunately our captain was indisposed." Killian heard a murmur of disappointment from the other members of the group, but Graham hastened to continue. "But that won't prevent you from enjoying this magnificent visit to a true pirate ship that is completely restored."

"Too bad. I was waiting for someone dressed as a pirate," Emma whispered at his side, ignoring Graham's explanations, a mischievous smile on her face, so Killian had no choice but to play along.

"At least the guy with the red beanie looks like a sailor. Doesn't he remind you of Mr. Smee, by the way? You know, the one from Peter Pan?" Killian muttered back, getting a quiet chuckle from Emma in response.

Then, she moved closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder and standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. "The other guy, the charming one, looks even less like a pirate."

"The charming one?"

"Yeah, the guy with blond hair. He seems more like a prince, or something."

"So he would be Prince Charming?" This time Emma's laugh was loud, causing some faces to turn in her direction.

"Shhhhh," Liam hissed, addressing them with a scowl. "Are you going to behave like two adults for once?"

"Aye, aye Captain," Killian replied mockingly and then turned his head and winked at Emma, who had her lips pressed together as if she was making an effort not to burst out laughing again.

Killian's lips drew a triumphant smile when he turned his attention back to Graham. At that moment, he couldn't care less about acting like the immature person he was if he managed to get Emma's attention and make her laugh.

"I would like to introduce you to William, who is the one with more knowledge about this ship, and my deputy, David Nolan, who has quite the experience in these type of tours since he has attended several of them. They both will be in charge of guiding you on this tour. I trust it will be to your liking. And now without further delay, I leave you with them. Duty calls." After a small bow of his head, the sheriff went to the exit ramp but not before giving Emma a final smile — this time he wasn’t imagining things. To his delight, after offering a brief smile back, she turned back to Killian, the spark of mischief still present in her gaze.

"So no Prince Charming, then. A pity."

"Not to worry, Swan. With this town, you'd never know. Maybe there is some prince out there. Or a pirate." Killian winked at her, causing a new laugh to escape between her lips; a delicious sound that he would never tire of hearing, although this time it was also accompanied by a glare from Liam.

The guided tour to the pirate ship proved to be a pretty interesting experience. The two guys knew what they were talking about, although, according to Graham, they were nothing more than substitutes for the usual guide. William, the one who looked like a sailor, was in charge of introducing them to the history of piracy, narrating numerous anecdotes and curiosities. The other guy, David — the not prince — detailed instead the aspects related to the ship itself.

There was even a small stall on the deck that served as a kind of souvenir shop, where they were able to acquire some naval-style decoration items that would allow them to redecorate The Kraken.

The trio got along well with David to the point that, once the tour was over, they extended the visit a little more, chatting animatedly on the deck with the two improvised guides while all the other tourists left the ship.

"Are you sure you've never come here? I feel like I've seen you before." David turned to Killian, his eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out why he seemed familiar.

William came forward before Killian could respond. "He looks like our Captain, don't you think?"

David's eyes widened in recognition. "That! You do look like our captain, but a much softer version."

"So you're telling me there's a guy dressed as a pirate around here who looks like Killian?" Emma asked with a funny tone and a hint of interest in her eyes. "A pity he's sick, I would have liked to see it. And compare."

Killian tilted her head in Emma's direction as he raised an eyebrow. In response, her lips curved into a smirk. He was about to drop an innuendo, but he thought better of it and instead turned to David. "And what would be his name, Captain Hook?"

"Sure, who else could be the captain of this fine vessel?" David replied with a serious expression on his face although his voice revealed a playful tone. Both Emma and Liam snorted while Killian smirked at them. No doubt this town and its inhabitants were a continuous source of entertainment.

"Can you imagine Killian and an even more cocky twin together? If it's hard to tolerate one, imagine two of them," Liam joked as he tapped him on the shoulder. For once, Killian didn't mind Liam messing with him, not when his stupid jokes made Emma laugh so carefree. That sound was like music to his ears.

After chatting a little more with the guides, they said goodbye, taking with them the promise that they would visit the town again so that Killian could meet his twin and with the recommendation that they visit The Rabbit Hole, the most popular bar in town.

At this point, none of them were surprised by the name of the bar, although Killian was curious to know what they would find. One thing was clear, both he and Emma were willing to fully enjoy the experience. It was not usual for them to visit bars other than their workplace, so the prospect of being served for once and not worrying about drinking too much alcohol was too appealing to miss. Liam did not seem so convinced to go out that night, though, claiming that they would have to get up early the next day to make the journey back home. On this occasion, Emma decided to ally with Killian so Liam had no choice but to follow them.

The first thing Killian noticed when they entered the bar was that it was quite crowded even though the festival in the streets still had plenty of people gathered outside. The décor inside the establishment kept the common retro theme seen throughout the rest of the town.

"Look, there’s a dartboard," Liam pointed out, his previous reluctance giving way to an obvious interest.

"And there is also a pool table," Emma added, gesturing to a corner of the bar, a spark of challenge in her gaze. "What do you say, Jones, are you up for me to kick your ass?"

"I'm always up, Swan."

He was about to add another suggestive comment when his gaze caught something — or rather someone — that made him harden his features. Graham, the bloody sheriff, was also at the bar. Luckily, the guy was turning his back on them, so he probably hadn't realized their presence yet.

Taking advantage of the fact that the two of them had been left alone since Liam had approached the counter to order drinks, Killian's first impulse was to grab Emma and get her away from Graham with the excuse of playing pool. He was so tempted to do it, but he immediately changed his mind. He had no right to keep off Emma from speaking to whomever she wanted, among other things because he himself was a damn coward who didn't dare to express his feelings towards her. The guy seemed interested in her. Who was he to prevent any chance of happiness for her? After taking a deep breath, he nodded almost imperceptibly and approached Emma, whispering in her ear.

"I just spotted the sheriff, Graham, in case you want to go say hello."

Emma's reaction was not as expected; it was much better, to his utter relief. She looked at him first, frowning slightly in a confused expression, then her gaze drifted to the place where Graham was and finally her eyes fixed on him again. "Nah, I'd rather beat you." Without further ado, she began to walk in the direction of the pool table, swaying her hips in a very distracting way. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, turning her head and casting him a glance too tempting to be rejected.

From there the three of them dedicated themselves to enjoying the night to the fullest.

They played pool and Killian lost all the games to the delight of both his brother and Emma. Not that he was bad, but rather that there was something hypnotic in the way Emma handled the stick. Not to mention the portion of cleavage that was exposed every time she leaned on the table.

They also played darts, with more luck on his part, although he did not enjoy his victory as he would have liked, since that was the moment when Graham decided to approach them.

"I see you are making the most of your stay in our town. I'm glad about that." Although Graham addressed the three of them, both his posture and his gaze denoted that his words were intended only for Emma.

"Yeah. We're doing some kind of research since we run a bar. Well, rather they are the owners, I just work there." Emma replied, a soft smile on her face, her gaze pausing for a moment on Graham and then traveling back to Killian and Liam.

Emma's comment was all Graham needed to turn his torso further in her direction, focusing all his attention on her. "Ah! So you work in a bar. May I ask what's your task there?"

"She is our saving angel," Liam replied before Emma even had time to open her mouth, placing an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of affection. It seemed that his brother remained oblivious to Graham's attempts to flirt.

Graham seemed to take his brother's gesture in the wrong way because his expression changed subtly, his features marked with a hint of disappointment. After continuing to chat a little more, he politely excused himself, expressing his hope to see them before they traveled back home. And suddenly, they were three again.

They continued playing and drinking maybe too much, except for Liam, who once again proved to be the most mature of them, not only in age but in behavior. But Killian liked a challenge and given Emma's competitive side, she also found it difficult to refuse a competition, even if that meant there was alcohol involved.

He wasn't aware that perhaps there was too much alcohol in his system until Liam practically had to drag them out of the bar. Emma wasn't in a better state, although she didn't seem to care, her eyes sparkled, there was a permanent smile on her face, and her cheeks had a soft blush, making her irresistible to his eyes. Both ignored the expression of reproach on Liam's face as they walked towards the B&B singing and giggling while his brother followed them a few steps behind.

It had been a while since he felt that way, with a kind of liberating energy, very different from the effect that alcohol had had on him in his darkest moments. On this occasion, a kind of fog had settled in his brain preventing him from thinking clearly. But in return he felt that his inhibitions had disappeared, pushing him to act like a teenager.

Once in their room, they continued laughing and messing with Liam who acted once more as if he were a responsible father standing before his two mischievous children, forcing them to change clothes, put on pajamas and cool off before getting into bed, despite their protests.

"You'll thank me when you wake up tomorrow with a hangover."

"You're not funny, Liam," Emma complained, her arms crossed over her chest and an adorable pout on her lips. Still, she did what she had been told and locked herself in the bathroom after grabbing her pajamas and toiletries.

Once Liam made sure that Killian also changed clothes, he turned to him again. "We should have eaten something instead of drinking so much. I've seen a vending machine in the hallway near the reception. I guess I will only find junk food, but that's better than nothing. You two are going to behave in my absence, aren't you?" he asked in a not convincing tone.

"Yes, Dad," Killian responded, trying, and failing, to maintain a serious expression.

In response, Liam shook his head, giving him one last intimidating look before grabbing the key and leaving the room. That was also the moment that Emma chose to leave the bathroom, her hair in a loose bun, no traces of makeup, an adorable expression on her face. Her eyes then turned to the large bed while a naughty spark crossed her gaze.

Killian watched in amazement as she crossed the room and practically threw herself on the large bed. She then patted the empty space beside her. "Hurry up, before Liam arrives."

He hastened to obey, although his clouded mind prevented him from processing Emma's true intentions. Even so, the prospect of sharing a bed with Emma instead of Liam was too appealing to be rejected, consequences be damned.

"Do you think if we pretend to fall asleep like that Liam would wake us up?" Emma asked while snuggling under the covers.

"Nah. I don't think so." He also got under the covers, lying on his side facing her. "He's not gonna wake you up, at least. I'm not so sure about myself, though. Maybe he kicks my ass and sends me to sleep on the floor while he takes the cot."

Emma giggled beside him, but then her features twisted as she let out a groan. "Gods! This room won't stop moving. It's like we're on the deck of a fucking ship."

"We're a little drunk, love."

"Only a little?" She snorted while poking a finger into his chest. "You're a bad influence, Jones, and—" Whatever she was going to say, it was interrupted by a loud yawn, causing him to burst out laughing hysterically as she tried unsuccessfully to kick him out of bed. In the end, she gave up and instead began to laugh too.

Once the laughter subsided, she approached him, their bodies separated by only a few inches. "I think I'm gonna try to sleep." She mused in a slurred voice and then she brought her face close to his and pressed her lips to his. It was the briefest of kisses, her touch almost imperceptible, like a feather, but with the ability to shake him whole. "Good night, Killian," she whispered against his lips before turning her back to him.

Killian remained motionless for a few seconds, feeling a pleasant tingling in his lips, while his heart pounded frantically in his chest. There was a single thought in his cloudy mind. What had just happened? Had it been real, or just a product of his imagination driven by alcohol running in his veins?

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind. Giving up finally, he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. His last thoughts before succumbing to sleep were occupied by Emma and his attempt to commit to memory all the events that had happened on that wonderful day. None so glorious, though, as the kiss they had shared.

//

When Killian woke up a few hours later, he felt completely disoriented for a moment, having no idea where he was. The latent headache he started feeling did not help in the least to clear his mind, so he was tempted to close his eyes and try to sleep again.

It was then that he noticed a warm body beside him. When his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting in the room and observed a few strands of blond hair on the pillow, he gave such a start that he almost fell off the bed.

After releasing a quiet sigh, he dropped his head on the pillow again, trying to pull himself together. His mind gradually cleared up, the reminder of what happened last night coming in flashes, although he had the impression that there were still several gaps in his memory. He vaguely remembered the reason why the two of them had ended up sharing the bed, but everything else was so blurry that he felt unable to reach it.

The last image his brain registered before falling asleep again was the notion of a kiss. Killian supposed it was the memory of one of his usual dreams about Emma. The mere possibility that he might not remember the first kiss shared with Emma was so frustrating that he didn't even dare to consider it.

//

Present day

The muffled noises coming from the bar brought Killian back to reality. It was then that he realized that he had been locked in the office for longer than necessary. Still, he remained reluctant to get out of there and see Emma's reaction.

He felt a growing frustration taking hold of him. The recent kiss had somehow served as the trigger that had allowed him to recover the memory of a kiss that had been hidden in the form of a dream. Even so, he seemed unable to catch the details, the memory remaining more like a notion rather than a true experience, which only increased his frustration.

To make matters worse, he didn't even know what was going through Emma's mind. He wasn't sure if she had had the same feeling, if she had also completely forgotten that first kiss. By her reaction, he sensed that she had experienced something similar, which, joined with her reluctance to open her heart, had prompted her to run away.

A heavy sigh escaped between his lips as he ran his hand down his face and rubbed his chin in an attempt to control his fears and regain enough determination to face whatever it was that was about to come.

When Killian finally dared to get out of the office, his gaze inevitably traveled to Emma. She was chatting with Elsa so she didn't notice him at first. When their eyes met, he wasn't able to decipher her expression. Still, just before she looked back at Elsa, Killian detected the hint of a smile on her face. It was an almost imperceptible movement of her lips, but enough so that the flame of hope in Killian's heart began to burn strongly once more.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

What to expect in the next chapter? Christmas is coming which means a perfect setting to see how they face the consequences of their first (second) kiss.

[birdhousewrites]

Bardlings (p1)

The trip down from the mountain was rough. It wasn’t just the mountain, though. It was the next few choices and thoughts that made it so difficult. Jaskier had to think hard on what to do next. He doesn’t have his Witcher to fall back on anymore. He could always go back to Oxenfurt. Annoy the old man for a bit.

No acknowledgment towards the quiet thoughts of crying it out while hugging his adoptive father is needed, not while Jaskier is alone.

So that’s what he does. Jaskier stops at the nearest inn and does a bit of singing so he hopefully has a bit of money for his trip, that goes well enough. He at least doesn’t get food thrown at him to make his bad day worse.

The night is a bit of a sad blur. He drinks alone then goes to the room he paid for. What did he do? Geralt was finally coming around. It was so nice! He surely couldn’t have caused so many problems.

Jaskier doesn’t remember the tears he shed by the next morning. He doesn’t hardly remember getting out of bed with his pounding headache. He doesn’t think about the previous days, nor the days to come.

Jaskier only starts to think about what happened, sober this time, when he’s on the road and far from the town he spent the night in. He can hear wolves howling in the distance. The bard fights off tears as he keeps walking. Oxenfurt is still a long ways away and he can’t be slowed down by some silly tears.

The next few weeks are a total blur, not the drunken kind though. Jaskier has managed to safely make it to Oxenfurt, except a few minor scratches from some easily handled bandits. Something in Jaskier says, “I’m not useless, this proves it!” But he already knew what he could do. He already knew he isn’t always the one shoveling the shit.

He gets to Oxenfurt and he’s okay physically but his mental health isn’t the greatest. No artist is ever completely mentally sound but it’s always worse after a breakup. So what does Jaskier do? He cries. He cries the second he hugs his father.

They sit there for a few hours, it takes the first hour for Jaskier to stop sobbing, and they talk. Jaskier sobbing, lots of tears and snot dripping from his face.

“H-he to-told me t-to le-leave,” comes muffled and stuttered from Jaskier as he talks into his father’s shoulder.

Alfred rubs his son’s back, not trusting himself to not spit venom about the wolf that broke his poor son’s heart. A heart that loves so easily.

“-an-and tha-that I’m th-the one al-alwa-ways sho-shovelling the-the shit in his iss-issues,” Jaskier continues.

“Oh Jas,” says Alfred, trying his best to soothe the sobbing man, but he was never very good at that.

The rest of the evening continues in a similar manor.

It’s night now. Alfred left his living area with a damp shoulder and went to yell his frustrations into the woods, not expecting or ever wanting a reply. He hasn’t done this in years, he hasn’t had a reason.

Alfred Pankratz, a seemingly crazy adoptive father and professor, actually did quite well at raising Jaskier. If his success in barding is anything to go by then he’s actually done a quite sensational job (especially since he found Jas in the woods). Despite his parenting success, there’s nothing in the world harder than not trying to hurt the man that hurt your son, and that’s precisely why Alfred Pankratz is screaming in the woods.

Jaskier is sitting at a writing desk writing letters. Why? Because he doesn’t blame Geralt entirely. And he doesn’t blame the rest of his wolves at all. They still need love, even if Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier around.

What Jaskier is writing is mostly a couple of letters to some old teacher’s of his. He has a few things to get in line, after all.

See, there are very few things Jaskier likes more than bardic tales and adventures. One of these very few things happens to be his Witchers, and if Geralt’s terribly rude actions on that mountain are anything to go by they’re all in dire need of some company. As Jaskier went down this line of thought he came to a natural conclusion: Teach a few classes of bards that will want to befriend Witchers.

Witchers aren’t so bad, anyways. Sure, they’re a bit gruff and a bit prickly, but that’s just how they are! No need for them to be lonely! Especially not since Geralt’s anger seemed to be out of a moment of pure frustration.

So Jaskier finishes writing the letters and sends them off. Come fall, he should have a class of young and hopeful bards, and as a bard Jaskier knows how hard it can be to keep their attentions (although, that may just be his little feral fae side coming out). He’s got lesson plans to write, activities to plan, and now definitely needs to figure out how to make sure the wolves won’t worry about him this winter.

Although, the last one may have gone a little forgotten as Alfred Pankratz returned to his living quarters to see a no longer sad Jaskier writing down a lesson plan. A lesson plan Alfred will gladly help with.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Yormp here, once again! Happy Sunday, lovelies! Anyways, this is chapter one. There isn’t much dialog but it’s going to happy very soon. I’m writing this because of this amazing post and all of the reblogs that came off of it! So sorry if I missed tagging anyone who wanted to be!

Love you all so much! You’re the reason I started writing and actually posting what I’ve written! Mostly because I found it funny... but

Chapter one takes a bit more of a serious take on it but it will get a bit more light hearted around the end of chapter(part???) two!

[nekoannie-chan]

Universus

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 1777 words.

Summary: It seemed like a normal training day for you and Brock until Johnny came to ruin the day

Warnings: Angst, this is an Horror AU.

A/N: Universus means Universe.

This is my entry to the @star-spangled-beard-burn ‘s Season of Fiction Writing challenge 2020 with the fall prompt #1:

“I TOLD you I can’t do haunted houses”.

Also my entry to the @marvelgirlonamarvelworld ‘s Val’s 500 Writing challenge with the dialogue prompt #3:

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetiepie?”

And my entry to the @anika-ann ‘s 500 Celebration Challenge with the Arrow prompt #5:

“You tell anyone about this, I will kill you”.

“…That’s just an expression, right?”

Is a horror AU.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @navybrat817

You slipped and winced; Brock turned around and saw you on the floor, he went back to check if you were hurt.

“Are you okay?” He asked offering his hand to you.

"Yes, it's nothing, I just got distracted," you answered taking his hand and standing up with her help.

“Are you sure? You've had a lot of accidents and been distracted all week,” Brock commented with concern.

You dusted yourself off and looked at your boyfriend smiling.

"Come on, we've managed to survive that guy with the weird cloak and the girl who takes daggers out of her hands, as well as the group of weird kids who have a dinosaur."

"I still don't understand why they have a dinosaur," Brock questioned, putting a hand on his beard.

"After all we've been through, are there still things that surprise you?" You questioned incredulously.

"Not exactly, rather it surprises me that without having powers, I am still alive," he replied.

"That is because I’m healing all your wounds in the missions with my powers, but your destiny would probably be different if I didn’t do it," you agreed with satisfaction.

"Always so modest," he said wryly.

“Of course, well next time I won't heal you and I don’t know who’s gonna help you.”

"I don't think you will be so cruel ... are you?" He asked nervously.

"Challenge me and you will see," you threatened.

"You know I love you so much, right?" Brock replied, trying to sound friendly and approaching you.

"Don't even think about it," you stopped him by putting your hand on his chest.

"Don't be mad, babe, but as soon as the fair will be in the town, I will take you to the haunted house."

He got closer and started kissing your arm.

"Noooo, you know I hate haunted houses, let me," you said laughing, you knew what he was trying.

If you let him continue, he would achieve his goal and you could no longer pretend that you were upset with him, although obviously, at night you were going to take revenge. You saw the time and decided it was better to return to compound before they will start looking for them or they will find you in a "compromising" situation.

 Baxter Building

 Johnny saw the object in his hands, he had heard Ben talk about it, and obviously, Reed had created it, although he could not understand what it was for, he shook it a little, but nothing happened.

Maybe he could take it with Y/N and Wanda and see if they could find out what that item was doing or what it was for.

He immediately saved it and went to the compound, it would surely be a very fun visit, as long as the three of you were there you used to have many adventures.

 Compound

 "Hello ladies," Johnny said, entering to the place.

“What are you doing here?” Brock asked.

Johnny and Brock didn't get along at all since Brock thought Johnny liked you.

“What is that?” Wanda asked when she saw what Johnny was holding.

"I don't know, I found it in Reed's lab, but you two are very smart and I know you'll help me find out," Johnny replied, ignoring Brock.

"Well ... it seems ... something Reed is probably going to be very upset if he doesn't find it when he looks for it," you said.

“Oh come on! I don't think…!”

At that time the Multisect activated and everything went dark for a few seconds.

 Unknown place

 You opened your eyes confused, you felt stunned, you assumed that the others were too, you turned looking for the rest, who were lying in the place, you did not know where they were, and you did not even seem familiar.

“Is everyone okay?” Johnny asked, getting up.

“Where we are?” Brock asked sulkily, he was sure you were going to have problems.

"This place is very dingy," Wanda said scared.

"I just hope a madman with a machete or an electric saw doesn't show up and wants to kill us," you said.

"Well, Tinker Bell, take us back to the compound," Brock ordered.

"Yes, of course," Johnny muttered as he waved the Multisect.

You and Wanda exchanged glances, you knew Johnny, and so you would have to find another way to return to the compound… although perhaps you should first find out where you were. Johnny seemed nervous, he didn't know how said object worked.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetie pie? ”

“Brock, this is not the time for sarcasm, we must find out where we are supposed to be and, above all, how to return to the compound…”

“Your idiot friend brought us who knows where, we have no weapons apart from those we carry for training, or anything to defend ourselves as we know, we will have to improvise and worst of all, we have not the slightest idea of what the ground, ”Brock interrupted.

"We have Wanda who has powers, Johnny has powers, I have powers, we will be fine, and apart from that is what training is for, right?"

Brock growled disgruntled, he did not like what was happening at all, of course, he could have hand-to-hand combat, which was his speciality, but he knew well that for some things, having some kind of power was more effective and weapons they were a great help too.

“Johnny please, don't lose that thing, I don't care if Reed scolds you, but we surely need it to return home…”

You heard a sound nearby as if someone was dragging chains and stepping on leaves, the four of you put themselves in a position to defend yourselves if necessary.

“What was that?” You asked scared in a whisper.

"I think your question is rather where we are?" Wanda corrected.

"We have two options, or we stay here like idiots while Tinkerbell tries to fix that shit or we start walking to find a way out, obviously we shouldn't separate," Brock suggested.

You turned to see Johnny, who smiled nervously.

"I don't know how it works," he admitted.

Brock sighed exasperated, you would have to walk without knowing what dangers there were.

"I don't know who is more useless if this one or Rogers, although at the moment I think we already have a winner," Brock mumbled.

“Then what do we do? “You asked.

Johnny pushed himself to be able to fly, however, it did not work, just as Wanda tried to use her powers creating a field, there was no success either.

"Okay, we are screwed, I think we will have to walk to get to the highway ... or somewhere that can bring us closer to a populated area, maybe there we can get a phone to call the others and come for us," you said while you were looking for the compass in your pockets.

Once you found it, you started walking towards where the compass indicated that it was the north, Wanda took your hand to try to control the fear that both of you felt, Brock had an angry and Johnny tried to make a flame appear in his fingers.

The forest seemed huge and endless, you lost track of time, you no longer knew if you walked for hours or minutes, each time the place became gloomier.

“Are you sure it's the right way? “Wanda questioned.

"I don't know, I don't even know where we are, I'm just following where the compass tells me its north," you replied.

Suddenly Brock stopped them, you looked at him asking for explanations; however, he put a finger to his mouth to silence everyone, you hid behind a huge tree.

A group of people with masks passed by, it seemed that they had some hostages that they were taking somewhere.

"We should help them," you whisper.

"We cannot care about others."

"Although I never liked him, your boyfriend is right," Johnny said.

you began to walk slowly so as not to attract attention and to run away when you were far enough they ran into another guy wearing another mask, so Brock and you shot him, you did no harm him, he began to chase you, you separated into two groups, you and Brock, Wanda and Johnny, without realizing it.

After you made sure you weren't chasing them anymore, you stopped, turned around looking for your friends while trying to catch your breath.

"Brock ... where are Wanda and Johnny?" You asked raggedly.

"I don't know ... I thought they were coming after us."

“Do we look for them or what do we do?”

"First, not to separate, second, we have to walk trying to avoid those damned fools and find them."

You held hands and began to walk, it was difficult to determine if you had already walked through the place or not, at times you had to run again when you were being chased.

"I TOLD you I can't do haunted houses".

"This is not a damn haunted house, it is a fuckin’ haunted forest," Brock replied.

"Anyway, Brock, I'm seriously scared, we must find Wanda and Johnny," you whimpered.

You were surrounded, it seemed that there was no escape, you tried to run until you ended up crashing into the other couple.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked terrified.

“We are still alive, but I don't know how long…”

Impulsively Johnny threw the Multisect at the attackers, which activated at the exact moment when it looked like they were going to attack you.

You saw the others without understanding, nobody knew how you came to the compound, and the only thing that mattered was that you were safe. You and Wanda hugged each other while Brock grabbed Johnny by the collar of his shirt to threaten him.

"You tell anyone about this, I will kill you."

"... That’s just an expression, right?"

"No jerk, I'm serious ..."

“Brock is enough, Johnny already learned the lesson, he is going to return the object to Reed's laboratory, right Johnny? “You broke in separating the men.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.

"You know what, we're going to go with Johnny," Wanda said.

You entered the laboratory and Johnny left the Multisect where he had found it, then you went to the hall and there you found Reed.

"Hi guys, haven't you seen my Multisect?" Reed asked.

“Your…what?”

“The Multisect, it serves to travel to other universes… you know, forget it, I don't want you to get into troubles.”

"Doctor Richards, if you knew ..." You spluttered as he left.

[et-lesailes]

missing linc //chapter two

series masterlist

pairing: ceo!dad!steve x reader

word count: 1960

series summary:  you are a college student working at a daycare full time during your summer break, and you have grown especially fond of one of the toddlers in your class, lincoln rogers. you are certainly not expecting to develop such a huge crush on his dad steve when you meet him for the first time, but you can’t help but be attracted to the businessman– despite the fact that he’s married. however, as intelligent and mature as steve comes across, he has a few secrets behind his marriage- one in particular he may never be able to make up for.

series themes: romance, drama, age gap, infidelity, smut in later chapters

chapter summary: steve comes late to pick up linc, and a little more background is given on steve and tiana’s relationship.

taglist: added in reblog

** please send an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist! 

It was 6:05 PM and Steve had still not shown up, despite the daycare technically closing at 6. It was not too rare for some parents to run late, especially with rush hour traffic, and so you were not too worried. It wasn’t like you ever got to leave right at 6 anyways, considering you had to clean up and shut down the room.

It was only you and Linc in the room; Stephanie and the other children had left. The only people in the building were you and the director of the center, who was really only still there because she locked up the place after everyone was gone. Linc was starting to get fussy; his mother normally picked him up at five, and it was clear that the extra hour of being there was tiring him, especially after having seen every other child leave with their mothers and fathers. He was currently snuggled up to you on your lap as you sat against some pillows in the little cozy “library” area of the room, holding onto you tight with his head buried in your chest, whimpering every now and then while simultaneously dozing off. 

By 6:13, you were starting to wonder if you should pull up Linc’s parents’ numbers on the computer and call either Steve or Tiana, when the man suddenly came bursting into the room. “Hey. My God, I’m so sorry.” He instantly apologized, and you could tell by his features that he sincerely felt bad. “I got stuck in a meeting and by the time I got out, traffic was terrible.” You smiled and shook your head, standing up carefully as you held the child close to you. “Don’t worry about it, it happens.” You reassured him it was alright as he walked over to you, and you smiled as Linc immediately perked up upon hearing his father’s voice, wide blue eyes now looking up towards the ones he had inherited. “He’s a little cranky, but he’s tired. He’ll probably sleep on the way back home,” you told Steve as you handed the toddler over, unable to help but coo fondly seeing him nuzzle up to his dad’s chest. “Hey there, my sweet man. I missed you so much today. I’m so, so sorry I’m late.” Steve murmured, and you felt your heart melt. 

He looked to you and smiled, still apologetic. “Thank you so much. I was actually hoping you’d still be here with him, since he seems to like you so much-- I wasn’t sure what time you generally go home.” 

“I work from 9-6,” you informed him with a smile, “so I’m pretty much always here with him, except for a little while in the morning. I think your wife tends to drop him off early.” You had really only mentioned that last part to see if he would want to talk about Tiana at all while you had him here, it didn’t hurt to be subtly nosy, right? “Ah. She goes into work pretty early, yeah, so if I’m not here that’s really the only time she can do it.” He explained somewhat vaguely, and while you were a bit disappointed, you also weren’t sure what you had been expecting- it wasn’t as though you had given him a reason to go off into a spiel about their relationship. “Well, tell her I say hi!” you said, but instead of letting you know he would, he changed the subject. “Are you leaving now too? Let me walk you to your car.” He offered, then playfully bounced Linc in his arms. “This little guy would be thrilled to, he’s a perfect gentleman you know.” You blinked and giggled upon seeing Linc clap his hands, nodding your head as you went to go get your bag. You had already cleaned up while it had just been you and Linc, and so you had nothing left to do to close the room- the cleaners would take care of the rest. “Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you.” 

You could feel your director staring holes into your back as you walked out of the building with Steve, almost as if you were the couple picking up your child from daycare. Something about walking alongside him as he held Linc felt so right, but you dismissed these thoughts. You had just met the man, for God’s sake, and he was married. Not to mention he was way older than you; disappointment settled in as you realized he probably simply saw you as some type of little sister figure, maybe even a daughter. But what had you been expecting? He had a child and an extremely successful career, why would he look twice at someone who was just a teenager less than a year ago?

There were only three cars in the parking lot- yours, the director’s, and Steve’s. Seeing the shiny Mercedes practically glimmering a few spots away from your very average Nissan Altima was almost a bit embarrassing, especially as you indicated to Steve that that was your car, but he did not seem affected at all as he walked you over. “Thanks again, Y/N, and I’m sorry,” he spoke sincerely, and while it was not a big deal, you noticed he did not use the ‘Miss’ in front of it like how he had referred to Stephanie. In fact, you were happy enough he even remembered your name. Did that mean something? God, you really needed to stop overanalyzing this. “Of course. I love spending time with Linc, it’s really not a problem. He’s good company,” you giggled as you reached out to give him a playful poke on the belly, making him squeal in delight, clearly in a much better mood than before. 

“Then maybe you’d like to come by and babysit sometime?” the CEO suddenly inquired, and you blinked before nodding eagerly. “I’d love to!” Honestly, it was not even about Steve or Tiana-- you genuinely loved taking care of the child you had grown so fond of, and being able to outside of work sounded fun. “Great. Let me get your number.” He shifted Linc to his other arm, pulling out a sleek phone from his pocket and going to his phonebook before handing the device to you with a charming smile. You forced yourself not to stare at it, taking the phone and inserting your name and number before giving it back. “Great. Thank you,  this will be a lot of help. I’ll reach out to you soon.” He told you, and even though it was childish, you couldn’t help but feel excited that you would have this man’s number. ‘Relax,’ you thought to yourself, ‘it’s just for babysitting. It’s not like we’re going to be friends.’

“Awesome,” you replied with a smile, giving Linc one last squeeze on the hand. “I’m looking forward to it.” You pressed the unlock button on your key, but before you could open the door, Steve reached out and opened it for you himself. “It was nice meeting you today, Y/N,” he spoke casually, as if his charismatic self had no impact on your beating heart whatsoever. “I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future.” You got into the car trying to nod normally, having no idea what he meant by that-- you didn’t need to say anything, anyways, because he closed the door once you were safely inside, barely leaning down and giving you the same wink he did before walking off towards his car. You were left completely confused like before, wondering for the hundredth time that day if you were overanalyzing everything or if he really was showing some odd type of interest.

“Are you finished?”

Steve looked up from his phone as Tiana was standing up from the dinner table, holding her empty plate in one hand and Linc’s in the other. Linc was gazing at him adoringly from his high chair he just barely fit into, flouncing around with pasta sauce all over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, had an email I had to reply to.”

A lie. After getting your number, he had been far too curious. And so he had shamelessly looked you up on Facebook, scrolling through your photos with interest. He couldn’t deny they were cute. Pictures of you with friends, out to eat, at bonfires, sporting events, even at the beach wearing a particularly tiny bikini he stared at a little longer than he’d like to admit. 

He handed his empty plate to his wife with a grateful nod, then looked towards Linc with a little grin. “Look at you, tiger, you’re a mess. Come on, let’s clean you up.” Locking and setting his phone face down on the table, he stood up and took the boy out of his high chair, carrying him over to the kitchen sink while Tiana began to put the rest of the food in the fridge. 

“How long are you going to be home this time?” Tiana asked as Steve leaned over the counter to properly wash his son’s hands and face. “I’m flying out to Manila next week,” he answered, raising an eyebrow slightly while scrubbing sauce off the little boy’s ear, at this point not even surprised that it had somehow gotten there. “Why? You can have David over when I’m here, you know.” The woman immediately froze and Steve somewhat regretted saying it out loud. He didn’t even mean it in a salty way, but even then, the entire situation was… messed up, to say the least. “And make him more confused than he probably already is?” Tiana hissed, turning around and gesturing to Linc. “Than he’s going to be when he grows up and learns the real circumstances surrounding his parents? No thank you. As it is, David only comes here when he’s asleep, and as far as I’m concerned, you have no right to be upset about that.”

“I’m not. You know that.” Steve replied calmly, sighing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. That was me trying to be accommodating in-- in whatever this mess is. But how long can this go on, Ti? It’s been a year, almost two. Are we really going to keep living like this?”

“It’ll go on as long as I want it to,” she replied simply, the answer having been quite predictable based on their last few conversations about the matter. “Right. Until David finally decides he wants to lock it down, right?” Steve retorted, now unable to help but get a little more annoyed. “I know what I did was wrong. But now you’re just using me, and my money. In the beginning I let you because I felt bad. But this is too much.”

She widened her eyes, clearly shocked and offended, but before she could reply, Linc tugged on the collar of Steve’s shirt. “Baba?” he asked hopefully, and as stressed as Steve was in that moment, he felt some of it melt away thanks to his sweet, wholesome child. “Okay, yes. We’ll go outside and blow bubbles, little man. Really big ones.” He sighed deeply as he looked to Tiana. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of him, anyways. But please. You know what I want, and I know you want it too, even if you’re in denial. So think about it. And stop letting David be a factor. This “secret” relationship you two are in is just juvenile, Ti.” 

Turning around, he headed for the door to the backyard, first opening one of the cupboards to take out the tube of bubble soap. “C’mon, buddy. Show Daddy how you make super big bubbles, yeah?”

[twit-moonstar]

Up for a long time - Brian May x Reader

A/N: This was for a hosted Valentine’s day secret santa but I couldn’t finished it in time bc life. I am really sorry I’m posting this so late

Please consider reblogging and commenting what do you think about the fic

Warnings: none (just a note: this is situated on 1977/1978)

Words: 2K+

Summary: Y/N was invited by Brian May to accompany him during the Sheer Heart Attack tour and as its ending gets closer, she expresses her sadness over having to say him goodbye soon, unless… maybe she doesn’t have to.

 A blissful sigh left Brian’s lips as you cuddle against his side, his long fingers petting your hair lazily. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay here forever, just the two of us? I’m gonna miss this,” you say with melancholy, as if you parting ways was a matter of fact—because, well, it was. What were the chances that he would want to keep seeing you? He was a guitarist in a rising band that was getting more and more famous. You were beginning to feel sad at the thought of missing him even if you were still by his side. It was strange to you how at ease he makes you feel even though you meet barely two months ago. It’s not an everyday occurrence that a cute musician invites you to come along on tour with his band to America but you weren’t stupid enough to miss on this chance. Besides, he had a certain charm that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, like he wasn’t even trying. Just like that, he could smile, and you would do anything he asked. A few minutes passed, in which he didn’t replied, and you started to think about what you had said. Did you cross a line there? Was that inappropriate? But being with him felt so right… and you were sure he felt the same way about you. Well, you were until now. Finally, he spoke. “What if you didn’t have to?” You smiled, feeling relief that he wasn’t weirded out by your comment. “What? What do you mean?” “What if - if we got married?” His words were shaky, his voice soft and quiet in the dim room. You look up at him. “Are you joking? Because, let me you tell you, it’s not funny,” you state. He shakes his head no. “I’m not.“ You get away from him, sitting up on the bed to look at him. It’s hard to describe the look on his eyes, it’s very serious but also a little dreamy, like he has his head on the clouds. And you might be the very reason why. “Really?” You say softly as if you were expecting him to laugh and declare it was indeed a joke but you know him well; he would never be so cruel. Your mother once told you that you must see a man getting happy, tired, sad and, above all, angry and stressed before you got married. She believed that if you saw him in such states, you would know if you were ready to handle sharing your life with him. Despite knowing him for so little time, you had already seen how he acted when he wasn’t feeling well and it never seemed like something that you couldn’t soothe. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, then,” you smiled, “ask me properly.” “Y/N Y/L/N, would to make me the honour of being my wife?” “Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing yourself to him and embracing him on a tight hug. He took your face between his hands and kissed you, smiling when you broke apart. “Well, then, we’re engaged now.”

“When– when do you want to do it, though?” You asked. You wouldn’t lie, you weren’t able to contain your excitement. You were going to get married! It felt like a dream, like you would wake up in any moment in an empty bed on the hotel. “Tomorrow maybe?” Brian suggested. “It’s my day off before we get going to the next city.” “Okay,” you accepted. “While you’re at rehearsal, I’ll make sure we have what we need to do it.” He kissed you again. “Alright but first, let’s get breakfast.”

Standing in front of a little mirror on the reception, you check your lipstick, even though Brian said he wouldn’t pay for any photographs here—both of you were afraid they would be leaked and all over the magazines. Despite all the paparazzi constantly following the band, Brian had done his best effort to protect your privacy as much as he could and you weren’t quite ready to give up your anonymity just yet. Besides, you were aware that a secret wedding with a woman Brian met just three months ago wouldn’t do wonders for his reputation. A pair of hands sneaked up on your waist, hugging you softly. “Are you ready?” He whispered on your ear. You turned around, your arms surrounding his neck. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you assure him and his lips curve up into a smile. A blonde woman came up to you—her name was Marie, according to the tag on her blazer— and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, the venue is ready. Follow me, please,” she said and started walking you guide you. She opened the door and a wedding march started to sound as you entered the room and walked towards the altar, Brian holding your hand the entire time. The Victorian Venue was beautiful, so beautiful you almost regretted eloping—though both Roger and Freddie weren’t at the hotel and Deacy and Veronica were with their kids—. It was a large room, simply decorated with cascading silk drapes and a pair of pillars with candelabras as the wedding altar. It was all very white, and you were glad you had chosen to wear a light blue dress that contrasted with the room. The officiant, a middle aged men, looked as you stand in front of each other. Brian had a smile plastered across his face, reaching his hazel eyes and illuminating his beautiful features. “Brian May and Y/N Y/L/N, today you enter as individuals, but you will leave here as husband and wife, blending your lives, expanding your family ties, and embarking upon the grandest adventure of human interaction,” the officiant said. “Brian and Y/N, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. Please, repeat after me–” “Actually, I’d like to have the word,” you interrupt him, shyly, and Brian looks at you with surprise. You hadn’t discussed having your own vows and he clearly didn’t expected it but you had been thinking about them since last night. “Of course.” “I - I know that for anyone outside us this will look rushed after only a few weeks but in that time you have made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ve seen you in the most intimate situations and I know I’m ready to spend my life with you. It might not be easy– but nothing every really is and I’m ready to whatever is coming at us.” Brian’s smile and eyes were warm, full of fondness. His hands squeezed yours briefly, a silent ‘I love you.’ “Y/N, meeting you wasn’t on my plans. I’d have never guessed that I’d fall so hard, so fast for you but your sweet ways, your genuine excitement for life and new experiences, your energy and the passion you put on everything you do made me feel like a fifteen years old boy falling in love for the first time. I am enchanted by you, and I’m so happy I get the chance to try to make you as happy as you make me.” You feel your smile getting bigger, so wide it almost hurted but you didn’t cared. It was a nice kind of pain, it meant you couldn’t contain the happiness you were feeling inside you and for a moment you thought about how you wanted to proclaim to the entire world that you were married to the lofe of your life. You squeezed his hands for a second. You both let go of your hands to get the rings. His was one he already had but rarely used and yours was one you had bought on a market on one of your solo adventures exploring the city while he was working. They weren’t permanent rings; “I promise I’ll get you a proper ring once we’re on London again,” he had said, and you assured him you were okay with these as of now. Despite the band’s success, you knew he wasn’t really getting much money and didn’t care he didn’t buy an expensive ring. “Brian May, please repeat after me as you place the ring on Y/N Y/L’s ring. With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever.” “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever,” he recited softly as he put the ring on you finger. After you repeat it, you both sign the marriage certificate and the officiant finally says the words that linked your lives for the rest of it. “By the authority vested in my by the State of San Francisco, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Brian did as told, reaching down to kiss you softly, taking his time to show you how much he loved you on his gentle movements. “I love you, Mrs. May,,” he said once you broke apart. You giggle. “I love you too, Mr May.”

“Honey, I’m home!” Brian exclaimed, and you hear the closing door. You smile as he enters the room and leaves the box with Chinese food on the little table in front of the couch. You sit properly and take a look at what he brought. “My hero! I was starving,” you say and he smiles. After a week of living on Brian’s apartment using his clothes, you had finally gotten around to your old apartment and got your stuff. It was mostly books, clothes and some decorative ornaments; you didn’t have any furniture except for your bookshelf—and a mattress that you had already sold. Brian was helping you to put everything in place, but you were hungry and send him to get food—your treat. “They didn’t have fried rice, but I brought you Chow Mei,” he says, opening the box for you to see. The smell is delicious, and your stomach seems to rush you to eat when it growls. “That’s fine,” you say and take your noodles. “Do you need help?” Brian chuckles as you struggle with the chopsticks. You pout and nod. He takes his own stick. “The trick is to just move the top stick, the other has to stay still,” Brian shows you as he takes a piece of tofu with ease. You imitate him ans after a few tries, you finally succeed. “It’s way more difficult when you’re eating noodles,” you say before Brian’s amused gaze. “Do you want to try?” He asks, holding a piece of his tofu to you. You lean, doubtful, and take a bite. It tastes spicy and hot, so you swallow it and drink a little soda. “What does it have?” “Lots of pepper,” he replies. “It’s good, but I wouldn’t eat too much,” you say honestly and he smiles as he eats. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess.” “I want to go back to college,” you comment after a while and he smiles at you, interested. “To study Law again?” “No, that’s… that’s what my parents pushed me to do. I’ll like to study something related to Theatre, maybe. I don’t know, but I need to do something. I don’t like just being lying around,” you say softly. The week living with Brian, having no responsibilities was nice but you needed to do something. Besides, you wouldn’t let Brian pay for all the bills. You were a team now, and you needed (and wanted) to do your part. “I was also thinking maybe I could give some piano or bass lessons, to get some money,” “That’s a great idea,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but smile too. “I can help you with some posters to promote your classes.” “That would be very nice,” you reply, leaning towards him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Hey, I have a surprise for you!” Brian suddenly says and gets up quickly, walking into the room and coming back after finding whatever he was looking for. He sits next to you and takes your hand, looking briefly at the ring you used to get married before looking at you. “Remember when we stayed at my parents’ house for the weekend?” You smile. “Of course I do. I was nervous as hell the whole drive. And during dinner. Basically all three days.” “Well, you had nothing to worry about because my mother loved you and actually gave me this for you.” He shows you a ring. It was made from gold and had one single tiny round diamond. Your mouth hangs open as Brian takes off your old ring and puts the golden on your finger. “Do you like it?” He sounds anxious as you simply stare at the ring and the way it shines beautifully with the natural light coming from the windows. “It’s beautiful,” you say, moving your hand so the light reflects off the ring. You finally look at him. “Did you say your mother gave you this?” He nods. “I can’t accept this,” you say, starting to take it off but he takes your hands to stop you. “Why not?” “Because it’s real, Bri! This diamond is real and probably worth good money, who knows how much your parents spent on it?” “It was my grandmother’s and she isn���t… she’s dead.” “Oh.” You look at the ring. “Still, why would your mother give me this? She barely knows me.” “Because she liked you and sees why I married you,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand and caressing your skin with his thumb. “Besides, she saw you didn’t have a ring and said it was unacceptable. This is actually an engagement one but let’s ignore that.” You smile. “Alright, I’m going to keep it as long as you love me.” “Well, get used to it because you’re up for a long time,” Brian says and brings you to his lap to give you a soft kiss.