#sure i could concede in a literal manner. but i feel like it gave me room to interpret things how i wanted. where the JP is pretty upfront

[lunadivino]

went perusing through my drafts and im getting pissed off at people who dont get ffxiv drk our answer quest as it exists in the eng localization. FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ncitygirls]

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

[hxwks-gf]

— pretty boy 

summary: you’re best friends with the new up-and-coming hero, toshinori yagi. pet names are a force of habit for you, and toshinori happens to be “pretty boy”.  despite the nickname, he shows you how serious he is about becoming a hero

pairing: young all-might/toshinori yagi x reader

w/c: 1.9k

warnings: creepy dude grabs the reader against their will, but that’s about it 

requested by: @lady-latte​ (ty for sending this in love!! i need some more toshinori in my life) 

“Hey there, Pretty Boy!” 

The nickname came as smoothly as silk does, falling from your lips and out into the warm summer air like honey dripping from its comb. It was a nickname that had always felt natural, despite its embarrassing nature. If it ever bothered Toshinori Yagi, he never showed it. 

He grinned as you strolled up to him. His blonde hair was sticking out in its usual unruly manner, with the two pieces of bangs that never seemed to lay flat arched over his sweaty forehead. Magnificent blue eyes pierced through your own in the twilight of dusk, cutting straight through the dim glow from the street lamp nearby. 

“What are you doing out here this time of night?” he asked, stretching his bare arms above his head, the muscles bulging in his biceps. 

“Wanted to see what you were up to,” you replied with a matching grin, and you leaned against the fence. “Working out again?” 

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down and picking up a barbell that lay at his feet. He lifted it with ease and began rhythmically curling it into his chest. “School starts again in a few weeks, and I want to make sure I’m absolutely ready for it. Since my Quirk finally activated, I’ve got a lot of training to make up for.” 

You pursed your lips and looked down at the concrete. A dandelion weed was pushing through a crack in the sidewalk, stretching itself and its little yellow petals up towards the darkening sky. You glanced back up to Toshinori and smiled again. “I know you’ll be amazing,” you encouraged, your eyes following the barbell in his hands: up and down and up and down. “I heard you got a new mentor.” 

“I did,” he said, straining against the weight. A drop of sweat slid down his face as he set the barbell down. “She told me to keep it on the low for a bit, so--sworn to secrecy.” He made a show of locking his lips with an invisible key before tossing it out of sight. 

You laughed. “I wasn’t going to ask anyways, dummy. I’m sure you’ll tell me who this amazing new teacher is when the time is right.” After a few seconds, you bit your lip with uncertainty and studied him before asking, “Right?” 

Toshinori wiped his brow again and looked at you. “Of course I’d tell you. You’re my best friend.” 

“Don’t you forget it,” you chuckled, playfully punching his shoulder. Man, he really put on some muscle over the summer, you noticed, rubbing your knuckles as you pulled your arm back. As he stretched his arms up over his head again, you tilted your head to the side. And a good couple inches. “How...how tall are you, now?” you tentatively asked. 

Toshinori relaxed and glanced down at himself. “Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Haven’t measured myself lately.” 

“You really grew over the summer,” you half-heartedly joked, crossing your arms. “Are you...okay?” 

His disposition shifted at the question, and for a moment you saw how tired he really was--but the moment passed, and he was back to being Mr. Walking Sunshine. Toshinori flashed you a toothy grin and gave a thumbs-up, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? All of my dreams are coming true!” 

“Alright, alright,” you conceded. “Just checkin’, Pretty Boy. We wouldn’t want anything happening to the world’s next #1 hero, would we?” 

“You really think I can do it?” he quietly asked, bending down to pack up his weights. His face was hidden from you, but you could hear the doubt in his voice. 

You reached out and placed a hand on his warm shoulder, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your fingertips. “I know you can do it, Toshi.” 

He stood up tall and grinned down at you. “Heh. Thanks, y/n. I know I can always count on you to believe in me.” 

“Race you to the end of the block?” 

“You know you’ll never be able to beat me.” 

“Hey, you’ve got a literal weight to hold you back,” you laughed, already jogging towards the street. “C’mon, that new movie is playing at the theater--loser has to buy the popcorn.” 

“I don’t know why you insist on doing this to yourself, y/n!” Toshinori called out from behind you as you started running. He seemed pretty far back, and you used this as motivation to run faster and harder down the city street towards the movie theater. The summer air sung with cicadas as the early stars came out to twinkle in the sky above you. But just as you were getting into a good rhythm, you heard his thundering footsteps on the sidewalk behind you. 

“I’ll take my popcorn with extra butter!” he shouted at you as he sprinted by, his blonde hair flying in the wind. 

“One day I’ll figure out how you’re cheating!” you shouted back, your lungs already gasping for precious air. 

Toshinori’s face was adorned with a triumphant smile as he flew down the length of the street, his duffle bag full of weights strapped to his back. “--and some yakitori to go with it!” he called over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. 

You slowed down to a jog, and then to a walk, and you breathed heavily to regain your composure. No matter how many times you challenged him, or how many times he insisted on giving you a headstart--he always beat you. Always. 

“You’re going to be the greatest,” you murmured under your breath, deciding to walk the rest of the way to the theater. He usually came back to make sure you were okay, even after beating you. It was almost unfair. 

But before you could make it to the next block, an uneasy feeling crept over your skin, and all of the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Suddenly, the quiet street seemed dark and menacing--nothing like it had been only a few minutes ago. The shadowy corners of the alleys shifted and moved out of the corners of your eyes. It felt like you were being watched. 

Your feet began to move quicker down the sidewalk, and you tried to keep yourself within the glow of the street lamps as much as you could. Just a few more feet and you would turn the corner and see Toshinori standing there with that smile on his face, and you’d be safe--

“Where ya goin’ this time of night?” a gravelly voice chuckled from behind you, and you felt calloused hands roughly grip your arm. “Pretty thing like you should know better than to be walking around this part of town all alone.” 

You froze in fear, your wide, unblinking eyes staring at the end of the block--waiting for Toshi to appear. Any moment now, and he would come charging to your rescue. 

“Hey,” the villain growled, his grip on your arm tightening. “I asked you a question.” 

“Let go of me,” you managed to whisper, still staring at the street corner. “Please.” 

“Yeah? Heh, or what? What are you going to do?” 

You winced in pain as his nails dug into the skin of your arm. “Please,” you said again through gritted teeth. “Let go of me.” 

“I don’t think I will,” the villain chuckled, and began pulling you towards a dark alley. “I want all of your money, and maybe I’ll reconsider.” 

You knew if you used your Quirk in a public setting, you’d get reprimanded by the school and have to face consequences--but you were never taught what the punishment was, if there was any punishment at all, for using your Quirk in self-defense. You didn’t want to lose your shot at a hero’s license--but then again, you also didn’t want to lose your life. 

Just as you were about to activate your Quirk while he dragged you into the alley, you saw Toshinori appear from around the corner. He looked confused, like he wasn’t sure what was taking you so long, or where you even were. But when his eyes landed on you in the grasp of a villain, that confusion was replaced by pure rage, and he charged towards you with a wild snarl on his face. 

“Let go of her!” he bellowed, and for a moment you were taken aback by the sheer anger that exploded out of him. You had never seen him this way before. 

“Hey, hey, take it easy!” the villain stuttered, immediately releasing you and taking a few stumbling steps backward. Toshinori surged past you and grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him up against the building wall. 

“You think you can just weasel your way around here and get away with grabbing people?” Toshinori snarled in the villain’s face. He looked at you over his shoulder. “Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you?” 

You quickly shook your head. “No, no--he just grabbed my arm. I’m f-fine, Toshi.” The wavering pitch in your voice gave yourself away. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and he turned back to the villain, who was struggling against the iron grip at his throat. 

“If I ever see you bothering anyone in this city again,” Toshi spoke to him, his voice dangerously calm, “I won’t be this nice.” With that, he released the man and looked down at him with disgust. “Now get lost.” 

The man wasted no more time scrambling to his feet and taking off in the other direction. Toshinori immediately went to your side and took your face in his large hands. 

“When you didn’t show up, I got worried,” he said, searching your eyes. That anger and rage was gone; it had now been replaced with concern and fear. “You promise he didn’t hurt you?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. “He just grabbed my arm and asked for money, that’s all.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he pulled you into his chest for a hug. “I shouldn’t have left you like that, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m okay. You saved me, Pretty Boy.” 

He pulled away and looked down at you, his blue eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. With a shaky breath, he put on a reassuring smile and tenderly touched your cheek. “I’ll always be there to save you, alright? I promise.” 

“You’re going to be a great hero,” you whispered, returning the smile. 

He pulled you in for another hug, his eyes glancing down at the bruises forming on your arm from where the man had grabbed you, a reminder that he wasn’t there for you, and he couldn’t protect you. Toshinori Yagi knew, in that moment, that you would never be harmed by anyone else ever again. 

“I like that name, by the way,” Toshi said as the two of you started walking together towards the movie theater. He kept you tucked under a protective arm as he gave you a sideways glance. “You think I’m pretty?” 

You rolled your eyes and smacked him. “You know you’re pretty.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, but I like hearing it from you.” 

“Alright, fine, you’re pretty.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

[thebeautyoffandoms]

*cracks knuckles* Aight, I have a million thoughts about pandora hearts ALL THE TIME, so buckle up. The previous ask about Leo/Elliot vs Gil/Oz was 👌 but what I love about the two separate Servant/Master dynamics is how the characters are foils to each other. Like. It’s so good. When Oz and Gil met, Oz was in that phase of his life where he wanted to feel reliable and so he told Gil to lean on him—Gil, as we know, was Pretty Messed Up™ and didn’t want to think about anything, so he threw himself into his role as a servant. So, they had kind of an unhealthy yet balanced(?) master/servant relationship. Contrast that to when Elliot met Leo and it’s like day and night. Leo was completely content living as the top dog in his orphanage, getting the younger kiddos to behave, reading books, and playing the piano. Leo didn’t need anything—he didn’t even want to be looked at or really acknowledged. Then comes Elliot (bless his lovely face) barging in and getting in his face, wanting everyone to know who he is and why his family is respectable instead of shady. He is loud and proud (literally lmao). Instead of jumping at the opportunity to be the servant of the youngest Nightray son, Leo actually responds with “no way in hell” to his offer. It’s my absolute favorite thing. Everything about Elliot is something Leo has deliberately avoided up to that point in his life, yet he concedes because he finds Elliot interesting. Where Gil is blind to what his master does, Leo is absolutely enthralled by his master’s (often idiotic) choices and corrects him when he needs it. Gil doesn’t do this, not always out of fear of his master, but I think because he knows about Oz’s severely perfectionistic ideals and goals. So as to not deride his master or make him feel low, he instead chooses to suggest things in a loose manner. Anyway, I ain’t gonna apologize that this is way super long cuz I don’t really have anyone else who talks PH so lol. Your thoughts?

my thoughts? so so so many- ahem- anyway! i think you put it pretty perfectly- the fact that, to be honest, if i gave someone a description of Leo (especially before-Elliot Leo), then a description of Elliot, I'm not sure they'd exactly say "woah, they'd be great having to spend most of their time together!" honestly, they'd probably even fit into "rivals (from a shoujo manga more than a shounen i'd think)" category??

Elliot and Leo, in my opinion, are sort of like... perfect opposites? or maybe the whole "opposites attract" thing? or maybe even not since, like you said, Leo simply found Elliot (Nightray. Elliot Nightray, proudly wearing the Nightray name. Why? Leo probably didn't know-) entertaining (understandably so. I'm sure many did- our lovely, precious, cocky teenage boy barging into an orphanage, just to yell at the same kid every time- we love to see it, love to see it) and wanted to read from the library- plus, that "no way in hell" line is one of my favorites- Leo, an orphan, when compared to an rich boy aristocrat like Elliot, doesn't have much to be proud of but, my goodness, is Leo proud in his own way. Why would someone who preferred to keep to himself and his books most of the time, want to have anything to do with.. well- Elliot?? Taking care of a boy (a loud, frankly obnoxious at times, boy) who's perfectly capable of laying out his own clothes isn't exactly ideal, yk? But, the fact that he accepts, and considering the fact that Leo is indeed at least obligated to lay out Elliot's clothes makes me laugh.

ANYWAY, comparing our two best master/servant relationships, you're still exactly right. Gil looks up to Oz, and Oz treats him... like... a really annoying older brother may?? I'm not sure how else to put "bullies him, but like?? affectionately", since Leo definitely "bullies Elliot, but like?? affectionately" in a completely different way. Leo sees Elliot as a friend, despite being obligated to call him his master, the same way Elliot sees Leo as a friend. Looking at Oz and Gil you see "master/servant." (also like you said, in a borderline unhealthy way) Looking at Elliot and Leo you see "friend/friend." Sure, as time passes Gil (eventually) drops the "young master" from Oz's name, but you still get the master/servant vibes throughout it all- maybe less at the end, when they've both grown in different ways, it feels a bit more natural? But, it's been a while since I've read it, so I'm not sure if Gil ever really drops the "I look up to you, Oz." Leo, however, I'm not sure he looked up to Elliot even once- maybe admired him for a split second, but... as much as I love him, and as much as I personally admire Elliot, he makes some idiotic decisions. Having Leo correct him is all part of the fun tho- plus, it makes the scene after Elliot scolds(? maybe not the right word, but i'm too excited to rant about ph to care) Oz feel a bit different? When Leo tells him something along the lines of "I'll scold you when you deserve it" (that's definitely a good way off the mark, but I have it in my mind ahh)

It's also fun to think about everything that must have happened between Elliot and Leo that wasn't shown. They spent years together, after all- not every day could be summarized in those flashbacks or scenes. All the arguments we missed, and all of the fun times. Leo and Elliot aren't the most perfect together, since their personalities clash pretty hard- so I'm sure they both got sick of each other, but, sort of like siblings do, they still cared for the other. No matter how hard and long they argued, they were still friends- heck, the fact that they argue so much makes it feel even less like a master and his servant. Leo's got a sharp tongue and shorter-than-average temper, and Elliot has a short temper and sharper-than-average tongue. It's honestly funny- these boys give me so much joy, as I'm sure they did for each other. I'll also choose not to think of the hard times, thank you very much. Yk, the confusion, the guilt Leo must have felt, what was going on in their heads when things started to get weird- i.e., when Elliot said he composed the song that Leo claimed to have.

I'm sure there's so much more I could add to this, and maybe some I got scrambled, or maybe I missed your point entirely, BUT- long story short, I love both Elliot and Leo so very dearly, and their relationship has made me laugh and cry- and still can, even after I've finished the series-

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Perception pt. 1

The Company x Reader

I’ve always had the idea that, while men and elves seem to like the slimmer built type of women, dwarves and hobbits like theirs a little more curvy/voluptuous (whatever term you like). Maybe it’s all the eating and beer drinking that makes me think that lol. Anyway....the human reader would be confused at first about why literally the entire company is acting like major show offs. But, once she figures this out she uses it to her amusement/advantage. There doesn’t have to be a specific pairing, or you can pick one yourself if you feel like it. ---middleearth2asgard

---

Fat.

Ugly. 

Pig.

These seem to be some of the favorite insults of those who didn't like you in your past life on earth. 

The stereotype that every woman must be and look a certain way, be a certain height and have a certain weight, has always weighed you down heavily; and while you often pretended that it didn't hurt you very much and you did your best to ignore it, at some point you began to believe those things. 

A person can only go on for so long hearing something before their beliefs change, after all. 

Obviously, you're not ugly in the slightest, for all people are beautiful when their lovely on the inside. Not to mention, physical attraction is merely something based on opinion. Ever heard of the saying 'beauty lies in the eye of the beholder'? 

In this specific group though, everything is a lot different. 

Not that you particularly know it, but for them you've got to be the prettiest thing around. 

Healthy is the way the see you, healthy, strong, and gorgeous, and that topped with you wonderful personality... well, they're done for. 

Not all of them, obviously, because some are married, unaware, or just not interested, but that doesn't mean they don't like you or anything like that. 

The first time Kili called you pretty, you got angry and told him to stop teasing you. 

When his brother did the same a few hours later, you became furious and refused to speak with them for the rest of the day.

Balin asked you why you were in such a bad mood that night, and when you explained it to him he only smiled and shook his head, telling you in a soft and understanding voice. "I do not understand how you feel of yourself, my dear, but please rest assured that they were not teasing you. You're lovely." 

Since Balin was the one who said it you kinda felt obligated to believe him, and so that next morning you sought out the sheepish brothers and apologized for getting so angry, though you offered no explanation to your behavior.

When Bofur called you lovely one afternoon, you didn't get as angry though you did deny it, mumbling something about your weight before riding off away from him. 

Dwalin's compliment of you was more of a gruff, "You look nice today," and it embarrassed you and only uttered a disbelieving, 'okay' in response. 

Eventually, you grew more used to the compliments given to you on your appearance, though you preferred the ones about liking your cooking or laugh more so since you could actually believe in someone liking that. 

Little did you know, however, that your reluctance to have faith in their praises has sparked quite a bit of debate amongst them, and rather quickly did an agreement to show you how lovely you truly are come to be.

Another thing you've noticed besides the constant compliments, is the boastful and swanky behavior of some of them (like Thorin's nephews, Dwalin, Bofur, Thorin himself sometimes, and even sweet Ori to name a few). 

Truthfully, you find it to be pretty funny. How they'll randomly challenge each other and walk around all big headed when they win one of those challenges, showing off their skills and boasting. 

It's pretty funny though you don't really know why they do it, and you haven't really bothered to ask about it either so... 

---

"Hey, Y/N!" Someone calls suddenly, capturing your attention from the conversation you were having with Gloin, "Watch this!"

You turn toward the noise and see Fili and Kili looking at you with matching grins. 

As soon as your attention is on them, Fili pulls out some bite-sized dried mutton and aims as Kili runs a few paces ahead. Fili throws the food and Kili follows it with his mouth open, catching it perfectly.

A bright smile spreads across your face and you clap your hands a couple of times, "Wow! If I couldn't do better, I'd probably be impressed!" You exclaim, unable to keep the confidence from your voice.

Kili's bright smile melts into a frown and he furrows his eyebrows, meanwhile Fili just raises an eyebrow and asks skeptically. "You can do better?" 

"I sure can. I can catch food in my mouth from almost any distance." You say as a smile spreads across your face, fondly remembering all the grapes and marshmallows that you've 'trained' with over the years. It's just a natural talent, really. 

"You don't mind if I put that to the test now, do you?" He challenges, pulling off another bite sized piece of his mutton.

Oh, he really thinks he's gonna psyche you out right now? You are so about to put this mans in his place. "Not in the slightest! Hit me with your best shot, pretty boy!" You exclaim rather assertively. 

You drop what you're doing and jump up to your feet, stepping back further a few paces. 

"Wait, you're going really far." Fili warns, looking at you in perplexity. 

"Are you afraid you don't have the arm for it?" You taunt, crossing your arms over your chest with a smirk quirking at your lips. 

His eye twitches in annoyance at your teasing, but he only pulls his arm back to show he's ready. "Well, you asked for it." 

You drop your arms back to your side and watch his hand carefully, and when he finally throws it and it sails through the air you keep your eyes trained on it the whole time. 

As it grows closer you adjust your stance and position, and then you open your mouth when it's less than a second away and...

It lands right in your mouth!

You throw your arms up in the air and cheer, chewing the hard jerky while everyone else looks on in amazement. 

Once the mutton is swallowed you smile brightly and drop your hands back to your sides, "I told you!" 

"T-That was astounding!" The blond dwarf breathes, looking over at his brother with the same look of shock and admiration on his face. 

Right before you respond a small voice in the back of your head whispers, 'Now they know how you got to be such a pig.' And the grin immediately falls from your face.

"No... it wasn't anything." You deny softly, walking back forward to grab your things. 

Your sudden change in demeanor is almost as shocking as the hidden talent you just displayed, and as soon as you walk droopily over to the items you discarded they began to exchange confused and slightly concerned glances with one another. 

For the majority of the day, you don't say anything else. 

---

That night when dinner time rolled around you hesitated to eat anything.

In fact, you fully intended not to have anything at all if it weren't for the fact that Thorin approached you and reminded you that you haven't eaten yet. 

Obviously, you cannot tell the leader of the group 'no' to eating like a petulant child, so you concede and get a bowl for yourself and, ultimately, give your left overs to Bofur despite him insisting that you finish your own food.

It was the same story the next morning at breakfast. 

You kinda poked at your food, had a few mouthfuls, then gave the rest to someone else. 

Of course, that didn't go by unnoticed either. 

---

After everyone picks up on your odd mannerisms and realize that there's something deeper going on, they end up having a conversation about it while you're out bathing in the river away from everyone else. 

"The lass has been acting awfully odd, recently..." Dwalin brought up suddenly while everyone settles in for the night, catching everyones attention in no time. 

"She has, but does anyone know why?" Nori adds, his eyebrows furrowing. 

Everything is quiet as they think it over, trying to find out what has changed. 

"Maybe the compliments are bothering her?" Ori offers quietly, his head tilted slightly to the side. 

Balin shakes his head a bit, taking a puff from his pipe before adding, "Yes, but she's always been rather touchy about acclamation and flattery. It has to be something else." 

"Well, after we bet her on catching food in her mouth is when she started being all weird." Kili pipes up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Or at least, it developed more. She's never refused dinner before." 

Thorin listens along quietly, occasionally taking a puff from his briar while he too tries to figure it out. 

"Let's put all of our facts together, hows about?" Balin suggests, leaning forward a bit. "She refuses to accept compliments on her appearance, she expresses a skillset and shuts down, and she won't eat properly."

Once more there is silence as they consider the facts, and then Bilbo adds, "The food catching skill, right?" He sounds like he's onto something, and the brighter of them see what he's getting at. 

Balin nods his head slowly, stroking his beard gently, "Yes...," he begins, "Well, this is less concerning than I thought. I was worried she was sick, at first." 

Thorin nods his head, putting his pipe down as he leans forward and finally speaks, "As was I. It's still bothers me though..." 

"What? What bothers you?" Bofur asks, looking between those who seem to understand what's going on. 

"I don't get it either." Kili adds, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

"The lass doesn't value herself, my boy." Balin explains in a quiet voice, his expression grim. 

"Oh..."

"Well what are we going to do about it?" Fili asks, crossing his arms over his chest with his own pipe hanging from his hand. 

"There isn't much we can do other than show our appreciation and express our disagreement with her self evaluation." The older dwarf explains. 

Everyone nods, and at that moment they decide the best course of action is to prove you otherwise. 

[nekolatte]

Chapter 4: Pursuit

Preview: Dante noted the color of his hair, the curve of his nose and set of his jaw― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment. “What do you want?” Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. “To help you”

Oh, Dante was in trouble. 

Well, he was always in some form of trouble. Either with his landlord, his local government. Lady, Trish, the world in general. The demon world in generalー  

Pausing his increasingly derailing train of thought, Dante picked up a discarded shirt and moved on, both literally and mentally. 

Point was, he was having feelings. Soft, playful feelings like those first few weeks when Lady blushed and stuttered at every other innuendo out of Dante's mouth or when Trish would smirk and tease at his attempts to make her laugh. Flirting came second nature to Dante, but other than getting an amusing reaction from the other party, there wasn’t much else he gained from it. Contrary to his public persona, he wasn’t interested in getting laid with a revolving door of men, women and miscellaneous. 

Dante enjoyed the attention, not the intimacy.

But with Leon, some stranger he scraped up off the sidewalk and stitched back together? There was something there that Dante wanted to tentatively pursue, and the only person he ever actively pursued in his life was a brother he couldn’t confidently confirm was dead or alive at the moment. This was new and strange and Dante didn't want to stop despite the alarm bells ringing.

He tried telling himself that it was all in good fun, that even if he did get stupidly attached, Leon certainly wouldn't reciprocate. Wariness and hostility wafted off the man like the demon guts he had bathed in prior, and seemed oblivious that he gave off either stench. Dante wouldn’t be entranced forever at chasing after someone that wasn’t interestedー he may have been foolhardy but he wasn’t masochistic. Not entirely. Enjoying Lady’s company made him doubt that part of himself sometimes, but no. 

In any case, maybe Dante shouldn't have hinted at the threat during their first little talk, been more open and friendly to a human side-stepping into Hell’s door― it had just felt urgent that the man understand the circumstances he was suddenly in. Too late for it now.

Preferring to confront problems with a sword and gun, of which neither was good in this particular instance, Dante decided to just ignore everything and get Leon some pants.

He knocked on the bathroom door just to be polite and let himself in without bothering to wait for a response. Leon looked irritated, to put it mildly, but had nothing to say when Dante presented the clothing he found.

“What, no leather?” Leon quipped, though seemed to regret it immediately as he took a sudden and all-consuming focus in squeezing and flicking off every bit of water on his person. Probably would’ve kept on going if Dante didn’t toss a towel at him, even if it was amusing to watch a grown man sulk in a tub with a shower curtain wrapped around his waist.

“You can’t pull it off like I can.”

Leon grumbled something under his breath that even Dante couldn’t pick up, and yet Dante didn’t move from his comfortable lean against the vanity despite how obvious Leon was at dragging this whole ordeal out. He wasn’t going to ask for help, despite having it allowed it before, obviously waiting for Dante to take the hint and leave but Dante wasn’t going to take it. He really did want to help, plain and simple. 

Humans were so damn soft, so damn fragile. Dante left Leon alone for all of ten minutes and the guy nearly cracked his skull on the bathroom tile. Both too stubborn to concede, the minutes dragged like hours― Dante watching Leon for every second of it. Head tilted like a curious cat, he noted the color of his hair: darker, when wet, though the tips and the wispy hair that made up his fringe were starting to lighten already. The curve of his nose and set of his jaw, light stubble pushing through. Severe eyebrows at contrast with bow lips― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment.

“What do you want?”

Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. He recovered quickly, though.

“To help you, what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

Something in Leon seemed to break, maybe his pride, because he slumped in place, face gone dark and pinched, and looked about ready to accept his death rather than a helping hand up. Dante frowned, the victory leaving a confused, bitter taste in his mouth, and failed to come up with a comment to lighten the mood.

All he could do was step forward at Leon’s quietly raised hand, ignoring it entirely to lean down into the tub and scoop the stubborn man right up. Since he was already feeling guilty over the whole debacle, not realizing how far he pushed Leon past his comfort zone, Dante went right ahead and took more liberties than given. 

Leon, worryingly, said nothing, though Dante found some quiet solace in the bright red of his ears that stuck out almost endearingly from flat hair. Clothes snagged on the way to Trish’s room proper, Dante cleared out a space for Leon on the bed before setting him down. The man in question did everything imaginable to avoid Dante’s line of sight, and Dante still felt too thrown off to do anything but respect the man’s privacy as best he could.

It involved a lot of looking to the side while going off muscle memory to bandage Leon up and help him into a shirt and sweats, a few pained hisses here and there, but the lack of communication was wearing. Dante wasn’t much for silence, especially when he was responsible for part of it. He still didn’t know what he did― the way he saw it, it was the same back and forth they had just a few minutes prior. Except, well, he was ogling a man that couldn’t get away from the unwanted attention, that was his implied prisoner. Offered to help when Leon obviously had issues with it.

That last part Dante didn’t understand.

Still, he didn’t want either of them to tiptoe around each other for however long Leon was forced to stay. Dante rubbed his forehead for just a few extra moments to collect himself before he got down to kneel between Leon’s parted legs, an attempt to be in his line of sight― feeling chastised despite Leon not having said a single word. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to know what face Leon was making because Dante knew his own was scrunched up with guilt and embarrassment. This was not a good look for him, and one he knew anyone in his immediate acquaintance would never let him live down.

“Listen, I know what this all seems like― I know you’re feeling cautious, and with good reason, but I really am just trying to help. You’re better off not knowing the things I know, and I just need you to trust me that I’ll tell you if that changes. This… It screws up people’s heads, makes day-to-day life just a little more harder to deal with. I don’t want to put you through that.” Dante dragged a hand through his hair and disrupted the slicked-back style so it fell back over his eyes.

Dante was forced to look through them when Leon made a noise that sounded like a question, catching a gaze that was focused on Dante and Dante alone. It felt different, something he could sink into, and a baser, more primal part of his mind wanted to nudge in those last few inches forward and rest his head on Leon’s knee. He reeled from it.

Leon rubbed at a shoulder, careful with the bruising under the borrowed t-shirt. “Why. That’s what I want to know. Providing first aid, giving me a place to recuperate, is one thing. Everything else is another. Making sure I’m not infected,” Leon flinched at the word, though didn’t seem to notice his own action, “doesn’t mean you have to… help me bathe.”

“Because I like you.” The answer came easily, far before his brain could catch up to his mouth after its earlier reprimand. He hadn’t meant to admit to it― they knew each other for three days, at best, and Leon was unconscious for most of it. 

But all Dante could think about was how Leon fought for survival against something that was far beyond his capabilities, refusing to back down despite having the opportunity to turn tail and run. The grit of his teeth and the glare of his eyes when cornered, bloodied but not broken. How he sunk into Dante’s arms as if he was a safe haven, a comfort against the quick torment Leon had been subjected to. The many hours Dante spent watching the man sleep, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest― listening to the steady beat of his heart and losing precious moments of peace when it stuttered. Wanting nothing more than the ability to make Leon better instead of his arsenal of slaughter and destruction.

Maybe his pursuit wasn’t quite so tentative. 

“What I mean is―” But he didn’t have to actively admit it. “―I can tell you’re a good person, Leon. I want all this to be easier for you. I know you don’t believe me, but it isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

Feeling all manner of wrong from admitting to so much emotion without a sarcastic or stupid comment, Dante got to his feet and moved around Leon to get to the bed. He grabbed at every scrap of loose clothing and tossed them into the pile by Trish’s closet, anything to make the area a little more inviting, and gestured to it.

“You should get some more sleep, probably on a bed this time. I’m gonna go and find some food for you.” Dante fled before Leon could get a word in otherwise.

[softluci]

moo

[a/n: so i read this imagine by @needyounow-love and they gave mammon the nickname “moo” and it has been living in the penthouse suite of my mind, rent free, ever since i read it, and as a result of that, i wrote this—whatever this is—because i love thinking about the brothers' relationships to each other, especially luci + mammon, so this is gonna be two parts, and, lastly mc is gn, enjoy ^__^]

everyone has an innate need to cause problems on purpose. some make theirs more obvious than others, and others will try to make it seem like they simply don't feel the need to do that. however, even individuals who try to make it seem like they want no part of the excitement that is breeding chaos will do exactly that. they just so happen to be subtle enough in their problem causing that nobody seems to bat an eye—unless, of course, the outcome of their need for trouble is absolutely catastrophic. 

now, lucifer is not someone who takes pride in being able to cause problems with subtlety. really—he isn’t. he does, however, take an immense amount of pride in the fact that, after eons of torment and the like, mammon hasn't managed to find a single person who can get under his skin quite like him—and mammon hasn't managed to find a single person who enjoys it as much either.

the reasoning for this is simple enough: lucifer is a ruthless sadist, lucifer has known him longer than anyone, knows him better than anyone, and when it comes to teasing, has a bigger arsenal to draw from, than anyone. 

fortunately for mammon, lucifer doesn't use their time as children against him because, as amazing as it is to see mammon in an absolute frenzy over a small remark, it also opens up the possibility of mammon returning the favor—and that simply would not do. 

be that as it may, mammon isn't the cunning type, nor is he quick-witted, so the chances of him being able to retaliate in a calm manner, if at all? slim to none. lucifer knew this, and he knew it well, which is exactly why he almost always took his chances—albeit those times were few and far in between. 

however—there are times when an opportunity is presented, and once it's there, he simply has to seize it. otherwise he might have to wait for the next chance, and who knows when that may be, or he'd have to abandon his subtlety, and neither of those options were desirable. 

this time, it was during dinner on the retreat. 

mammon sat across from him, completely absorbed in conversation with mc and a few others. the topic at hand was nicknames, it seemed. mc mentioned a nickname their family calls them, and mammon, in typical mammon fashion, poked fun at them, teasing them about how cute ridiculous it was. 

"oh, what, are you telling me you don't have any nicknames that are equally as embarrassing?" asked mc, arching an eyebrow at him. 

now, lucifer was not eavesdropping. he was not. he wasn't. he was completely engaged in a conversation with diavolo—it just so happened that mammon was right there, and he was never known for his subtlety. and, as the oldest, it was absolutely lucifer's duty to be at least slightly aware of each of his brothers' endeavors, which, of course, included conversations. so, naturally, he couldn't help the way his ears quite literally pricked up—ever so slightly, of course—upon hearing mammon say: 

"i'll do you one better—i don't have any nicknames." 

lucifer has control over most of his expressions, most of the time. however, in that moment, he could not hide the absolute shit-eating grin that crept onto his face. of course, on him, it looked more like he was plotting something absolutely heinous, which he wasn't (oh, but wasn't he, though?). 

diavolo noticed this immediately, completely intrigued by lucifer's change in demeanor. he didn't overlook the way his ears twitched, and he certainly didn't overlook the expression he wore. so, in typical dia fashion, he raised his eyebrows, and he waited. for what, he had no idea, but it was a rarity to see lucifer so very clearly about to cause problems—he had no choice but to wait and see. 

"that really hurt my feelings," said lucifer, voice low in order to avoid the possibility of making mammon suspicious. 

however, diavolo heard it, as he hears everything, and judging by lucifer's tone of voice and his telltale expression, he concluded that lucifer's feelings were, in fact, not hurt. 

even if lucifer didn't sound hurt, there was a slight pang in his chest at how quickly mammon denied having a nickname. he absolutely had a nickname, and it was perfect in every way—lucifer would know, he gave it to him when they were kids. it was an adorable one, too—it was the cutest nickname out of all his brothers, how could mammon say that he didn't even have one? as if it wasn't bad enough that mammon already made him swear not to use it around people, which, by the way, did nothing to help his pride. 

okay, so, maybe lucifer was a little hurt, maybe he was a bit stung, but also, no he wasn't, and leave him alone.

mc was horrified. while they weren’t looking at lucifer, they heard him say something in a ridiculously low tone, they felt the shift in atmosphere, however subtle it may have been, and they just knew lucifer was up to something—no matter how poised he made himself out to be. what lucifer was plotting, they had no idea, as lucifer didn’t seem like the plotting type, but it didn't stop the chill that went up their spine as they tried to relax. surely, lucifer wouldn't do anything heinous right there, right then—right? it wouldn't make any sense. 

neither the prince nor the human (nor anyone at the table, for that matter) were prepared for—

"moo," called lucifer, extending a gloved hand towards his brother, "can you pass me the bread?" 

what they were somehow less prepared for, was for mammon to hand him the basket of bread without missing a beat, going back to his conversation like nothing happened. 

mc blinked. did they hear that right? were they unwell? they must have been unwell. surely—surely, they didn't just hear— 

"anyway, like i was saying, 'the great mammon,' is a nickname, if you think about it," mammon brought their thoughts to a halt.

"first of all, that's a title, second of all, nobody calls you that except for you," said satan, beginning to grin, "and are you sure you don't have a nickname?" 

"how would i be unsure?" mammon looked insulted. affronted, even. "nicknames haven't mattered to me for the longest time, so nobody's been using one for me." 

"okay," satan conceded, voice deceptively light. "you'd know better than anyone." 

yes—right—of course. mc must have been hearing things. they often did. whispers here and there every time they were in the castle, faint footsteps echoing through empty hallways—devildom really had a haunting effect to it, so it was no surprise if they heard a thing or two that—

"moomoo," came lucifer's voice, "the olive oil." 

mammon rolled his eyes, passing him the bottle without a second thought. "you get needier and needier with each passing decade, you know that?" 

lucifer scoffed, baring his teeth in a grin, "you're one to talk, little brother."

mc was having an out of body experience. and not the good kind. 

diavolo was elated. this was one of the few times he'd seen lucifer engage in any form of mischief, and to top it off, mammon hadn't even noticed. usually, a lack of reaction would be disappointing, but diavolo knew exactly what it meant—lucifer used this nickname for mammon when they were kids, definitely, but he never stopped. knowing lucifer, he probably only called mammon "moo" (and apparently "moomoo") while they were alone (or he did so while they were in front of people most relevant to mammon, for the sole purpose of teasing him). dia had no idea lucifer was even capable of teasing this lighthearted. 

it was heartwarming to see that lucifer was capable of being soft towards his brother, even though he was often the opposite—and even though he was only doing it to be cruel. 

not to mention the fact that mammon allowed his nickname to be spoken so freely without any resistance; it was a nice change. for as long as it lasted, anyway. 

while the lack of reaction didn't bother diavolo at all, lucifer was growing impatient. he wanted the usual entertainment that came with teasing mammon, and he wanted it soon. that is to say: now. 

"you know, mammon, i'm very impressed," he started, "you usually get so upset whenever i call you that." 

confusion flickered across mammon's features. a scrunch of the nose, a raise of an eyebrow, a half hearted, half finished sentence, "whenever you call me…" 

and then—and then—the show began.

mammon's eyes widened, pupils shrinking to needlepoints. his lips began to part as his jaw went slack, realization beginning to set in. his expression twisted into indignation, a deep flush creeping up his neck.  

and then came lucifer's favorite part: when mammon tried to speak. 

except for one thing. 

mammon wasn't speaking, which could only mean one (other) thing. he was thinking—which could only mean one (other other) thing: mammon was about to absolutely shit on lucifer's fun.

mammon put up with a lot—a lot—from his brothers, and he never gave as much as he got. of course, he knew he could be a handful or ten at times, but centuries of allowing them to use him as a punching bag for their trauma equated to at least twice as many of the things he's done—and he's done a lot. he could handle the torment. he could handle the bullying. he could even handle the fact that his older brother's sadism seemed to be reserved just for him if it meant that their time after their fall wouldn't be so bad. 

but this? this was crossing a line. nicknames were sacred. they were a privilege in mammon's eyes, which is why he was so quick to deny even having one. of course, he cared about mc and his other brothers more than he would ever dare admit, but it was different with lucifer. they went way, way back—so far back that it would be incomprehensible to mc's mortal mind. it was them before it was anyone else, they had a closer bond being the oldest, it was just a fact of life. 

there were things lucifer knew about mammon that nobody else did—and that included nicknames. mammon had never been certain of anything the way he was certain nobody knew about "moo" or had the privilege of calling him as such—except for lucifer. he could distinctly remember making lucifer promise to stop using it so often once levi was born for the sole fact that he wanted it to stay between the two of them and he wouldn't know how to handle it if his younger siblings knew about such an easily exploitable weakness when he already had, like, twelve. it was supposed to be one of the pillars of their relationship, an inside thing, so to speak—and what did he do? what did his beloved brother do to him, completely unprovoked? he exposed mammon to every valued individual in the realm—valuable to mammon, anyway. 

it was okay, though. it wasn't, at all, but it was. because mammon knew things about lucifer that nobody else did—that included nicknames, and lucifer had a few. and if mammon would make sure of one thing, it would be that lucifer didn't get the fucking satisfaction. 

"mammon—mammon. i don't think he's breathing," mc's voice brought mammon out of his brief, betrayal induced brooding. 

their hands were on his upper arm, shaking him gently. he blinked, curling his fingers around their wrists and placing their hands in their lap. this was the most calm they'd ever seen him, and quite frankly, they were unsettled. 

diavolo was getting into this. clearly it had taken a turn that lucifer wasn't counting on—and that just made it twice as good. it was so rare for lucifer to be caught off guard, diavolo could only do it every so often—lucifer was always expecting his antics. but mammon taking him by surprise? that was something different. that was unheard of. his eyes flitted back and forth between them, not even trying to hide his investment as he chewed his—what was this? mc made it, but the name escaped him. whatever it was, it enhanced his experience tenfold, he'd have to thank them later. 

nobody was prepared for the string of events that happened next, specifically lucifer. unfortunately for him, it seemed as though he miscalculated when taking his chances this time around. 

"moo, are you—" started lucifer, apparently concerned by the mix of emotions staining mammon's face red, but not concerned enough to drop the nickname.

"'ah, i suppose if it means that much to you, i swear,'” started mammon, voice taking an eerily familiar tone, “isn't that what you said, lulu?" 

damn. 

mc was terrified. this was getting really bad—mammon never acted like this, and it was clear from the silence that fell over the table. they hated it. 

diavolo was brimming with excitement, albeit it didn't show. this was all so interesting! it was his first time seeing mammon so serious, and to make things even better, he had an excellent impression of lucifer. who knew? 

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 6

A/N: Here it is finally! I hate the fact that it took me so long to update! It was a bit tricky to write without people snooping around. I am Mexican, so that means there is zero privacy in my home. Anyway, enough ranting. The other important characters have now been introduced in the story. It is going to get pretty interesting from now on. Well, I hope lol ;) Happy Reading!

The feeling in your chest the second you stepped out of the airplane was hard to describe. You felt nervous, excited, unsure, insecure, determined and hopeful. Your chest was humming with energy and it almost made you forget the pain you felt in your back from the long flight. After collecting your suitcase and going through customs, you stepped out into the arrivals area and looked around. You didn’t know what the person the company sent looked like, so you were hoping they’d have a sign. 

After scanning the crowd for a few seconds, you noticed a young man holding a tablet that had your last name on it. You smiled as you made your way to him, making eye contact and having him return your smile.

“Hi, I’m Mark Lee, I’m with Friends Corp. It’s nice to finally meet you Miss.” He says professionally, making you smile at his adorable boyish charm.

“NIce to meet you Mark.” You say politely, following the young man through the airport.

“Let me help you with that,” He motioned towards your suitcase. You felt a little embarrassed at having him take your suitcase, but you decided to concede. “Is this all you have?” He asked, feeling a little puzzled at the lack of suitcases.

“I just have the one.” You shrugged and laughed at the way he widened his eyes in shock.

“Wow, well you travel light!” He said and laughed a bit, not expecting someone who moved across the world for a whole year to have just one suitcase.

“So, Mark, what do you do for Friends Corp?” You asked as you buckle your seat belt in the nice black  SUV. 

“I work with Graphic Design, I’m one of the junior associates.” He stated, making his way out of the airport parking lot.

“Oh! I thought the company would send a driver, not someone from graphic design.” You felt a little guilty that they sent a junior associate to be your errand boy.

“Normally, yes. But Mr. Seo and Mr. Jung want to meet you for lunch so they can introduce themselves. If you’re not too tired, that is.” Mark said, looking at you from the rear view mirror. He was instructed to take you to lunch if you were up for it, and if you were too tired, he could take you to your apartment.  

“Oh! Well that’s fine! I am actually quite hungry. So who are Mr. Jung and Mr. Seo?” You questioned.

“Well Mr. Seo is the head of graphic design and Mr. Jung is the head of PR. Since you’re working closely with them, they want to meet you first to introduce themselves. Then Monday after work, they want to go to dinner with all departments working on the project.” Mark explained; you felt dizzy getting the information; you had just gotten to this country and there was an agenda already. You didn’t mind though, since being busy and keeping occupied was what you needed to forget everything you wanted to forget… Chanyeol being the main thing.

You pulled up at a fancy looking Italian restaurant and felt nervous all of a sudden. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a pep talk. 

You can do this. It’s a fresh start. You’re good at your job and that’s why you’re here. Make a good first impression, YOU. GOT. THIS.

You followed Mark through the restaurant to a back room, you assumed they had rented a private area in order to have a quiet place to talk and discuss any work related things. 

You were expecting Mr. Seo and Mr. Jung to be older men in their mid forties with a lot of experience- you were not expecting to find two men in their early to mid twenties that were extremely attractive.

Both of them stood up as you entered the room with Mark, bowing politely and pulling a chair out for you. You made eye contact with what you could only describe as the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Your breath hitched in your throat the longer the stare continued, making it feel like the earth was slowly spinning. 

“So nice to finally meet you! We have been expecting you!” The other tall handsome man said, making you break the trance you were in.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr…” you trailed off, not sure if you missed his name or if he forgot to mention it,

“I’m Mr. Seo, but please call me Johnny. We are on the same team, so we can drop the formalities.” He said with a handsome smile, making you smile as well. You could tell the two of you were going to get along.

“I’m Mr. Jung, but you can call me-“

“His name is Jeff.” Johnny interrupted, making Mark hackle out a loud laugh while Mr. Jung just gave him a death glare.

“Please ignore him. My name is Jaehyun.” He said politely, his smile making the cutest dimples appear on his face, making you feel like you were dying a little.

You introduced yourself and everyone got settled, ready to order and get to know each other better. 

“So how long have you all been working for Friends Corp?” You questioned as you ate some of the deliciously addicting garlic bread. 

“I’ve been working for Friends Corp since they launched the texting app in 2011.” Jaehyun said, looking at you and smiling softly.

“Oh! For the Japanese launch?” You asked, surprised he’s been in the company for that long.

“Yes, that’s when I got recruited.” He said simply, moving his water out of the way so the waiter could place his food in front of him.

“How about you, Johnny?” You asked, looking away from Jaehyun, suddenly not being able to handle it. 

“I was hired in the same year, I was hired to help design the Friends characters.” He said as he started to twirl his pasta on his fork.

“That’s pretty awesome! I love the Friends characters. And you Mark?” You asked, looking at the adorable young man that was happily eating his food.

“I got hired in 2017, I’m pretty new, but I’ve learned a lot working under Johnny’s direction.” He said as he looked over at his senior happily.

“It’s Mr. Seo for you.” Johnny joked, making everyone laugh.

They asked you questions about your work history with Friends Corp and your position as marketing director. You tried to avoid looking over at Jaehyun too much because his face made you unusually uncomfortable. At one point, your eyes met for a brief second but he sent you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen and it made your heart stop in your chest.

‘Stop it, you literally came here to escape a bad romance and now you want to jump head first to the first gorgeous man that crosses your path?’  You chided, annoyed at the fact that you had a very strong attraction towards Jaehyun. 

After dinner, all three men decided that they were going to accompany you to your apartment. Mark had no choice, but Jaehyun and Johnny decided that they wanted to make sure you had everything that you needed and to make sure everything was working fine. Johnny decided to ride shot gun with Mark and Jaehyun sat in the back with you. To say that you were uncomfortable was an understatement. You had your body pressed up against the door of the SUV, as far away from Jaehyun as possible. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it because he had his legs spread out wide, his knee almost touching your leg. You were looking out the window, listening to the bantering conversation between the two men up front. You glanced sideways and made eye contact with the man that was currently making your heart pound. He gave you a small smile and you returned it, feeling your cheeks heat up. Was the heater on? It sure felt that way. Jaehyun looked forward and commented on the conversation between Mark and Johnny, giving you the opportunity to take a breather. You really hoped that you were almost at your apartment, the SUV feeling too small for whatever tension you were experiencing. 

Once you were finally parked in front of your apartment building, you had all three men trying to be the ones to take your one suitcase upstairs. You couldn’t help but laugh at their behavior, three grown men fighting over a suitcase. They finally decided that since Mark was your driver for the day, he would be the one to take your suitcase up to your apartment. After the short elevator ride, you walked into your new home for a year, taking in the big open floor plan of an apartment that felt too big for one person.

“Wow! Your apartment is so nice!” Johnny exclaimed, walking around your modern and minimalist-styled apartment. 

“Yeah! It makes my place look like a dump!” Mark whined cutely as he sat down on your black leather L-shaped couch. 

“Hey come on man, get up, that’s rude.” Jaehyun chastised the younger man for his lack of manners. 

Mark pouted cutely as he started to get up from the couch, embarrassed at being called out by his superior in front of other people.

“Oh it’s okay! I really don’t mind! You can sit Mark. Actually, you’re all welcome to sit, I’m being an extremely rude host.” You said sheepishly, realizing that the men were just standing around your living area.

“I mean, we sort of forced ourselves into your home.” Johnny joked as he sat down next to Mark on your couch, leaning back and making himself right at home.

“Do you guys want something to drink? I’m actually not sure what I have…. I’m probably going to have to go grocery shopping tomorrow…” You hoped you had at least what you needed for your first night in your new apartment.

“We are fine, no worries. We should actually stop being rude and let you rest. You must be tired from the flight and the time change. We will have other opportunities to get to know each other. Come on guys, let’s go.” Jaehyun said as he collected the other two men who seemed like they did not want to leave your couch. 

“I appreciate the help, so no worries.” You smiled at them, actually happy that you met some of your coworkers.

“Here is my business card. It would be good to have each other’s information, in case you need anything before Monday. And for work as well.” Jaehyun said, handing you a business card and glancing over at Mark and Johnny.

“Oh right!” Both men said in unison, scrambling to their feet and handed you their business card. You gave them yours as well and walked them to the door, thanking them for their time and company.

Once you were alone, the reality of everything hit you. You were in a new country, new work place and new people. Sighing heavily, you took your suitcase to your room and you almost squealed excitedly when you saw how big your room was. You eyed the big King size bed in the middle of the room, the fatigue of the flight finally settling on your eyelids.

‘Shower first.’ You thought, rolling your suitcase over to your closet so you could unpack what little you brought with you. You had a massive walk-in closet that looked pathetically bare even after you arranged your clothes and shoes. At least it was a good excuse to do some shopping once you felt you were all settled with work. You brought enough professional attire to hold you out for at least your first week at work. 

Stepping into the big walk in shower, you were excited to see you had a nice rainfall shower head. You let the warm water wash over your tired and sore muscles, stretching out your back to try and alleviate the tension you felt. You closed your eyes and let the steam around you take over your senses. You smiled a little as the memory of the three men you met invaded your mind. You were glad to have met them and see that they are very nice people and you would most likely work very well together. You tried to shake away the memory of Jahyun’s gorgeous smile and the way his dimples would appear if he smiled wide enough. You were here to focus on the job that Namjoon swore you were perfect for. You were not going to allow anything to distract you and lose your focus; you did not want to disappoint Namjoon.

Walking into your room in your pjs, you saw that you had a notification on your phone. Unlocking it you saw that it was from an unknown number; you opened up the message, confused as to who could have messaged you from an unregistered number.

Hey, it’s Jaehyun. I hope it’s not weird, but I just wanted you to know that if you need any help this weekend with anything, I can help you. I don’t have a car but an extra set of hands is always useful. Anyway, if you need any help with anything at all this weekend, don’t hesitate to ask me for help. Good night

You bit your lip excitedly as you read and re read his message. You knew he was just being friendly, but you could not help the way your heart thrummed excitedly in your chest. You knew you were entering a very dangerous area, but he seemed like such a nice and genuine guy, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

‘Not all guys are like Chanyeol’ You thought, looking at your phone intently. With a deep breath, you went into your contacts and looked up Chanyeol’s number. You opened up the information and hesitated over the button you wanted to press. You knew it was for the better and it was going to really help you forget him and everything he did to you. Exhaling the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you finally pressed the Block this Caller button. It was for the best, and it’s not like he was going to try and contact you anyway. With that feeling of finality in your chest, you plugged your phone and called it a night, the heaviness on your eyelids soon taking over.

***

Chanyeol did not know he was holding his breath the whole time he was waiting for the phone call that could potentially change his life. After finishing the song he was working on for a rookie artist, it seemed like the label he got signed with really liked Chanyeol’s sound. They asked him to send a demo of the songs he’s produced so they could listen to it.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if all went well, he was most likely going to be a producer for a big company. Chanyeol decided that waiting around his apartment was not going to make the time go by any faster or settle his nerves, so he decided to walk to his favorite bakery for some breakfast.

After ordering and getting the cute barista’s number, he went to a table and waited for his food to be ready. He opened up Instagram and started to look through his feed, liking a few pictures here and there. The same cute barista brought his food over to his table and winked at him as she placed a free slice of pie on the table for him.

“On the house.” She said seductively, winking at Chanyeol as she walked back to her counter.

‘Free dessert and maybe something else if I’m really up for it.’ Chanyeol thought smugly as he ate his food. 

His phone rang suddenly, startling him a bit. He looked at the number and his eyes widened when he saw the name pop up. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he needed to take a deep breath to compose himself before he answered.

“Hello, this is Chanyeol.” He said in what he hoped was a calm and professional voice.

“Hello Mr. Park, this is Min Yoongi from ‘D-Day Records’. I am the head of the producer’s department. We listened to your demo, and I have got to say, we are extremely impressed with your talent and skill. We would love to have you on board with us as a new junior producer. What do you say?” 

Chanyeol was sure he knew how to speak and breathe, but nothing was coming out. His heart was beating wildly and he could not believe he just got offered a job as a producer with one of the biggest entertainment companies ever. 

Realizing he had not answered yet, he shook his head in order to think straight. “Yes, yes of course. It would be an honor.” 

“Great. Come by tomorrow at 10AM so we can go over your contract, salary and any other details. It’s a pleasure to have you on board Mr. Park.” Yoongi said before hanging up.

Chanyeol just sat there, staring at his phone, still not being able to process the news he just got. 

He quickly finished the last of his food and got up to make his way out of the bakery. He scrolled through his call log until he got to your phone number, pressing the call button excitedly. He did not know why, nor did he want to know, but when he thought of who to tell the exciting news to first, your face came to his mind. He furrowed his brows as the phone kept ringing and ringing, your voice mail not even picking up. He hung up and called again, confused as to why the same thing was happening. He hung up and decided to go to your place. He knew it was too early for you to be home, but he could not contain his excitement. 

Arriving at your apartment building, he knocked a couple times and waited to see if he heard any noise. After a few minutes, he decided to try your padlock combination. You didn’t know this, but he had your pass code memorized. He never used it because there was no need, but it was useful on a day like today. He punched in your code and was met with the noise that let him know it was an incorrect password. He tried again and the same error sound occurred. He was confused, had you changed your pass code recently? You obvious would not have told him about it, but he was a little bummed that he could not get into your apartment. He looked at his watch and saw that if he went over to your job right now, he could catch you right before your lunch hour started. He could probably treat you to lunch to celebrate his new job. 

Chanyeol got off the subway and tried not to run into anyone as he ran out of the subway station and towards the building you worked at. He felt excited and giddy at the thought of seeing you and telling you the exciting news. He walked in through the grand glass doors of the building and realized he had no idea which floor you worked at. He knew Friends Corp owned the whole building, so surely someone in reception would know where you worked.

“Hello, welcome to Friends Corp, how many I help you?” A young man whose ID badge said Jungkook greeted as Chanyeol approached the reception desk.

“Hey, I am looking for someone in the marketing department.” Chanyeol said, feeling a little uncomfortable at the fact that he just showed up unannounced at your job.

“Sure. Do you have an appointment?” Jungkook asked, typing something into the computer.

“No I don’t. Um she’s the head of marketing, I think.” Chanyeol said as he pulled up your contact on his phone to show the young man.

“Oh! Noona!” He said excitedly, which made Chanyeol lift an eyebrow questioningly. Noona?

“Are you guys close or something?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but ask, hating himself for it.

“Yeah you can say that…” The younger man trailed off, eyeing the taller man suspiciously. “Who are you?” He questioned.

Chanyeol huffed an irritated breath, who was this boy to question him. “I am… I am a friend, I guess.” Chanyeol said, unsure as to what to refer to himself as.

“Hmm, funny. Well, noona’s friend, she no longer works here.” He said with finality in his tone that did not sit well with Chanyeol. He was not done with this conversation and he was not going to be dismissed by some boy.

“Wait, she doesn’t work here anymore? Did she quit?” Chanyeol could not believe it, you really loved this job.

“No, she still works with Friends Corp, just not at this branch.” Jungkook said in a bored tone, not making eye contact with Chanyeol, typing away at his computer. 

“Well where does she work?” Chanyeol pressed, really irritated at the man-child’s attitude. What was he so overprotective for? Were the two of you really that close?

“Sorry sir, I cannot tell you that information. But if you really are noona’s friend, I am sure she can tell you. Have a wonderful day and thank you for visiting Friends Corp.” Jungkook said in a fake customer service voice, smirking smugly at the taller man as he got up from his chair and walked away with an empty coffee mug in hand.

Chanyeol stood there, dumbfounded. He could not believe the attitude this boy had with him, and  he could not process the fact that he did not know where you were. Why was he so worried? Why did he care so much? He took out his phone as he sat at a nearby park bench, calling your phone one  more time. It kept ringing and ringing, no voicemail or anything. Where could you be? He looked up Suho’s phone number, calling his last hope of someone that knew of your whereabouts.

“Hey man, whats up?” Suho said as he answered the call.

“Where is she?” Chanyeol bit out, suddenly aggravated that no one bothered to tell him where you were.

“What are you talking about?” Suho feigned ignorance, but Chanyeol saw right through that. 

“Don’t play games with me Suho, you know who I’m talking about. Where is she?” He said angrily, his temper flaring at his friend’s response. 

Suho sighed heavily, knowing that his friend was not going to be happy with his answer. “I’m sorry Yeol, but I can’t tell you that.” He said, holding his breath in anticipation for his friend’s blow up.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t tell me that? Why not?” He interrogated

“Look, she told Mina that she didn’t want her or I to tell you where she moved to. Mina wants us to respect her wishes. She said, and I quote, ‘it’s not like he cares anyway.’ So, sorry man, I have to stick with what my wife says.” Suho informed him, hoping he would understand.

Chanyeol’s gut twisted uncomfortably, not knowing why hearing those words cut him deep. 

“Come on man, please help me out. Where is she?” Chanyeol pleaded, not knowing where the desperation was coming from.

“Look, if I tell you, you have to promise you will not do anything about it or tell anyone I told you.” 

“I swear.” He promised, his heart thrumming in anticipation.

“She moved to the United States. But that’s all I can tell you. She is going to be gone for a year.” Suho said, really hoping Chanyeol was going to keep his promise.

Chanyeol felt his stomach drop, the news making feel winded. You left to the United States… the boy from your work said you transferred to a different branch. 

“Okay, thanks man. I’ll see you around.” He said before hanging up.

He slumped his shoulders in defeat, not believing that you were gone. Could you have changed your number? Is that why you didn’t answer? Chanyeol knew that he had not always been the nicest or the most caring with you, but he also didn’t think he was super horrible either. 

He got up and made his way to his apartment, the joy he had felt earlier now basically gone. 

He needed to know where you lived, and he was not going to stop until he found out. Chanyeol knew he needed to sort out his feelings and identify what was going on with him. He had enough of running from his emotions, he was done.

Previous                                                                                             Next

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Chapter 5 (Winter’s Gem) (Bucky Barnes AU)

CHAPTER 4

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (AU)

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been scouted by your boss in Felicity Night, you were just a mere young, cleaner in Felicity night and have been living in the basement of the club for all your life. He's the most wanted Gigolo in the city, and taking him away from eager, thirsty women seemed to be impossible especially if he chose to be a Gigolo as his way of living.

Warning: The words in Italics can be quite dark. (My heart literally fell while writing it 😢) Obviously tons of cuss words because..you'll know why. 😉😂 One word that can be considered sexual. Ahem. 

Words: 3300+

A/N: Everybody give feedback! Your comments and votes make me think y'all are loving this! (Sorry for the typos and grammatical errors if there is, Buddies!) Thank you for all the support I’ve been receiving for this Bucky Barnes series of mine! Love y’all! 

Italics meant that flashbacks happened, alright? Thank you, tater tots! 

Disclaimer: PNG's, pictures and GIF's aren't mine. However, the whole series, one shots and edits are from moi.

Taglists: @damnbuckyishot​ @yn-the-reader​ @iwillmakeyoucraveme​ @willpoch12​ 

Tick-tock. Tick-Tock. The black clock without hour hands said. Rain droplets fell on his forehead, cold ice caressed his bare, scrawny, soft skinned chest. He could feel a woman's cold, fingers stroke his stomach in the most sickening way. Every beat of his heart was travelling straight to his mind, fearing him what the woman could do to him. What more can she do when she already did everything she had to?

"Your mother's going to be delighted to know how much I'm paying her,"

The whole scene changed, and next thing he knew he was back in the huge, green garbage truck that he hid from the entire week. It was raining cats and dogs, his whole body was filthy, unwashed and greasy. Who wouldn't be after basically living in the dumps for a month? Trying to get away from your abusive, inhumane second mother that sells you to different kinds of people?

"I don't wanna be here, I don't wanna be here," James repeated over and over again, tightly tugging on his roots, appearing to be loco in other people's perspective. "Don't touch me, that's enough, I'm hurting!" He burbled non-stop, something probably triggered him to remember it again and now he was in another episode that he will surely have a difficult time to get out.

Somebody had to open the back of the truck, the bald man was startled to see a teen hurled inside a truck full of garbage, the teen continuously talking to himself. He was reconsidering helping him when baby blue eyes peeped up at him, a juvenile who had no light inside his eyes.

"goddamn--motherfucker!" Drops of bloody sweat fell on his dark-hued complexion, making him drop the coat he decided to throw away. It was already dirty, used and bloody.

"Yo, Kid." He nonchalantly called, shivering at the same time from the crisp, cold winter wind. "I don't wanna be here, I don't wanna be here," James whispered over and over again, rocking himself.

"Alright, alright. I know you don't wanna be here in this goddamn truck because it fucking smells like shit," The man replied with a sassy raise of his brow, before taking in James's filthy appearance. Receiving a huff once he got a wiff of his awful smell, "You look lost," He stated as a matter of fact. "Where's your mother?"

Just one mention of her made him react in a violent manner, quickly scrambling away from the tall, bald man. "No! Noooo! Not her!!!"

He was fast enough to tug on his ankle, refraining from him to crawl out further. "Alright, chill down! I'm trying to fucking help you, blue eyed Tarzan!" He sent out another aggravated huff, probably thinking why he even decided to throw his black coat away in a god damn garbage truck. "I know I look scary to you, a pirate even. But, I'm good. I think I am,"

"Do you need help?" James didn't bother to send a reply as he shrugged his ankle off his hold, making the man nod to himself, answering his own question. "Well, obviously you do,"

He abruptly talked, leaving James confused, slyly looking around to who he was referring to but he only saw a huge, black Ford Expedition a few meters away from them. "Miss Hill, give this kid whatever blanket or shit that'll make him warm," He talked to himself.

"Yes, sir."

He sighed, waiting for the blanket he was asking for. Now, it was time for a mini interrogation that was needed because he won't go helping the kid if he doesn't know a thing about him, "I'm Fury, Nick Fury." He paused as he watched how James looked entirely alert and cautious of his next movements.

"Now, what's your name, Kid?"

James could only swallow his saliva, appearing to be nervous and hesitant to state his name. "You can trust me kid," Yet, he still wouldn't budge.

Fury had to grab onto his pistol, checking if the mag was loaded and gave the gun to him. James's eyes could practically jump out of his eyesockets as of the moment. "If you think I can't be trusted, shoot me. I won't hurt you back and I'll just leave,"

He opened his lips to talk, before closing it once again. Giving himself a peptalk and then finally raised the imaginary white flag. "James.." He swallowed the ball of anxiety pooling inside his throat, down to his stomach. "James Buchanan Barnes,"

Nick gave a nonchalant nod, thinking of ways and probably some other kind of name to go with him. "That's one hell of a name, I won't go calling you that." He stated as a matter of fact. "You'll be called Winter from now on, Bud." The former didn't hesistate but to give his hand out at the lost juvenile, gesturing for him to join his mysterious voyage. "And you're coming with me for help," Nick gave a tight smirk, a sneak peak of his pearly whites showing a little bit. "We need some extra help in 'Maximum Risk' anyway."

Winter didn't hesitate but to give back his pistol, dropping it on his outstretched hand as he jump out of the garbage truck all on his own while he quietly muttered. "Count me in,"

Blood.

"Winter, calm down. Calm the fuck down,"

Sweat.

"No, Fury. My arm! What happened to my real fucking arm?!"

Tears.

"I-I can't do this, I can't do this."

Scars that came from treacherous battles.

"You can, Barnes. It's the only way, and after this. You're rolling in the riches,"

Memories.

Bucky Barnes sat up in panic on his soft bed. A nightmare. What was her name, again? He remembers her face, the smell of her hair, the laugh that echoes inside his fragmented memories, yet he couldn't recall her name because all he could think of was that witch. The name that he loathed the most.

Bucky was quick to snatch the red book beside his bed. All perspired, anxious and heaving for life-saving breaths that could calm him down. Y/N's picture was all it took for his fears to concede.

"Y/N," He panted, fluttering his eyes closed. Taking in several breaths and retrieving his happy memories with her. Replacing the bad ones with those times he was untroubled and blissful. Those precious moments that he kept to heart. "Y/N." Bucky repeated, more like a mantra and a need to see and be with her.

He needed to see her. Bucky needed to see the only good thing that happened in his life and that was Y/N.

Dressed in just his sweatpants and shirt, he didn't think twice to scramble out of his bed, having a mission to search for his woman.

Right timing for Felicity Night to be closed because it was a holiday for them. Only a holiday that everybody picked to have their day offs. Even though, Gigolos and strippers shouldn't exactly have one.

As he was walking down the halls, passing by rooms that are vacant and a sharp right turn towards the bar, he instantly saw a semi-long blonde hair. All wavy and majestic just like his. Gigantic arms perched against the brown, wooden table with two people around him who were also drunk as a fly. Clint, the sneaky stripper who happened to own the stage with a nickname, 'the electrician' in which he highly despise because it sounded displeasing. Loki was the first to suggest that because he have seen him sleeping in the vents inside Felicity Night. As for Pietro who was called 'Silver' because of his unique hair color that the ladies loved.

"Thor, have you seen, Y/N?" Bucky clasped onto Thor's burly shoulders, startling the poor drunk man who had five seconds before he replied and acknowledged the metal armed man.

"No. I have not seen your gorgeous lady, Mr. Winter." Thor shouted a little too loudly. Well, a lot loudly. A whole lot. Startling his two drunk buddies who were tempted to curl into a ball and drop drunk on the floor with their barf all over. "Thor, shut it--"

Thor held a finger up, shifting on his seat to face him fully. "Or I must say I did?" He clutched onto his left boob. Bucky couldn't help but shake his head. He knew Steve's habit and it was getting too infectious now because Thor is beginning to absorb the way he laughs. "HAHAHAHA!"

"Well, well, well," Clint slurred, trying to keep his eyes straight as he grabbed a jigger full of vodka before drinking it straight. "If it isn't the Winter Soldier," He coughed, keeping himself straight on his seat. "Fury never forgot to mention you when I decided to move in this awful club," He drunkenly raised his empty glass, trying to keep his eyes opened. "Fucking vodka is making me barf like a hawk!" He hiccuped. "If that e-even makes sense!"

Bucky could hear another set of hiccups, however it was now coming from the silver haired waiter who became the best employee of the month because he was a quick server and his looks were a plus because it makes the ladies order more than normal. "Fury's infamous--" He hiccuped, slightly slapping himself with a smile. "--Soldat that everybody loves especially the ladies," Pietro chuckled to himself, his next words slurred and only Bucky, the sober person around the crowd full of drunkards could understand his words and foreign accent. "Why agree to an inhumane contract agreement with a bitch when you could've s-stayed in 'Maximum Risk', Soldat?"

Pietro deeply sighed to himself, feeling his barf in his throat as he tried to swallow it back. "Y-You were Fury's favorite right hand man," He frustratingly palmed his face, feeling more dizzy as time goes by. "Why leave, Winter Soldat?"

"CHEERS, UNCULTURED FOOLS!" Thor suddenly bursted aloud, a huge beer glass in hand as he laughed to himself. "I AM WORTHY," He murmured to himself, seeming to be in another dimension. "I AM THE GOD OF WHISKEY, I DO NOT GET DRUNK IN HASTE!"

Bucky left Pietro and Clint's question unanswered, leaving the three musketeers alone as they drink their hearts out. He sighed to himself, hearing those words come out of Pietro and Clint gives him mini flashbacks that he surely wanted to come back from but didn't want to remember all the horrible things he did.

Natasha's heels came echoing inside the pub despite of the semi-loud music. She swayed her red hair left to right, her hips swaying with the beat. She was a beautiful lady, too beautiful. Nonetheless, her beauty have been ignored by the metal armed man since day 1. Why? Because Bucky was used to beauties like her and he wanted someone different. "Natasha, have you seen--" She stopped dead on her tracks, a smirk lifting her maroon red lips. "Y/N?" She gestured behind her, "Think I saw her somewhere in the bar with Stan," She paused and nodded to herself, "Drinking their asses off,"

Bucky licked his cherry red lips out of habit, flicking his bangs behind his ears with his fingers, those kind of movements that the ladies loved. "Ah, Thanks." He nodded, thinking that his woman was probably drinking water because she was prohibited to drink intoxicating drinks. "Martini's is what I meant." And that made Bucky choke in his own saliva. "Jesus--what?!"

Only a mischievous smirk from the gorgeous red head was sent his way, "You just woke up, had a nightmare and this is what you do first thing in the midnight?" Natasha couldn't help but chuckle, Ahh. The smell of love, indeed. That's what it does to humans. "To find Y/N?" Pause. Bucky held a finger against his lips, hushing the grinning woman whom he considers one of his closest friends. "Shush, can you keep it down, will ya'?"

Thor's laughter made her glance towards where the drunkards and other drunk buddies where. Including a certain patriotic blondie who began stumbling to the bar where Stan was. "Yeah, yeah. Secret lovers hiding from the witches. Your fates are in luck," She clicked her tongue.

The metal armed man couldn't help but scoff from her choice of words, making him shake his head with a bittersweet smile. "I never had a good fate,"

"Now, don't go all drama with me, Barnes. Your lady's drunk with our old man, go get her before she pukes," It was a wrong move for Natasha, because she knew it would trigger him a lot more if she continues to talk and so she was quick to change the topic and move on to a subject that will definitely make Bucky's mind travel into another dimension. Y/N and his own dimension. "She's lucky her mother's currently having a meeting with the club in West Coast,"

One mention of the word, 'West coast' made his lost, fragmented soul lit up like birthday candles. "Maximum Risk?" He questioned with utmost curiosity, seeing his lips turn a little curve. Well, that was good. "Yep. The one and only,"

"God, I miss that place."

"Try and come by some time. I bet Sam misses you," Natasha joked, crossing her arms against her bountiful chest. Bucky mentally groaned at hearing that certain name, God. He thought to himself, remembering the kinda good ol' days with his old friend, Sam Wilson. "You make me puke, Romanoff."

To Bucky's surprise, he didn't know that the person he was finding for was actually swaying towards his way. A giggly Y/N was on a hunt, and it was a hunt for her Bucky Barnes. She knew he was fast asleep, however she didn't know he was up and at 'em. Searching for who knows who. Her of course.

Once at arms reach, she smiled, those kind of smiles that Bucky wanted nothing more than to take a picture of. Kind of heartmelting, kind of infectous too. "B-Booki? Is that chu'?" You took his appearance in, gray sweatpants and all of his glory. Eyes turning wider from accidentally taking a glimpse at his jam-packed crotch that made you nod your head a thousand times. Grading it in the back of your mind. A+ indeed. "It's Love for you, Doll."

Bucky caught her in his arms when she began to turn around and give a wave at the tipsy Loki who called her from afar. Swaying in the process. Bucky's arms were quick to engulf her waist, pulling her close to him as he breathed on her ear. "Lo-love? Are you serious? Do I get a man like you? Are you for real?" You giggled with a hiccup, quickly holding your mouth for no reason. Laughing more to yourself. "Shush. We don't want everybody knowing our relationship yet, right?"

You hummed, clicking your head to the side as you felt his breath fanning over your neck. It was hot, warm and it felt good. Too good for your own good and you were definitely wrecked. "Y-Yeah..But, are you seriously for real?" Bucky chuckled, tightening his hold around you and kissing the back of your ear which gave you the shivers. "Yeah, I surely am, Doll."

James chuckled from behind, his smile reaching from ear to ear. Kind of too precious not to notice and you leaned into his touch. Loving his warmth. Natasha was also grinning from ear to ear and the people who were close with her would know that her, 'grinning' or 'smirking' meant that she was being unpredictable. She noticed how everybody was doing their own thing, Bucky and Y/N currently wrapped in their own invaluable world and so she discreetly left like a Black Widow in disguise.

Not a little long after Natasha's silent departure, Bucky's patriotic best friend came wobbling-walking towards them. Igniting a stern look on Bucky's once happy face. He kept you beside him, his metal hand tightly clasping on your hip, making you giggle and hug his flat, sinewy stomach, geting comfortable and still completely intoxicated from all the Martini's that Stan made you drink. Your alcohol level was a little bit low than the others since you don't drink a lot.

"Hey, Buck. Y/N seem to be..left uncompromised?" Steve greeted with a chirpy tone, giggling just like you are. "And here I thought I could trust you with her, Punk." Bucky responded with a huff, shaking his head in disappointment as he watched Steve's face that was all red because he was damn drunk. "You said she has asthma? Why did you even let her drink?"

"I said she has asthma," Steve declared, his teeth showing from how wide he was smiling, "I didn't say she was disabled!"

Bucky couldn't help but wash his face with his flesh hand. Jesus.

"I-I was about to take her to my room--" Steve honestly spoke, gesturing towards where the stairs where. Bucky was quick to protest his disapproval towards it. Glaring right at his bestest friend. If he does that before for her..well, now's different. Everything turned a 180 degrees since last month. "Don't you dare, Steve." Bucky taunted with a scowl, making Steve giggle.

"It was a very genius suggestion!"

You began to realize that Steve was in front of you. Thus, you began to make grabby gestures with your hands. "Steveeennnn Grannnntttttt Roggeeeersssss," About to lean and sway in front of him yet Bucky was quick to hold onto you. Pulling you back against him with a gentle hush followed by a tender call of 'Doll' and the word 'Behave' that kept your feet rooted on the ground, giving your lower half a tingly sensation that made you giggle once more. Weird. Why were you feeling horny all of a sudden?

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered beneath his breath as he saw Steve twirling round and round. Completely watching him so smashed. "Steve--" He began, though he only got a laugh as a reply. "--Whatever, you need to lay it down a bit, pal. You know, you gotta hit the sack? You're stewed as hell,"

"I will, Buckaroo!" His bestfriend called out loud with a grin, knowing that Bucky didn't like to be called that way and it could tick him off. With a loud huff and a stern frown he grabbed you around your waist with his burly arm, not wanting to let go of you.

"That's it, we're leaving. Have a nice night, punk."

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, TATER TOTS! My works aren’t to be copied anywhere. I do not share nor let other people copy my works, I have seen other people plagiarizing writer’s works here and I do not like that happening to them and also to me as well. Thank you very much!

IF YOU WANNA BE INCLUDED IN THE TAGLIST OF THIS SERIES OF MINE, PLEASE DO SEND AN ASK OR COMMENT OR REBLOG THEN TELL ME! Thank youuu!

[poignantpulchritude]

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 3

“No, no, no we are not wearing just blue jeans and lip balm to Paradise tonight, go back to your room!”

“C’mon, it’ll be dark, no one will see.”

“But I will see. It’s the principal of the thing Jeanne,” Molly responded, sounding much more like a disappointed mother than friend and flat mate.

“Then you need to help me because I think you’ll hate anything I’d come down in.”

“Fine, gimme a few,” Molly spoke as she curled the last few strands of her golden hair.

I trudged my way back to my room, there were already clothes strewn all over the floor, making it difficult to walk. I plopped down on my bed, laying in down until my body was directly in the center. Clubs were not usually my scene, I much preferred a grimy pub because I liked talking, not really dancing, when drunk. No one ever talked at clubs, words were replaced by groping and bad remixes of passable songs. The saving grace for tonight was that we were going to have a table in the VIP section, which meant less interaction with overly friendly guys that felt they were God’s gift to women’s vaginas.

Molly sauntered into my room and headed straight for my closet. I lifted my head off the bed to watch her rummage through the mess I created. It took a few minutes as more clothes were thrown onto my floor until Molly finally made a triumphant sound and pulled out a small pink dress I was sent by one of my regulars. It was a bright, neon pink mini dress with sheer pink long sleeves. The dress had never seen the light of day since it arrived in the post since, I don’t spend much of my free time strutting around in expensive party dresses.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Molls, it’s pretty bright.”

“It’s fabulous, I know someone sent it to you because everything else you own is so dull. You absolutely have to wear it!”

“I don’t even know if it fits,” I groaned, falling back into my fluffy duvet. 

*

It fit. 

In reality, it actually looked quite nice. I mostly only dressed up in expensive lingerie while online and that covered very little of my body, if any of it. I tried to be annoyed that it was a dress, but found it hard to give reasons why I should not wear it.

“Okay fine,” I conceded with a smirk. Molly squealed and did a small hop in the air.

“You look like Dua Lipa with a fatter bum, it’s amazing!”

I giggled to myself and could not hide the smile. The dress was short enough to show of my large thigh tattoo of Medusa, but not too short that I felt my thong was on show. I paired the look with white, patent leather boots, looking a bit like it was 1980 and I was coming out of Studio 54. 

With my makeup and hair complete, I headed downstairs at the exact moment a knock came on our door. I headed down the hall and opened the door to see Rosie and Amber looking dashing in tight black dresses and thigh high boots. It seemed at time that they wanted to look like twins the amount of times they would dress the same. When turned my way, their jaws dropped. 

“What the fuck J, you look hot!”

“-Jesus, let’s make out tonight!”

I shut up both of their ramblings with quick hugs and invited them inside. The plan was to meet up at me and Molly’s place and then meet Keith at Paradise. Paradise was in the heart of Soho and even though we were not too far away, we collectively agreed we would walk as little as possible tonight. As we walked back to the kitchen, Molly was descending the stairs in a bright blue jumpsuit that made everyone in the room drool. 

“To getting fucked!” Amber exclaimed as we all held tequila shots in the air.

“Wait literally or figuratively?” Rosie asked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Molly said at the same time I yelled, “Both!”

As the shot burned down my throat, I relished the warmth that would no doubt lead to an exciting night.

“Gahhhh that’s dreadful,” Molly gagged.

*

The line outside of Paradise was ridiculous. It hadn’t been open very long and the crowds had yet to die down. We spotted Keith on his phone, standing right by the front door. “Oh, my god, I was so nervous I thought for a minute you would ditch me,” he said sheepishly.

“What the fuck?” I asked rhetorically, in a confused manner.

“When have we ever ditched you?” Molly questioned, amused at his anxiety. 

“God, I don’t know, never mind. I just learned that Matt is supposed to be here so every second I was alone I started feeling terrible.” I gave him a soft look in response. Matt was Keith’s ex-boyfriend, a man that completely ripped his heart to shreds yet he had not been able to completely get over him. 

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t see him anyway,” Rosie assured him. Keith did not look convinced, but brushed it off and led us to the doors. It only took a few seconds to check for his name on the list and we were let in, skipping at least eighty people waiting in line. 

I hated to give clubs too much credit, but Paradise looked impressive inside. The walls were a jungle print wallpaper with low yellow lights along the sides. The VIP section was located along the sides of the room, surrounding the main dance floor with its own bars behind it. All of the people dancing in the center of the floor helped explain the long line outside. This place was filled to capacity and it was still early in the night. We were led to our VIP booth and greeted by an almost nude girl with sparklers next to a bottle of champagne and vodka.

“Oh yes!” Amber screamed. We all looked at the bottle girl in awe, seeing her as the female Hermes with alcohol as the only message to deliver. Behind her appeared another man carrying a large bucket of ice that contained glasses and mixers. Our entire group was in, well, paradise. 

“This may end up being one of the best nights of my life,” I spoke, or more accurately- yelled, in Keith’s ear. He just smiled, appearing to finally brush off his nervousness surrounding Matt. 

Eventually, with the champagne popped and the bottles flowing, we noticed the VIP section start to fill with a very particular crowd. 

“Molly!” Rosie shouted, “Is that fucking Alexa Chung?” Skipping subtlety, she pointed directly at the slim brunette a few tables over. 

“Oh, my god, what is happening,” I heard Molly respond. Looking around, I noticed more and more people with jarring numbers of Instagram followers enter the VIP section.

“Just think, you may be able to get expensive dick tonight!” Keith hollered and I cackled loudly in response and agreement. 

Instead of focusing too much on the people entering, myself and Amber were making increasingly more vile drinks that we convinced ourselves tasted good. Amber, getting considerably more drunk as time passed, pulled me out of our booth and to the small section of floor directly in front of our booth that was still blocked off from the general public. My own tipsiness spurring on the decision to dance wildly.

“I love this song!” she screamed in my ear as a throwback 2000s song played to the crowd’s delight. We danced and jumped in circles until we couldn’t anymore. Along with our absurd dancing, we also decided to shout the lyrics, trying to be louder than the speakers. Molly quickly joined us, leaving Rosie and Keith to have an animated conversation back at our booth. 

I could tell I was slowly getting to the point of drunk, right at that sweet spot when everything was pleasant and bright. I always had to pee at these points. “Come with me to pee!” I said to Molly and Amber, very excited to check out the Paradise bathroom. Before they could properly respond, I grabbed both of their hands and dragged them to toilets in the back corner. I was so excited, I was not watching where I was walking and ended up bumping into a tall guy’s shoulder. “Sorry!” I exclaimed with a giggle, ripping my hands free from Molly and Amber and instead placed one hand on his silk shirt by his shoulder and the other on his check. “Sorry!” I yelled again with a smile, looking intently into his green eyes that looked vaguely familiar. I did not have time to get a better look at his face because my bladder took control of my body and I was suddenly done with our little interaction. I heard a surprised, happy laugh behind me as we all walked away.

The line for the toilets was short enough that we were actually waiting right outside the stalls by the mirrors. I love mirrors and couldn’t help myself as I walked over and whipped out my phone to catch a good angle. 

“Whoa, whoa J. Did you know who that just was?” Amber said, incredibly eager. Molly looked in shock and it was clear that I missed something very big.

“Who? The girl with the nice boots we just walked past?” I asked genuinely confused. Before Amber could respond a stall emptied and I quickly ran inside, dragging Amber and Molly with me. They were both having a quite an animated conversation above me as I peed, but the floor was spinning a bit too much for me to care. I knew I had only one drink left in me before I was done for the night, so it had to be a good one. 

“I’m going to get a Moscow Mule!” I declared when I finished peeing. 

“But we have free alcohol at the table,” Molly said firmly. She seemed the most put together of the bunch, but I knew I was deceived, having learned over time that the more serious she appeared the drunker she actually was. I just shrugged, smiled, and walked out of the stall without waiting for them to pee. When I was drunk and on a mission, nothing else mattered.

I made my way steadily to the bar in the back, making sure not to run into anymore moving bodies. This bar was packed considering it was in the noticeably calmer section of the club. I squeezed my way in between groups of people, maneuvering between flirting guys and annoyed girls, ending up in snuggled between the shoulders of two men. The one on the right had a crisp white button up while the one on the left had an odd silk shirt with tigers all over it. I remembered it as the shirt I bumped into moments ago. Before I could yell in his ear that I apparently knew him, someone jostled me from behind. This knocked me further forward in between the two men, alerting them to my intrusive presence.

I was met once again by green eyes, but this time I did get the chance to look at him more. He was at taller than me, with brown hair pushed in all directions over his head. As I examined his face more, I noticed the corners of his mouth turn upwards revealing a prominent dimple. It took me a moment to realize he may have been smiling because I was staring so intently at his lips. 

“I know you!” he spoke happily in a deep, English accent. This brought me out of my analysis of his lips to actually pay attention to what he was saying. 

“I just ran into you!” I yelled.

“I did it first,” he smiled. I was not sure what he meant by that statement, but before I could question it his friend spoke.

“Hello lovely, do we know each other?”

I turned to look at his friend and detected immediately that it was the man I listened to every morning on my way to class. “Ah!” I shouted and Nick Grimshaw grimaced at my noise, “I know you, but you don’t know me. You’re on the radio and friends with Matty Healy!” 

He gave his friend an amused look and responded, “That I am, do you know who that is?” he questioned, pointing back at silk shirt boy. 

“Yea, he’s the boy I bumped into on the way to pee, we’re friends now,” I affirmed proudly. I heard them both laugh at my words, but I was not paying much attention anymore as the bartender came by us and I yelled quickly, “A Moscow Mule please and thanks!”

I had my body pressed quite closely to silk shirt boy, with my hand resting on the bar, ready to take my drink when it arrived. “I like your dress,” he spoke from above. I just looked up and smiled before raising both arms over my head in an excited movement, showing off my sleeves.

“Thanks! My friend gave it to me.” I’m not sure if I would really consider the client that sent me the dress much of a friend, but I thought explaining in this state would be too much trouble. 

His eyes went to my left forearm when I lifted my arms above my head. Green eyes widened at the tattoo before him, a large snake cut into eighths with the words ‘Join or Die’ etched below it. “Wow this is amazing, may I?” he asked, suggesting a closer look. 

I obliged and pulled up my left sleeve so he could get a clearer view without the sheer pink material over it. “It’s obnoxiously American of me,” I informed him giggling from the alcohol. He gave me a confused look before I continued, “It’s a Benjamin Franklin cartoon about the Revolutionary War. This is probably a tough crowd to show it off in.” I’m not sure how many Englishmen wanted to be reminded of their lost colony. 

“That’s sick,” he responded enthusiastically, gently tracing his finger along the edges of the snake, causing my arm to break out in goosebumps.

“Moscow Mule, twelve pounds.”

The bartender broke me from my trance as I used the hand that was being examined to rip out my credit card from my bra. I heard Nick laugh loudly at the action. “What, it’s the safest place for a girl to carry her delicates. I have everything in here.” Nick and his friend both gave me skeptical looks, urging my innate need to prove myself to come to a head. I then proceeded to whip out two Advil, forty pounds, my ID, and three condoms from my bra.

“Why do you need three of them?” Nick asked, referencing the condoms.

“Because you never know what could happen,” I shrugged, looking up at the silk shirt boy boldly. He raised his eyebrows and looked straight back into my eyes. I felt a small tap on the arm resting on the bar and saw the bartender handing me back my card. I quickly collected everything I pulled out my bra and returned it to its proper position, ready to take my Moscow Mule and head back to my group when a tattooed hand stopped me again. 

“What’s your name?” Silk shirt boy asked.

“You tell me yours first.”

“Harry.” I just nodded, smiling. “Now yours?”

I smirked and went up on my tip toes in my white boots, steading myself on his chest again, and whispered in his ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I heard his breath hitch when my lips grazed his ear. I pulled away, smirked one last time, and then walked back into the crowd, daring myself to not glance back. Rosie saw me giggling with my straw caught between my teeth as I returned to our group.

“You’ve been gone for a year, where were you lot?” Keith asked as Molly and Amber came up behind me, followed by two boys. 

“We need to go,” Amber smirked, motioning to the boy behind her, her conquest for the night. Everyone agreed except me, refusing to accept that my night was coming to an end since I just got my favorite drink. 

“Down it and we are going,” Molly giggled. I saw the boy behind her slowly rubbing the sides of her hips, eager to leave as well.

“How did you get them so quick?” I asked in her ear. “I was at the bar for maybe ten minutes.”

She shrugged, “We work fast.”

It took me a minute to down my drink. It would have been quicker if it was not so strong. I could tell that drink was a bad move the second the last drop went down my throat. I was holding hands with Keith as we made our way out of the club and back into reality. As we exited, we were faced with hordes of flashing lights. Paparazzi no doubt hoping we were people of notoriety considering the celebrities in attendance tonight. This thought prompted me to blurt out, “Oh, guess who I met tonight!” speaking to no one in particular. 

“You mean the popstar?” Molly’s head ripped around quick. I gave her a puzzled look, knowing full well that Nick Grimshaw did not sing any songs I was aware of.  

“Only you would not notice a former member of One Direction even though you caressed his bloody face,” Amber said behind me. I stopped moving, beginning to feel bile rise in my throat. I was unclear if I was going to get sick because of the alcohol or the new information I was slowly processing. 

“What?” Keith yelled looking at me, “Who did you meet?”

I ripped myself from his arms and ran to the closest pile of trash away from the paparazzi and threw up. I heard the sympathetic voices of my friends behind me, but I could only think of one thing. I just blew off Harry fucking Styles.

[thechildoflightning]

Ch4- Penultimate (November)

Title: Calendrical Consequences [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual CALM/LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Penultimate (November)- Chapter Four

Summary: 

Virgil starts to sort out his feelings surrounding his future testimony and reflects on how his trauma has affected him.

Warnings: PTSD, Past Abuse of a Minor and Related Symptoms (nonsexual), Past Manipulation, Past Cult Involvement, Past Kidnapping, Past Abusive Relationship, Allusions to Sexual Abuse

[ao3 link]

~~~

Penultimate (November)- Chapter Four

~~~

November 4, 2019

Virgil didn’t mind the office. It had basic furniture; a desk, bookshelf, coffee table, a couch, two chairs, with a side table each, and a beanbag. 

The desk was messy, with just enough area cleaned out for the shape of a computer. Papers covered it, mostly in uneven lumps. More than one official looking envelope was shoved in between them. 

The interesting parts were the decorations. Disney figurines to Pixar plushies to posters of animated characters covered the office in just away that it stayed aesthetically pleasing while not overwhelming. It was childish in a way that still seemed professional, and honestly set Virgil a bit at ease, because these had to be his therapist interest, and the fact that he was sharing for all to see was hopefully a reflection of an open and trustworthy character. 

Virgil had never been in a therapist's office quite like it before, but he liked. It wasn’t the same comfort as his old therapist’s office, but it was nice. It had an open and inviting energy to it.

Plus, in the entire office, there wasn’t a single houseplant. Good. His counselor had a few of those, and Virgil absolutely hated them.

“So, how are you feeling about having to testify?”

“Fine,” Virgil mumbled, choosing to train his eyes on a Steven Universe poster in lieu of replying in a deeper manner.

The gentleman across from him sighed and tapped his pen against his notebook.

“Virgil, I know I’m not your old therapist, but I need you to put in some effort here.”

“I am.”

The man shook his head and leaned forward, setting down the notebook for a second as he trained his eyes on Virgil. Virgil looked steadfastly in the other direction.

“No, you’re not. Don’t forget that Dan and me talked. He told me that you would dart around everything until you trusted me. He also told you to give me a chance.”

“So I have trust issues. Big whoop,” Virgil mocked.

Sure he had told Dan that he would give the guy a chance, but wasn’t he technically doing that? He was sitting here in this guy’s office, wasn’t he? That had to count for something.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” the doctor asked.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked as a frown crossed his face.

“You don’t trust me. You testify against your abuser in five months. During those five months you will repeatedly discuss the abuse you faced, in detail, digging up seven years of memories. You can’t see Dan. Are you just going to go therapist hopping until then? Ignore your trauma? Bottling everything up? For this to work, I need you to give me a chance,” the therapist insisted.

Something in that mini speech managed to light something in Virgil. From where had been subdued and zoned out, inspecting the room without care, he was now angry and alert. His heart thumped in his chest and the world seemed to press down around him.

“What the hell would you know,” Virgil hissed out, “I went through seven years of hell. Seven years! I spent close to a decade of my life in a fucking cult where the adults manipulated the shit out of me. For seven years I lived with people who literally did not care if I died. And here you are telling me that I need to trust you? Yeah, no fucking way,” Virgil huffed, wiping angry tears from his eyes. When did those get there?

He huffed for breath while his therapist looked at him calmly all the while. Seriously, what was this guy’s deal?

“What was that like?”

“What?”

“What was it like growing up knowing that the people who were supposed to love you didn’t care if you died?” he pressed.

Virgil stared at him and then burst into tears. Trixie put her pressure on him as the humiliation of crying in front of someone unfamiliar rose up within him.

“It was horrible,” Virgil choked out.

“Why?”

“Why?” he asked incredulously, “Because I was fucking kidnapped by a cult!”

The man in front of Virgil just waited.

“Because I thought they cared,” Virgil admitted. “They hurt me, but they told me they loved me. And I know that wasn’t okay, but they told me that they loved me. And they convinced me that no one else cared, but they did. And I wanted to believe them.”

“Did you believe them?”

Virgil hesitated. The therapist rose an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Do you believe it now?”

“I- I mean I know they don’t care about me like my dad does or my friends do. They don’t love me like they were supposed to.”

“But do you still believe they loved you?” he continued to press.

Anger began to well up in Virgil again. Because god, he didn’t know. He had been taken by fucking psychopaths and forced to behave and adhere to their rules and they abused him so of course they didn’t love them.

But they said they did and sometimes they even let him go outside and gather berries or let him have a day off where he didn’t have to do anything at all, and well, that was nice of them right? They didn’t have to do those things and they did and sure they hurt him but...

Virgil looked at the doctor.

“Yes,” he whispered, “I still believe that they loved me.”

The doctor nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“Well Virgil, that’s our time for today. Will I be seeing you next week?”

Virgil looked at the doctor while he gathered his thoughts. Eventually, he nodded and stood.

“I’ll be here,” he said, turning to leave the room.

As he opened the door to exit, he turned around.

“Uh, Dr. Picani?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Virgil, I didn’t do anything.”

Virgil hesitated for a second, then shook his head and left.

God, he was absolutely exhausted. Therapy would do that to you. Fuck. And he still had one more class today. 

He sighed, swiped at his eyes again, and set a path towards the bus station, Trixie standing faithfully at his side as always.

-

November 6, 2019

“Are either of you going home this year?” Patton asked. 

The exuberant roommate draped himself over the back of the couch and onto both Virgil and Roman.

“No,” they responded at the same time.

“Great! Logan isn’t either, how do you two feel about coming home with me?” Patton questioned with his signature smile. 

Roman turned around to look at his friend with a wide smile.

“Hell yeah! That sounds great. Are you sure your family won’t mind?”

Patton grinned back at his younger friend.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, “They’re dying to meet you. Get it? Dying? Kind of like the turkey we’re about to kill? Okay now I just made myself sad. Bad pun, I wish- get it like the wishbone of a turkey- that I could take it back.”

Roman just snorted and rolled his eyes, grinning merrily all the while.

God Patton and Roman were really just overgrown puppies, weren’t they? Not even Trixie had this much energy.

“Virge, you coming with us?” Patton asked, turning the focus over to him.

The smallest boy shrugged.

“I dunno,” he commented.

“Why not,” Roman groaned, flopping onto Virgil’s lap with a dramatic sigh. Virgil scowled, but didn’t bother pushing him off.

“I just- You're already going to have Roman and Logan- I wouldn’t want to impose-” he explained.

“Virgil, do you want to come? It isn’t a trick question.” Pattern asked, looking softly into the younger boys eyes. Virgil quickly looked away and fiddled with his fingers.

“Well, I mean, yes, but-”

“And do you trust that I want you there?”

“Yes-”

“Then what’s the issue.”

Virgil shrugged, “It’s just- y’know, it’s supposed to be family time. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Virgil, I need you to listen to me.”

Virgil glanced up and made eye contact with Patton.

“Virgil, I don’t know who told you that you were an obstacle in life, but I want to murder them right now. I’m not inviting you because you make Thanksgiving less fun. I’m inviting you because I genuinely enjoy your company,” he explained in a serious manor.

Virgil gave a small nod and started to grin.

“Is that a yes?” Roman asked, still on top of Virgil.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, his smile growing.

“Wooo, yes! This is going to be great!” Roman said in excitement, jumping off the couch, and by extension, Virgil’s lap.

Patton’s gleeful “I know, right!” quickly followed.

Virgil didn’t join in, but he smiled to himself nonetheless.

-

November 16, 2019

Virgil wasn’t quite sure how he managed to make it through the day. His brain was so exhausted that he had started to become physically affected by it, the tiredness seeping into his bones and weighing him down. It took all his energy to just open the door to the apartment when he got back. Maybe he would take a quick nap. Yup, that sounded like a good plan. 

With a groan, he left to his room and fell onto his bed, prepared to rest as long as he could before being forced to be productive once again.

“Oh, hi,” a voice said.

“Holy shit!” Virgil shouted as he jumped, falling off his bed.

“Woah, dude, it’s just me,” Roman said, “Been sitting on my bed since you walked through the door.”

Wow, he really must of been tired. One of the many outcomes of his PTSD meant that he tended to be hyper aware of his surroundings. Missing Roman completely- who literally was just sitting on his bed in plain view- really was a true indicator of just how drained he was.

Virgil sighed and picked himself off the floor.

“You look like crap,” Roman commented as he put down the textbook he seemed to be scanning.

“Therapy,” Virgil huffed in explanation, “Do you even go to classes? I swear, I’ve never been home when you’re not here.”

Roman laughed, “Yes, I go to classes. You just got stuck with a shitty schedule.”

Virgil groaned but conceded to the truth in his statement.

“But seriously man, are you okay? I don’t care if it was a therapist, I can kick his ass if need be. I mean, I know you said your last session with the new guy went well, but...”

Roman had narrowed his eyebrows, sitting up on his bed. His arms were folded and he pouted a little bit. If he wasn’t so serious- and if Virgil wasn’t so tired- he would have laughed.

“First off, Roman, you literally wouldn’t be able to kick anyone’s ass, you would be too worried about your hair getting ruined or your nails getting chipped.”

“True but-”

“And anyways, yes I’m exhausted, but it was a really good session.”

Roman frowned, “Wait. If you had a good session, shouldn’t you be like, happy?”

Virgil sighed. Roman was a great guy, but he often didn’t get things like this.

“Not always,” Virgil said, “It’s like-” What’s something that Roman could relate to? “Uh, it’s like when your doing play practice, right? And you’re playing your part, but you suck at it. And someone tells you. And it feels awful because this whole time you’ve been doing it wrong and that really hurts. But ultimately, it’s really good because even though it hurts, you now know how to make the character better, which improves the play overall.”

Roman nodded in thought, seeming to take in what Virgil was saying.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I think I get it, but now explain it with you. Like what’s the character for you and stuff?”

Virgil hesitated and sat up, sitting against the edge of the bed. He picked at the chipped polish on his nails.

“Okay,” he started, “Let’s see. So I’m living my life and honestly- currently not doing that great at it. Sure- I’m making it through and I’m not hurting myself- but I still can’t help but feel my past weigh down my every step these last two months. And not only that, but I also miss- no- feel a connection? Responsibility? To my past to an extent. This makes my life not as good. 

“So Picani- my therapist- pointed that out about a week or so ago. Well, a specific part of it. He helped me realize that I still believe that the members of the cult that kidnapped me cared about me. And that hurt. Because it’s true, I do still think they cared to some degree. Even though I know at the same time that that isn't true. And that really sucks. But the good part is that I can work on that with Picani and my life can ultimately improve. My past will always be there, but I can learn to live with it better.”

Sometime during the speech, Roman had gotten up from his bed and sat down onto Virgil’s. His eyes were wide, peering at Virgil.

“Okay, I have another question, and let me know if I’m asking too much,” Roman said after breaking eye contact.

Virgil nodded for him to continue.

“Why do you think they cared about you? They hurt you.”

Roman said it if it was all so simple. Oh, and how Virgil wished it was truly just that simple.

“Have you ever had a friend, or a boyfriend, who was mean to you, but you stayed with them because their status as friend or boyfriend supposedly meant they cared about you? And even though they didn’t care, they told you they did? And that they were the only one who could love you or care about you?”

“I mean- kinda, not as extreme, yeah, but- oh.”

Virgil just nodded.

“Now imagine that for seven years plus those are the only people that you are around. Your parents, teachers, friends, everyone.”

“Fuck,” Roman muttered, flopping back on the mattress.

Virgil did the same. Roman grabbed his hand and held it. They laid there together, staring at the ceiling, together.

-

November 27, 2019

“Why does Roman get to drive?” Virgil complained when Roman took the seat in front of him.

Said boy turned around to face him, “Because Count Woe-Laf, your legs are the shortest, and mine are the longest. Ergo, I can get the most leg room this way.” Roman then proceeded to move back his chair, ramming into Virgil’s legs.

“Dude, the fuck,” Virgil swore, pulling his legs as tight as they could go to avoid them getting smushed.

“Roman, put your seat back,” Patton chided.

Roman huffed, but pulled it forward. Virgil let his legs stretch out a bit more. This was going to be a long trip.

And long it was. Three hours later and they were almost there, slowly closing in on Patton’s house.

“What are your moms’ names again?” Virgil asked for the fifth time. Patton had just announced they were a few minutes away and he wanted to make sure he got them right.

Roman groaned at the repeated question.

Patton just looked at him again and smile, “Rachel and Bertha.”

Virgil nodded and wrung his hands together. Logan- who was sitting next to him- noticed, and offered the tangle toy he was fiddling with. Virgil took it gratefully. Trixie, from her position in the middle, also nudged his hand and laid her head on his lap. Right. Deep breaths Virgil, you could do this.

“And your siblings names?”

“Dude, he’s said them like a hundred times,” Roman complained from the front, “You know them by now.”

“Well, what if I forgot-”

“Well, what do you think they are?” Roman challenged.

“Blythe, who’s older, Danielle or Dani, who’s younger, and Liam, also younger,” Virgil repeated from memory.

“Yup! Great job kiddo!” Patton said, shooting him a smile.

“See,” Roman pointed out, “You know all their names. Now I get that you're anxious, but your anxiety is making me anxious man.”

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered looking down.

“No,” Roman huffed, “that’s not what I- Ugh whatever. We’re here. Right Patton?”

“Yup!” Patton agreed cheerfully, “Just pull into the driveway.”

Roman did as directed and soon enough all four of them were spilling out of the car. They went around back and grabbed their bags, Virgil also taking Trixie potty and giving her a treat for being so good in the car. His dog really was the best. The four then moved as one mass towards the house. Patton knocked on the old wooden door.

Immediately a cacophony of sounds were heard from the inside. Two voices yelled at the same time they would get the door as a third yelled to slow down. A dog started barking and a faint squaking noise could also be made out. Logan had been smart to bring his headphones, and Virgil mourned for a second that his own were buried in his bag. 

A second later the door opened, revealing a teen with curly hair. He let out a gasp when he saw the group.

“Patton!” he exclaimed before leaping at his older brother for a hug. Patton enthusiastically reciprocated it. As they hugged, an older woman and another teenager came behind them. 

When Patton and the teenager had let go, the older women ushered them all in, giving Patton a quick hug as he passed.

She ushered them all into the living room and got them all seated before introducing herself.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “You must be Patton’s friends. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m one of Patton’s moms, Rachel.”

“Nice to meet you!” Roman said enthusiastically, caught up in the excitement, “I’m Roman.”

“Virgil,” Virgil muttered from Roman’s side.

“And of course, I know you Logan,” Rachel said with a smile at Patton’s boyfriend.

“Hello Rachel, it is nice to see you again.”

“You too sweetheart. Now, where is Bertha? Bertha?” she called out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice said, before another woman entered the room. She wiped her hands on her apron and joined them. She gave Patton a large hug before taking a seat next to her wife.

“Ah, I see we’ve already started introductions. Well, I’m Bertha.”

“Roman.”

“Virgil.”

“And I’ve met you Logan.”

“And I’m Liam!” the fifteen year-old piped up. 

The other teen then looked up with a scowl.

“Dani,” she said, before turning back to her phone.

“Is that your dog?” Liam then asked, pointing at Trixie and looking up at Virgil.

Virgil looked down at Trixie. She was settled by his feet, and was behaving so well with all the activity around her. She had her eyes trained on Virgil, obviously aware that he was currently in an anxiety provoking situation. She was so good like that.

He also realized in that moment that he hadn’t even asked Patton if he could even bring his dog to his house in the first place.

“Uh yeah- Uh sorry I didn’t even think about asking-” he stuttered.

Trixie pawed at his leg, noting his rising anxiety levels. He took a deep breath and gave her a pet in thanks for the reminder.

“Oh, it’s no worries,” Rachel said with a wave of her hand, “Patton told us she would be coming.”

“She’s so cute!” Liam squealed, “We have a dog too, but we put him outside so he wouldn’t go crazy when all of you showed up. Maybe they could play together. Want me to go get him?”

“Uh well, you can go get him I guess? But Trixie can’t play right now, she’s working.”

“Working?” the boy asked confused, before noticing Trixie's vest, “Oh Trixie’s a service dog? That’s so cool! Well, can I still bring Jonah in? I promise he won’t bug her.” At the end he turned to look more pleadingly at his mothers.

“Virgil, would he bug Trixie? I wouldn’t want to distract her. He’s trained for the most part,” Rachel said. 

“Oh, uh it’s fine?”

“Yes!” Liam said with a shout before dashing off to the other room.

“Well, I have to go finish dinner, and I’m pulling your mom to help. You and your friends should probably try to get your stuff upstairs before Liam gets back or you’ll never escape. It’s good to have you back Patton,” Bertha spoke up once the youngest had disappeared.

“It’s good to see you too Mom,” Patton said with a wide smile. She and Patton’s other mom ducked out of the room, leaving only Dani.

Dani also seemed to realize this, looked at Patton, and sighed before standing.

“Bye,” she called as left the room.

“Love you Dani,” Patton called after her.

She grunted but replied with an “I love you too,” before disappearing.

“Okay, I’ll show you guys were you'll be sleeping. My older sister isn’t home, so that room is open.”

-

November 28, 2019

It was later that night- or early the next morning depending on who you asked- when everyone was asleep that Virgil sat up still wide awake. Unfamiliar places were still hard for him to fall asleep in. He had talked about it with different therapists over the years, never quite coming to an exact conclusion why, but pinning it down as probably some sort of trust and safety thing.

He grew thirsty, so he got up from bed as quietly as possible, and made his way to where he was pretty sure the kitchen was. He found it and rooted around in the cupboards for a glass.

“To your left hun,” a gentle voice said from behind him.

Virgil gasped and spun around, breathing heavily.

“Oh. I’m sorry Virgil, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bertha said, her hand reaching out as if to comfort the boy, before seemingly thinking better of it and dropping her hand.

“Oh, it’s okay, I’m just jumpy,” he replied as his heartbeat returned to its regular rhythm.

“Mmm,” she said in response as she walked over to join him, “I was like that for a while after leaving my ex. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, sure?”

She grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and poured water in them.

“I think we’ll just use the microwave tonight, it’s a lot quicker,” she said as she filled the mugs with water.

“Sure,” Virgil said, offering no complaints.

“You know, Patton thinks quite highly of you.”

“Oh, uh, he does?”

That was weird to hear. Sure, Virgil knew that Patton and he were friends, but it was still hard to believe. Patton was just so friendly with everyone that it was hard to consider himself someone special. But, he tried to rationalize, he only ever hung out with a few people regularly. And Virgil was one of those people.

“Yes,” she said, moving to the microwave, “And I can see why.”

“Uh…”

“Come sit,” she gestured to the counter and they both walked over and took their seats. “He talks about you a lot,” she continued, “Really enjoys your company.”

“Oh, well, I guess, I mean, he’s a good friend,” Virgil replied, doing his best to not seem completely awkward and probably failing miserably.

Bertha shot him a look with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhmm,” she agreed, “A good friend.”

She gave him a look. Virgil opted to say nothing.

“You couldn’t sleep?” she asked eventually.

Virgil shook his head. The microwave stopped and let out a beep. Bertha got up to grab the two cups, plopping a tea bag in each before turning back. She returned to the counter and slid one in front of him. Virgil took it gratefully.

“I still can’t sleep sometimes. I just close my eyes and all I can see is her. My ex I mean,” Bertha explained to him.

Virgil fiddled with the tea bag's string.

“But, I’m sure you can understand that.”

Virgil froze.

“What,” he whispered, “Did Patton tell you- What did he tell you?”

“Oh no, no no, Patton didn’t tell me anything. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Virgil shot her a look and went back to playing with the string.

“How did you know?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged, “You start to notice the things in yourself in other people. Can I ask, are you alright? I mean, are you safe?”

Virgil nodded, “Yeah, yeah it was a long time ago.”

A look flashed across her face and she pulled back slightly. Her grin dropped and her eyes darkened. She once more reached out as if in comfort. 

“No- it’s not. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t an ex. It was-” Virgil sighed and shrugged, “I’m okay now,” he promised.

“Virgil, sweetheart, that doesn’t make it any better. And it’s okay to not be okay.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, and continued to sip at his tea.

The two sat there in silence for a while longer, both slowly sipping their tea. Bertha finished hers first, and placed her cup in the sink, rinsing it out quickly.

“Well, I’m off to bed. It was nice talking to you Virgil.”

“Yeah uh, you too. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She left with a wave of her hand and a smile. Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable, but at the same time, a little bit safer. He was also starting to feel tired. He should probably sleep soon to. Maybe now it would be possible.

~

[welshdragonrawr]

1. Ring (or Say You Will, Say You Will)

So, this took longer than promised, because what was originally a 300 word draft/drabble turned into a 3k word fic. Anyone who knows how I write knows I get carried away. I won’t say much more as this one kinda all speaks for itself. But I hope you enjoy.

To find/read at A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163646/chapters/50372594

Say You Will, Say You Will

The plan had gone so right to begin with so where had it gone wrong? Getting everyone else on board had been almost even easier than Misty had anticipated. Once Queenie had found out what she had been up to when she had caught the swamp witch all-too-eagerly trying to stuff something out of sight in a drawer in her room, the whispered word soon spread pretty quickly. Rather than rat her out like she feared some might do, it turned out that most of her magic peers were eager to help in her endeavour, trying to give Cordelia false leads and practised lines and red herrings whenever the Supreme seemed to catch a whiff that something was going on without her knowledge. Knowing young girls could be all manner of curious and conniving, Cordelia often gave the majority of her students the benefit of the doubt that as long as they weren’t doing anything dangerous or destructive then she could trust them. With the Supreme so lately caught up with work demands and all the help Misty had garnered, she thought that things just might go according to plan after all.

“How much longer are you gonna draw this out, Swampy? You getting cold feet or something already? For all our sakes why don’t you just get on with it already.” Madison – who had been a surprisingly amiable accomplice also, though she would vehemently deny that very fact if anyone tried to say so – had caught the swamp witch in passing in the corridor.

“Not yet. Just a couple more days. It’s all going according to plan!” Misty had whispered excitedly back, aware of the headmistress’ shockingly good hearing when it came to her students meddling in anything. Still, admittedly nervous for said plan, Misty had rushed to her most recent hiding spot in order to check…

If all had been going to plan, it wasn’t after that. She searched high and low, with no sign and ever increasing concern. To make matters worse, whilst she was crawling through yet another messy pile of chiffon, cotton and silk she had tossed out of drawers all over the floor in her ever-maddening search, one of the younger students had turned up at her door claiming Cordelia was asking for her. Of course it had to be right then whilst she was in the middle of this…

She asked the student if they knew what the Supreme wanted her for but the young girl just seemed to shrug her shoulders and say that whatever it was she sounded serious. Well that didn’t sound good to Misty’s ears.

So that was how the swamp witch had ended up tentatively standing outside the Supreme’s closed office door, knocking lightly on the wood and waiting for that sweet soft voice to call from inside for her to come in.

“Heard you wanted to see me?” Misty asked tentatively as she slipped into the office as quietly as her bare feet would allow. Cordelia had long since given up on trying to convince her to wear shoes more often, especially during these warmer months. Her mind had more of a tendency to change come winter.

“Yes, Misty, please, have a seat,” the Supreme said, barely glancing up from the plethora of papers over the desk, though never one to shy away from verbal politeness even in casual conversation. It somehow made the tension of the moment even more unsettling for the swamp witch. She felt every bit the foolish child called to the headmistress’ office for a bad deed, literally. Misty did as she was told, sliding into one of the simple chairs positioned opposite. The usual stack of stationery and ‘Supreme things’ as Misty had once so aptly dubbed everything vaguely dull and administration-related once before, covered most of the space of the desktop. Aside from a cleared space on the centre, in which sat a small box. Not wanting to say anything that might incriminate her before any announcements, Misty sat quietly – albeit impatiently – waiting for the cue from Cordelia that they could talk. Just as her own fingers found the hem of her shawl to fiddle with, she heard the distinct click of Cordelia closing the pen cap and propping it on the tabletop just as the swamp witch chose then to look back up at her.

Brown eyes and blue both dropped to the box. It seemed pretty plain and inconspicuous from the outside. A pretty but simple walnut wood, not even much of a distinct pattern to it besides the standard knots and graining under the polish. Except Misty knew that what was inside was not inconspicuous at all. After all, it was precisely what she had spent the last few hours looking for. And presumably, before this, before calling misty in for this inquisition over its contents, Cordelia would have already looked inside to see just what was in it too. The pause between them, before either of them spoke, seemed to go on a second too long for Misty’s comfort. She would have been tempted to break it first, had she known exactly what to say. She could only wait for whatever Cordelia’s reaction would be. After what seemed like an intense eternity for Misty – and for someone who had been dead too many times to count and encountered a couple of kinds of eternity in that time, that was not phrasing it lightly – Cordelia finally spoke.

“So,” the Supreme started softly, “what’s this?”  With a flick of her finger, the lid of the box opened. Nestled inside, tucked in the folds of a neckerchief that Misty had painstakingly folded just the right way in there to keep it snug, sat a ring.

“Well, uh, it’s a, uh…”

“No, I know, I can see what it is,” Cordelia shook her head with a slight chuckle but that somehow only managed to ebb away only a little of the tension that had shot into Misty’s shoulders with the unintended discovery. “I meant why do you have it?”

As always, there was never any harshness in Delia’s tone, just soft curiosity, as if longing misty to explain only so she could help.

“It’s one of mine?” Misty tried hopelessly.

“No, it isn’t.” Cordelia did not need any confidence with Second Sight to see right through the lie. Even though Misty’s collection of jewellery was vast, the one in the box looked nothing like the others Delia had seen her wear on any occasion or seen in her collections strewn about their rooms. The ring nestled in front of them, though not overly gaudy or outlandishly big, seemed somewhat finer, perhaps one would say more antique-looking than even Misty’s usual go-to bohemian jewellery and keepsakes. If nothing else, definitely worth more, just judging by the look of it alone, than a half dozen dimes or a dollar or two at the thrift store.

“How do you know?” Misty tried to retort but the untruth, no matter how much she tried to guard it, was more than obvious. Nevertheless, Cordelia conceded to the reply – or lack of one – for the moment. The slight tilt of her head, the small sign of doubt, might have almost been a much more audible sigh had it been anyone else but the Supreme couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated with the fidgeting flighty swamp witch sat opposite her when she looked so nervous.

“Alright, if you won’t tell me that, then next question,” Cordelia tried cordially, resting her folded hands atop the desk.  “What is it doing here?”

“Umm…” Misty continued to fiddle with the fringe of her shawl as she tried to think of something more plausible to say without giving everything away. This clearly hadn’t been how she had envisioned this whole circumstance but she wasn’t sure, stuck as they were like this, just how best to salvage it from here.

“You know this isn’t the best place to be leaving things like this around,” Cordelia advised lightly. There was clearly more to it than Misty wanted to let on. “I trust my girls, of course I do, but anyone could have found this, if it means that much to you…”

“I was kinda hoping it would mean something to you” Misty cut across her, no longer thinking, only feeling, as was her way to get through and go about situations she otherwise wasn’t sure how to handle. Clearly holding back from Cordelia wasn’t working for either of them, and postponing things wouldn’t help, so why not come out with it here and now?

“What do you mean?” Cordelia leaned back a little in her chair at that, brow furrowed slightly as she was briefly taken aback by Misty’s blunt interruption. This was going well… As Cordelia had leaned back, Misty leaned forward with a huff, a disbelieving shake of the head.

“Do I really need to ask ya to think about it?”

“You don’t….” Cordelia looked back down to the box. There seemed to be a moment’s hesitation before a light glisten that danced across her eyes seemed to say something had dawned in her expression. She knew then, why that one ring nestled all on its own in the small box didn’t look like all the others she had ever seen Misty wear or leave lying around. Because it wasn’t Misty’s at all…It had meant to be for…

“Still a little blind there sometimes, ain’t ya, Miss Supreme…?”

“M-Misty, I…” Cordelia’s lower lip began to quiver, the deep honey ochre of her eyes developing a glossy sheen, a watery glaze that immediately made Misty’s heart plummet to her stomach like a stone tossed into that deep lake.

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that!” the swamp witch exclaimed about her blind quip, desperately wanting to back-peddle on such a apparently thoughtless comment. For all the times they had joked with one another about it before so lightly, she had just assumed it would be fine. But she couldn’t help fretting over the glisten of tears in Cordelia’s eyes. “I didn’t meant to make you cry! I was makin a joke, I-“  

“No,” the Supreme shook her head, a stray tear trailing down her cheek despite herself, but “Misty, I…”

“Wait,” much to Misty’s shock, the Supreme’s shoulders weren’t shaking from sobs, but she actually seemed to be…chuckling? “you’re laughing? what’s so funny?” she knew her blind joke hadn’t been all that great after all. Her apparent confusion only seemed to make Cordelia laugh more, a sweet peal escaping her throat at their share ridiculousness.

“Was this really meant to be…?” she asked, gesturing to the box.

“Shit, yeah. It got all kinds of mucked up, but…” Misty raked an anxious hand through her own hair, huffing an exhale, “well, yeah.”

Cordelia continued to chuckle and shake her head in disbelief at the pair of them. Herself for not seeing it sooner, and Misty for hopping around it so much in the first place instead of coming to her before this. Despite the potential hesitant setback before now, with the box already there and the suggestion already out in the open  - even if it hadn’t been the grand gesture or sweet sentiment she had planned it to be to get there – Misty seemed to decide that it was, for all intents and purposes, now or never. If she left the room now, she would probably never find the confidence to go through all this embarrassment again. For now, seeing as they were still in the throes of it, she didn’t imagine it could get much more ridiculous.

“Look here, c’mere,” Misty got up from the chair and sidled her way around the desk to reach the side Cordelia sat behind. “Shit, not as much room ‘round here as I thought,” the swamp witch muttered, prompting another laugh from the Supreme as Misty tried to find a comfortable way to kneel down, paused, seemed to have a second thought, stood back up and grabbed the box still on the top of the desk, and crouched back down again. She was glad then that she had gone barefoot after all; having her feet firmly planted on the ground instead of tottering over in heels made it a little easier to balance without bashing herself against the side of the desk. Her long ringed fingers fumbled with the wooden box and neckerchief, trying to pull it all out and grasp the ring without dropping everything. Cordelia, still sat patiently in her desk chair, just looked on amusedly as she watched the lanky swamp witch’s limbs fiddle. Despite how careful she tried to be, in a bout of nervousness, Misty managed to accidentally drop the ring and it made the sweetest light tinkling sound as it hit the hardwood.  

“Here, let me help you,” Cordelia offered and slid down from her chair in order to crouch down, just at the same time as Misty happened to relocate the ring and look back up suddenly triumphant. So close in the short space behind the desk, they collided midway, Misty’s forehead bashing into Cordelia’s chin. After a momentary dumbfounded pause at the mishap, they both broke into laughter, Misty’s free hand resting on Cordelia’s arm to steady herself still while the Supreme rubbed at her jaw. “You know we could have just used magic right?” she asked, chuckling as she steadied herself to balance along with Misty, still grinning at her and ow ridiculous it must be for them to both be crouched here behind her desk like schoolgirls hiding illicit moments from the headmistress.

“Nah,” the swamp witch said with a shrug of her shoulder, shuffling forward to kneel before her again once Cordelia had settled more comfortably. “I wanted to do this the proper way.”

“I think we’re long past that.”

Misty’s hand trailed down her arm to her hand, and with a tenderness befitting the kind of care she showed petals in the greenhouse, carefully slipped one of the two frog rings still adorning Cordelia’s fingers free. The swamp witch chewed her lower lip at the momentary thought of all those precious rings had stood for for the Supreme witch and herself even after all this time. It felt both relieving and weird to take some of that away out of sight if only for the length of time it took to replace it. She slipped the new-old-new ring onto to Cordelia’s finger, though even once she was done, she did not let go of her hand. She wondered which one of them it really was that seemed to be shaking.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me before you do that?” Cordelia asked, drawing Misty’s gaze back from her hand to those glistening eyes again and the grin upon the Supreme’s face.

“I figured if you were gonna say no, you might have said something already,” Misty retorted honestly, which resulted in yet more laughter from the elder witch as she helped to pull Misty back up to her feet behind the desk. “I didn’t say I was done yet though!” the swamp witch exclaimed, clearly startled by their shift in position.

“Doesn’t matter.” Cordelia pressed a swift kiss to Misty’s lips, pulled back to look into her eyes again, seeing the reflection of her own ecstatic gleam in those blue-green colours flashing. “Whatever it is, you can tell me later. Let’s just keep it at yes for now.”

“Yeah?” Misty grinned impossibly wider. “You really mean it?”

“Well you were right. How could you think I’d ever say anything else?” With practically a squeal of joy, Misty wrapped her arms around the shorter witch’s waist to lean them back into the desk chair for a stronger embrace. Their shared balance was not quite so well perceived as last time, and catching herself on Cordelia’s heel, they both nearly toppled over the desk chair rather than into. Luckily with quicker reflexes than when they had hit their heads, having learned from last time, with a swift flick of the wrist Cordelia’s magic managed to shift them aside so they were propped in a lean against the sturdy edge of the desk to stop any fall. With the hands around her waist and without waiting for permission or protest, Misty lifted Cordelia up to sit on top of the desk. Sliding papers aside so they wouldn’t get in the way, a pile fell over the edge scattering all over the floor. She paused, but if she was expecting any kind of reprimand from the Supreme for messing up her orderly papers, she didn’t get one.

“Still a yes, right?” Misty asked, a brow raised as she watched the other witch take her lower lip between her teeth before she broke into another laugh.

“Yes, of course, yes,” Cordelia tossed her arms over Misty’s shoulder’s as the swamp witch settled to stand herself between the Supreme’s legs. She leaned down, leaning the Supreme further back across the desk, planting her one hand atop the hard wood of the desk for balance as the other found Cordelia’s ring finger and the fresh band there, feeling the metal warm as their hands entwined. Her tousled curls tickled at Cordelia’s neck, tumbling over her skin as Misty peppered her jawline where they had previously collided with petty almost faintly apologetic pecks before she nipped at the woman’s pulse point.    

“Say it again?”

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Chapter 8

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  Paige and Tom, against their better judgement, decide to go ahead with the fake relationship, so they start with one of Paige's family Sunday dinners, where Tom learns a bit more about the woman.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Tom felt slightly wary of the man sitting across from him, smirking into the back of his hand. Neither he nor Paige were entirely sure why they agreed to this, but they had, and that meant pulling out all the stops, starting with dinner on a Sunday with her parents.

Her mother, he realised, was a lot like his own but she was a tad more eccentric. She was elated that they had thought to bring him to dinner whilst Paige spent the entire journey to her parents’ home apologising for how her mother was about to act. Tom was relieved to see it was not as bad as Paige had led him to believe. In fact, her parents were very much pleasant and jovial people. Her father, he likened a lot to his own, a man who did not let his own less affluent childhood affect his ability to make his way in the world and who very much educated himself via avid reading. The discussion he had with the man regarding Harold Pinter and his work was very much pleasant and insightful.

Her brother had been delayed on his arrival, so they did not get to speak to him before the meal was on the table. But Paige had informed him that she had told her brother of what was happening and told Tom that he would literally laugh for the most of the meal at the ridiculousness of it all. Her warning had been accurate. Mark did seem to find the entire thing utterly hilarious and to her credit, Fiona sat beside him trying to get him to stop.

“Mum, please, stop.” Paige pleaded as her mother discussed some menial matter of little importance. “Forget not boring Tom, don’t bore all of us.”

Her father chuckled at his daughter’s statement. “Paige, be nice to your mother.” His wife gave him a grateful look. “She can’t help it if she is bothered by useless information.”

Paige, Mark and Fiona erupted in laughter as Violet looked at her husband in annoyance. “Thank you, Martin.”

“Anytime, my Dear Wife.” He winked with a grin.

Tom looked to Paige who, like her brother and his fiancée were laughing. He realised this was entirely normal for the family to just joke in such a manner. He chuckled and embraced it, envious of the way the family clearly were close with both parents. It was something he always felt was missing in his home. His parents respected one another, never speaking ill of one another in front of their children and they loved their significant others, but they were not together. Violet and Martin clearly had a loving and pleasant relationship even after almost forty years of marriage. When Paige looked back at him, she simply rolled her eyes and smiled brightly at him.

The dinner was followed by tea and talking. Violet and Martin getting all of their children’s news from the past week, asking for further information on the different things they had informed their parents about through the week and discussing anything that could be construed as an issue in their lives, anyone with any idea of how to assist was given a chance to talk. He realised then why Paige had been so calm and respectful to her ex’s side piece, she was from a home the likes of which he thought not to actually exist. What he also noted was how Fiona was just as much part of the conversation as her partner or his sister.

Paige explained that Mark had met Fiona in college. He was friends with her for over a year before they drunkenly kissed one night. After a small awkward time of avoiding one another, they were forced into a situation where they had to talk about what happened and realised they liked each other more than they thought and had been together since. Thirteen years together and they would be getting married that summer. Paige was Fiona's bridesmaid and everything as they had become close over the years.

“I'm not sure.” Martin conceded. “What do you think, Thomas?”

Tom felt himself come up short. “I'm afraid I have never had the honour myself. I have played groomsman a few times and truthfully, renting seems the most done thing.” He stated. “I use suits all the time and if I'm honest, I would never use a suit like that outside of a wedding setting and at the cost of such things, it seems mad to pay that.”

“I agree, a damn waste of money,” Martin growled. “We did ours for almost nothing and though it was hardly a large affair, we had everyone fed, dressed and looked after for the cost of the damn flowers these days.”

“We should go to Mrs Evan’s and pick some of her flowers while she’s on holidays.” Paige joked.

“I dare you, and if you do, I want to be there to record it because she will probably murder you if you look sideways at them.” Mark laughed.

“You don’t record me doing that, are you mad? That’s evidence.”

“Paige,” Her mother tried to chastise her, but she was too busy laughing at her children’ interactions, elated that after their entire childhood and half of their teenage years, the siblings had stopped fighting practically day and night and had instead become incredibly close. “What must Tom think?”

“I think Tom is thinking of the SAS training he did for The Night Manager and is probably contemplating if he’d make the door if he dropped and rolled at this stage.” Paige shrugged.

Mark scoffed before looking at Tom who seemed not entirely startled she would say such a thing. “There’s very little you could do to convince me to deal with one such as my sister, you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly desperate. I haven’t decided yet.”

“We’re not bloody Targaryns or Lannisters, you never have to deal with me on such a level so you never have to concern yourself with such. Maybe I am just like this with you because you’re my brother and I am nicer to the people I am not forced to be around.” She smirked and stuck out her tongue.

“The door’s there, off with you.” Mark pointed to the side.

“That’s the window, you idiot,” Martin growled causing Fiona and Paige to snort in laughter. “Didn't we spend a fortune educating you? Good to see that there’s truth to the saying ‘educated beyond your intelligence’, Fiona, you’re too good for him. Run, we won’t blame you.”

“I’ve been telling her that for years.” Paige piped up.

“Will you two ever stop picking on me?”

“You’re the first to join in with your father against Paige.” Their mother pointed out.

“That’s different,” Mark contested.

“How is that different?” Paige asked curiously.

“Because it’s you.”

*

Paige sighed as they got back into the car after the afternoon with her family. “Be honest, you’re regretting this agreement, aren’t you?” She looked at Tom as he indicated at a set of traffic lights, waiting for them to go green.

“Yes,” Tom confessed. “I am.” Paige looked at him, slightly startled he confessed such so easily. “I am so jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your family.” Paige eyed him with uncertainty. “No really. You are so close. Seeing your parents interact as they do, the way they interact with you and your brother, his fiancée, I am incredibly envious.”

“We’re not perfect.”

“No one is.”

“My family had its rough times too. Mum and Dad went through some very rough patches, Dad even went to live elsewhere for a few months, but thankfully, they were able to work through it. I was six at the time. Then, when I was fourteen, they went through a terrible patch when my Dad stopped working so much and things got awkward at home but I later realised why. I thought Mum was mad that he was under her feet or that she was fretting money, but I find out one day when I came back from school because I was in boarding, to my Dad sick, bald and drinking this weird drink and stuff. The side of the drink carton and the drip site on his arm told me what my Dad didn’t want to. He had found a lump...he and Mum said nothing to us and thought they could hide it because we were at school and the doctors gave him a good chance. The whole family put on a brave face for that, but after he got the ‘all-clear’ Mark and I were pissed off like you wouldn’t believe.”

“They didn’t want to worry you both.”

“But they lied. Dad went for the surgery and no one told us. We could have lost him on the table but Mark was studying for A-levels and me for my GCSE’s so they said nothing. Mark and I used to fight so much, really, like two dogs for a bone. We really didn’t see eye-to-eye, but when Dad was sick, we pulled together. We then realised we were similar and that we actually enjoyed one another’s humour and whatnot. Dad became far more sarcastic and such to deal with his stress and Mark and I embraced it too.”

“Well, as terrible a time as it was for your family, I am glad you grew together because of it,” Tom stated, uncertain if he had said the right words.

“We’re incredibly close now, hence the Sunday dinners. We used to avoid one another. Now, no matter what, I can call on Mark and when he needs anything, he can call me.”

*

“It’s sold out, the first three months are completely sold out. They are talking about doing extra shows.” Christian informed Tom.

“What, that’s incredible.” Tom could not believe what he was hearing. He knew the play would be popular. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why the director wanted him, but seemingly, Paige was adding to it too.

“As for Ms Winters, she is most certainly seeing a notable spike too,” Luke informed him. “All of her books took places in the higher end of sales for the week and the movie is seeing more sales now that its initial DVD release.”

“But we didn’t even know each other like that, then.”

“There’s a picture with both of you in it from the Cumberbatch wedding, leaving the church at the same time, people are likening your situation to theirs, knowing each other for years before anything.”

“It feels wrong, deceitful,” Tom commented.

“These things are surprisingly common,” Luke stated.

“She is too nice a person to drag around like this. She keeps her life private and I end up throwing her in front of the world. They are even dragging up her failed relationship. I mean, that’s tasteless.”

“She agreed to this just like you did.” Christian pointed out.

Though that was a valid statement, it still felt wrong to Tom. Thinking over the trip to her family home, getting to see her interacting with her family, hearing the trials and tribulations they had been through to make them be so close, it felt wrong being deceitful, to begin with, but with the added layers of their families, it felt even more so. He decided he would discuss the matter with her. She would be at the play in a few days, he hoped she would not be too bothered by it all.

“What we need to concern ourselves with next is her radio interview. Oscar assures me she is an adept hand in such things, eloquent and well versed in whatever she has to speak about, apparently, she has prepared for this, so we can only hope she is as well-spoken as she usually is. I have checked some of her previous interviews, she should do well.” Luke explained.

Thinking of Luke sitting at his computer with a pen in hand to ensure that Paige spoke in a particular manner made Tom once more question why they agreed to this.

[dusk-realm]

Chrysanthemum [Chapter 5: Spinner’s End]

Tagging: @featurelengthfics

A/N: due to the lack of information about Snape’s house, I had to get creative and improvise stuff. I’ve also based some things on my own headcanons, which you may want to revisit before reading this chapter.

Thanks goodness I haven’t eaten, she thought. It was true what everyone said about apparition, it really messes up with one’s bowels. Professor Snape let go of her arm and went ahead to open the door. She had barely noticed that he was grabbing her, he did it very gently. The professor found the key game inside his robe and proceeded to open the front door of the house. It was tiny, and the borough looked as if it had been a long time since anyone cared enough to maintain the lighting or to clean up the garbage. Just as she had figured out, it was a small district which had been home to several workers of the industry, which had been abandoned when the production started to either move or shut down.

‘Are you going to stay there all day?’ Snape called, waiting by the doorframe for her to enter. The girl obeyed and stepped inside, taking her time to adjust a bit to the indoors darkness. The living room looked a bit claustrophobic; it had only one small window, and the walls were covered by tall shelves that reached the roof. The shelves, despite their height, looked as if they could fall in any moment due to the vast amount of books they had in them. A lot of them didn’t even fit properly, so someone had been just piling them up on top of others. The house in general had a general air of neglect, but it was normal, (Y/N) guessed, if Professor Snape lived alone and spent most part of the year in Hogwarts. But what worried her the most, was the fact that she didn’t see any door.

‘So… Professor, where am I going to sleep?’ She asked, having a look around before finally stopping at him. He was calmly leaving his suitcase on the floor, near a threadbare armchair.

‘On the floor, obviously.’ He joked. Or so he thought. The lack of a response from her after a few seconds made him turn around. She looked pretty much unbothered, setting her luggage on the floor as well.

‘...What?’ She asked, seeing that Snape was looking at her in a weird way.

‘You didn’t really... expect to sleep on the floor the whole summer, did you?’ (Y/N) shrugged a little and answered:

‘I’m used.’

Snape looked stupefied at her mettle,

In what kind of place have you been living, girl?

but managed a few words out:

‘What do you mean with used?’

Shit, maybe shouldn’t have let that slip.

Have you been sleeping on the floor at Hogwarts?

‘I mean, I used to live in an orphanage, I’m used to hard surfaces. You know, not enough budget to buy a soft thick mattress for every kid.’ She explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie, so it should content him for now. Thankfully, Snape did seem satisfied with the answer, as he gave a slow nod.

‘Come, I’ll show you your bedroom.’

‘With a mattress, professor?’ She joked, letting a soft chuckle out.

‘With a mattress.’ He conceded, showing the smallest of the smiles. He motioned her towards a wall. Surprisingly, there were doors, but they were very well hidden. She followed him up through a small staircase with only one lightbulb hanging from a wire. The staircase lead to a hallway with 4 doors, 2 at each side of the corridor. He pointed at the furthest one to the left and announced:

‘Junk room,’ His finger moved to the door next to it and continued, ‘bathroom,’ he pointed to the right now, to the furthest room, ‘my bedroom, and the one left is yours.’

(Y/N) nodded with satisfaction.

Goodbye shared bedroom, see you in hell.

‘Clean it up before you get installed. It hasn’t been used in a long time.’ Snape warned before opening the door for her. She peeked inside and saw a double bed, with two nightstands and all. The bedroom was quite big and nice, even if it was dusty.

‘Woah! All this room for me, Professor?’ She entered and spun around.

‘All yours. And you don’t need to call me Professor while you’re here.’ He was leaning against the wall, fidgeting with his fingers slowly.

Does she like it?

‘Mr. Snape then?’ She asked. Well, she didn’t want to disrespect him after all he had done for her, plus taking her in for the whole summer. The master allowed himself to chuckle a little at her manners.

‘Severus. Severus is fine. Make yourself comfortable, you can borrow anything from the closet.’

‘Thank you, Severus… Really.’ She spoke in a very meek voice. Severus simply dismissed it and left the room, closing the door after himself.

He went straight to the bedroom of his childhood and remained there in silence. He heard the door being opened, footsteps down and then up the stairs, then the door closing softly again. She had probably found a cloth to clean up her bedroom, as he had just ordered to do. He checked the hour: 5:36. There was still enough time for him to unpack his clothes and then it would be time for dinner. 

True, dinner.

He thought. Evidently, there was nothing edible in the house, so he should probably go get something. For the both of them. It felt so strange to think of grocery shopping for two. He leaned his ear on the wall. Severus could hear some ruffling and rubbing here and there. After a few minutes, having checked that the girl was fine, Severus cleaned up his own room with a quick flick of his wand and began unpacking.

I have too much to do.

In no time, his robes were neatly hanged on the closet, his suitcase put away and the bedroom spot-clean. Severus sat down on the bed and let out a sigh. He was having a mental debate on whether he should tell (Y/N) that he was going out or just leave. Maybe she felt scared being alone. Or awkward, seeing that she was a guest. But it wasn’t strictly necessary for him to tell her about his whereabouts.

Would she care at all?

His hand moved automatically to the side of his garments, and took out the pentagonal box.

You better have not melted.

He shook the box gently with one hand, until he could hear a croak. The man left the box on his nightstand, waiting for the right moment to come. He had bought that chocolate frog in an express trip to Honeydukes, while the girl was under Pomfrey’s watch. He thought it would be good to cheer up her stay in the Hospital Wing, but he never really had the chance to actually give it to her, so he hid it in his robes and kept carrying it around secretely, until now.

Ultimately, Severus stood up and decided to go check on his pupil.

(Y/N) had already cleaned the furniture, not that there was much stuff to clean anyway. She had taken off the bed sheets because they were all dusty, but she couldn’t reach the clean ones, as they where stored at the highest part of the closet. Regardless, her savior came to the rescue, as she heard two soft knocks on the door.

‘Yes, come in~’ She sang. Severus peeked his head inside, without opening up completely. He saw that the window was opened, and in poured the afternoon light, bringing life to the bedroom.

‘How’s that going?’ He questioned. Seeing that Severus wouldn’t come in, (Y/N) opened the door wide open for him and extended an arm.

‘I wanted to change the sheets before cleaning the floor, but I can’t reach. Do you mind..?’

With a stiff nod, Severus came in and reached the bedsheets for her.

‘I’m going out for grocery shopping, I hope you can handle this yourself.’ He said in a monotonic voice, dropping the bedsheets carelessly on her arms.

‘Yes! Of course, I can handle this. Don’t worry, I’ll try to finish before you come back. Do you need me to clean anything else?’ She kindly offered. Severus looked very unimpressed on the outside, but he felt a little touched in the inside by her gentle nature.

‘Just get installed when you have finished.’ He ordered. And with that, he turned around and walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs, only to leave the house seconds after.

(Y/N) got down to work immediately after she heard the door shut, beginning to reflect on this first day of cohabitation. The neighbourhood was, somehow, worse than what she had figured at first. True, she expected dirt and poor people and not the best landscape, but the place was abandoned in every possible way. She saw no people, and the condition of the street was literally rubbish. Why did Professor Snape live here? Being a professor at Hogwarts, he could surely afford something better than this house. The house was small, and cramped, but at the same time it felt empty. There was not a single photography at sight, nothing that suggested any sort of familiarity or warmth. Spinner’s End didn’t feel like a home at all.

It’s not like I have the right to complain. She told herself.

It has four walls, a roof and a bed. It’s not that bad. Plus, Professor Snape is not the monster everyone thinks he is. He’s been gentle so far. Maybe not the kindest, maybe not the most welcoming, but he’s treated me just right. This is better than sleeping in the street.

The girl had finished her tasks before she could realize it: the sheets were changed, fresh, and the floor had been thoroughly cleaned. The only thing remaining on her to-do list was to unpack and hang her clothes in the closet.

Piece of cake. It won’t even take up much space.

(Y/N) opened the suitcase on the bed and began taking out her few clothes. After putting everything away, she was left with her old pyjamas in hand, realising that she was still wearing her Hogwarts uniform.

I don’t think he minds me taking a shower now…

And with that, she took her belongings and went to the bathroom to take a shower until Snape came back. Well, she opened the wrong door, leading to the junk room.

‘Oops.’

It really is a junk room.

Severus came back home carrying four bags of food.

Will this be enough?

He couldn’t help hesitating, it had been such a long time since he last bought food for more than one. And taking care of a teenager was not just a matter of doubling the amount of food the available, no.

Slowly, Severus began to freak out as he arrived at the kitchen, leaving the bags on the table. He had just noticed that he knew absolutely nothing of her tastes.

He took a look around. She wasn’t around, so she should be still upstairs, in her bedroom.

What if she’s allergic to something?

Severus started fidgeting with his fingers anxiously. That was a big failure.

I’m supposed to keep this child healthy and we’re already going downhill.

Then, he decided that it was probably a good idea to go ask her, just to be sure. Severus shuffled going upstairs, drained from so much activity. It had been a busy year thanks to Potter, and his duty had not finished for the summer either. The potions master saw her door opened and came in, looking for her. The room was empty, except for the caged owl. He hadn’t been able to see the bird up close.

‘Hi, Chilli…’ Severus cooed softly, leaning in a little to observe him. Chilli was a real mess. It was an elderly royal owl of red eyes. Severus guessed that he got the name because of the characteristic intense red of his iris. His plumage was badly moulted, and cataracts had begun to cloud his sight. Regardless, anyone observant enough would be able to tell that the animal was not in this state due to neglect. His remaining feathers were clean and of good colour. His claws and beak looked perfectly healthy and clean too, as well as the cage. Severus tried his luck and stuck his pinkie through the spikes of the cage. Chilli angled his head and bit the man’s fingertip, making him jolt and jump straight up again.

‘Bastard.’ He whisper-yelled before leaving the room and returning to the kitchen.

(Y/N) walked down the stairs now feeling fresh and clean. She had changed into her tatty short-sleeved pyjamas. She was carrying her dirty clothes and the wet towels when she entered the kitchen, seeing Severus busy with the food.

‘Hi… Welcome home.’ She shyly greeted. He straightened himself up and looked at her from above his shoulder. Seeing no answer expectancies, (Y/N) continued:

‘Have you been here for long? I didn’t hear you, I was in the shower.’ The girl explained. Her voice was very soft, Severus thought, but he could still hear her perfectly.

‘Just a few minutes.’

‘Oh, I see. Do you need any help with that?’ She offered, standing behind him. She realised that he had removed his cloak at some point, although she had not noticed the instant in which he did it. She also noticed how slim her teacher actually was.

‘Do you have any allergy? Anything I should know of?’ Severus bluntly asked. The question caught (Y/N) a little taken aback, so she took a little to utter a response.

‘Uhm… No?’ Severus turned around with his eyebrow raised.

‘I- I mean,’ she hurried to finish up, ‘I’ve never had an allergic reaction to anything, so I guess I don’t have any.’ Her professor nodded and continued with the task in hand.

‘Go hang that outside, what are you waiting for?’ He grunted. The unfriendlyness of his tone startled (Y/N) a little, making her rush to the little inner patio that the house had.

‘Y-yes, of course…’ The poor girl did as told, then put her clothes in the washing machine and quietly sat down waiting for dinner.

Severus had made some sautéed vegetables for the both of them. Dinner passed quite slowly, as there was no other sound but the occasional cutlery bumping gently into the plate. The professor kept watching his student intently; she ate well, not rebuffing at anything in particular in her plate. She had very good manners too, but Severus was more focused on seeing her reaction to his cooking.

Does she like it? She doesn’t seem picky. But she sure is slow.

In the end, they finished at the same time, and Snape picked up his and her plate without delay. (Y/N) stood up quickly and placed her hand on his right arm.

‘Wait, no, you cooked dinner, let me do the dishes in exchange.’

Severus agreed and gave up his place in front of the sink. The young Slytherin made sure to scrub the plates until they shined before considering that she had finished. A few minutes later, she left the kitchen and then went to her bedroom to feed Chilli. She took her good time to look around. It all seemed so strange… It had been a weird day in general, and she was exhausted. Her body felt sore and tense, even after laying down in bed for a good while. It was pitch dark outside and there was no clock in the bedroom, but (Y/N) was quite sure of having been laying down for a few hours by then, constantly tossing and turning.

Maybe it's the bed? Since I'm not used to having so much space… It also feels weird knowing that it belongs to a married couple. Wait. Is Snape married? Nah. No, I don't think so. He'd be living with his wife. Unless he's a widower. But still, why not sleeping in this bedroom? He must be single. So… is this his parents’ bedroom? PROFESSOR SEVERUS SNAPE WAS CONCEIVED HERE?!

(Y/N) jerked straight up and left the bed as a shiver went down her spine. She decided to go get herself a glass of water, hoping to calm down with that and be able to sleep at last. Regardless, she didn't expect to find Severus sitting in the living room with his nose buried in a book. He slowly raised his head as he heard soft footsteps.

‘Can't sleep?’ He asked, glancing from above the pages.

‘No, not really…’ (Y/N) sighed audibly and let herself plop on the couch in front of her teacher. ‘I guess I'm just overexcited, a lot of things happened today…’ she made a little pause, watching his expression carefully. He was paying attention, so she continued: ‘I still can't believe that Professor Dumbledore is going to allow me to move on to the second course, as if it was nothing, just like that.’

‘Well,’ Severus spoke, shutting his book and letting it rest on his lap, ‘you have managed to fall in the same year as The Boy Who Lived,’ his voice sounded overly theatrical and envenomated with sarcasm, ‘a true honour, being the classmate of a living legend. You should feel happy.’

‘Potter?’ (Y/N) rolled her eyes and put her bare feet up on the couch, hugging her own knees. ‘I don't even know the kid and I'm already sick of him. I swear, if I hear anyone else praise him, I'll finish off the job myself.’

Severus bursted a dark laugh. It was the first time that (Y/N) heard him laugh in two years. It was a deep sound that tingled your ears, but at the same time it had an indecipherable undertone that made it strange and almost addictive.

‘How tempting, my little snake…’ He murmured mysteriously.

‘Plus, he's everyone's favourite, and Slytherin lost the House Cup for his and his friends’ fault.’

‘Don't remind me…’

‘Well, actually, Slytherin legitimately won the Cup with effort throughout the entire year and Dumbledore snatched it from our hands to give it to Gryffindor for being reckless and breaking at least a dozen of rules.’ Snape watched his student slowly fire up and spill her frustrations. He had never seen her this talkative, not even in class, but it was honestly a spectacle worth watching. She continued with her ramble.

‘It enrages me. Potter doesn't deserve to be called a legend. Let alone receiving the poorly-concealed biased treatment he gets. He was a baby when all of that happened, I'm convinced that his own magical power had nothing to do with his survival. I've been in class with him, he's not any extraordinary wizard. Granger, if you ask me, is so much more talented than him. She only needs to learn to keep her mouth shut sometimes.’

Severus shifted and straightened up at the mention of that dreadful night, as flashes of horror and grief took over his brain. He leaned on, resting both elbows on his knees and chose to carry on with the topic.

‘I see you cherish them just as much as I do.’

‘Yeah, I think you made that clear at the beginning of this year.’

‘Hmpfh.’

‘They probably hate you, since you won't follow up your peers on glorifying Potter, but you put them right in place. Harshly, but effectively.’

‘I'm aware… that I'm not precisely the.. favourite teacher. Not that I mind much, regardless, the opinion of that bunch of dimwits. Others... like you,  for instance, don't seem so bothered.’

‘Me? I don't feel threatened. As much as potions are fascinating, they're also very dangerous if one brews them incorrectly. I'm aware that you need to keep everyone safe. You have to be strict.’ She emphasized.

‘You recognise the danger, and yet you still pair up with that Longbottom boy.’ He pointed his finger at her chest accusingly, making her giggle softly.

‘Okay, Neville is clumsy, but-’

‘The boy unleashes chaos in my classroom.’ Severus interrupted. (Y/N) cleared her throat.

‘Neville may be clumsy, but if there's one Gryffindor I can stand, that's him. He's very sweet. Scaredy, yes, but he's a good boy. Did you know that he loves Herbology? Professor Sprout paired us up a few times, and we've been sticking together ever since. Well, once he stopped being scared of me.’

‘Scared.. of… you?’ He unhurriedly echoed.

This girl is probably the most tranquil in temperament of the whole House. How can he?

‘Prejudice, I suppose. A girl told us that she heard Ronald Weasley say in the welcoming ceremony that every wizard that went bad was in Slytherin. I bet he's been running around telling that to everyone else, and the others of course believed him. Because nobody wants to mingle with the House of the rotten apples.’

She lifted her glance up. Snape's face twitched a little, and he had a weird expression. His black eyes glittered illuminated by the faint light that the lamp provided. Her eyes, on the contrary, looked dull, lifeless again.

Where did that beautiful (E/C) go?

Severus saw so much of himself in her. He saw her frustration, her loneliness, he saw how much she craved even the smallest affection from a friendly hand, a confidant, he could guess how many emotions she was bottling up, repressing them, learning to confine to herself just the way he had done during his teenage years. And it felt so close to home that it made his heart ache and his guts contort. He could also begin to fathom why Dumbledore sent her with him. They allowed silence seize the room, and minutes passed and passed. It wasn’t however, awkward, but rather, a prolonged pause in a conversation, it was a reflective lull. (Y/N) was the first one to break it.

‘Severus?’ She called in a whisper after a while.

‘Hmm?’

‘I… I think that’s enough conversation for today. I should go to sleep.’

He turned around and checked the hour. 3 AM. Then, he looked at her again and got up lazily.

‘I’m going to bed too, come.’ He said, leaving the book on his armchair.

(Y/N) got up too, and  was surprised to feel a warm hand resting on her shoulder.

Snape escorted her back to her bedroom, squeezing her shoulder softly in front of her door. She turned around to look at him. His hand abandoned her shoulder and laid heavily on top of her head, stroking her hair on its way down, towards her cheek.

‘Good night, (Y/N)’

(Y/N) took a moment to answer, leaning into his soft touch slightly, almost imperceptibly. It felt delightful and soothing, welcoming. She wished deep down to increase their confidence to allow a caress like this every so often. The girl placed her own hand on Severus’ and drew a semicircle on his skin. The gesture sent a jolt to his stomach, thinking that she would slap his hand away, but Sevrus was secretly relieved to feel her correspond his stroke so delicately.

‘Good night.’ She replied in a whisper after an eternity.

That night, (Y/N) slept peacefully and soundly, without dreams, but feeling warmth in her heart.

[soprana-snap]

Technically Legal

Summary: Classic marriage for convenience...but maybe more.

Rating: T for language

A/N: Stressed about wedding planning so of course I gotta write about good ol’ eloping. I’ve considered it more than once already. I haven’t written in months. uhghhh

.

.

.

“Aw, why do you hafta wear a dress? Why do I have to wear a collared shirt and tie?”

Lucy flashed him a warning glance over her bare shoulder, raising a brow as if to dare him to ask that same question for the fifth time in a row.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t answered him the last four times he asked.

At her stare, he pursed his lips and crossed his arms with a huff, scowling at his shined shoes like they personally did him a great wrong.

The tie was uncomfortable, the shirt scratchy, the pants a bit too short, and the shoes too pinchy. He wouldn’t want to be caught dead in this outfit ever again. In fact, he wouldn’t even want to be dressed like this if he was dead and had no say.

But Lucy had to have her way, which gave him his way, which in a roundabout way gave her, well her way. Ugh, his head hurt.

This was the best course of action, according to Lucy. One that would solve their problems and possibly put them in federal prison if they got caught.

It was one of those casual, ‘Hey let's take a risk that is totally illegal if you do it wrong’ kind of deals. While he was very, very good at doing illegal things and not getting caught, goody two-shoes over there was less so.

Her hands filtered through her hair, little plastic star barrets holding her bangs in place. She stressed how important it was to not get caught. But, she didn't just say ‘important’. She used the word ‘imperative?’ or something like that, which he was pretty sure without a dictionary on hand was a synonym for ‘important’.

He didn’t know. Lucy was full of words he didn’t know.

At last, she turned on her heels and inspected her dress carefully, silver flats making the dress look pearlescent.

She was a vision and he was annoyed.

“You look great. They won’t care what you dress in!” he said, grimacing as he felt his gelled hair  drag on his scalp.

Lucy cast him another withering glare. “It’s my big day so I’m going to own it! You should be thanking me, Natsu Dragneel!”

“You should be thanking me too!” he argued back.

“I will once we pull this off!”

“Well if you take too much longer, we’ll miss the appointment!”

“Relax, we have time!”

“If you say so.” he conceded, knowing it was the wise choice. He wasn’t going to start an argument today, of all the days.

She nodded resolutely, turning and grabbing her purse, the Vera Bradley clashing horribly with her attire. “Good. Now, let’s go.”

He kept to himself in the car, fidgeting and counting backwards from one hundred to prevent him from barfing. He could use his motion sickness as a crutch, but once they got out of the car, he had to confess it was because of nerves.

Lucy looked no better, locking the car and shakily taking two steps towards the looming building.

For better or worse, he thought before sidling over and linking her right arm with his left. “Together.” he assured softly, meeting her eyes with a small grin.

She nodded, a smile gracing her face as well. “Together.” she echoed.

Step by step, they walked up to the brick and mortar building, up the stairs and into the rotating glass doors. There was no going back, not once they stepped up to the security guard.

“Hey Natsu, do you have the-?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. In my pocket.” he answered before letting the guard hover the scanner over the mentioned pocket. Uncomfortably close to some other equipment, if he had to admit, but the guard thankfully didn’t feel the need to frisk him.

“This is it.” Lucy whispered as they wandered down the hall, looking at glossed wood and overbearing displays of lawful power. “We are doing this.”

“Yeah” Natsu whispered back, rubbing his rough thumb over her soft wrist, playing with the bangles of her bracelet. She relaxed a little, giving him a halfhearted pout as she tried to pull the bracelet from his hands. His fidgeting with her accessories was a pet peeve after all.

“Okay, you remember all the answers?” she checked when they paused before the office, staring at the gold nameplate that loomed over them. “We can’t afford to butcher this.”

Natsu grinned with all the confidence he left back at the apartment. “Relax. We’ve got this in the bag if we made it this far.”

Lucy huffed, her nervousness still there. It was displayed in her manner, her face a screaming warning of it. They’ve both been tense and snippy this past week ever since they got the letter in the mail.

It was showtime.

“Ready to go get hitched?” she asked, watching his hand reaching for the knob.

“Yeah, time to get you wife-d.” It sounded better in his head, he cringed as he opened the door.

It was going well, Lucy in her white dress that every bride-to-be deserved and he being all groomed up, figuratively and literally. Lucy taught him the difference between them. It was going well until the judge got to the questioning part.

What’s her favorite flower? How does she spend a typical Saturday night? What is her full legal name? He knew all that stuff.

What was his full legal name? What was his favorite past time? Who adopted him and at what age? Lucy knew all that stuff too.

But when it got to answering questions together, about the future, they kinda mucked it up in his opinion. Lucy took it all with grace and he looked like a moron.

“Well, our apartment is cozy enough and we have lived together there for three years already. I don't see us planning to move into a larger place anytime soon.” Lucy said evenly, flashing a demure smile as she did.

“What if Natsu lost his job? My records indicate that he does make a significant amount more than you do.”

Lucy shifted like she had been struck and Natsu opened his stupid mouth. “I ain’t gonna lose my job! Plus Lucy is my partner. She’s not lesser than me or dependent!” he said it too loud, too quick, and dammit Lucy was looking at him with wide eyes and he fucked it up.

The judge cleared his throat, clicking his pen and scribbling something down on a notepad. “So, you won’t be worried about her when your VISA expires and if it is declined upon renewal?”

Lucy cast the judge a wide eyed look and Natsu felt his gut bottom out. “Wha-? Of course I’d be worried, but she’s equal. Just because she doesn’t make as much doesn’t mean she’s helpless if I happen to lose my job...which I won’t.”

“Of course, once married her student loans would be forgiven. So, her annual income would even out.” This judge was officially his least favorite person and that was something. Gray being usurped as the #1 dickbag?

Plus this dickbag was being just so on the day Natsu was to be married?

This bag-of-dicks hit the nail on the head. He nailed them. Natsu’s VISA was going to expire and due to some...unfortunate events in his past, he would have a slim chance of renewal. He would be deported back to nothing. His friends were here. Lucy’s student loans were steep with interest and the payments ensured she would live off of ramen alone for the next ten years.

With a name change and a few signatures, both problems disappeared like a bad dream.

They were gonna go to prison for fraud. Oh, he was going to go to the slammer and Lucy going to the lady slammer. He would have to bite a rock and chew on it in front of a bunch of criminals to prove he was insane and not worth bothering.

“We came here today to be married in the eyes of the law.” Lucy said suddenly, fingers clenching her dress as she fixed a level stare at the judge behind the desk. To his credit, he didn’t smirk. He looked intrigued at what she had to say, his pen hovering over his notepad.

“Natsu is my best friend. He’s been there for me through the best and worst. It doesn’t matter to me if my loans ruin my credit or what but I love him and I want him by my side through it.”

He was having a heart attack. That’s what this feeling had to be. His heart was racing and his face felt hot and his fingers and toes were buzzing and-

Her hand reached for his, her eyes meeting his as a light flush reached her cheeks. Yeah, he was dying of a heart attack. It felt so good, too. Better than going to prison.

The judge rose a brow, looking to him suddenly. “And you feel the same, Mr. Dragneel?”

It felt like he stuck his face in the fire. His face had to be on fire. “Guh?” was the only thing he could articulate at the current moment.

But, Lucy snorted and laughed, covering her mouth and shaking her head. “Why do you always get embarrassed when I say things like that?” she said, trying to hard to keep her voice from wheezing as she leaned over to gasp. “It’s like you’re a school boy.”

Okay, not a heart attack. It was just embarrassment. “Oi! It’s not my fault you just say things like that! A guy needs warnings sometimes!”

“What kind of warning should I give you before I drop the ILY bomb, then?”

“I dunno, but don’t just s-say it!”

Lucy flashed him a saucy grin, her eyes lidding. “Should I just show you then?” she breathed.

“I’ve seen enough.” The judge interrupted before Natsu could self combust into ashes. “I see that, although my accusations may have some grounding, it is clear that this is not some shotgun solution. Please contain yourselves while I get the papers.”

Lucy finally had the capacity to look mortified as the man produced the necessary papers for both of them to sign and called in the secretary to witness.

“Sign ‘Lucy Dragneel’ on the dotted lines-”

“What about ‘Natsu Heartfilia?” Natsu blurted suddenly, obviously not done fucking things up for today.

The judge leveled him with a stone cold glower, but Lucy laughed, the pen dancing away in her hands. “Natsu we talked about this. Heartfilia is just a name. It always was.”

It really was, because she signed it away with elegant flicks of her wrist that he watched with fascination. One, two, three, and like that, she was no longer Lucy Heartfilia.

She was Lucy Dragneel, his wife.

She was his wife and he her husband and holy damn it was really that simple.

The rest blurred by but the motion sickness never came to take over the warm bubble in his chest. They did it. They actually did it.

“Well, husband? We got married. Now what do you want to do?” Lucy asked brightly once they left the office and marched down the halls, arm in arm.

Well, what were a husband and wife supposed to do after getting hitched? Natsu didn’t know. He never got married before.

The word ‘pizza’ came to his mind like a beacon.

“Pizza?” he asked, blinking down at her curiously and marveling at how relaxed she was now. At her beam, he knew he got it right.

“Pizza sounds great. I’m so hungry.” she moaned, actually picking up the pace and dragging him for once. “Extra cheese. It’s our wedding day!”

“With olives and bacon!”

“Ew, no. Not that.”

“It’s my wedding day too! I get olives and bacon!”

“Never!”

“I’ll drop you over the threshold. Don’t try me!”

Still, he carried her over the threshold, her carrying the pizza box, and the pizza box carrying the freshest double cheese with half olives and bacon pizza the world would ever have. Plus, the olives spelled out ‘Just Married!’ They already had plans to eat it and binge watch on Netflix.

They had this wedding thing down.

[thepilgrimofwar]

The Bulwark

1.

A flash of light, hot and white, rained burning steel over the battlefield. Sederis was no stranger to being on the receiving end of artillery, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. All around him, good men, the strongest of his unit, were being torn to shreds without having a chance at prove their worth in combat. A waste. A damn waste.

He had clustered his pikes on the ridge, slaughtering every knight that attempted to push through their right flank. If Townsend’s knights broke through, Sederis knew that the sort of damage they’d be capable of. Everyone was counting on him to hold. So he did. Through noise, light, and the rain of fire and steel. He held.

Until they began to fall upon the banner of Grand Arcanist.

“Stay in cover,” he ordered, rising out of the mess of Emberglade pikes and shields. His men gazed at their commander in both horror and awe as he sprinted across artillery raked fields to his swordsmen that he had held in reserve.  “Rearguard with me!” He barked, gathering the ones stupid enough to follow him. Yells and screams echoed over the hellish roar of dwarven shells as they slammed right into the cluster of Mage-guard. To the credit of their discipline, the mages held their ranks. Like true soldiers, they were determined to hold even if it was to their dying breath. Sederis meant to deny Lady Death of her offerings today. “Shield wall!”

His reserves slammed their shields into the ground, forming protective phalanxes for the surviving mage-guard. Sederis led a small contingent of men straight to their commander, Azriah, and made sure that she got out of this mess alive. If she died, this whole effort would’ve been futile. Though they weren’t protected from the explosive blasts of direct hits, it was enough to stop the mass slaughter from the shrapnel. Joined with the shields that made Azriah’s phalanx, Sederis didn’t face her or speak until the shelling ceased. Only then did he turn, giving her a single short and sharp nod before disappearing with his troops back into formation.

2.

Following the battle, Sederis rode through the encampment on an ebony courser. Dressed in blood and kingmail, he surveryed the soldiers around him. They were happy. Which was an odd thing to say about soldiers who's kingdom had just been invaded but there they were. Smiling as they cleaned and prepare their gear, almost ready to move out. To their west was the smoldering field where the Dark Iron had made their last stand. Their final act a statement to their dedication as warriors. Death before dishonor. Something Sederis could respect.

"Grand Arcanist." He stated, finally finding her tentage amongst the others.

Azriah emerged from her tent after an attendant had ducked their head between the flaps to inform her of Dawnward Emberheart waiting outside. With a nonchalant wave of the hand, her magic put the desk in order where there had hitherto been countless letters and logs and brainstorms sprawled. With her affairs in order, Azriah exited the tent to see Sederis awaiting her atop his courser. She inclined her chin with his greeting and folded her hands before her abdomen, making a subtle shift in her posture to convey her authority even if he literally stood taller than her.

"Dawnward Emberheart," She greeted smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He climbed off his horse to match her height, giving her both a salute and the same sharp nod from before. "Lady Thelryn," he greeted her, "I came to ask for help." Sederis cut to the chase, owing to the fact that not only did he know that Azriah suffered no fools, but that time was fleeting, doubly so in wartime.

Azriah surveyed the bustling war-camp around them with a contemplative gaze and then settled her attention on Sederis, scrutinizing him with a look that seemed as if it could infer more than just what met the eye. She raised her chin slightly in a gesture of approval toward his brevity. "Help with what?" She prompted, arching a dark brow.

Sederis could still smell the acrid scent of burning flesh in the air. He couldn't tell if it came from the battlefield, or from the aid station where they treated the wounded. "I'm gathering as many forces as I can to head north to Sunstrider Isle. I won't mince words. I aim to relieve the Emberglades. It's besieged by several battalions at least and I'm not sure how long they'll hold them. I-" his voice faltered for a moment, before regaining the composition of a true soldier. "I cannot fail them. As their Lord, it is my duty to protect them, and I intend to do exactly that." He paused, letting the information sink in for a moment. "The Emberglades needs your help Lady Thelryn. I need your help."

Azriah listened as Sederis described his plan and predicament. What obviously tore at his heart found little compassion in her, as evidenced by her unchanged features beyond an expression of mild attentiveness. "We are all compromised so in this war, Emberheart. Goldenshade lays nearly unprotected to the south, and the Emberlight may face a front of two enemies should the Alliance deign to join the trolls." She paused, contemplating his words. "The Emberglades lay on the northern border of Sunstrider Isle, correct?" She angled her head slightly. "Perhaps I might be inclined to assist were there something to allow me incentive to put your lands over the welfare of mine own."

He nodded. Sederis could not imagine what it must be like for the Lords and Ladies of Southern Quel'thalas. At least he was in a position to ride North to relief his people. For Azriah, or Vaelrin... It must feel like they've been forced to abandoned their people. "With the others, I persuaded with strategy. Push north, capture Sunstrider isle, use it as a staging ground to retake Quel'danas. But I understand that your priorities lie to the South." Sederis paused. "I am willing to offer this: There is a sanctum on the Isle, still functional, still able to transport battalions across Quel'thalas. You help me save my people, I *will* help you save yours."

She seemed to take the logistics appeal in better humor than the emotional. Azriah raised a hand to touch her chin, and her brows furrowed slightly as the great gears of her mind churned in a vision of how this would play out. She nodded slightly, as if in answer to a question that had risen unspoken in her mind. After a long deliberation, she gave her reply. "Sunstrider Isle could prove to be a useful staging ground for the operations to come. I suppose I can see the benefit of this plan. I am interested in your promise of assistance, however. How can I trust you to keep to your word?"

Sederis remained unfazed by the question. "Because I am my word." He states like a matter of fact. "My vassal Lords give me trouble because they think it's a weakness. That I'd rather strike a problem at its root rather than be underhanded. But that is how I was raised, and it is who I am. I swear, on my honor and by the people of the Emberglades, that I will uphold my end of the bargain."

Azriah frowned as he went on, studying him with a degree of disbelief. It almost caught her afoul of her mood, but she hung on to a courtly composure by just a thread. So it was that in a manner as if discussing table linens or the latest fashion, she declared: "I would have you swear it by blood. Promise that when this is done, you and yours will rise to the aid of House Thelryn should the time come."

He took measure of her and her offer. Though he was all too willing to give in to her demands- willing to pay any price for his people- this was a promise that would be made for all The Emberglades. He wasn't going to make that decision for them. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake, not again. Sederis spoke, showing no hint of anger. Just a cold indifference to the appearance of her rising temper. "I will swear by word alone. If my honor means that little to you, then I'm afraid we are done speaking."

She held him in that stare-down for a few moments yet, letting his words fall on her ears like beats of the war drums. There was a quiet strength to be found in the calm way he held his ground, and though his choice mildly grated on her, she found his resolve to be worthy of respect. Where so many could be so easily backed into corners shaking and shivering, he held firm to his terms. So it was that she conceded the point of the blood oath, sighing softly through her nose before she gave her verbal assent. "Very well. I will move my battalion north to the Sunstrider Isle. I expect our only chance of success in this conflict lies in strategic, unified fronts. We will spear through Everleigh's forces and recover the isle. When it is done, if aught threatens Goldenshade or the Emberlight, you will move to help me. Do we have a final agreement?"

Sederis nodded with affirmation. "We do," he said, surveying the battlefield one final time before a runner bearing the sigil of the Emberglades came barreling through the camp. Reaching his liege, the messenger saluted before handing him a parchment. It did not bother him that he was interrupting a meeting between two officers, so it was clear by his urgency that it must have been important. Sederis read one line of the news before crushing it in anger. "The last stronghold of The Broken Bulwark has fallen." He explains.

Azriah gave a curt nod. She arched her brows as the runner approached, observing Sederis carefully as he read the missive. The news found her in impassive humor. "I daresay our work is cut out for us."

Sederis saluted. "I'd be lying if I said that it give mes no pleasure to slay every member of the Alliance on the Isle." He resaddled himself, intending to rally his Honorguard to the defense of their homeland. "Time will tell."

3.

Atop a battered hillside, scarred and bloody, stood a lone fortress. Once it had alabaster walls, standing tall and proud over the borderlands between the Glades and the Isle. It was called The Lancer’s Perch, once home to famous knights of the realm. Before the Bulwark was broken by the scourge. Like it was about to be again.

“Lord Tarsaren!” Dame Everliegh called out to the spell-charred walls of the final castle of The Broken Bulwark, and the only thing standing between the Alliance and the Emberglades proper. “You and your men have fought valiantly, the evidence to that lay all around us.” She gestured to the broken bodies of her men that were piled against the fortress like snowdrift. “Lay down your arms, and I promise you safe passage back to the Emberglades. No one else needs to die today. There is no dishonor in saving the lives of your men.” The blood price had been a steep one. Of the five thousand men Dame Everleigh had started the conquest of The Broken Bulwark, less than a few hundred now remained.

“Lady Everleigh.” Lord Tarsaren replied, his booming voice echoing off the shattered ramparts. “I don’t think you understand. It doesn’t matter that there is no dishonor in surrender. We’re just… Unfamiliar with the term.” Muffled laughter rose from within The Lancer’s Perch. “Do you see these lands mi’lady?” Tarsaren stretched his arms out as if to encompass the world around him. The mountains and the forest at their feet. The lush fields of deep green and gold. “The Men of the Black Banner were gifted these lands because we stayed. We stayed when the Scourge came. We stayed and we fought. In the forests and hills. In the valleys and mountain passes. In the cities that no longer exist. Through blood and blight, we earned our places here. Loved ones lay all around us, beneath our feet, and we’d be happy to join them. At long last.”

Dame Everleigh pressed her lips together, looking back to the men who had followed her banner this far. To the ends of the world. “So be it.” She muttered, signalling her men to begin their final assault.

4.

As The Lancer’s Perch fell, so did The Broken Bulwark. But all the Alliance claimed that day were martyred lives and broken ruins. Without walls to protect her men from the remaining forces of the Emberglades, Dame Everleigh had no choice but to retreat beyond the mountain pass.There would be no winners at the Emberglades that day.

Only the dead.

Art by Chao Yuan Xu

@retributionpriest @forever-afk @thanidiel @jessipalooza @stormandozone @thenaaru @dorksworn @azriah @felthier @thesunguardmg