#the dolls were beautiful and they even made a whole new face mold for one of them

[imaginary-portal]

Unspoken - Part Five

Bucky Barnes x Fem Reader

Summary: Y/N is a superhero with telekinetic and healing capabilities. The only catch, she doesn’t speak (italicized words are thoughts).

Content Warning: slightly sexual content

Word Count: ~1.9k

Part One Part Four Part Six

Masterlist

Enjoy!

——————

The team took advantage of the day off, and slept into the late morning. Y/N was the first to wake up, and she went out to get the guys breakfast. Y/N struggled with leaving Bucky alone in the bed. She just wanted to stay there with him forever. But at least now he’ll know how she felt the other day, waking up without him beside her. She came back to the room to find Sam and Bucky laying in their beds, watching television. “Food!” Sam said happily. Bucky smiled charmingly and gave Y/N a wave. He remembered how perfect last night was. The simple kiss on the cheek drove him wild.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted…” Y/N trailed off while the two men came and rummaged through the food, taking what they liked. Y/N took the leftovers and ate it, quickly getting bored of the television. She grabbed her book and left the room. The door reopened behind her. “Y/N, where you off to?” Bucky asked. Y/N raised her book, signaling she would be reading. “Do you mind if I come with you? Maybe you can find me a book I’d enjoy.” Y/N accepted his invitation by motioning her head forward. Bucky followed Y/N like a puppy as they walked to the nearest book store. They were greeted by a cashier and Bucky gave them a small wave. Y/N walked to the classic novel section and chose the most boring book she could think of and handed it to Bucky. Bucky tried to be polite but as he flipped through the pages he realized the joke. “I get it because I’m technically a hundred years old. Funny stuff.” Y/N took the book hunt seriously now, heading for the fiction section. She grabbed a book that was about a war, betrayal, and friendship. Bucky seemed very interested when reading the back cover.

They purchased the book and found a park bench to sit at and read. Bucky was immediately sucked into his book, impressed by Y/N’s sense of judgement. He couldn’t help himself, however, from letting his eyes wander from the page to look at her. The way she focuses on her reading, he’s never seen anything like it before. She’s in her own little world. I want to be part of that. “Hey, Y/N.” Y/N broke from her trance and looked over at Bucky, who was so lost in her beauty that he forgot what he was going to say. “I um- I-“ Y/N smiled, realizing the situation. She closed her book and turned towards Bucky. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him butterflies, a feeling he thought he was too old to have. “Sometimes things are better left unspoken.” Y/N leaned in and kissed Bucky, their lips molding perfectly together. Bucky cupped Y/N’s face as he kissed her more passionately. The two rested their foreheads against each other and smiled like idiots. Y/N turned back to her book, wrapping her arm around Bucky’s and resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and returned to his reading.

——————

Y/N and Bucky walked home near sunset, holding hands the whole time. Sam questioned about where they were all day. Bucky simply said they went reading. Sam could tell by the look on Y/N’s face that unfortunately that was true. “Don’t you guys want to have fun?” Bucky chuckled. “Says the guy who stayed here and watched tv all day.” Sam laughed. “Touché. I guess I should do something today. I’ll go fetch us dinner.” Sam got up from his bed, grabbed his keys, gave Bucky a wink, and left.

Y/N stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. However, she knew exactly what she wanted to do right now. I just want his lips on mine. Bucky thought the same thing. Unsure of who would crack first, Y/N sat down on the bed. Bucky looked at her sitting there, looking perfect. He couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip. Y/N took note of this and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Bucky also sat on the bed and remembered Y/N’s advice from earlier. Sometimes things are better left unspoken. But Bucky doesn’t want to leave it unspoken how amazing Y/N looks. He turned to Y/N and leaned in for a kiss. Y/N hovered her lips over his, teasing him a little before meeting his parted lips. The kisses quickly escalated. Y/N’s hands found their way into Bucky’s hair and she lightly tugged him. Bucky’s hands rested on her hips, squeezing them every so often. Bucky slipped his tongue gently in Y/N’s mouth, earning a moan from her. The moan gave Bucky a rush, pulling Y/N closer to him. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” He said in a raspy voice. Y/N was now sitting on Bucky’s lap, where she could feel his member harden. Y/N broke the kiss to leave a trail of kisses along his neck, earning a grunt from him. “We should stop.” Y/N said in between breaths. Bucky’s lips found their way back to Y/N’s. “Yeah, we should.” But neither of them could detach from the other. Suddenly, the two hear keys jiggling in the door. Y/N squeals as she jumps off of Bucky. The two sit a few feet apart, obviously out of breath. Y/N makes a last minute run to the bathroom to fix her hair. Bucky grabs a pillow and places it casually over his crotch. He runs a hand through his hair as Sam enters the room with a bag of food. “Thanks for helping me in by the way. The stupid lock is broken.” Bucky smiled softly, the only thoughts running through his mind were of Y/N. He didn’t know if he could keep it together when he sees her again.

Y/N comes out of the bathroom, looking normal and relaxed. She comes over quietly and grabs some food, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. Bucky watches her every move, finding perfection in all of it. Sam sat, clueless of how to understand this interaction. Y/N sits next to Bucky, resting her head on his shoulder as she ate. “Oh so you two are a thing now?” Sam asked. “Now you see that makes more sense why you’re being so weird today. I’m happy for you guys.” Bucky smiled and placed a kiss on top of Y/N’s head.

Before sleep that night, Bucky whispered in Y/N’s ear, “We’ll have to finish what we started sometime.” Bucky nibbled Y/N’s ear and placed a kiss on her neck before falling asleep.

——————

At the next mission, the team had to go indoors and split up to find the super soldiers. Y/N made it to them first, but she quickly felt her powers wipe away from her body. She entered a room with runes on the walls. Y/N looked around to see who might’ve done it, but she couldn’t imagine any of the super soldiers being capable of this. Y/N pulled her torturer’s necklace out of her pocket, securing it safely around her neck, the red light beginning to glow. While Y/N’s physical body remained standing where it was, her spirit temporarily transported to a different realm. “Are you joining the collective?” A voice whispered to her in the dark. “No. I just need to get out of here, away from the runes.” Y/N tried bargaining with the spirit. “Tsk tsk tsk. We only let you use the power if you join us. That is the price you pay.” Y/N looked around her, seeing only an abyss. She tried feeling her powers, they had returned. “And what if I don’t listen to you?” She said with a new confidence. “Then you’ll have even more people after you. Brutal people who want justice for the powers of the collective.” Y/N used her senses to feel around. There was something that she could grab onto with her telekinesis. She pulled the object closer to see a frail old woman in a robe. The woman had a look of shock on her face. “You’re not like the others. You looked behind the curtain. You must be one of the chosen ones. We permit you our power, you don’t have to join us.” The old woman bowed to Y/N, her weak legs kneeling on the ground. Y/N was incredibly confused but delighted to get this haggling over with.

Y/N was brought back to reality, where only a few milliseconds had passed. With her newfound powers from the necklace, she destroyed the runes by crumbling the walls around her. The super soldiers stood in shock. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” One said to the other. “What will we tell him when he gets here?” Y/N started attacking the super soldiers that came after her. Sam and Bucky followed the noise and joined the fight. Bucky noticed that Y/N was wearing the necklace and her powers were different. He stayed close by her as he fought.

Y/N left in the middle of the fight, running out of the room. “What the hell?” Bucky yelled. Y/N climbed to the rooftop, where she felt a formidable presence. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.” A man Y/N remembers from her captivity unleashed sparkles from his hands, casting runes on the ground. Y/N destroyed them at the blink of an eye, and that is when the man recognized her necklace. “You’re with the collective?” Y/N shook her head and the man looked worried. “Call for backup.” He spoke to his servant. Y/N and the man began fighting, and she had him pinned down before the super soldiers had arrived. The man tried reaching for the necklace, but Y/N twisted his arm tighter. “What are you waiting for? Kill me.” The man pleaded. Y/N grew frustrated. “Wait, you can’t kill me? What a twist!” He laughed hysterically. “Y/N!” Sam and Bucky yelled running towards the scene. “We need to take care of this guy.” Y/N said. The message didn’t get through to either of the men. “Little miss powerful doesn’t have what it takes.” The man smirked. “You. With the blue eyes. Kill me. Do it. You’ve done it hundreds of times before.” Bucky looked at Y/N reluctantly, and she looked down. Bucky aimed his gun at the man and fired, knocking him dead. The super soldiers and servants scurried away like mice. “Y/N, who was that?” Sam asked gently. Y/N couldn’t hear anything over the whispers from the necklace. She still held on to the dead man’s arm tightly. “Y/N?” Sam and Bucky looked at each other in worry.

Bucky pulled Y/N’s arm off of the man. “Y/N?” Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheeks with his hands. The look in her eyes was desolate. “Y/N snap out of it. God damn it.” Bucky walked away in frustration and kicked his gun. “Y/N!” Sam yelled her name louder. Y/N heard his voice faintly. She started to control the voices much like lowering the volume on a remote. “I have to go.” Was all she said before she jumped from one rooftop to another. Bucky started to chase after her, but Sam blocked him. “Don’t do it Buck. You won’t make it.” Bucky ignored him. “Bull shit. I did that all the time when I was the Winter Soldier.” Sam fought harder to keep him back. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. I couldn’t even chase her right now if I flew after her. I’m sorry Bucky. We have to let her go.” Tears formed in Bucky’s eyes. Sam brought him into an embrace. “I don’t understand what happened to her.” Sam held back tears. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out. I’ll be sure of it.”

——————

Tags: @learisa @harrietbaudelaire

Copyright © 2021 imaginary-portal. All rights reserved

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

After All

Character: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just because Bucky pushed her away doesn’t mean he knows how to let go.

Word Count: 2,100 - One Shot

She looked beautiful. Too beautiful. Bucky didn’t know why she put in such an effort for this schmuck. She didn’t need to put in any effort at all to be beautiful. And if some guy didn’t know that, then he didn’t deserve her. 

The bar had giant windows with no curtains or treatments to hide its patrons from outside observation. They did it on purpose, to hypnotize the people walking by and pull them into the romantic and dark lighting…and overpriced cocktails. 

But Bucky didn’t just notice how beautiful Y/N looked. He could also see how bored she was. Her smile was forced. He could almost hear exactly what her voice sounded like as she talked to him. Bucky would tease her about it, always knowing when she was being polite but wanted to find an out from a conversation as soon as possible. She called it her “customer service voice.”

She was probably smarter than him, Bucky thought. She was smarter than most people – maybe not Stark or Shuri, but she had her own genius that neither of those two possessed.

The only thing that could possibly make the people on the street notice Bucky’s lingering was the white vapor that appeared from his mouth every time he sighed. Which he seemed to be doing every time he noticed another piece of body language from Y/N that further proved her disinterest in this man.

It was cold, making everyone hurry to their destination, not paying him any mind. But Bucky didn’t feel the weather’s coldness anymore. Once you spend a lifetime frozen, nothing really compares.

Bucky stood up straighter when the two started making their way out of the fancy bar.

Y/N shifted her weight, not sure what the man’s next move was going to be.

He awkwardly went in for a hug.

She gave another one of her fake smiles, said her goodbyes, and started walking away.

“Not even gonna get her a cab or walk her home, you bastard?” Bucky breathed with irritation.

Men these days. Him and Steve still didn’t get it.

But he figured Y/N was glad to be done with him.

Bucky walked in the shadows of night as he kept his distance behind her. They were only a few avenues away from her apartment.

But he swore she was walking slower than usual. Like she was trying to make the journey home longer.

When they finally reached the stoop of her building, she took the steps slowly. But instead of putting her keys into the lock, she just stared at the door for a moment.

What was she thinking about? Bucky wondered.

Then Y/N quickly turned around and skipped down the stairs. She hurried across the street and made her way into the park that was directly across from her building.

She walked with more purpose now. Which made Bucky realize what was happening.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He took in a deep breath before he followed her into the park.

Y/N sat on a bench in almost total darkness, waiting. If it weren’t for Bucky’s super-soldier sight, she would be practically invisible to him.

Bucky rubbed his face and watched her for a few moments before he made his way over.

Without any warning, he slowly sat down on the other side of the bench.

She didn’t react, didn’t even act like someone had invaded her space.

She had been waiting for him.

“What did I tell you about going to parks at night?” Bucky finally asked.

She scoffed, but didn’t look at him. “Yeah…Well, putting myself into danger is always the quickest way to get you out of hiding.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“He seemed nice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, James.”

She’d stopped calling him Bucky once he broke her heart.

“Is this the part where you try to lie and tell me you liked him?” Bucky challenged with a smirk, even though there was absolutely nothing funny about the situation.

Y/N finally turned and looked at him for the first time. “What exactly are you mad about, James? That I went on a date with him or that I just went on any date at all?”

He was silent for a second. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“You’d say that about every man,” she challenged.

“Yeah, and I’d be damn right.”

Y/N shot up from the bench and turned to face him. “I’m trying!” She snapped.

Then she paused, trying to get her emotions in control. But she wasn’t successful since her eyes glazed over with tears. She managed to hold them in. “I’m really trying.”

Bucky then stood up from the bench. His body always went into a panic when Y/N cried. He felt sick to the stomach when he was the reason for it. But these days, he was always the reason..

But he couldn’t comfort her like he used to. He wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore.

Y/N sniffed, trying to play it off as if it was due to the cold instead of her unshed tears.

“You have to stop following me,” she told him as sternly as she could.

Bucky shifted his weight, but stayed quiet.

“James, I’m gonna call Steve if you keep doing this.”

And he knew she would. What he didn’t know is what Steve would do to make sure Y/N’s commands were followed through.

And it wasn’t just Steve who sided with her after the breakup, the whole team did. Any of them would love a chance to return to Y/N’s life in some way and give Bucky a piece of their mind on her behalf.

Breakup. Is that even what it should be called?

They didn’t stop loving each other. Even though Y/N hid that with the hate she now held for Bucky.

He didn’t think it was possible for someone to hate a person as much as they loved them, but Y/N seemed to do it effortlessly with him.

“We can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I have to stay away from you.” 

The words still haunted Bucky’s nightmares. All it took was one stupid article. Her full name, where she was from, what she did for work – all accompanied by a photo of them together. If it had been paparazzi, Bucky would’ve clocked the camera. His training would’ve sensed it, noticed the signs. But it had just been some asshole and their iPhone.

“How did you figure out I was tailing you?” He asked, ignoring the threat of Steve.

“Following,” she corrected. “You look like the fucking unabomber, James. You’re trying so hard to hide that you stick out even more.” She looked him up and down, taking in his black leather jacket over his black hoodie that was pulled over his black, nondescript baseball hat.

But in reality, she knew that if Bucky wanted to be completely untraceable, he would be. Which meant that he wanted her to notice him.

He didn’t realize he was doing that.

Y/N stared at the ground, scared to look into his eyes now. “I always think that I feel you watching me.” Then she glanced up at him. “But then I realized that was just me missing you.” She shook her head, embarrassed to be admitting that to him. “It wasn’t that I could feel you watching over me, it was me hoping you’d come around the next corner.”

“I miss you, too.” He admitted without hesitation.

Y/N closed her eyes and winced. “Don’t say that to me.”

“But it is true.”

Her eyes remained closed, but not even that could stop the tears from falling this time.

“Why do you have to make this so hard, Bucky?” She whispered.

The use of that name knocked the air out of his lungs.

He took a step toward her.

But she immediately took a step back. “Don’t. Please don’t, Bucky.”

“Y/N…I’m…I’m so sorry,” he muttered.

“How does this make anything better for us?” She breathed.

“I just…I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m not!” She bawled. “Is that what you want to hear? That I’m miserable without you? That during all of these dates, I’m just comparing them to you? Is that what you want to hear? Is it?”

“No! For Christ – no, Y/N.”

“Then what do you want me to say?” She demanded.

“Nothing. You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. I know that.”

He stepped forward, it was a risk and he knew it. But she didn’t cower from him this time. Bucky slowly reached forward and wiped the tears from her cheek gently.

“I’ll never stop worrying about you. I get anxious, thinking about what could happen.”

“Well, I stopped being your responsibility when you broke up with me.” She knew that was her broken heart speaking, but she had to give it at least one round.

Bucky nodded, knowing he deserved that.

Y/N looked around her. “It’s been almost a year, Bucky. We can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” he mumbled as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

“We need to move on…if that’s even possible. We have to try either way.”

“I know,” Bucky repeated.

But he also knew he could never replace her. However, she deserved to fill the bleeding hole he left after he broke her heart.

“Goodnight, James.” She told him coldly.

He just nodded.

But she hadn’t moved yet.

Before she could change her mind, she stepped into him and Bucky immediately opened his arms to her. She buried her face into his shoulder. Her senses took him in, memorizing every detail. His cologne. The feel of his leather jacket that he’d broken in to perfectly mold around his body. His inhuman body heat.

Bucky did the same.

When Y/N pulled away, her eyes locked to his like those blue irises were magnets.

“You should get home now, doll,” he whispered as his gaze flickered to her lips. His hands were caressing her face now.

She just nodded, feeling the new tension.

Bucky leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

It took every ounce of strength she had to walk away. She wouldn’t let herself turn around and look back once she started walking. But she felt his eyes on her, watching to make sure she made it to her front door safely.

She knew he wouldn’t leave until he saw the light turn on in her bedroom.

Y/N counted to 1,000 before she allowed her crying to start again.

-----

Bucky turned the light on in the kitchen.

“Bucky…”

He had been dreading this. “What? What do you want, Steve?”

The other super soldier leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed. He was giving Bucky the look that no one wanted to get from Captain America. It was the look of disappointment.

“Y/N called.”

That was all Steve needed to say.

Bucky ignored him and poured himself a drink – vodka on the rocks. It was Nat’s hidden stash. But he’d deal with that tomorrow.

“You can’t push her away and then shove yourself back into her life whenever you feel like it. That’s not fair to her and you know it,” Steve warned.

Bucky threw the vodka back before he countered with, “You said you understood why I did it.”

“Yes, I understood it. I didn’t agree with it. And I definitely don’t agree with you continuing to torture Y/N and yourself.”

Bucky tried to pour himself another glass of vodka, but Steve ripped the bottle from his grasp.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve growled.

“I stand by what I did!” Bucky shouted. “I did what had to be done! And I did it so she could be safe, so she could have a fucking life!”

He caught his breath and his hand rubbed across his face. “I know I shouldn’t go see her. I know that. But…But I’m only human, Steve. I can’t help it.”

Steve sighed, his sympathy now outweighing his anger.

He gripped Bucky’s shoulder. “I know, Buck.”

“I’ll stop. I promise. I owe her that at least.” Bucky bowed his head in shame.

“I’ll check on her. We all will.” They would do it so Bucky didn’t have to.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Just get some sleep. OK, Buck?”

He nodded, even though he stopped really sleeping when she was no longer in his bed.

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

I wrote this about a month ago and obviously didn’t want to share it with how much everyone sucks on here. 

Figured I’d give this site a chance to redeem itself, but not getting my hopes up. 

I’m still on “hiatus” or whatever, and not really interacting with people on here. 

If you really miss me that much... One Shot – Masterlist

(Also, friendly reminder that just because a fic is old, doesn’t mean you can’t comment on it anymore.)

[ironwhumper359]

14

“Just a short little prompt fill” I said to myself. “Something to work on in my downtime between longer fics.” Oops I made a whole au and I’m attached to it now, lol. 

14: “Good news! I brought you a friend.” 

CW: Pet whump, creature whump, fantasy au, restraints, referenced conditioning, child whumper

---

“More tea, Daisy?” Matilda asked, holding up her porcelain teapot. Daisy eyed her for a moment, and Matilda giggled. “You can answer, silly!” 

“Yes please, Lady Matilda,” Daisy said immediately. 

“Here you go!” Matilda said, tipping the pot forward to mime pouring. “One lump of sugar or two?” 

“Two please, my lady,” Daisy said, and Matilda nodded primly, picking up a small set of tongs. 

She mimed dropping two lumps of sugar into Daisy’s cup, then one into her own. She put the cup to her lips and pretended to drink, grinning when Daisy did the same. 

“I have to say, Daisy, your wings are looking particularly ex-quis-ite today!” Matilda chirped, slowly sounding out the larger word she’d often heard her mother use at grown-up garden parties. “I love how the light catches them just so!” 

An expression Matilda couldn’t quite read flashed through her fairy’s eyes for a moment, but before she could figure it out Daisy’s smile was back, wider and brighter than before. 

“Thank you, Lady Matilda.”

“You’re welcome!” Matilda said cheerfully, swinging her legs a bit as she pretended to take another sip of tea. “Oooh, ooh, guess what!” 

“What is it, Lady Matilda?” Daisy barely had time to ask before Matilda launched into her story. Mother often said she talked too much for polite conversation, but that was part of what was fun about playing with Daisy, Matilda didn’t need to be polite!

“Father will be coming home today!” she said, clapping her hands. “And that means I’ll get a present! He always brings me a present when he comes home from trips, and I hope it’s something really nice, he’s been gone for so long this time…what do you think he’ll bring me? Maybe a new dress, or a box of sweets...do you think he’ll bring something for you, too Daisy? Oh I’d like that, maybe a new satin cushion for your cage, or a set of gold combs for me to put in your hair, wouldn’t that just look so beautiful with your leash and collar?” 

“Matilda!” her mother called sharply, interrupting Matilda’s musing about her presents. “Time to put your toys away now, your father will be home soon.” 

“Aww, but Mother-” 

“I won’t tell you twice, Matilda,” her mother warned, and Matilda sighed. 

“Fiiiine.” 

She got to her feet and quickly scooped up the dolls and teddy bears she had set around the table to make up the rest of the tea party’s guests. She dropped them into her toy chest, then walked back to where Daisy was sitting, unhooking her leash from the brass loop on the side of the table. 

“Come on, Daisy,” Matilda said, tugging on the leash, and Daisy quickly scrambled to her feet. When Matilda had first gotten her last year, Daisy had stood a few inches taller than her, but Matilda had grown a bit since her eighth birthday, and now she was about the same height as her pet. 

Matilda led Daisy to her cage, which took up the entire corner of the playhouse. Her father had ordered it to be custom made just for Daisy, and it reminded Matilda of a bigger version of the parrot cage she’d once seen at a party at her cousin’s estate. Daisy slipped inside, waiting patiently by the door as Matilda made sure the lock was secure before reaching through the bars to unclip the leash from the shiny golden collar she wore around her neck. She hung the leash on a hook on the cage door, then grinned, waving at her pet.

“Bye Daisy!” she said. “I’ll come visit you again after supper, alright?” 

She skipped out into the garden, where her mother was waiting to close the playhouse door behind her. 

“Did you remember to lock the cage, dear?” Mother asked, and Matilda rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, Mother.”  

“Good. Now, come with me. Your father will be home any minute, and he has a surprise for you.”

A grin stretched across Matilda’s face. She couldn’t wait to find out what it was! 

--- 

Matilda was not an unkind little girl. She was sweet, polite, and as far as Lorrella could tell, never hurt anybody on purpose. 

This, of course, did little to soothe the chafed skin beneath Lorrella’s collar or the ache for freedom in her heart. 

Matilda did not seem to realize that her beloved fairy was a prisoner in the opulent playhouse her father had built her on the grounds of their family manor. She never registered Lorrella’s discomfort, though that was mostly because Lorrella took great pains to hide it from her. Matilda was bound to become upset if her pet wasn’t acting happy, after all. 

And rule number one was Don’t upset Matilda. 

So Lorrella couldn’t really blame the girl for not realizing when she was uncomfortable, but Matilda still didn’t seem to think twice about leading her around on a leash like a dog or locking her in a six by six foot cage whenever they weren’t “playing together.” She certainly hadn’t been interested in learning Lorrella’s real name, content instead to dub her “Daisy” because it sounded pretty.  

Daisy was a dress up doll, a hair model, an audience for impromptu storytimes and a companion for tea parties and garden outings. Whatever Matilda wanted for as long as she wanted, that’s what Daisy had to be. Lorrella was allowed to exist only in these quiet moments when Matilda left her here alone; when nothing was wanted of her and she could whisper her name into the empty room so that she would not forget it. 

The most frightening thing was that while Lorrella longed for such a reprieve when she was with Matilda, whenever she was alone, she’d begun to find herself wishing for the girl’s company. Lorrella was nobody, did nothing, belonged nowhere when Matilda was gone. Daisy, at least, had something to do, had something to be, even if that something was little more than an object to be shaped and molded by someone else. 

Daisy belonged to Matilda, but Daisy had a purpose. Lorrella belonged to no one, but her life had ceased to have meaning altogether. 

The door to the playhouse suddenly burst open and Lorrella jumped in surprise as Matilda darted into the room.

“Daisy!” she cried, running up to the cage and grinning from ear to ear. “Good news! Father brought you a friend!” 

Lorrella blinked and tilted her head, a silent question. Matilda reached through the bars and patted her on the head, then grabbed her collar and pulled. Lorrella suppressed a wince at the sudden jerk of movement and leaned forward so that Matilda could clip the leash on. 

“Come on, come on, you have to see it!” Matilda said.  As soon as she had Lorrella out of the cage, she dashed out of the room, and Lorrella had no choice but to follow as quickly as she could. 

Matilda hurried through the grounds and Lorrella stumbled after her, biting back a yelp every time Matilda ran too fast or turned too suddenly for her to keep up. Her neck was already growing sore, and she’d tumbled over enough times that her knees would be bound to have an angry smattering of fresh bruises by morning. She desperately wanted to call out for Matilda to slow down, but she held her tongue. 

Rule number two was Never speak unless spoken to. 

Matilda finally skidded to a halt outside the family stables, and Lorrella let herself fall to her knees beside her, gasping for air. 

“Father!” Matilda called, knocking on the stable door. “I brought Daisy to come see it too! Can we come in?” 

Lorrella stared at Matilda incredulously. All this fuss just to meet a new pony?

Matilda’s father appeared at the door, and Lorrella shrank back, casting her eyes downward. 

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “But you must remember to move slowly, alright? It is still quite wild, and not used to people yet.” 

Matilda nodded solemnly, and her father opened the door wide, allowing her to pull Lorrella inside. They passed through most of the stable and Matilda occasionally paused to wave at a favorite horse, but they didn’t stop moving until they reached the end of the row of stalls. The stall at the back was open, and as they approached, Lorrella could hear the stable hands muttering to each other.  

“Shit! Hold the damn thing still, will you? I can’t buckle these straps tight enough when it’s squirming so much!” 

“I will thank you,” Matilda’s father said coldly,” to not swear in front of my daughter.” 

The two snapped to attention instantly, twin looks of apology on their faces. 

“Yes, Lord Tracey, sorry Lord Tracey,” said the one who’d cursed, ducking his head.

“Can I show Daisy now?” Matilda asked, and her fathers face softened as he looked down at her.

“Of course, my dear. The creature is secure?” he added to the stablehands, and they nodded quickly.

“Yes, my lord. Took a fair bit of wrangling, but it shouldn’t be a problem now.” 

They stepped aside, revealing the animal in the stall, and Lorrella was unable to stop herself from gasping. She froze, glancing up at Lord Tracey, but he only had eyes for Matilda, who was staring at the creature with a wide grin 

It was not, as Lorrella had first assumed, simply a new pony; it was a centaur. Their upper body was wrapped up tightly in a harness that forced its arms behind its back, and their face was partially covered by a bitted bridle, the lead of which was tied to a hook on the wall. 

Lorrella had never seen a centaur before, and she was no expert on horses either, but even she could see that the creature was only a child. Judging by the face alone, one not much older than Matilda herself, or at least whatever the centaur equivalent was to eight years old. The poor thing was clearly terrified, too; they were trembling slightly and pawing at the ground with one of their front hooves.

“Daisy, this is Coco!” Matilda said happily. “Coco, this is Daisy! The two of you are gonna be the best of friends, I know it! What do you think, Daisy, isn’t she just the greatest present you ever saw?” 

The centaur flinched when Matilda spoke, and Lorrella glanced back at Lord Tracey, who was watching the whole exchange with what on the surface looked like a bored expression. She swallowed, and shot the centaur what she hoped was an apologetic look before answering. 

“Yes, Lady Matilda,” she said quietly. “She’s perfect for you.”

[maxparkhurst]

Audience

DRUSTVAR, KUL’TIRAS

His nerves grew more frayed as the minutes ticked past. Alone in the parlor, the Kaldorei felt small beneath the dense layer of opulence. Only the finest chattels - cherry wood molding, crystal chandelier, marbled mantle, and velvet curtains the color of Blood Nettle- furnished the room. All gorged in a thin layer of dust’s antiquated beauty. Even the downy chair he perched on threatened to swallow him whole. Acting on comeuppance for the folder that weighed heavily in his lap. Inside it was little secrets held together by two meager staples. He swallowed hard and turned his expectant gaze to the faint sound of footsteps.

Click. Click. Click.

The soft hush of heels echoed in the cavernous room. Swallowed in the niches of a high, sconced ceiling until only muffled silence remained. And when it grew too deafening, stretching nerves thin, the grand oak door opened. Through it stepped a stunning river of maroon fabric, cascading over a generous frame and rippling above the toes of crimson dipped heels.

“Hyleass.”

Her voice traveled free through the air, heralding her sweeping hem across the parlor. She made his name sound so sweet-  as if it were made of honey itself. Rewarded his company with a handcrafted smile.

Hyleass couldn’t ebb the wave of delight that swelled in his chest. With the slight curve of his lips, he rose to meet the manor’s mistress.

“Lady Malakhov,” he mused, drawing her offered hand into his own, “A radiant sight as ever, Kal’dris.”

He placed a chaste kiss upon the backs of her knuckles. And she replied in turn - “Please, Hyleass. Just Vallory”-  with a radiance cast upon him by the air of unrequited laughter. Hyleass might’ve basked in those rays a moment longer if not for the menacing shadows they threw, and the shade which lurked within them. His gaze flicked to the gentleman who followed at the Lady’s hem. A bald-pated man who wore an iron-faced mask. Deepened by slate-grey eyes that sat heavy in his skull, whose gaze pierced through Hyleass’s paper-thin pleasantries. The only thing darker than the man’s dower countenance were the rumors laced with his name- Abel Eloi. Otherwise known as the Black Dog.

“Master Eloi,” he remarked, dipping his head to the notorious shade.

Abel spared the sparsest of smiles as he returned the gesture. “High Alchemist.”

The tension, thick and heavy in the air, seemed to bore the Lady. She dismissed Abel’s curt introduction with a subtle brush of jeweled fingers along his jaw. “Is that any way to greet our esteemed guest, dove?” Her question begged no answer, and she appeared pleased to have been met with respectful silence. She tapped her finger to his chin, “Now. Be a doll and fetch us a bottle of Shal’dorei red.”

“As it pleases you, m’lady.”

Hyleass watched Abel slip from the room, quiet as the shadows on which he drifted in. The space left behind cold and insatiable. “He is,” the elder Alchemist began, seeking refuge within the cushion’s over-bearing embrace, “Still under your employment, I see.”

“Oh yes,” Vallory purred. She circled the parlor floor, hem carried on an unhurried wind, until she drifted into the chase adjacent to his chair. Painted nails drew idle, spiraling patterns into the tufted fabric. “It’s hard to find someone as charming as him.” Her lips curled in a sly smirk. Silk dress drifted as she sprawled herself across the chase, black locks spilling over the side. “He serves me well.”

“Loyalty that knows no bounds cultivates lifelong servitude, dora’dor.” Hyleass arched a brow, fingers curling rivets into the folder. “One may consider that dependency. Surely you must’ve gleaned something from that fox.”

A tired sigh spilled from Vallory’s lips. “You’re speaking in riddles again.” She held her hand to the dim light, inspecting scarlet nails with an air of nonchalance. “And it’s boring. I don’t cater to guests who bore me.” She pointed at his lap.

And Hyleass followed it down to the folder.

“Speak to me plainly,” -a demand rather than a question- “Why have you sought an audience?”

And so it was time.

Hyleass straightened his posture and prepared himself to throw his cast. “I’ve brought news,” - he extended the folder out to the Lady- “From Stormwind--  Of the Parkhurst siblings.”

There- the first fissure in her well-manicured facade manifested by the curve of her lips. Hylaess caught the Lady’s attention, and welcomed her curious gaze as she freed him of his burden. She slid upright, slender leg folding over the other, and plucked the folder. Idle moments spent leafing through the papers and photos within. Something in particular piqued her curiosity. She rapped a nail upon the page before peering over its lip to Hyleass.

“What is all of this?”

The Kaldorei leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on adjacent knees, and nodded to the papers. “Records of the youngest’s petition. He sought certification, and the Board denied him advancement.”

She breathed a hum. Plucking a photo from the cluster, she turned absently between her fingers. Hyleass only caught the briefest glimpses of the young man’s beaming smile. “Poor apprentice,” she lamented, tutting with the shake of her head, “Trapped for another year in his sister’s shadow.”  A laugh touched her lips. The photo tossed back into the pile—Tell-tales signs of her waning interest.

“He’s quite unlike his sister,” Hyleass added earnestly, “Optimistic. Trusting. Naïve. ”

Vallory’s chin fell into an open palm. The paint upon her nails glistened as she drummed fingers along her jaw. “So I’ve noted. She’s adept at sheltering him. This is nothing new.”

“Yes. But now?” He reached for the folder in silent askance. She waved him on. And so, he leafed through the procured papers until he found the right image. The photo was held between them, though Hyleass could only see the Lady’s bemused expression. How her sly smirk deflated into a contemplative pout, and her shaped brows dipped in a sudden furrow. A shiver of titillation danced down his spine when her fingers brushed against his own, accepting the photograph with tentative stupor.

She licked her lips. Spoke after a moment’s silence, voice vacant of its usual warmth. “She is…”

“ - Distracted.” Hyleass settled back. Felt, for the first time, the cushion’s embrace to be welcoming. “Yes. Her attention diverted from her beloved apprentice. He’s taken that as an opportunity to enact a bit of independence. Found alone more often than not these days. Perhaps there is tension between the two….” The statement was left to simmer in the air.

It sat for seconds that drew into minutes—thickened by the sudden quiet which befell the Lady. Hyleass shifted in his seat. Callused hands working warmth in his fingers as he flexed them. He almost spoke again when the oak door opened. His gaze immediately found Abel’s as the shade drifted in with burdened tray in hand.

“M’lady,” - Abel offered her a maroon-filled glass- “Vintage. As to your liking.”

Vallory accepted with a soft hum and said nothing more. The wine stained her lips a deeper red as she took a thoughtful sip. Her gaze trained on the ripples inside crystal glass.

Hyleass ignored the indignation Abel’s gaze burned into his head. Instead, he beckoned for Vallory’s attention by ways of an uplifted hand. “Does this,” - he canted his head, ears flicking with newly set nerves- “Please you?”

Her lips lingered over the stained glass. Her gaze slow to find Hyleass from its distant contemplation. She rewarded his patience with a handcrafted smile, placing her hand into his palm. “Yes,” she purred, setting her glass upon Abel’s tray, “It pleases me greatly.”

Relief filled Hyleass’s chest. He all but melted beneath Vallory’s warm touch, drawing her fingers to his lips once more. Though, he did not receive another taste. No, she was quick to withdraw her hand. Paired it with its partner in folded pleasantry upon her lap. His palm remiss over the cold left in her wake.

“Though…” she mused, inclining her head, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything, Kal’dris.”

She hummed. Smooth and rich, it floated through the air with ease. And settled warm in Hyleass’s ears. He smiled despite hearing her request- he already decided he’d accept.

“Take the boy under your tutelage,” - she settled back into her nest of opulence- “Earn his trust. His confidence. And then?” Sharp like a dagger’s point, her grin grew. “See what he knows.”

[Prelude]

[katsuflossy]

Misguided Spark

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x black reader

TW: Suggestive themes, some obscenities, Becky

A/n: Why do I always get inspired by Tiktoks 😭😭 but anyways I’ve been giving Mr Bakugo wayy too much attention and neglecting our shocky boy Denki. So please enjoy!!! 💕

P.S. credit to my bb @iiminibattlehero for giving me a title when my brain was pooped😣

You’ve been with Denki for two years. After joining Uravity’s agency, you’ve met the bolt of lightning that struck through your beautiful black heart (this was after many failed pickup lines and one failed date that resulted in your favorite shirt getting seared off.) Denki did nothing to conceal you, in fact, he showed you off despite your protests; the few couples photos on his Instagram told the story of your love life—not secret but it’s none of your business. 

So why do his fans pair him up with every other hero?!

You would’ve understood if he was shipped with his friends and other heroes in the Big Leagues; your reputation being Uraraka’s sidekick had granted you some fame but you hadn’t reached the big pond yet. 

However, his mass of fans and reporters paired him with everyone under the sun—heroes and sidekicks alike—except you. Just last week Mina nearly choked out a reporter because he trailed her during her patrol, asking what she and Chargebolt did last night. Who knew a simple drink with close friends would spread like wildfire over the news. Oh, not to mention you were there too, holding Kaminari’s hand and laying your head on his shoulder. Your brown face and body had been cut out from every magazine seen the next day. The picture of Mina and Kaminari at an older drink night resurfaced on your timeline, showing Mina slapping his back as he choke-laughed on some beer. 

You didn’t tell Denki your insecurities about the whole world romanticizing him with other very pale—except for Mina’s case—heroes. You can picture his exact laugh, his hand falling on your cheek while affirming you had nothing to worry about. You’re his lovely lady forever and always. 

However, tonight was a different kind of irritation.

The bedroom finally fell quiet, your steamy session released the sexual tension during today’s joint practice. Kaminari’s eyes followed your heavenly molded ass all around the gym, and your own followed his nicely sculpted back when it was angled in your peripheral view. The deed was done now. Your finger made pointless drawings on his naked chest as you laid against his stomach, looking thoughtlessly up at him and his blonde glory. Two nude bodies curled against each other in comfortable silence.

At least that was the case until your phone pinged due to a notification. Your phone glowed the Twitter symbol, the only app you used to keep up with the hero scene and news. One glance at the title and you wished you had put your phone on Do Not Disturb.

Chargebolt's with a civilian fiancee?! Read more about the Electric hero dating top American chef, Becky Gudhear, and their secret relationship.

Your lips formed a scowl at the picture. The blond female chef was entering a car as Denki held her umbrella above her head, the rain clattering against the umbrella as he smiled at the lady. Only for you to remember the next two minutes after the photo was taken; Denki snatched you up, running through the rain as both screamed in delight. 

You shot up from his muscular chest, the middle of your brows creased and your brown thumb scrolled through the hashtags. Denki looked at you before going on his own phone.

Deku’s ratty shoes @noticemesemmpai: “I didn’t know Denki liked white girls *this goes completely with my fantasy*”

Ground zero’s harem girl @otakuforevaava: “Not him cheating on Mina.”

Ground zero’s harem girl #2 @lemmebiteacrumbofdatass: “@otakuforevaava Nah, he’s with Jiro. Did y’all not see when she gave him that hug?”

Your eyes darted from one ship to another, none ever mentioning you, before throwing your phone on the mattress. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, removing yourself from its comfort to pace around the room in frustration. Denki cocked a brow at your strange behavior; you weren’t usually this upset and if you were, you’d simply just watch baby videos until you perked up. The screen glowed through the mattress despite being faced down, holding the secret of your furrowed eyebrows and sharp glare. He took up the phone, showing all the news outlets, fan mentions, and titles creating a relationship not with his black girlfriend but with some random lady that he helped out of the kindness of his heart. 

“Damn, they’re really going bonkers over this one act of kindness. Is Chivalry that dead?”

“As dead as their brains are.” You grumbled out, flopping back on to the edge of the bed.

“It’ll die out in a week. Give or take.” 

“Or not at all. They always come back when they spot you 6 feet from this lady, then resurface this same picture or even better crop me out and photoshop her in it!” Your outburst was met with silence and a wide-eyed, very concerned lighting wielder. 

“...but it’s cool tho.” 

“(Y/n)? Why didn’t you tell me this’d been hurting you?” Your gaze averted to your fingers, twiddling as your embarrassment heated your cheeks.

“I didn’t want to because I thought you’d think I was silly for thinking like that. Plus, I was the one that told you that being with a superhero like you will make me look like a whore trying to climb the ranks.”

“Silly? Baby, I nearly threw your teddy bear across the room because it was looking at your ass too much. If anything I’m the silly one.”

“You didn’t nearly throw Parker across the room, you did throw him across the room.” Two pairs of eyes went to the slumped bear at the opposite corner of the room. It’s patched tongue ratty due to the force it was a victim to.

“... And I’d do it again.” Your attempt to sigh only released the giggle in your throat as Denki continued.

“And baby? Fuck what these tabloids are saying. You’re a skillful fighter and Ochaco’s number one sidekick! If that isn’t a fine, brave, amazing woman then I don’t know what is.” Your body tingled in warmth, unable to hide the physical effects of his compliments as wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him straight on his lips.

“Thank you Denki, I really needed to hear that.” 

“Oh, I’m not done yet.” He moved out of your embrace, kneeling to set his phone up on the bedside table. The lamp was used as support, showing the front camera the entirety of the room. 

“Denki? What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry doll, just sit there and look pretty.” He continued to tap against the screen before a familiar symbol popped up.

Tiktok, one of Denki’s favorite apps, met your eyes as it began to start up. Denki was one of the only pro heroes on Tiktok, which garnered him 5.5 million followers, and at least a million views each video he made. He swiped and scrolled until his eyes lighted up.

“Go put on my shirt. I don’t want them seeing any parts of you only for my pleasure.” You raised an eyebrow at the request but still complied. 

“Now come here, sexy.” Your footsteps hesitantly approached his side of the bed, unknowing about what scheme he made up in his brain. You stopped right where the camera couldn’t see you but you were too far for his liking, so he grabbed the plush of your thigh, pulling you close enough to bury his nose into your flesh. 

“That’s more like it. You ready?” 

“Denki I swear to God you better answer me. What are we doing—”

He tapped the screen, unaffected by your threat, and began to record. The beat was all too familiar before your eyes widened and your face erupted in heat. Sex Talk?!

“Aye uh...ahhh.” He wasted no time getting into character, sticking his tongue out as he winked at the camera. Your melanin-rich thigh stared back at you through the phone, making it known that the leg Denki held indeed belonged to a black person. His hand, under the shirt, kept firm on the back of your thigh to ensure that you stayed within the frame as he continued his Tiktok.

“Aye, bad bitch tastes like cherry kiwi, real big titties these double DDs.” He sings out the song, pointing to your very exposed thigh. Your face hot, the thought of this going online burned your face with not only embarrassment but also excitement. You buried your face in your hands as Denki skimmed your leg with his nose.

“Mwah…” He pressed his lips against your flesh, the epicenter sending tingling waves through your body as he looked straight up at you. His eyes twinkled with mischief as the sound ended. He grabbed the phone before you could reach it, hitting ‘post’ before you could snatch it out of his hand.

“Denki! Your PR manager is so going to kill me.” You scrolled through his phone frantically; it was already pinging with likes and comments from the video posted just 10 seconds ago.

He plucked the phone from your hands and placed it down on the table.

“Never mind that baby girl. The song said a bad bitch tastes like cherry kiwi and I suddenly forgot how that taste. Maybe I should sample you again…” Without ceasing he pressed his lips against yours, ready to start the night off again. 

(H/n)’s footstool @blackshipper: @theeofficialy/n this you? *Chargebolt’s new TikTok*

Chargebolt and (h/n) sittin in a tree @comegetyalljuice: I fucking knew it! (h/n)’s living our Chargebolt fantasy.

Stream Sex Talk by Megan @kpophoebutnotondalow: If your man ain’t kissing up your thigh like Chargebolt did with (h/n), is he even your man?

Mirko’s left rabbit foot @westanMirko: Guys, that’s not @theeofficialy/n, that’s Mirko duh…

You rolled your eyes at the tweet before scrolling through the rest of them. Denki’s chest raised and lowered as he looked through his own phone. Suddenly, you received an email notification. Your eyes widened as you read its body.

“Denki! Some talk show wants us to come in and talk about our relationship. They finally recognize that I’m your partner!” He craned his neck to face you, offering a smirk at your excitement.

“Good, that’ll show Parker who you’re real man is!” The teddy bear stayed in the corner it was thrown, now laying on its side, looking solemnly at the bed. 

“You’re annoying.”

“You still love me though.” A smile spanned your face as you inched closer to Denki’s. Your lips met his in a soft embrace before withdrawing. 

“Yeah, I do.”

[dearest-bucky]

Jealous (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When a new agent joins the Avengers to work with them, Y/n gets jealous seeing the new woman go after her metal armed boyfriend. 

Words: 5.9K

Warnings: a little angst, a lot of fluff, jealous reader, heavy make out sessions and that’s about it lol

A/n: Next to be posted will be ‘Jealous too’, even though they weren’t originally posted in this order.

Originally posted: January 7, 2020

One knock. Silence. One knock.  

Their code.

She opened the door quickly, and with the same speed, without even looking, took hold of the hand on the other side and pulled him inside the room, closing the door again behind him.

“Did anyone see you coming here?” She asked in a hurried voice.

“No, you know I’m-”

Good.“- she didn’t let him finish his sentence, cutting him off with an urgent kiss.

Hands snaking one around his neck and the other in his long chocolate locks, while his kept her face caged between them and returned her kiss with the same urgency. Lips molded together, like a perfect fit, as if made for each other, they continued kissing until the need to breathe was too much. He rested his forehead against hers and with eyes still closed whispered so close to her lips she could feel the tingle of air from his hushed words.

"Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi.” She breathed back with a small smile that didn’t quite reached her eyes like it always did when he called her sweet names.

Yet, she was drunk from his lips and he was no better, still feeling the taste of her cherry lip balm on his tongue. “What was that about?” He asked in a light tone but his eyes locked with her  trying to decipher the look in her face.

She simply shrugged and winked, playing it cool, trying to let go of him and put some distance between the two, suddenly his intense stare on her face making her feel exposed to him, as if he could read her deepest thoughts and feelings through her eyes.

Sometimes he really could. But now she tried to brush the awkwardness off with a small peck on his lips and turned around, finally freeing herself from both his arms and his eyes.

When her back was to him, she closed her eyes and took a short but deep breath to steady herself.

She took three short steps until she reached her bed and fell on the mattress heavily, sighing when her head hit the soft pillow.

“Are you coming to bed, Sarge?” she then asked him teasingly and despite his questioning look on her not faltering, he let out a chuckle and joined her between the sheets.

His lips found hers again and their bodies and souls became one for the rest of the night, before he’d have to sneak out of her room again in the crack of the dawn, just in the time Steve left the compound for his morning run.

This was their routine for the last two months. Bucky would come to y/n’s room every night, spend the moon illuminated hours in her bed with her, talking, kissing, watching movies, kissing again, talking some more, making love and holding each other close, kissing again, then he’d leave as soon as daylight came out, like a thief.

While they had created a solid relationship, it was y/n’s idea to keep their new love to themselves for the time being. Bucky of course couldn’t deny her anything and agreed immediately.

To him it didn’t matter that during the day they had to pretend to be just teammates, as long as he could get to hold her like he did at night. If she wanted to keep their relationship a secret, he was happy to comply. To fulfill her every wish.

Bucky fell asleep right after she tucked her head under his chin and  planted a small kiss on his bare chest. On the other hand, y/n couldn’t close her eyes, or even stop her mind from over thinking.

While she was very satisfied and sated with their loving activities, her brain kept whirring inside her head, not letting her rest for the night.

The reason for that, was another woman.

A new agent of Sh.I.E.L.D, no older than 25 years old, named Kathy.

She was recommended by Fury himself to work with the Avengers, not as a part of the team but in their close circle.

Now y/n didn’t have anything against the girl in the beginning. When she first introduced herself to the team she was easy to talk to and a real treat for the eyes. She seemed genuine, but most importantly very capable at doing her job. And that pleased everyone, even y/n. However, things changed when in the debriefing room entered the ex-Winter Soldier himself and the new agent couldn’t find it in herself to hide the flirty smile and bedroom eyes she was directing to him. Bucky remained serious during the introduction meeting and only nodded once in her direction when he entered the room, but he didn’t miss either her not-so-subtle gestures towards him. Despite that, he didn’t lose his cool. He was used to the ladies’ attention but his was already solely focused on somebody else.

That somebody else being y/n.

from the chair she was sitting, y/n didn’t miss any of Kathy’s gestures towards Bucky and immediately started to regret thinking she was somewhat nice.

The meeting was the morning before and if that whole thing wasn’t enough, Kathy kept flirting with Bucky for the rest of the day. That’s what made y/n act a little weird with her boyfriend in the evening and that’s what kept her awake until the early morning.

****

It was almost two weeks later while training in the gym with the rest of the team, when another Kathy-episode happened. She was running on the treadmill and y/n was practicing hand-to-hand combat with Natasha when Bucky entered the gym too, to throw punches to the sandbag.

As soon as Kathy saw him, she waved a hand in his direction and a big smile on her face. It was easy to see that she was so enamored with the man.

He just gave her a lopsided smile and went about his work, not paying anymore attention.

Y/n didn’t miss their small interaction though and mentally slapped herself when she lost focus and Natasha gained the upper hand on her and slammed her on the mat.

“You got distracted.” She said simply with her signature smirk playing on her lips.

Y/n only rolled her eyes at her but didn’t reply. What could she say after all? That she was jealous of another woman flirting with Bucky? But no one knew about her relationship with him and it was her decision to keep it a secret, that’s why she couldn’t do anything about it now, seeing Kathy shamelessly flirt with him as if he was an available man. Again she couldn’t even blame the girl, because just like everyone else she didn’t know about Bucky and y/n, so she was technically free to pursue something with him.

Still, all of this was driving y/n crazy. Every time she saw Kathy near her boyfriend, she would lose her focus on everything at hand and become a mess. This time was no different.

Natasha helped her get up and started another round of sparring. Only when they were both tired and sweaty they stopped and left the gym without a word to Bucky or Kathy or anyone else in the gym.

“What happened back there?” Nat asked when they were in the lockers’ room, changing.

“Back where?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She winked, a teasing tone in her voice. “You saw Barnes and Kathy smiling to each other and just lost focus on everything else.”

Y/n tried avoiding her eyes, but the Black Widow didn’t miss the falter in her face.

“You have a thing for the Winter Soldier, huh?” She asked smugly, as if she made the discovery of the year. She was far from the truth, considering y/n didn’t just have a thing for him, but a thing with him.

“You do!” She continued. “And you’re scared that you’re gonna miss your chance if Kathy keeps giving him the bedroom eyes.”

Y/n’s head snapped up to Natasha. She hadn’t thought of that. Sure Kathy kept flirting with Bucky all the time and sure she was jealous as fuck but when Nat mentioned the bedroom eyes she thought of the possibility of Bucky sleeping with her and that hurt. A lot.

Without saying anything to Natasha she finished getting dressed and left, going directly to her room and locking herself in.

She was a mess. She spent the rest of the day alone in her room and to make the matter worse, not even a word from Bucky. She knew that was their agreement, no meetings during the day to not get caught from the team, but today she needed to have him there. She didn’t though, and she didn’t do anything to change that.

Only when night fell and the whole team went to their private quarters, not long after came the two separate knocks on her door.

When she opened it and Bucky came in, there was no kiss, no hug, she barely acknowledged him with a simple “hi” before getting in her bed again.

Bucky was surprised by her behavior, he walked behind her and got in the bed to lay on the other side of it.

“You okay doll?” He asked sweetly, but she could sense the underlying worry in his voice.

He put a piece of hair behind her ear and started slowly stroking her cheek, waiting for an answer. She closed her eyes at the contact and a small sigh left her lips.

“Yeah.”

“Talk to me?” He tried getting her to say more than one word answers.

“Baby..” he lowered his head and kissed her cheek lightly.

Only when his lips left her skin, she opened her eyes and a small ghost of a smile escaped her own mouth.

He locked eyes with her, waiting for her to open up and share what was going on. His hand didn’t stop caressing the soft skin of her cheek, moving slowly to her jaw and then again up to her cheek, not letting her go.

“Bucky..” she barely whispered. He would have almost miss hearing her say his name if it wasn’t for him being so close to her.

“Yeah, doll.”

She let out a breath she had been holding for so long that day and briefly closed her eyes again, only to open them one more time a second later.

Bucky was standing so close to her, she could feel his fresh breath on her face, his hand continuing the mindless patterns on her face. She was getting overwhelmed by the closeness, suddenly every sense of her being invaded by his presence.

He was waiting for her to speak up and say something, but she couldn’t. She slowly reached her own hand to his chest, bunching the material of his shirt there in her fist.

“Please hold me.” She literally begged and her voice came out as a whimper.

She was feeling low, had been feeling that way all day. Natasha’s words had been only a spur to the fire of her unforgiving thoughts. She loved Bucky and she was so scared to lose him.

Just as the words left her mouth Bucky wrapped her in his strong arms and enveloped her in a big embrace, all the while peppering kisses on top of her head.

She held on tightly to his shirt, keeping him there, making sure he wasn’t going to leave and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” She mumbled quietly in his skin before closing her eyes and finally letting herself rest peacefully for the rest of the night. Bucky however, totally missed her words, but as he felt her lips on his skin and then her soft breath evening he kept placing kisses on her head and mumbled an “I love you” of his own that she missed too.

****

Another day, another mission.

Another Hydra base to knock down.

This one was a big facility in eastern Europe and the whole team was needed there, even some extra hands from other agents, including Kathy.

Bucky was fighting alongside Steve, killing Hydra thugs one after one, and y/n was a few meters away from them, doing the same job. She was taking down two agents at once, when a third one came behind her with a knife, trying to jab her in the back.

No one was there to help, but just as the agent was about to stab her, she heard Bucky’s voice calling out for her.

“Y/n, get down!” He yelled and she blindly followed his instructions, never giving it a second thought.

Not even a moment later she heard a gunshot from the distance and the bullet hit the agent behind her right in the head. He fell with a loud thud and y/n spared him a quick glance before turning to Bucky again and smiling to him in gratitude. He had saved her life.

The mission was long, but thankfully everyone was okay. When they were in the Quinjet, on their way back home Bucky went to y/n and touched her shoulder lightly.

“You okay?” He asked. “You scared me for a second there doll.” He added in a hushed voice and gave her a look worth a million words. He wanted to grab her and hold her close and make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t because of her decision to keep them a secret.

“Yeah, Buck, thanks.” She whispered back with a smile. She wanted to wrap herself around him and have him hug her close and for a moment she forgot about the rest of the team and agents being there, she was going to let herself go, but only then behind them came none other than Kathy.

“Hello, Sergeant.” She greeted him in a light tone and a wide smile then directed her look at y/n. “Y/l/n” she acknowledged her too with a nod of her head.

Y/n pursed her lips in a straight line and nodded back. Bucky just smiled politely at her. He wanted to be alone with y/n at the moment, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, because Kathy didn’t leave, but kept glancing at them one at a time.

“Do you need anything?” Y/n asked this time, annoy clearly detectable in her voice, but she couldn’t mask it even if she tried. The woman got on her nerves, made her uneasy.

It wasn’t that y/n felt like Kathy was better than her in any way, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of her being a threat to her relationship with Bucky.

“Actually, yes.” She said, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air. “I need Sergeant Barnes to help me with the file we extracted from the Hydra base we just took down.” Her eyes locked on Bucky this time and she smiled his way, trying to get him to go with her.

Y/n went stiff beside Bucky and he felt her being uncomfortable in the presence of Kathy. Only then his mind linked the dots to what was happening more and more lately.

Every time Kathy got near him, y/n would leave the room in a hurry without sparing any of them a second glance. And every time, she was sad when he got to her room at night. Now he could understand why.

Y/n was about to leave when Bucky grabbed her hand and locked eyes with her for a moment before turning to Kathy again, answering her with the same polite smile as before.

“We can do that later. Right now I have something to discuss with y/n.”

Either woman wasn’t expecting that answer from him, but they didn’t say anything to disagree.  

The first to react was y/n, tightening the grip on his hand while mentally doing a happy little dance of victory.  

Kathy on the other hand, kept her smile, trying to maintain it easy, but failing a little and nodded her head.

“Okay then, I will see you later.” And with that she left.

Bucky turned to y/n and winked, before they both sat down close to each other, still keeping a small distance to not make the others suspicious of the type of the relationship they had. They talked all the time during the flight back home, never leaving each other’s side.

****

If Tony Stark knew how to do anything right, that was throwing parties. Just like every other time he had gone out of his way to make the thing shiny and loud, crowded with people on every corner of the place.

The Avengers were gathered all together in a small group, drinking and chatting with each other, the atmosphere pleasing despite everything. Rare were their time off, so they tried to enjoy it as much as they could.

Y/n was sitting between Sam and Steve on the couch, Bucky propped on a chair next to Steve, Natasha, Clint, Wanda and Vision all around in a circle. She was having a good night in the presence of her friends, but that was quickly ruined when she saw on her peripheral vision Kathy coming their way, nursing a drink of her own in her hands. She was smiling widely and swaying to the beat of the music as she made her way towards the group.

“Evening Avengers.” She greeted them all and was now standing close to them, behind Vision’s back. Everyone said ‘hello’ to her. Everyone except y/n. She only gave her a small forced smile but no one even noticed.

Vision turned around to see Kathy and ever the gentleman, without losing time, he offered her to sit in his chair with his characteristic polite voice.

“Oh no.” She refused. “I don’t wanna sit. I’ve been sitting all night. I actually came here to ask if anyone wanted to dance. I was getting a little bored with the other agents only drinking.” She explained excitedly and her eyes traveled to everyone’s faces before stopping at Bucky.

When nobody answered her, all men trying to avoid her gaze and pretending to be too tired or too drunk to dance, she turned to Bucky again. “What about you Bucky?” She asked expectantly, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“I- um.. I don’t…” If they weren’t seeing it with their own eyes, no one would ever believe Bucky Barnes was having a hard time answering to a dame’s invite to dance.

He discreetly looked at y/n, but she didn’t glance back at him, too preoccupied with her glass of wine.

“Go and dance with her punk, you haven’t danced at all.” Steve nudged his arm and Bucky was about to punch his best friend in the face for speaking.

“Yeah Bucky, go dance with her.” This time it was y/n speaking and that shocked Bucky a little, not expecting that, but he could hear the almost daunting tone in her voice and he looked at his girlfriend again, then got up to join Kathy for a dance, but not before sending a teasing wink on y/n’s way.

Well, two could play a game, he thought.

When they left y/n downed the rest of her drink then got up too and nearly dragged Sam on the dance floor with her.

She wasn’t going to let her night be ruined because of some other woman having a crush on her boyfriend. As long as Bucky loved only her, everything was fine.

She danced with Sam for a long time, all the while stealing glances at Bucky and Kathy discreetly. The woman seemed to have the time of her life, while Bucky was slowly but surely growing more and more comfortable with her.

That didn’t bother y/n that much, she was kind of glad Bucky was having a good time, even if it wasn’t with her. She was also having a good time with Sam, dancing and joking with him the whole time. But that changed as soon as a slow song came on and she saw Kathy enthusiastically snake her arms around Bucky’s neck.

She left the dance floor in a hurry and when Bucky noticed her leaving, he excused himself from the other woman to follow behind his girl.

He caught her at the hallway near the ballroom, grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Where are you going love?”

She had a wild look in her eyes, one he hadn’t seen before. A look that screamed JEALOUS in front of his face.

“You…” She started talking but wasn’t sure what to say, silencing for a moment before speaking again. “Were you trying to make me jealous on purpose?”

“Why, were you jealous doll?” He asked with a teasing voice, almost mocking her and that only gained him a growl from her.

They were staring in each other’s eyes, like it was a contest, trying to see who would lose and break the eye contact first.

“You know I was.” She admitted simply and he lit up at her words. He grinned like stupid but decided he wasn’t going to let up, trying to get more of a reaction from her.

“So what are you going to do about it?” He asked again, testing her patience.

He soon got what he wanted, as she pushed him a few steps back, until his back touched the wall of the hall and she quickly locked her hands in his hair and her lips with his. She kissed him hungrily while tugging at his locks and he groaned in her mouth.

“Someone will see us doll.” He spoke in her mouth, not breaking the kiss.

“You think I care?” She replied quickly, moving her mouth to his jaw, nipping there for a moment before going to his neck and attacking the skin there with kisses and small bites.

He chuckled deeply at her response and barely kept a moan from leaving his mouth when she hit a certain soft spot in his neck with her lips.

“But they’ll know, our secret will be out.” He continued teasing her with words but his hands were holding her impossibly close, moving across her back until they went down to her ass and gave it a squeeze that made her yelp in surprise.

She removed her lips from his neck and gave him a look that was horny and innocent at the same time. “I don’t care.” She said quietly before she kissed his mouth again, with the same passion as before.

He smiled before surrendering to her lips, not talking anymore.

****

“It’s a simple mission Bucky. Because Natasha is on a solo mission in France and y/n sprained her ankle last week, I’m forced to pair you with Kathy on this one.” Steve explained to him, but Bucky wasn’t listening. He only knew that he couldn’t go in a mission alone with Kathy or y/n would be very upset about it.

“Punk, why do I have to be the one going with her? Why don’t you send Sam? Or even better, why don’t you go yourself?” He was trying to change his mind without saying anything about y/n.

Despite their little adventure on the hallway two weeks ago, they soon moved to his room and nobody saw them together, so their relationship was still a secret to the rest of the world, even though with every passing day they would be seen closer to each other than before, sitting together during dinners or movie nights and even training together in the gym.

“It has to be you Buck, you know the area better than anyone else and she is the only good option I currently have to do the job. It’s just a mission rec. Kathy will extract the information we need and you will watch her back. It will be over in a few hours anyway.”

Steve wasn’t letting it go, and Bucky was sure there was no way to change his mind now. Besides, he was right, it seemed an easy mission so it would be over quickly. But he still wasn’t sure of how to tell the news to y/n. He was thinking of ways to let her know without upsetting her, but couldn’t come up with anything.

As if Steve read his thoughts, he spoke up. “I’m sure y/n will understand.”

Bucky looked up to his best friend and opened his mouth in surprise. Steve knew?

“Wha.. I- umm… wha-what are you talking about? What does this have anything to do with y/n?” He stumbled upon his own words and Steve only smirked at him.

“You’re not as good at keeping secrets as you thought you were jerk. Now go tell your girl. I’m sure she will understand.”

Bucky only nodded, not knowing what to say. He turned around to leave Steve’s office, then turned back to his friend and gave him a small smile, before opening the door and leaving, making a beeline to y/n’s room.

If only it was as easy as Steve made it seem when he told y/n about it.

They were currently in her room and she was giving him the silent treatment, arms folded on her chest and lips forming a pout Bucky only wanted to kiss away from her face.

But he couldn’t. She got upset 10 minutes ago when he told him about the mission he had to go in with Kathy tomorrow.

Now she was upset, mad and sad at the same time.

“Babydoll, listen to me.” He tried talking to her again, making her understand that it was just a job needing to be done. When he touched her cheek she finally snapped and opened her mouth to speak.

“No, I listened to you enough Bucky. Why can’t Steve send someone else with you? Wanda for example?”

“Because she’s the-”

“Or why can’t he send someone else with her? There are a lot of agents in Sh.I.E.L.D that can do the job and I’m sure someone can go.” She finished in a hurried voice. “But not you Bucky.”

Bucky hated this. He hated seeing her sad because of him. He hated Steve for making him go in this mission. But it was his job. He had to do it.

“Baby, I can’t not go. You know that I can’t.” He tried reasoning with her again, but she got up from her bed and winced when her sore ankle touched the floor, but didn’t let up and headed to her bathroom.

He reached to help her walk but she moved away from him and got inside the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“You can show yourself out Bucky. Goodnight.” She called from inside the bathroom and opened the faucet, letting the water pour, not wanting to listen to any more of his words.

He was stunned by her action but simply let her be, not wanting to upset her anymore. “Okay baby, goodnight.” He said in a low voice, fully knowing she couldn’t listen to him and then went to his own room.

When y/n got out of the bathroom almost 15 minutes later, a part of her was hoping Bucky was still there, but when she realized that he was nowhere in sight, she sighed in disappointment and got in her bed more upset than she was before. Maybe this was for the best.

****

The next morning, she was still asleep when Bucky knocked only once and got inside her room without waiting for her response to let him in. He found her asleep, sprawled across the bed, wearing one of his shirts that she had  'stolen’ from him and a pair of shorts. Her blanket had fallen on the floor. He smiled at the sight.

He grabbed the blanket and covered her body with it and moved a piece of hair from her face to see her. He crouched down and kissed her forehead, then her eyes, to move slowly to her cheeks until she started to stir  in her sleep. He knew she was waking up but he didn’t stop his kisses.

Before any of them left for a mission, they had this tradition of a good-luck-and-come-back-home-safe kiss and Bucky didn’t want to miss that.

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking the sleep away and he was still kissing her face.

“Good morning sweet girl.” He said with a soft voice and a small kiss on the tip of her cold nose.

“Buck..” she spoke still not fully awake, enjoying this way of waking up a little too much. Her brain was still asleep so she didn’t remember any of the things that happened last night, but then he spoke again and she came to her senses quickly.

“I’m here to get my to-go-kiss.” He said and only then she pushed his body with her hands, creating some distance between them.

“Oh..” she simply said, mentally slapping herself for falling so easily for his sweet kisses. “You’re still going in that mission?” She asked then.

He sighed and nodded his head. “Baby we talked about it. It’s my job and I have to do it, you need to understand.”

“Yeah of course, I totally understand.” She replied in a much colder tone and moved further away from him, pressing her back on the headboard.

He stared at her and tried getting closer again. “Gimme my kiss.” He said like a spoiled child, trying to light her mood, but it wasn’t working.

“Just go Bucky. You’re going to be late.” She totally ignored his request and turned her head on the side, not meeting his eyes anymore.

Bucky was hurt. He knew she would still be upset, but no natter what happened between them, when there was a mission ahead, there was always a good luck kiss. This time apparently not.

“Doll…” he tried again but she didn’t spare him another glance, keeping her head to the side, suddenly the lamp on her nightstand the most interesting thing in the world.

He sighed, dejected.

“I’ll see you when I come back then.” He talked in a hushed, almost broken voice and leaned in to give her a kiss on her temple, then left the room without another word.

Y/n knew she was acting stupid. She knew it wasn’t his fault for being paired up with Kathy in this mission and most importantly she knew she would always regret not giving him the lucky kiss now. She pondered her options for a moment, before getting up from the bed and following behind him.

Bucky arrived at the Quinjet hangar like a kicked out puppy. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t get y/n to understand and now she wouldn’t even kiss him goodbye before the mission. Kathy was already waiting for him there, she greeted him and got in the jet first, waiting for him to join her.

He was about to get in too, when he heard her voice behind his back, calling his name desperately.

“Buck!” She called again and he turned around, almost not believing when he saw her limping a little on her way to him. He took a few steps in her direction too and when they met he grabbed her and hoisted her in his strong arms, his hands behind her knees and her legs around his middle, holding on to him. She hugged him tightly and hid her face in his neck, breathing shy apologies for his ears only.

He put a hand on her face and made her look at him in the eyes, her own glossy with tears.

“I’m sorry Buck.” She repeated and he shook his head, trying to tell her it was okay, that she needn’t apologize for anything and pushed his lips to hers, silencing her words with a kiss. She whimpered in his mouth but returned the kiss, all too eager to finally be able to do just that.

Meanwhile Kathy was watching all the scene from the small gate of the jet, mouth hanging open in shock. She had seen Bucky and y/n close before, but they never did anything to let her know something was going on between them. They kept kissing, acting as if she wasn’t there at all, as if they were the only people in the whole world. To them, they were.

Slowly, y/n was the first to break the kiss and Bucky grunted quietly when he lost the feel of her lips on his.

“I’m sorry Buck.” Y/n resumed again with her apologizing and he smiled this time.

“It’s okay doll, I know you were upset.”

“Yeah, I was, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give you the lucky kiss. If anything is to happen to you in that mission, I would never forgive myself. Because it would be my fault.” She spoke slowly, still in his arms, feeling already better about everything.

“Everything is well, y/n. You don’t need to worry sweetheart.” He replied. “I’ll be back in 5 hours tops and then we’ll spend the rest of the day in your bed. Sounds good?”

She nodded, smiling and was about to reply to him, when the voice of Kathy interrupted them.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m sorry but we have to leave now if we don’t want to be late.” She informed him with a formal voice, not a hint of her previous flirty tone and went inside the jet.

Y/n untangled herself from Bucky and rested her feet on the ground. “You should go.” She said softly to him but her arms were still around his neck and his never let go of her waist.

He hummed and gave her a quick peck on the lips, finally letting go of each other, but at the last moment she tugged at his hand again and gave him another full kiss on the mouth, leaving them both breathless.

“Another good luck kiss.” She shrugged and he laughed. “Wanted to make sure it will do its magic right.”

He kissed her lips again not caring about Kathy waiting for him in the jet or being late for the mission or any other thing in the world. All he cared about was in his arms.

“I love you.” She breathed when he let go of her lips and his eyes widened because it was the first time she ever said it out loud.

There had been a lot of times when he wanted to tell her he loved her, but he was afraid he was going to scare her away with saying it so soon, considering she wasn’t even ready to let the team know about them.

A wide grin split his lips and she mirrored his face.

“I love you too, doll.” He didn’t hesitate to say the words back and she quickly pecked his lips again. This time for the last time before letting him go.

He turned around and got in the Quinjet quickly, Kathy already in the pilot seat.

“So, you and y/l/n, huh?” She asked amused, not even an ounce of malice in her voice.

He smiled at her and turned his head back to y/n to send her a wink before the gate of the jet closed and it took off to its destination. She could still see her smiling widely and waving at him.

Bucky couldn’t wait to come back home to his girl.

[jacks-jester]

Silent Treatment

[Jerome Valeska x Reader]

Words: 1,675

Warnings: Murder, violence, attempted sexual harassment/assault

Requested: Yes / No

Request: “ Hello Beautiful Person! I'm your new follower. Requests are opened right? Not sure how violent or graphic asks can be so I just give it a shot ok? Can I get Jerome x reader in Arkham but no one knows why she's there cause she seems too innocent and totaly normal, but she's more dangerous then they think. After killing a guard in front of everyone for harrasing her, she confesses to being a serial killer but she only kills other killers? (I was watching Dexter) J has a crush on her from day one. “ - Anonymous

Summary:  Jerome tries getting to know Arkhams newest victim, a young girl who seems too innocent to be stuck in a place like that. He is quickly proven wrong when her crimes come to light after attacking and killing a prison guard.

A/N~ Love Dexter, love this prompt. Thanks for the response, I hope you enjoy!

Arkham Asylum held the lowest of the low, that included the staff, inmates, and anyone else who dared venture into the shitty institution. Gotham held a lot of bad apples, most of which were comfortably tucked away inside of the padded walls of this penitentiary. Arkham Asylum was disgusting place, the city clearly not caring about the upkeep of the rotting building. The state of the building was laughable, mold growing in every shadow and crevice, rats and cockroaches littering the halls, half the food was rotting in the cafeteria, the guards had no repercussions or supervision, the walls were literally crumbling, and most locks were broken or malfunctioning. The only thing they made sure of, was that guards were armed at all times, assuring brutality between patients and guards, because lets be honest, who would care if an insane inmate of Arkham Asylum was found dead. It was easy for stories to be twisted where guards were the victims of the whole operations, the mentally ill always being the villains. 

Arkham’s inmates mostly consisted of men, all ages, all sizes, all different types of fucked up. Arkham accepted anyone deemed a danger to them selves of society so Arkham became a big mixing pot of problems.Serial killers next to muggers, cannibals next to rapists, even some innocents mixed in with the bunch. The few innocents in Arkham never lasted long though, either being killed or becoming corrupted themselves. See that was the thing about Arkham, nobody got better by going there, if anything it reaffirmed their anger and resentment towards the corrupt city and its inhabitants. 

Arkham was it’s own special breed of poison for the mentally ill.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You were fairly new to Arkham Asylum, only having been there a week so far. It was no surprise that several of the more lonely inmates had taken to trying to flirt with you,claim you as their property, you didn’t take the bait though. You opted to follow the same route as some of the other female inmates: stay the fuck away from any other inmate in this god forsaken hell hole. You weren’t crazy, you knew that, nobody else here did though. To guards an inmate was an inmate, all the other prisoners having the same mindset as the guards. To everyone in here, you were just another loony who got caught and locked away.

The only thing that seemed to catch people off guard, was your quiet and respectful nature. You never got in fights, never had a melt down, and always were compliant with the prison rules. Most people were the most defensive their first week here, you were the exact opposite of the usual response to being locked up. This had peaked the interest of a particular red headed carnie who had just been locked up himself. Jerome was a curious person by nature, a quick learner, and a very big people person - granted he despised most people though. 

Your demeanor drew him in from the start, your physical attractiveness also helping though. Jerome had attempted to talk to you several times, each time being completely ignored or dismissed at the wave of a hand. You always had a book on hand, opting to sit in the far corner of the leisure room and read to yourself while the other inmates played amongst themselves. You were never one to snap easily at people, having learned to bite your tongue to avoid conflict.

Jerome still persisted though, every day opting to sit near you and talk to you, though her never got a response. You’d think a person like Jerome would get worn out and tired of the routine, but if anything he saw it as a game. He wanted to be the first person to get you to talk, he wanted to break your quiet, it helped that he had a bet going with Greenwood though. Greenwood said Jerome would never be able to crack the quiet girl, Jerome begged to differ, and Jerome was never wrong.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was another day at the Asylum: same shit food, same worn out clothes, same awful staff members, same boring routine. You made your way towards the leisure area, relieved to get a break from your cell. The asylum ran in shifts: high security offenders had the third break of the day - the break you were taking now. You were growing tired of the sorry excuse of a bed the penitentiary gave you, a metal sheet, a blanket, and a flat pillow. It was impossible to get a good nights sleep on those cots, leaving you in an annoyed state for the day. You had gotten no sleep last night, between uncomfortable sleeping conditions and the loud screaming of one of the patients down the hall, it was impossible.

You finally made your way to the checking station, guards typically frisking down patients to ensure that they do not have any weapons on hand. More than once had you seen patients try bringing in pens, wires, sometimes even getting their hands on shards of glass.  You approached the guard station, holding your arms out in a T position and separating you legs slightly so they could ensure nothing was tucked in your pants. You had refused to wear the Arkham dresses, not wanting to deal with peoples stares, specifically Greenwood and Sionis. 

It didn’t take long for the newbie guard to begin frisking you, his hands gently patting you down to ensure there were no potentially dangerous items on your person. You watched him closely as you felt his pats becoming more prolonged, seemingly taking his time - most guards barely graze an inmate before allowing them in, this new guard seemed to be getting to familiar for comfort. You tensed slightly as he began running his hand up your leg. “Watch it.” You said it with a venomous tone, warning lacing your voice. 

The guard only looked at you with a narcissistic smirk, “Mind your manners, you gonna do something about it?” You could feel the rage boiling over in your stomach, “Last chance, knock it off.” You snapped the moment you felt his callous hand brush over you ass, his finger groping lightly, “Try something, I dare you.” You closed your eyes and sighed, “I warned you.” Without another word you brought your elbow, crushing into his face, immediately snapping his nose. Almost instantly blood began gushing from his pig like nose, misshapen and red. He clutched over, his hands both going to his nose as blood freely poured from the new injury. “You fucking bitch!” 

You watched as his hand went to grab his gun, the pistol hanging loosely off his left hip. His movements were clumsy however, his hands slipping anxiously off the pistol, you figured it was the shock of having his nose caved in, a headache more than likely forming. Your eyes widened as he went to reach for the gun, your instincts quickly taking over your rational thoughts. Your leg quickly slung over his arched back, getting in a piggy back position as your hands found the curvature of his neck, your hands quickly twisting in the most unpleasant way.

His body instantly slumped beneath you, falling ungracefully to the floor with a sickening thump, your legs catching you before he could pull you down with him. His head was jarred at a strange angle, his jaw slack, eyes wide with shock, hand resting against his holstered gun. Your eyes widened as you came to grips with what had just occurred, you’d broken your code, well kind of. You didn’t consider yourself a criminal, you simply took out the garbage, only killing criminal who were walking free. So in a way he did fit into your normal range of crime, he was obviously someone who delved in sexual assault and harassment so you didn’t feel guilty about it. 

You only turned around upon hearing a low whistle from behind, a whistle you knew all to well. You swore under your breath before turning to face Jerome who took to slowly clapping his hands together, as if to show his gratitude for the act just displayed in front of him. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He let out a laugh, kneeling next to the fallen guard, quirking his head to make ye contact with the security guards wide eyes. “Did quite a number on him, didn’t cha?” You rolled your eyes, your gaze flicking to the corpse. “Fucker got what was coming to him.” Your voice was quiet but loud enough for Jerome to hear.

He turned to you with feigned shock, his jaw open as he looked at you with wide eyes. He placed his hand over his chest as his mouth formed a wide grin, “I’m honored doll, finally got you to break after a week.” You rolled your eyes at the excited red head, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement, though there was a small hint of genuine surprise within his ebony pools. He circled you for a moment, “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought you were, not so innocent.” You raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

He only nodded with that same impish grin, “Not yet.... not yet.” He reached down, grabbing the keys from the guards body, opening the leisure room door for you. “After you, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” You looked at him for a moment before sighing, going with him for one reason or another. Death wasn’t uncommon at a place like this so after everyone was securely in the leisure room, the guards body was eventually dragged away and to be disposed of. You and Jerome had taken to sitting in a far corner of the room, a game of Candyland splayed between you two. He made his move before resting his cheek on his fist, peering over at you. “This is gunna be fun.Now then, I want to know everything.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Time: 2 hours 38 minutes (Mania made it incredibly hard to focus, I kept getting stuck)

[geniedocroe]

A GOOD LIFE

(joe liebgott X reader)

fluff

wc: 1615

sometimes life gets a little difficult to comprehend. you could be standing completely still but somehow everything seemed to be moving at a million miles a minute. you were reaching out to grasp something to pull you out of that daze. you were reaching out to yank on the brakes. time had to slow down. just for a few seconds.

the situation you were currently in was something many people experienced throughout there whole entire lifetime. and you wanted this. you definitely wanted this. so why did you feel like life was passing you by? why did you feel stuck? like you couldn’t breathe. you needed to breathe. every single wall around you seemed to shift as you made your way up the stairs of your home in san francisco, california.

it truly was a beautiful home. the victorian style was one of your favorites. you and your amazing, joseph liebgott, had fallen in love with the house right after viewing it. the two of you moved in soon after your wedding. most of the time you were left home alone whilst joe drove his taxi. this left you to do most of the decorating. honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. that was besides the point now.

throwing open the front door was quite the experience because you had nearly forgot to lock it but you sure did. you left yourself collapse on the sofa. the stunning living room no longer pleased you. all you wanted, no, all you needed was your husband. once again, life gets a little difficult to comprehend and this? this was something you couldn’t do alone.

you didn’t know how much time had passed as you laid on the sofa. it had to have been hours. every single scenario ran through your mind as you laid there. this is what you wanted. this is what he wanted. when the faint sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door hit your ears you immediately sat up straight. your hands smoothed over your clothes and over your hair. you were now alert.

joe walked into the nearly dark foyer. the sun had already began to set. it left a dim glow on his face as it shone through the glass of the front door. he looked the same as he always did. hair tousled, clothes wrinkled, tired look on his face. he dealt with people all day. he looked annoyed. some part of you was begging to wait for another day to tell him but joe always looked annoyed. you knew this is exactly what he wanted. it was almost all he talked about. of course he loved coming home to you but he grew up with tons of siblings. the house was too quiet. he had yet to notice you watching you.

you were almost always watching him. admiring him. and if you weren’t admiring him then he was admiring you. he cherished the way you would move, speak, dance, laugh. somehow you were every single thing he was looking for and more. you lit up his world just by existing. the simple thought of you was enough. the little things are what mattered most.

his eyes scanned the foyer, the stairs, the dining room, and finally the living room. his eyes found you eventually. a smile grew on his face and you couldn’t help but smile back. this is what he needed at the end of a long day. he crossed the room, sitting beside you on the sofa and pressing a kiss to your cheek. you hummed in response.

“why are you sitting in the dark, my love?” joe let your wrap you arms around his torso, burying you head into his neck. your legs rested on either side of him. it felt so nice to hug somebody. this hug was long overdue.

for a second you didn’t respond. you wanted to revel in the warm embrace. you knew joe wouldn’t have a bad reaction. this is what the both of you wanted. you couldn’t fight away your anxiety though.

“well joe, typically when the sun starts to set it becomes dark outside and now it is dark inside.” your voice was muffled. the smile on your face returned at your sarcasm. his small laugh left you feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“very funny. i always knew you‘d be an amazing comedian.” the vibrations of joes voice in his chest was a comforting feeling. you pulled him closer. more scenarios ran through your mind. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

this time you actually didn’t respond. you wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted. there wouldn’t be much of that for the rest of your life. that was a guarantee. you wanted to enjoy the feeling of it just being you and joe one more time before you could start worrying about someone else.

at the feeling of your tears seeping into joes next, his heartbeat quickened. that was something you could feel. joe never liked seeing you upset. that was why the two of you rarely argued. joe constantly reminded you that you were his whole entire world. you were his drug and he loved the addiction.

joe wanted to pull away from you. he wanted to look you in the eye but he enjoyed this embrace as much as you did. the two of you could definitely fall asleep this way. in fact, you probably had fallen asleep this way many times.

“what’s wrong?” joe asked aloud. instead of him pulling away, you did. the tears fell in an odd pattern but they fell. you gave him a teary smile.

“everything is perfect.”

“but?”

“joe, i love you more than anything else in this whole entire world and i know you feel the same. you’re happy right?”

“i could never be happier. i have you, my taxi, we live in sunny california. what more could i need?” he thought for a moment but a silly grin appeared on his face. “of course i’d love to have kids one day but i’m happy now. this is a good life.”

“you want kids one day?” he nodded, confused. the two of you had that conversation more than any other. it what the both of you strived for. a comfortable way to live with a bunch of children running around. a bunch of baby liebgotts. enough for a tiny little baseball team.

“of course i do. as long as i’m having them with you. i’m not in a rush though. it’s what you want, doll.” joe was still smiling at you. he held your hands in his own. he was making your heart melt.

“what if i told you we’re having kids a lot sooner than you think.” you blinked at him. the whole entire room was silent. that same stuck feeling came back and hit you like a car hitting a tree. neither of you broke eye contact. you couldn’t even tell if joe was breathing.

“you’re . . . ?” joe voice was just above a whisper. his expression read disbelief. the grip on your hands tightened and you fought back the urge to wince.

the only sound was the ceiling fan spinning around and around and around and around. your mind was that ceiling fan. it kept going in circles. it was racing, trying to compete with whoever was in first place and it certainly wasn’t you. despite this you were confident and gave a simple nod.

“i got you pregnant?” joe’s cheeks flushed. you always loved it when he blushed. he didn’t tend to get nervous or embarrassed often. sometimes he even boasted about your sex life but dear god his wife was pregnant. you were his wife and you were pregnant.

“yes joe. this is not the mailman’s child. you are the father. i can promise you that.” you gave out a soft laugh at the silly joke.

joe’s gaze left yours. the painful grip on your hands left and you were suddenly yanked forward into another hug. this time joe’s tears hit your neck. his body wracked with sobs. the air that previously left your lungs had returned. that stuck feeling had disappeared. this is exactly what you wanted. this was the beginning of a really good life. an amazing new chapter.

“i’m gonna be a dad!” joe’s muffled wail reached your ears. the tears now ran down your face, stronger and faster than ever.

“and an amazing one at that.” you grinned, pulling away. you pressed a short kiss on his lips. the emotions was there. for some reason this made joe cry even more. you lifted a hand to wipe away his tears. “i went to the doctor earlier. i’m four months along and i’m not even showing. i haven’t even had any symptoms. i mean i guess i missed my period but i never even thought about that.”

“i can’t believe this! we’re gonna be parents. i’m gonna pass out.” he placed a hand over his eyes. you pushed back joe’s hair.

“it gets better.” a smirk was plastered on your face.

“what could be better than this?” he breathed out before suddenly freezing. the twinkle in his eyes returned. you loved how excited he was getting. “twins?”

you nodded again. any trace of your anxiety was out the window. your husband tackled you backwards into a hug. the both of you were laughing as tears cascade down your face. this time joe pressed a long kiss to your lips. they molded together perfectly. it felt just right.

this truly was a good life.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Change of Heart

Here’s the WidowAna commission! Commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.

(Older content)

Summary: In which Amelie feels her ice melting away after familiarity strikes her heart and she feels the need to return to Overwatch. Seeing Ana reminds her of what they used to have- and boy can that woman make a girl see stars.

Reblogs > Likes

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Widowmaker/Ana Amari (FWB), mentioned romantic interest of Sombra/Widowmaker

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Widowmaker is a trans woman with facial feminization and top surgery but no bottom surgery: Words used to describe her bits are cock/dick, FWB relationship, bondage.

Words: 2.5k

_________________

Overwatch had banded back together in another stand against the cruelty of the world, a war that would never be won. Of course, it needed to be done secretly- that went without saying. The government wasn’t fond of people with super powers causing a mess of things again. Every former agent that held the recon communicator got the message from Winston.

Even if they were playing for the same team.

Amelie could remember portions of being a member of Overwatch, the entire experimentation on her caused a big jerk in her memories. Yet, the communicator had jostled some more, a little tug in her memories that made her cold heart ache until she was absentmindedly stroking over the shape of it with her thumb, a frown to her plump lips. It would take her months to make her decision after this moment.

For once, in years, she had felt lost and confused. FELT something other than nothing. She once had had a purpose of being one of the greatest marksmen around, never missing, always taking down her prey without a shed of a doubt of anything that came after.

~Rest under the cut~

And yet...In her own mind, she found herself yearning for the smiles she once shared with the ones she used to call her ‘family’.

To Angela’s soft smiles as she checked over for injuries, to Winston acting as the father of the group and making sure everyone was fed, to their newest recruit- Lena- excited to try all the new things and do well. Ana’s kind eyes as she pinched Amelie’s cheek and told her that her aim was getting better by the day. A prideful look that always made Amelie laugh.

A shock had sent her forward in her sleep, eyes snapping awake as if something was calling out to her. Leave, run, go away- her first instincts in years that hadn’t been killer ones. She wasn’t following programming, or orders from men in Talon, something was melting her outer shell away.  Something calling out to her, leave, run, go away, a mantra-

There had been one person in this entire organization she had gotten close to. Or, as close as she could have possibly gotten. Someone who saw past the cold exterior to the woman she used to be- the woman she COULD be.

Sombra.

Sombra had found a way to get Amelie to open up as best as she could, somehow wiggling her way into the spider’s heart until she found herself almost aching to see the hacker smiling up at her. Such a little thing with a hidden story, Amelie just knew she was hiding it.

However, ones who hide together stuck together.

She found herself going to Sombra’s room in the middle of the night that very same night, quietly starting to pack her things for her until the hacker stirred from her position in bed, “Ugh-- Amelie? It’s too early-” She starts to groan, sitting up in bed with her hair a mess and rubbing at her eyes, but she’s startled when Amelie rests a perfectly manicured hand on her arm.

There’s a look they share. Amelie’s eyes don’t look lost and solemn, she looks determined.

A tired, yet mischief filled smile spreads across Sombra’s face with a bit of a laugh escaping her, “Oh we’re being naughty this early? Why didn’t you say so.”

It takes an hour, maybe less to gather what is needed and for Sombra to turn off both the lights and cameras. They’re gone by morning, no sign, no note. And an even bigger surprise for everyone when the one missing with Sombra, is none other than their perfect little doll, their perfect killing machine.

--

The switch back to Overwatch is a culture shock, not to mention the welcome party isn’t very welcome. Not when they see Sombra, at the very least, and the person who nearly killed Lena. Something Amelie only had a flicker of memory about, as if she could recognize her face to a T, but the whole scenario had been a blur. As if she had been a puppet to a ventriloquist.

Once finally accepted after keeping them both in almost interrogation rooms to ensure there was no bugs on them or any nefarious ideas, they were allowed to be apart of the group-. With surveillance, of course.

Lena took Olivia under her wing.

And Ana had Amelie, someone Amelie hadn’t seen in years and could admire the woman even more now.

Her hair was now grayed completely over, not a shock of black in it. Her eyes were just as kind as Amelie remembered them, honeyed and warm with wrinkles delicately framing the outer edges in crow’s feet. Her smile was just as warm, if a bit sad as she reaches to set her hand on Amelie’s cheek, as if checking her over. She’s even shorter than Amelie remembered.

“You haven’t aged a day.” Ana murmurs softly, sounding sad for her and Amelie can’t blame her. Her body was practically frozen at this age, looking just like the young 28 year old Ana remembered. Amelie can’t help it as she turns her head softly into her warm palm, feeding off her heat with a soft sigh. Another small smile makes its way to Ana’s lips, “And still just like a kitten.”

The word makes Amelie scoff, reaching up to hold Ana’s hand firmly to her cheek, “It has been ages since I have been shown...affection. Understand that this does not mean I will kneel to you again.” It’s almost a challenge the way she says it.

They had previously had a thing together, under the table sort of thing. Friends with benefits where the benefit was both women were comfortable in each other’s presence, and of course the ways Ana could make her melt. Before Gerard had captured her attention, that is.

Ana had been her source of affection, pleasure, and familiarity. Her touch could be soft or rough, entirely talented as they’d work Amelie over until she’d be drenched in sweat and sobbing. A dance they both had been familiar in.

Ana showed her the skill of an older woman, Amelie showed her the flexibility of a ballerina.

A soft laugh filters through Ana’s lips, using her thumb to stroke the cold flesh of Amelie’s cheek. “I would never ask you to- not after what you have been through, my dear.”

It strikes a chord in Amelie, something soft, something...familiar.

--

Of course, that familiar warmth, that soft feeling had blossomed. Old habits died hard, after all.

It’s how Amelie ends up in Ana’s room, again, and again, in the familiar darkness of the night. It’s how her plum lipstick gets smeared from Ana’s own mouth or her skin as Amelie indulges in the sweetness of her scent. Of how Ana feels and sounds when her lips wrap around a soft, small breast and Amelie shamelessly ruts into the offered thigh beneath her.

It’s also how Ana finds her own heart pounding harder than it had in years, at least for a scenario like this. How her fingers twirl in Amelie’s long hair, dragging her up to press kisses to her cold face and indulging in whatever she wanted to hear. How she feels younger by the day the more often she keeps thinking of Amelie and getting aroused, having to fight down a blush at the memories of the night prior.

Insatiable, as Amelie had always been.

And now? Now Amelie is in Ana’s room again, but a little differently this time.

She’s completely stripped naked, shuddering as little tremors wrack her frame from both desire and anticipation. She feels absolutely alive in these moments, head tipped to the side and her long hair free as it dips across her pale lavender flesh. Her curves are beautiful, smooth of scars that her body repaired. Her breasts are smaller, surgery she’d had ages ago during her Overwatch days, same with the way her face is gently sloped and molded perfectly for her own comfort.

Between her legs, her cock rests half hard, heavy against her thigh that flexes with tension. Her cock isn’t too big, perhaps about five or so inches with a beautiful curve upwards with a lovely thickness. It’s smooth and lavender like the rest of her flesh, a deeper shade at the head where white pre-cum beads. She’d never gotten bottom surgery, that much she had been comfortable with.

She’s smooth all over, blemish free and hair free. Something Ana found herself learning to like as she ran her hands over her flesh- but not yet, not now.

Amelie has her arms bound behind her back, wrists together and the rope coming to the ceiling to tie around a hook to keep her standing and still. Across her chest and over her abdomen is the rope binding her wrists firmly to her own body, looking much like a beautiful spiderweb. Ana had yet to lose her touch in the art of perfect knot tying.

Amelie’s legs are open, spread with her feet flat to the ground. Her chest is rising and falling evenly, trying to settle her nerves as her golden eyes, heavily lidded with thick lashes, watch Ana like a predator. Yet, in these moments, Ana should most certainly be taking that title.

Ana is stepped a bit back to admire her work, fully dressed in a white blouse unbuttoned at the top with flared sleeves and tight black pants it’s tucked into. It looked rather old fashioned, beautiful on her. Her gray hair is pulled into an over the shoulder braid, curling to between her freckled cleavage that makes Amelie sigh at the sight. A few stray hairs curl over the eyepatch resting over her eye and Amelie would dare say she looked stunning.

If she wasn’t being cruel, that is.

Warm fingers trace up her inner thighs as Ana rests in front of her, petting up and along her curves with her other hand. “Still as obedient as ever.” She remarks with a pleased hum, silencing any protest from Amelie when her fingers wrap around a dusty purple nipple and giving it soft attention. When she inhales sharply, arching into the touch, Ana’s lips form a tale telling smirk. “Just as sensitive.”

Deft and skilled fingers wrap around her cock, giving Amelie slow, languid pumps with just enough pressure. Ana’s thumb traces the sensitive glans under the head, tracing up to her slit and letting pre-cum spill out a bit so she can use it to slick up her movements. Amelie whimpers, rolling her head to the side and letting out a huff of pleasure when Ana’s warm mouth is replaced on her breast.  

A clever tongue flicks over her nipple and makes Amelie’s head swim with pleasure. She keeps her eyes closed, but she can picture Ana as perfect as ever touching her. With one hand working her over with languid strokes and gentle squeezes, her other holding Amelie’s side at where her curve meets the junction of her hip, stroking with her thumb softly in the circle of the ropes resting there.

“Ana-” Amelie breathes out, practically on her tiptoes when Ana pulls from her breast, kissing down her torso between each shape the ropes make. She only hums in response back up at Amelie, a pillow already waiting on the ground for Ana to rest on as she sinks to her knees. A hand gently rests over Amelie’s thigh, petting her outer thigh soothingly as Ana peppers kisses along the underside of her cock.

Amelie’s toes curl, turning her head to the other side before her head bows to watch her with a shaky exhale. Watching Ana’s eye flutter before peeking up at Amelie, letting her lips rub over her sensitive flesh, her hand keeping Amelie’s cock steady as she swallows the first few inches into her warm mouth.

Too much heat, too much warmth, the pleasure of it all- it's too much!

Amelie lets out a beautiful moan, hips jerking to no avail and only managing to tense her bonds tighter around her torso. She murmurs her name again, biting onto her plump lower lip as Ana takes her down with ease.

Practice, she could practically hear Ana chide in the back of her head, makes perfect.

Tension builds in her lower abdomen as Amelie nearly keels over on her bonds. She’s normally quiet in moments like this, nothing but sighs regularly passing her lips, but it seemed a scene like this brought out more of her. A soft swear under her breath, her mother tongue passing across her very lips as Ana keeps taking her into her warm mouth, nosing at her mound as she swallows around her cock-

“Shit-” She whines out in a higher voice, thighs tensing and her wrists jerking to try and maybe bury her fingers in Ana’s hair. To no avail, as her fingers flex and the jerk of her wrists only makes the rope tighten once more around her pleasantly. “Ana,” She tries again, voice high and warning.

It only results in said woman humming, swallowing her back down in a fluid motion as Amelie begins to cum. Vaguely aware of how Ana swallows it down, her hands stroking Amelie’s shaking thighs as if to soothe her.

When Amelie’s eyes flutter open blearily to look down at Ana, she watches as she slowly pulls off her soft cock. Sparing kitten licks and peppered kisses just to make Amelie shake a little bit more before she pulls back and wipes her mouth off on the back of her hand.

“How are you feeling?” Ana asks as she moves to stand up, stroking over Amelie’s curves and reaching behind her in an embrace as well as to pluck the knot from the ropes. “Do you want water? Tea?”

Amelie hums softly in a negative, letting her bonds be free as Ana begins rounding her to help with the bonds, rubbing over the marks left on her skin. “I feel...alive- better than I did earlier.” Spoken calmly, despite the waver in her voice from the tremors in her body. Once the ropes are all removed, she nearly falls on her first step, but Ana gently leads her to the bed instead.

“Come, lie down, you squirmed too much and caused a burn.” Sounding chiding as always, Amelie can’t help but smile at Ana’s fussing. Letting herself rest back on the bed and turn her head to bury herself in the familiar scent of teas and cinnamon.

Ana returns only moments later, a spicy smelling salve being applied to the rope burns across Amelie’s rib cage, wrists, and hips. Massaging into tense muscles as the prior Talon marksman sighs with pleasure and comfort. The entire time, Ana murmurs praise as she works her over, telling her how good she was, how beautiful, just as she starts to doze off. Safe, at last.

Now, Amelie just needed to find a way to get a certain feisty hacker’s romantic attention.

[samayla]

An Utterly Impractical Magician

Chapter 10

A Jane Eyre/Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fusion fic.

Also on AO3

Summary: When John Reed burnt Thomas Godbless’ book of magic to spite his cousin, he had no idea how drastically he would alter both her fate and that of English magic.

@majorxmaggiexboy @shygaladriel @bookhobbit @wolfinthethorns @kaethe-nicole @warsawmouse @cassandravision @mythopoeticreality @jmlascar @seriouslythoughguys @isawatreetoday @rude-are-food @the-stars-above28 @the-candor-shadowhunter

Let me know if any of you would like to be added/removed in the tags list. I know updates have been super sparse, so if any of you want to be removed, I'll totally understand.

10

A Child at Hurtfew

Hurtfew Abbey, July 1805

Jane could smell Lowood School. Its muddy, sickly stink clung to her clothes and skin and closely-cropped hair. It had gotten all over the mossy-green bed linens in the night, and the damp cloud of it surrounded her and marred the clean, soapy freshness of the servants’ hall and the warm, exotic spice of the cinnamon Mrs Porter had just sprinkled over Jane’s porridge.

“Eat up, dear,” said the cook, adding a handful of raisins to her bowl for sweetness. “I daresay you’ve missed quite enough meals already.”

Jane obeyed, though the stench of mold was making her ill, and her fingers were stiff and sore around the handle of the spoon. Mrs Porter stayed to watch her eat several bites, then returned to her work in the kitchen as Childermass lurched into the hall, looking nearly as haggard as Jane felt. He took a seat across from Jane and bid her a good morning. “I hope you slept well, Little Miss, or at least better than you did in the carriage last night.

“I did, sir. Thank you,” was her quiet reply, though in truth she had slept very ill indeed. All night she had been plagued by disturbing dreams of Mr Norrell storming into her room in a fit of rage. In some dreams, he transformed into Mr Brocklehurst, red-faced and spitting sparks, lording over her as the damp smell of that rotting chapel clogged her nostrils. In other dreams, he became Childermass, his hair a churning thunderstorm, come to say that his cards had been mistaken, and he’d have to take her back now. Then he’d become Norrell again, lamenting time and effort wasted, and he’d open the door to a library, but instead of bookshelves, it was the yellow-white lambs on peeling green plaster. They grew jagged teeth as she watched, and he’d shove her through to be consumed, starting with her hands.

Childermass appeared skeptical of her polite lie, so Jane made herself eat another bite of porridge, hoping that would appease him. He watched the clumsy way she managed the spoon, then swapped his plate of buttered toast for her bowl and spoon. At her clear bewilderment, he made a pinching motion with his free hand. “The toast’ll go easier for now, until the swelling’s gone down some. Tuck in.”

He took his own advice and made short work of the porridge, leaving Jane to nibble nervously on the toast. As he’d predicted, the toast was indeed far easier to manage than the spoon, and she quickly discovered that it settled her churning stomach as well.

“Good morning, dears,” Hannah chirped as she bustled into the servants’ hall with a tray of used breakfast things from upstairs.

Jane and Childermass chorused their greetings in return.

“Mr Norrell is in the library, Mr Childermass,” the housemaid said. “He expects you and Miss Jane presently.” She offered Jane a warm smile, but Jane found she could scarcely return it. Her last bite of toast sat like lead on her tongue. She tried to keep her sudden anxiety off her face, but Childermass caught it.

“Easy, Little Miss,” he said soothingly, pushing her cup of water closer. “I know he gave you something of a fright last night, but you’ll learn soon enough not to put too much credence to Mr Norrell’s moods. My master is the sort of fellow who likes nothing better than a good, righteous vexation — and me disappearing on him for nigh on a fortnight, then turning up —”

“— at the wrong door —” Hannah put in with a sly smile.

Childermass smirked but continued earnestly, “— with a stray child in tow… Let us just say I gave him enough cause to be well and truly vexed, and it should have put him in fine spirits this morning.”

“He’s a bit quarrelsome yet,” Hannah offered, setting her tray down beside Jane’s place at the table, “but that’s just his nature. You make it through this morning, and I expect he’ll mostly forget you’re even here, unless we march you through the library once a month to remind him.”

Jane giggled at the mental image of the short-sighted bogeyman of last night’s dreams peering dazedly up at her over a heap of books. Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, but Childermass was smiling as if he could see it too. “That’s the spirit, love.”

Hannah gave Jane’s shoulder a squeeze. “Would you like me to come along, dear?” she asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper. “We can’t count on these foolish menfolk to think of everything that will need doing now that you’re here.”

Jane smiled in earnest, even as she glanced up to make sure Childermass still hadn’t taken offense. He caught her looking, and she blushed. “That’s a fine idea, Hannah,” he declared.

They made an awkward procession as they made their way through the big, empty house. Childermass took the lead, and Jane followed with Hannah, her arm laced through the maid’s, leaving her attention free to wander and take in her new home. The whole place had a strange air about it. Not quite neglect — it was far too clean for that — but disused, Jane decided. Like a pressed flower, it was perfectly beautiful, but at the same time brittle and somehow faded in something other than color. Like the memory of a place.

“This is the way to the library,” Childermass said, drawing Jane out of her musings to find herself standing in front of a heavy oak door in a richly appointed parlor. “Mr Norrell is quite particular about his library, Little Miss, and he will not take kindly to anyone venturing into this hall without his permission.”

“I understand, sir,” Jane said, her voice choked by both nerves and anticipation. This was where her books had gone! She remembered Childermass’s words about his master’s collection, back at Gateshead. If she were very good indeed, perhaps she might even be permitted to choose a book to read. She hadn’t had a book in her hands since leaving Gateshead all those months ago, and she felt the loss like that of a limb. Its ache grew even sharper as Childermass led the way through a long hall that meandered around far more corners than should have been possible.

Jane’s skin began to prickle like the air before a lightning storm, and she drew in a shuddering breath at the thought of having one of her fits here and now. Images of the fire in her dormitory at Lowood sprang to mind unbidden. She’d be thrown out. She’d have nowhere to go. She’d —

“We’re nearly there, Little Miss,” Childermass said suddenly over his shoulder. He looked pale and unsteady in the dim hall, and it occurred to Jane that he was nervous. The realization was terrifying, but she resolved to do him proud. He had come halfway across the county to claim her; she would be brave enough for a walk to the library. She pictured her books, held the image of them steady in her mind as a talisman against the sparks she could feel gathering at the edges of her vision, more than ready to erupt into chaos.

A dull crash sounded somewhere up ahead, and then, so suddenly that Jane nearly ran right into him, Childermass brought them up short at another door. He glanced once at Jane, seemingly as startled as she and Hannah were at the door’s sudden appearance, but then he pulled it open, and they leapt back as a great pile of books cascaded into the hall. Mr Norrell stood on the other side of the heap, looking quite startled and more than a little alarmed.

Jane bent to retrieve the nearest book — Tott’s English Magic — but Mr Norrell’s voice rang out like a slap. “No, no, no! Can you not smell the mold? The damp? I will not have it so close to the books, Childermass! I cannot! Out! Out to the parlor, if you please!” And whether they pleased or not, they were herded out of the library, back down the strange hallway — which seemed somehow much shorter and strangely lacking in corners in this direction — and out in to the parlor beyond. Mr Norrell slammed the heavy door behind himself. He stood, wig askew, handkerchief over his nose, and glared at his servants.

And quite unexpectedly, Jane found herself crying.

“Do-do not cry, child,” Mr Norrell said softly, his voice almost that of a different man entirely. If Jane hadn’t known any better, she might have thought she’d imagined his outburst in the hall. He lowered the handkerchief with clear reluctance, and Jane felt even worse. The air in the parlor felt too close, the rotten stink of Lowood consuming all the air in the room.

“I did not mean to distress you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jane choked, trying and failing to get her emotions under control. She knew she ought to dry her eyes and behave as a respectable young lady, but she found she could not move. Her hands were wound so tightly into the back of her skirt that her palms stung and her fingers throbbed in time with her runaway pulse.

“Oh, sweetling…” Hannah pulled her close, and Jane buried her face in the fabric at her hip. Hannah’s clothes smelled of lavender soap, and Jane drew in great, heaving lungfuls of the scent, releasing them on high, thin cries she could not control. She was horrified. They would send her away, surely, cast her aside like a broken doll.

But Hannah’s fingers were gentle in her hair, stroking through the uneven stubble over and over again as she murmured soft reassurances. Slowly, Jane came to realize that Hannah was not angry with her. And if Hannah was not yet out of patience, then there was yet hope for the gentlemen, if Jane could calm herself and do something to repair this ghastly first impression. With a monumental effort, she stepped away from Hannah’s side. She clasped her shaking hands in front of her, though her every instinct was screaming at her to hide them safely away.

If anything, Mr Norrell appeared to be even more discomfited by her efforts. He shook his head when she opened her mouth to repeat her apology. He offered his handkerchief, which she accepted at once, pathetically grateful for the excuse to look away for a few moments.

“I only…” he began, sounding even more unsteady than Jane felt. “I only meant that mold is a pervasive beast. Your clothing and things from that… place… are already compromised. They will have to go.” He began to sound more sure of himself as he continued. “I would not tolerate such an abominable lack of care for my books, let alone a child. Such environments breed illness like a dung heap breeds flies. It is a wonder you have not succumbed to such conditions long before now.” At Jane’s stricken look, he caught himself and withdrew at once from such dire pronouncements. “B-but fear not, child: we shall order you new things. Fresh, clean dresses. And a new bonnet free of vermin, so you might have lovely, long hair — i-if you wished it, of course…” Mr Norrell trailed off uncertainly, and Hannah took pity on him.

“You shall be pretty as a doll, sweetling,” she said, laying her warm hand on Jane’s shoulder and offering another squeeze. Tears flowed anew. She wanted her doll. Sad, crumbling thing that it was, she missed it fiercely. Sparks crackled at the edges of her vision, and Jane rubbed her eyes in an effort ot make them go away. Hannah knelt and pushed Jane’s hands away, instead using Mr Norrell’s handkerchief to dry her eyes. “For now, though, I think perhaps it would be best if you came back upstairs for a bit more rest, hmm?” She smiled encouragingly, and Jane nodded.

“Yes, yes, an excellent notion, Hannah,” Mr Norrell said, looking quite relieved. “Childermass had you out inexcusably late, Miss Eyre. It is no wonder you are overwrought this morning. I myself have something of a headache after all the excitement, though it is nothing a warm cup of mint tea will not cure.”

“I’ll send Lucy along with a pot of tea presently, sir,” Hannah offered.

“Yes, Hannah. Thank you. A cup would do Miss Eyre wonders too, I should think.” He looked quite pleased with this pronouncement. “Childermass, I’ll have your help in the library. I’ve half a shelf’s-worth of books on the floor. It was the strangest thing —”

But Childermass, who had been fiddling with something in his pocket while the other adults dealt with Jane, cut him off. “I’ve one more matter to attend to with Miss Eyre, sir. I’ll join you in the library after you’ve finished your tea.”

Jane cringed. If any of her Aunt Reed’s servants had spoken so impertinently, the would have been let go on the spot, without references. But however irritated Mr Norrell might have felt at the interruption and proposed delay, he did not argue. He merely nodded and retreated back through the door that led to the library, muttering to himself about dresses and shoes “and bed linens, no doubt.”

A cup of tea and rest in her own room. Not a switch. Not even a reprimand for toppling the books — for she had little doubt that it had been her fault somehow. She could scarcely believe it.

Jane started and nearly fell as Childermass appeared at her side and tucked her free arm around his own. “I’ll deliver her to the kitchen for her tea shortly, love,” he told Hannah as they all left the parlor. Though she was confused and more than a little frightened — for she was keenly aware that Childermass had come off worst in their encounter with Mr Norrell, even if it hand only amounted to an indirect scolding over the lateness of their arrival — and she would much rather go downstairs for some tea with Hannah, Jane held her tongue. She had been quite childish enough already, she decided, and it was time to prove how well-mannered and mature she could be, even if she was still struggling not to cry.

Childermass led her through the smaller, more intimate rooms along the back of the house — all well-preserved, but just as forlorn as those they’d passed through at the front — and out into the back garden. “I owe you an apology,” he said conversationally as they walked down a manicured gravel path between some low hedges.

“You cannot be held responsible for the speed of the carriage, sir,” Jane said quickly. “And you did warn me to sleep along the way.”

Childermass blinked, then chuckled a little sadly and drew to a stop. He knelt in front of Jane, who was growing more alarmed by the moment. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the crumbling ruin of Jane’s doll. “I’m afraid I stepped on her back in the chapel, love.” He laid the little bundle in Jane’s outstretched hands. “I’m sorry. I don't know how she got to be in my pocket this morning, but I thought you should know what had become of her."

Jane just nodded and sagged down to the gravel as it began to rain out of the clear, blue sky. She had known Helen’s sad little doll wouldn’t last forever. The leaves had been dry and fragile when she had died, but now they were mostly jagged stems, and the acorn face was split nearly in two.

“What’s her name?”

“Derwen,” Jane whispered. Helen had told her it meant oak.

“Well, Little Miss,” Childermass said, standing and ignoring the rain that was steadily soaking them both, “let’s you and me and Miss Derwen take a walk, shall we? Up you get.” He helped her to her feet and led the way in among the low, carefully trimmed hedges. He soon abandoned the path entirely and lifted Jane over those hedges that they could not walk around, until they stood in the very center of the garden, in a near-perfect circle of neatly cut grass.

To Jane’s utter bewilderment, Childermass knelt in the center of the circle and plunged his pocket knife into the ground. The rain slowed to a drizzle as he dug, first with the knife, then with his hands. The mud caked itself beneath his nails and around the cuffs of his jacket, but Childermass continued to dig with complete unconcern. “Got to be deep enough to keep the squirrels from smelling it,” he said when Jane leaned closer to get a better look.

“Smelling what?”

“Miss Derwen.”

Jane lurched back, shoving the doll behind her back, and the skies opened wide once more.

“Easy, Little Miss,” Childermass said with perfect composure. He sat back on his heels. “I mean you no harm, but your doll is broken and quite beyond help. But —” He extended a hand for the doll, and Jane, who had been at Lowood far too long to ignore such a clear command, handed her over. Childermass took her gently and tipped her to the side, his filthy fingernails prizing gently at the split in the acorn. “Look just here.”

Jane looked, and she saw to her amazement that inside the ruin of the acorn was a tiny shoot of pale pink and white.

“She’s trying to put down roots,” Childermass explained. “She may be done being your doll, love, but we can plant her out here, water her, and see that she gets plenty of sun, and one day, she’ll be a great big oak.”

“But Mr Norrell does not like me,” Jane blurted. “After the way I’ve behaved today…” She gestured helplessly at the steady, soaking rain that stopped abruptly three feet in every direction. Part of her was glad for the rain, for it hid her continued tears. “He does not mean to keep me. I know he does not, and so I will never see the tree grown.”

Childermass reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew one of his cards, careful to shield it from the rain. Two pairs of wands crossed at the center of the card. He glanced at the card for a moment, then smiled to himself. “This tells me you are to be with us a good, long time. Plenty of time to see Miss Derwen grow.”

He tucked the card away and then just waited, hand outstretched in offering, as if it was up to Jane to make the decision. Jane stared at him, kneeling there in the muddy grass as if he had all the time in the world, Jane realized it really was up to her. She had a choice, and suddenly, all she wanted in the world was to see her sad little doll grown into a great, towering oak. She nodded silently, unable to speak the words for fear of jinxing them.

Childermass asked if she’d like to keep the lace, imagining quite rightly that it was important. “I daresay Hannah could find a place for it on your new bonnet, or one of the dresses, and she’d have it looking good as new. She’s a wonder at such things.”

Jane hiccuped and shook her head. She took back the doll and ran her fingers over the sodden lace, the last piece of Helen she had. She kissed Derwen’s acorn face, then laid her gently in the bottom of the hole, careful to arrange the precious lace just so. “It is Derwen’t dress, and Derwen shall keep it.”

Childermass helped Jane fill the hole, and by the time they had finished and patted the little piece of sod back into place, the rain had stopped for good.

“Come along, Little Miss,” Childermass said, climbing back to his feet and helping Jane to do the same. “A cup of tea and a seat by the fire are calling your name.”

[justanotherfanfic]

Dancing with a Stranger

summary: reader breaks up with steve after walking in on him and peggy. steve and reader have different ways on coping with the break up...

warnings: none

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: best friend requested this so ofc i’m going to write it within the hour HAHA

YOUR LOVE FOR Steve Rogers had never failed. It started when you met him and his best friend Bucky at one of Howard Stark's convention, you were there as Howard's assistant. You never realized how much you loved Steve until he had the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend.

You loved him since he was the little kid who wanted to fight off every person who laid a hand on you. You were there for him when he wanted to apply for the war. You were there when he was terrified the night before the experiment was supposed to conduct. Your love for him was always there, even as a young kid who 'couldn't take care of himself'. It never changed when he came out of that machine.

When the experiment went extraordinarily well, he gained attention and fame. Your love never went away. You were always there for him just as he was there for you. You noticed that many women suddenly couldn't get their eyes off of him. Even as he stared into your eyes, you could feel your back burning holes from all the nasty looks you would receive. You never cared though, you had Steve. Unfortunately, it all changed when you happened to walk into that incident.

"[Y/N] will you be a doll and get Steve's files from the storage unit?" Howard smiled at you as he was writing notes on the recent training and medications he took. You nodded with a smile and walked towards Section F. Your heels clicked off the concrete floor as your figure came closer to the storage unit. You typed in the administration code and was about to walk in when you noticed what you interrupted.

It was a shock when you happened to walk in on them together. You felt your heart break in two. The way his hands were on her hips as her hands were roaming around his body. The way her lipstick was smeared all over the same lips you kissed just a moment ago. The way their breath was hot against each other's skin. They both pulled away immediately after noticing your presence.

"I- Uh- I- I'm gonna go," You stuttered in shock. You slammed the door shut and closed your eyes. You felt tears falling down your cheeks as you began walking away. You felt your feet dragging you along while your mind wandered to what you just witnessed. You bumped into Howard Stark who saw you crying with no file on Steve Rogers.

"What's wrong darling?" Howard questioned in concern. Before you could reply, Steve came running into the room with his hair messed up and red lipstick smudged all over his cheeks, neck, and lips. Howard went silent knowing exactly what happened. He knew Peggy had feelings for Steve, but would have never thought she would make a move on the super soldier.

"[Y/N] please-" Steve pleaded.

You lifted your hand up as a signal for him to stop talking. Steve stopped and looked at you in sorrow. "I don't even know who you are," You whispered. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to be furious and scream at him, but you didn't have the heart to do so. "Here I was, dancing with a stranger this whole time."

Steve felt his heart break at the words that fell from your lips. He wanted to talk to you, but he knew that he was caught in a very bad situation.

"We are over Steve Rogers," You growled. "Go have fun with Agent Carter."

You walked away without another word as Howard glared at Steve. You decided to go back to your apartment so you can have a break from the overwhelming emotions. You cried the whole day and night. The emotions that affected your body caused you to take a few days off of work. You needed the time think and reflect. You felt your whole life falling apart, you lost the one person who you trusted and loved. You lost him because of her.

It's been a few months since you broke up with Steve. You decided to distance yourself from him by having Howard adjust your schedule to prevent yourself from seeing the man who you loved. It was a shock to you at how understanding Howard was and how there was no snarky remarks coming from his mouth after the incident. You were grateful for your friendship with him and continued to focus on your work with Howard.

The break up took a toll on Steve. When you broke up with him, he immediately went back to his corridor and thought about the events that occurred that day. The things he could've said that saved his relationship started clouding his mind. His fists were clenched as he wiped off the lipstick marks from his face and adjusted his hair. He thought that this would blow over within a few days, but he was surprised to see how long it actually lasted.

You ignored all of the letters Steve wrote to you and Bucky who tried to mend the relationship for his best friend. You wouldn't go to the base as often as you normally would. You distanced yourself as best as you could.

It worked for a while. You managed to suppress your feelings of Steve down. You were able to start talking to a soldier who was working at Section E. You felt yourself starting to feel better about yourself. Steve knew about the new interest and felt his heart sting. He thought you had moved on and it broke his heart. Eventually, the said soldier asked you out on a date. You were hesitant to accept, but you thought you needed a night out.

The date was going smoothly. He was charming and caring, but he wasn't Steve. You couldn't stop thinking about the man who took control over your heart. You realized you still had feelings for Steve and felt as if it was wrong. You ended the date with the soldier and went back home alone. You cried again that night and tried to think about how this will all eventually fall into place.

The next day you went into work with puffy eyes and dark eye bags. You had not been sleeping well. You hated to admit it, but having Steve in your life is what made your life complete. You were going on with your day at the base when you bumped into Steve. You felt your heart drop and your breathing go uneven at the sight of him. You almost forgot how beautiful he looked. He was staring down at you as well, his blue eyes piercing into your soul. You felt vulnerable at how close your bodies were. You didn't want him to see you so miserable so you began to walk away.

"[Y/N] wait!" Steve called out and grabbed your wrist. He swiftly spun you around and held his hands onto your hips. The same hands that were holding hers. You felt your heart drop at the thought.

"Steve leave me alone," You spoke as you tried to break free from his grip.

Steve shook his head. He had to tell you everything before it was completely too late, "[Y/N] that's not who I am. Doll, you gotta know I love you."

"Then why did you kiss her?" You whispered as a tear fell down your cheek. All your emotions that were bottled up were starting to surface once again.

"I- I didn't..." He sighed. "She's the one who made the move. I feel terrible about it. You were my girlfriend, the one who was there before I became this. The one who loved me for who I was, not how I looked. I should've seen Carter's intentions. I should've known. I'm sorry [Y/N]. I can't stop thinking about you and our relationship."

You stared at him as he rambled about the two of you. How much he loved you. How he never wants to be away from you. You couldn't help but stare into his eyes. How desperate they were. You stared at his lips, how beautiful they looked as your name escapes from them. You then felt your feelings starting to come up.

You shook your head, "That's not how it works Steven."

Steve felt his heart flutter at you saying his name. It was different than the other times, it felt right.

"Yes, [Y/N] you and I both know how much we need each other. How much we love each other. Please forgive me. I love you so much. I can't lose you." You saw how desperate he was. How his arms were not wrapped around your torso. Your chest against his. It was as if your bodies were made for one another.

You decided not to reject your feelings and understand that Steve isn't the type to cheat. You sighed at how stupid it all was. How you let your emotions get the best of you. You couldn't help but look at Steve's smile. You felt your mouth smirk before pressing your lips onto his. His body froze at the sudden action you took, but soon joined the make out session.

After a moment, he pulled away, "So does this mean..."

"Yes, Steve. We're together." You smiled.

Steve felt his face brighten up as he smiled down at you. He leaned down to you once again and kissed you. He missed the way you felt, the way your lips mold into his, the way your hand roamed around his body, and you. He missed you. All the mess was now put away. He was home. He has you.

[exolstice-blog]

Interlude | Sehun

Genre: Fluff af ; Proposal AU

Description: Sea-salt and sunrise, mayhaps a question of faith, it was an interlude, one he couldn't say.

Word Count: 1600

Warning: You might stan Vivi.

Author's Note: I did this for Vivi.

Sehun was onto something. You felt it.

It was certainly a surprise that your sweetheart—ever the not-so-much-an-early-bird—set himself to drive you to the nearest pier to catch that morning's sunrise.

"—every day waiting for you, darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand mor—"

More so with all the gimmicks being pulled.

Click.

"What are you—"

Click, click, click.

"---so wHAT WE GET DRUNK, SO WHAT WE SMOKE WEED, WE'RE JUST HAVING FUN WE DON'T CARE WHO SEES."

"What the hell," your sweetheart almost failed with the steering wheel as you screamed, head swaying to the beat and a pup barking in your lap.

"Did I scare you, baby?"

"Well, if you're going to scream like that—"

"I'm sorry, Vivi-ah," you lifted the doggy and buried your face in his fur, side glancing a scoffing Sehun to your left.

"Will you lower the volume, I'm going to have a headache," he patted your thigh with a soft smile, which was really something closer to a grimace.

Yes, he was really onto something.

"But you really liked this song," you whined, reaching for some more 'clicks' upon the radio to soften the music.

"I do, it's just so early morning," Sehun gave you only a few sleepy glances with squinty eyes that appeared more hooded, the air turbulent against his hair and the open window, playing little slap slaps against its momentum.

"Which is exactly why I need playing it loud," you retributed with puckered lips, picking at Vivi's curls and swirling them on your fingers. "I can't handle ballads or anything of those fluffs right now, I might fall asleep."

"I would wake you up, then," he offered, cherry plump lips molding into a soft gesture,l landing his hand first on the puppy's head and then on your knee, where he kept it.

"And miss this view?" You threw your arms open so as to motion to the far-stretching sea banks and sand—only to nestle your head upon your hand as you rested your elbow against the window and took your sweetheart's profile like a shot of firewater, giddy and rebellious.

"You're looking at me," Sehun posed a cool facade, one that emulated the nurtured looks he'd fashioned in the months of playing a game of 'look an don't touch', during which you'd renunciated to any of your prides and prejudices and resolved to pursuing him. He smiled, "Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," your hand reached to brush back a strand of hair from his eyes—that really only made him the more handsome—so fast Vivi jumped alert, paws on your tummy. Giggles intensifying when you stretched his cheek out more and more, so that it became squishy, "Aren't you so beautiful?"

"Hmhm." Sehun had his eyes on the road still, though you know it was quite the labor to keep them from rolling back on their sockets.

You weren't much a romantic spirit (dates were fine, so long as it would take you less than thirty to be ready, of course), and neither was him. But times like this were a treasure, something to be found and kept, locked away from prying hands. It was only Sehun and you and nothing more and that was fine. He liked it that way, you knew well, knew him enough to know. And enough to know something was up.

"Is there something bothering you?" You asked, unwilling to let go of his cheek as he'd rather leaned more into your hand, neck craning.

"Why would there be?" He switched his eyes over to you slightly, before taking a turn into another road.

"Your eyes crinkle when you smile, but you're not smiling. They do that too when you're worried about work or when you have a fight with someone, did something like that happen?"

Sehun did smile then, "You really do stare at me too much, don't you?"

You made a face, stretching and releasing his cheek when he cried his apologies. By then you'd reached the pier, there were some paths of vast stones that were flat and provided good footing. You struggled with Vivi a few when he kicked around to be set free, totally reluctant to get his collar on, and more when the sea-salt colored wind blew your hair around and into your eyes.

"Fucking—"

"I got it, don't worry," Sehun weaved his fingers into the tangles of your hair and combed it down, chuckling whenever you cursed at a particularly harsh pull. It was taking longer than it should have, tying your hair, and you felt him closer, breaths intertwining with the kiss of the ocean on your neck.

"Are you trying to braid her hair, or what?" You laughed at your own mockery, setting Vivi's head on your shoulder and playing a voice that in your little game would be his.

"Uh, not really, I'm just," Sehun stammered, unfaced by the made-up talking dog, hurrying his movements and caressing your back when the job was terminated, smiling once you settled the puppy down and did a double take at the sea.

"It smells amazing."

"It does," Sehun's palm lingered on your hair, and his happy-mouth widened. "You do—"

"LOOK AT THAT FUCKING WAVE, WOW," You dashed for the small current, shivering when the ocean reached your ankle. You looked back at Sehun to find his hand outstretched, as if in mid-motion. It was incredibly funny, "What?"

He retracted stiffly and took his hand onto the other, massaging it as if it stung, "Nothing. I'm going to, uh, see what's for breakfast."

You frowned. Something truly was fucking up. Sehun wouldn't remember to pack breakfast in, like, any situation, no bloody exceptions. He was too much of an (and you were allowed to say it) irresponsible fool to even fathom the possibility of being human and having a tendency to, you know, just survive—

Oh.

You stared at him in panic. Were you forgetting something? An anniversary? His birthday? Good lord, heavens knew how that went the time you took eleven minutes longer to text him that night. But, no, it wasn't the twelfth. Then—

Squee.

It flew at you, full force. It was unavoidable, the damn squishy. It struck you square in the chest, quite near your boob, and heavens bloody knew how much that hurt like a bitch.

"Sehun, what the fuck?" You collected Vivi's toy as the pup came running up—it was the one with hard material, too, the one that kept treats inside—and yanked it at your sweetheart with a fury.

"I'm sorry, oh my God, I'm sorry," you heard him yell back embarrassed, and you didn't quite look at him and he didn't quite look at you. Good, let him think you're mad. You loved the way he became whenever he tried to appease your tempers, ever this soft malleable thing that would become a doll if you so wished to, clad in butler's getup and—

Squee.

Vivi's squishy broke through your fantasies, and you kneeled to give him a lecture, only to be immediately softened by his heart-fluttering antics. You were mush.

"You need some help, huh?" You tickled his head until his whole body shook, the metal piece of his collar jingling ecstatic. It was a new one, you noticed, one you hadn't seen the moment you put it on him. You were curious, alright, so you shivered and read it's new tag.

Will.

Your immediate thought was 'what the fuck', and when you turned it over to read the following word—You—your next to immediate thought was 'what the fuck' too.

Squee.

Your forehead wrinkled in thought, your fingers agile to open the treat toy. And you saw it.

It was a pure band, simple an untouched, somehow an emblem for every one thing you'd be able to put into it. There was a cord attached to it, made of silk, with words that finished the beginning of a promise, but just the interlude of a song. Will You Be—

"—the sunrise I wake up to every morning?"

His steps had been so quiet but he now stood before you. You raised slowly, craddling the ring in your palm like a baby, like something that needed to be cared for and loved.

Your sweetheart held your eyes. Oh Sehun saw you.

"Will you..."

Say it.

"W-Will you..."

Come on.

"W-WILL YOU."

"Will I what?" There was only a blurred sun and moon and sky and Sehun Sehun Sehun, forever only Sehun.

"I-I-I—"

"DON'T YOU TRY TO OUTCRY ME, YOU..." You were covering your eyes with your fists, the band digging into your flesh and essence. You needed him to hold you because, fuck, you couldn't stop shaking. But what could be done when he found himself in a similar situation.

"I'm not crying, I-I'm not," Sehun scrubbed at his eyes and cheeks, coloring himself in spring blossoms and dew. "My eyes just got too happy."

"What the fuck are you saying," you managed between sobs and beating your chest, so as to prevent the perhaps nearly unpreventable hiccups.

"Alright, fuck. What I'm saying is. Will you marry m—"

"Yes," you jumped when your legs could hold no longer, clinging to his neck and almost bringing him forth with you had he not reached for you down at the same time.

So there you were, crying, whispering, molding into each other's skins, screaming for providence. Promises infused in salt and sand, reaching no end and coming from no beginning. A sunrise that was an interlude. Just him and you.

[buckysfaveplum]

hiiii i am jumping on the request wagon (love your writing!!)

it’s finally super cold in the uk (it’s been faaaar too mild). can i please request a Bucky x reader fluff where the reader has to get out of bed but it’s raining outside and they come home all soaking wet and all they want is to cuddle Bucky?

I got soaking wet on my way into my local town today and all i wanted to do was cuddle Bucky 😂😭

omg omg omg! this is so cute! i’m so excited to write this for you! i used a bit of my personal experience to write this since bucky lives in brooklyn- i live in nyc and idk if you heard but in late august/early september we had such a bad rain storm due to a hurricane that subway stations flooded and shut down. it was horrible, i was leaving a night class and had to get home mid down pour. no taxis on the streets and no subway so i had to walk all the way to my apartment in the rain. i was soaked to my underwear and my waterproof portfolio flooded XD. so needless to say, i feel you and wish i had a bucky to cuddle with <3

i got you, hun! hope you enjoy

heater

summary: y/n has to walk home alone in the rain, but Bucky’s there to warm her up

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 700

warning: i don’t think so really?

masterlist | send requests

Trudging through the rain, the sloshing of water between your toes made your skin crawl. Walking home was nothing unusual in New York, you kinda had to walk everywhere. But on a night like tonight, it was less than stellar. The streets flooded with water, soaking the sideways and forming small moats along the gutters. Not a taxi in sight and sadly you lived too close to the diner for the subway to be an option. You’d begged your boss to let you leave early, maybe you’d be able to get home before the downpour. But the diner was busy and he insisted he needed you the rest of the night.

You could feel your phone buzzing in your bag. No doubt dozens of texts from Bucky, watching the rain from your shared apartment and worried sick. There was no way you were going to respond, the water was coming down in sheets and there was no way your phone would survive that damage. And besides, you were only a block away. 

Jamming your key into the building door, your fingers began to tingle, angry red from the cold. The rush of heat washed over you as you slipped inside and headed up the stairs. Water ran off you as you made your way to the apartment door. Before you could even get the key in, the door swung open, revealing a distraught Bucky.

“Doll, what happened?” he asked, taking in your appearance. Your clothes were soaked, the wet fabric molding to your body like a Greek statue. Your cheeks and fingers were a bright red and your hair was plastered against your head and neck. Your whole body shook as you stood before him, tears threatening to spill over. It was a horrible night and swimming home wasn’t exactly how you wanted to end it.

“John wouldn’t let me go early,” you said. If they weren’t paying close attention, one would mistake the tear running down your face for more water droplets. But Bucky noticed.

His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth of your apartment. He quickly discarded your soaked coat and shoes, tossing them aside and bringing you to the bedroom. He twisted the radiator on, releasing more heat into the room. 

“I’m cold,” you said, your fingers and toes still shaking. 

“I know, sweet girl. But we gotta get you in some dry clothes.

You stood and waited as he grabbed you one of his shirts and some sweats. His warm hands were delicate and pure as he removed your drenched clothes and replaced them. Gently, he sat you on the bed before turning to the dresser. He returned with a pair of your fluffy socks. You watched him sink to the floor, taking your feet and slipping them on.

Bucky looked back up at you with adoration. The red in your cheeks had begun to fade, your skin returning to its beautiful tone. His heart sank at the thought of you walking through the storm, alone and cold. He was going to have to have quite the talk with your boss. He rose slowly, reaching up and placing his vibranium hand against your cheek. The metal was warm from the apartment heat and he watched with delight as you nuzzled your face into it. His other hand brushed back the damp tendrils of hair from your face.

“Feeling better, love?” he asked. You nodded at his words, reaching out for your super-soldier. His body was a furnace as he leaped up, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you down to the bed. In a swift motion, he pulled you to his chest and yanked the covers over the two of you.

“You should’ve called me from the diner, Y/N. I could’ve walked you home,” he said, running a soothing hand over your hair.

“We both would’ve just been soaked,” you said, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. The feeling had slowly returned to your toes as you wiggled them against his calf, earning a chuckle from Bucky.

“I just hate knowing you were alone out there,” he said.

“I know, but you’re here and warm. You’re like my own personal heater,” you said, your grip around his waist tightening. 

“I’ll be your heater anytime, doll.”

---

hope you liked!

taglist:

@britos11 @baby-banana

[theburninglilac]

Journal Entry #1

Okay, so here’s the thing. I'm not good at journaling! I want to be so badly, but I’m just not. Alas, we will power through and I want to tell you all a story. I have had a good life, overall. I love my family, and they love me. I’m surrounded by a great support system that aids me through my everyday life -- I’m content. But, I miss my grandmother.

My grandmother passed away when I was just nearing eleven years old. This isn’t a sob story, trust me. Well, I mean, it really depends on how you look at it. I don’t see it as a sob story, I just see it as a realization that could have been avoided if I tried a bit harder. What does that mean, you ask? Well, let’s chat. 

For real this time . . .

My grandmother used to be my best friend, we were just the same. We both were practically blind, hated country music, and had an undying love for Cherry Garcia ice cream. Basically twins. 

Well, Sundays in my family were extremely important. Not for religious reasons per se (I was religious, but usually that was focused on my father's side.) Sundays were a day of relaxation and good food. And trust me, my great-grandmother knew good food. Great-Grandma was a woman with taste. You didn’t know heaven until you broke off the head of her gingerbread men at Christmas time. She could make something delicious out of nothing. 

She had birthed ten kids. Ten kids, can you imagine? I’m an only child, and sometimes hearing stories about my youth is too much for me. Anyways, nine of her ten children went on to have kids. Some went on to have multiple, and some had one. My grandmother, or meem, (childhood nicknames never cease to amaze me. Like, seriously, ‘meem’? What does that even mean? Where in the world did I even get that name?) Anyways . . . my grandmother had one biological child, my mother. But, she had one step-daughter, who was my grandfather’s, “peep” (again, with the childhood nicknames . . . ) biological daughter. My aunt. My aunt was always close with my grandmother. Always. And, so was my mother. My grandmother was a loving woman, who smoked a bit too much and drove an unmistakable green jeep for most of my life.

I always had an issue with her smoking. I hated that she was ruining her lungs because the second you heard that specific cough; the one that would start small and build and build and build, until you never knew if it was going to stop, scared me. I grew up with most of my family on my mother’s side smoking. It was always an afterthought seeing my family gathered on the porch with their lighters and packs of Camels in hand. The smell of cigarettes was never exactly comforting growing up, but it was familiar. 

My mom hated when everyone smoked around me. I was diagnosed with asthma at a very young age. I’ve been to the ER more times than I’d like to admit for my crappy lungs, and cigarette smoke never helped. Well, my grandmother was one of the worst smokers in my family. She would smoke up to a pack or more in a day, and it got to the point where she had to be put on oxygen.

I’m not sure if I have any pictures of her without an oxygen tank strapped to her person.

Anyways, Sundays were my favorite. At my great-grandmother’s we’d all laugh and eat, gossip and smile. Those breakfasts will always be a fond memory in my mind.

Everyone seemed genuinely happy . . . I was genuinely happy. My parents were yet to be divorced, everyone was alive and well, and there was a whole lot of love being spread. 

As much as I love breakfast with my family, after breakfast was my favorite part of the day. Meem and Peep’s house. 

My grandparents lived in a small trailer located on the Hudson River. It was a single wide, molding in some areas, and no appliance was from the 2010s. Nonetheless, it was my favorite place in the world. Because I adored my grandmother. 

She was a painter, and I loved watching her particular strokes on the pieces she worked on. She never was mad at me either, unlike my grandfather. My grandfather is a stern man. He is brute and terribly blunt, but he has a good heart. His passions include hunting and rodeos, which I was never a fan of, so it was hard seeing eye to eye with him all the time.

As an only child, I made my own fun, playing with dolls by myself, making up stories that only I heard, and reading books that I borrowed from the public library. I wasn’t allowed any electronic devices until I was in middle school, so for years, I made my own fun.

One of my favorite activities was having my grandmother lie down with me and make up stories as I napped in her room. I’m sure if she were still alive today she would roll her eyes at the thought, because I asked her to make up story after story . . . but, she always did. 

As a child, I was never “in the know” about my family’s finances. My father is a factory worker, and my mother is a manager at a store, but also ran a babysitting service when a was young. We were your everyday middle-class folk, living in a boring middle-class house, on a boring middle-class street, in a boring middle-class town. I liked boring though because as a child, I didn’t know boring. Boring wasn’t a concept I understood. 

I remember one Christmas I really wanted a doll called “Lalaloopsy.” I wanted it so bad, and that year, they were all the rage for young children between the ages of five to twelve. As Christmas day approached, I remembered opening up the present from my grandmother and shrieking with joy. It was the doll I wanted. The very doll that I wanted for the majority of the year. It was in my hands, and I couldn't have been any happier. 

I hugged my grandparents tightly and thanked them, but as I did, I remembered the smile my grandmother had on her face. It wasn’t happy. It was almost sad . . . but why would that be? It’s Christmas day! We're opening presents! This is fun!

Come to find out, my grandparents struggled financially that year. That present was from my mother and father, with a gift tag that was from my grandparents. They couldn't afford gifts that year. And knowing that after my grandmother’s passing broke my heart. 

It’s not just because of the money, that this news broke my heart. It was the fact that my grandmother was willing to give anyone anything. She went as far as giving her neighbors, a couple who struggled even worse financially, their beautiful faux Christmas tree. I was disappointed, because as a child I had zero concept of money, and thought this completely ridiculous. Instead of their beautiful Christmas tree, my grandparents opted for a small two-foot faux tree that couldn’t fit ornaments. 

As I’ve grown, I can finally appreciate the selflessness of my grandmother and her services to so many people. Will I ever know if she actually wanted to keep her tree? No. But, do I know it most likely made the day of a couple who were more in need of holiday cheer? No doubt.

As the years passed, my grandmother’s health decreased rapidly. And, as this happened, my parents filed for divorce. Most people said it was completely out of the blue -- I thought it was completely out of the blue. But, I grew older and realized just how different my parents were. And just how their differences hurt each other, rather than encouraging each other.

When I was eleven I dealt with a lot. At least in my opinion. My dog died, and being that I had no siblings, this was a difficult loss. She had cancer . . . everywhere. She couldn’t be saved, and when she was put down, it pained me. Secondly, we moved. Not far, sure . . . but, we moved. I didn’t want to leave my boring house, on my boring street. But, we did. And I still miss that house. Thirdly, my parents' divorce. I cried for days because of this news. I loved my parents being together. I really did. The idea of having parents divorce, when I lived in a family (my father’s side) that said divorce was sinful, scared me. I grew up listening to my family a lot, to which I regret. They taught me ideals that I simply don’t hold anymore, thanks to their traditional views and outlooks. But, nonetheless, I needed my parents to stay together. See, here is the thing. I‘d like to believe I’m religious. I think God is real to an extent, but I believe in science. I’d like to think there is something after death, but I'm terrified of the idea of Hell. 

I think that’s what I’ve always struggled with when dealing with religion. I don’t want to be scared to devote myself to a religion, because frankly, I am scared of it. If it wasn’t worse than divorce, I’m a bastard. Yeah, I said it. I was born out of wedlock, and my parents didn’t “tie the knot” until I was eight. They had been together for more than a decade before their wedding, but when they had me, the bible had declared me a sin. Not even my choice. I was a sin the second I was brought into this world. Not that I believe that anymore, but as a child, I doubted my self worth. Though, I didn’t exactly know the concept of “self-worth” as an eleven year old, I did know that sometimes I felt ashamed for no reason. I’d look around at my family, my cousins, and aunts and uncles who lived happily together. I wanted that.

When I had these thoughts I constantly confined to my grandmother, she always knew what to say. She always made me feel like I was worth it. She loved me through thick and thin.

This leads to my fourth reason of, ‘Why I Dealt with A Lot When I Was Eleven.’ 

My grandmother was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and died, all within ten days. 

I know this isn’t a sob story, but God, I sobbed. A lot. Remember how I said she was a smoker? Well, once she went on oxygen, she quit. She did it! She was the first sibling in her family to quit smoking. But, she was the first to pass away. 

Ironic right? 

Well, as the days went on, my grandmother couldn't speak. It physically hurt her to speak. I remember leaving the hospital on one of her last days on this Earth feeling mad. Little ole’ me, mad at my grandmother because she had cancer. I wasn’t mad at the fucking cancer, I was mad at her. 

I left the hospital with my dad, and she hadn’t said she loved me. It’s not because she didn't want to, it’s because she fucking couldn’t. I called my mom in tears, I just wanted to hear my grandmother. That’s all I wanted. So, my mother put my grandmother on the line with her small flip phone to tell me she loved me. 

Her voice was so scratchy, I knew it hurt. I had to have hurt. But, between the tears and anger I had towards her, I didn’t care about her pain. She said she loved me. But, that wasn’t MY grandmother. That wasn’t the woman I had known for my entire life. That wasn’t the woman who liked orange flavored cinnamon buns, and The Golden Girls. This sounded like a complete stranger.  

I gave the phone back to my dad. I didn’t want to hear her. Because hearing her say “I love you” on repeat felt too painful. I knew that this was going to be my last call with her, and instead of saying “I love you too,”  . . . I cried and handed the phone back to my dad. 

I regret that to this day. 

Because, two days later, she died. I had no grandmother anymore. And, I had been too scared and angry to say “I love you,” because I knew that would have been the last time I did so. 

At the funeral, I couldn’t get out of my mother’s car. I was too sad. My tears had puffed my eyes so much I couldn’t see. And with my parents' fresh divorce, there was tension in the air. Could you imagine? On top of the grief and sorrow, the tension between my parents was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

In the days leading up to my grandmother's funeral, I told my mom I wanted to write a speech. I wanted to speak to the crowd of people in front of me and redeem myself from my last phone call with her. But, when I built up enough courage to walk into the funeral home, I saw everyone. Tears were being shed, people were hugging one another, and suddenly the tiny piece of composition notebook paper in my hand didn’t feel important. 

I’ve always been uncomfortable around deceased people. This is funny because I live right across the road from a cemetery. But, when deceased people are on display, I can never build up the bravery it takes to approach them. Because they look alive. With makeup done nicely, and a beautiful outfit to go along with the makeup. Seeing a deceased body never felt real, because by all means of appearance -- they looked alive.

It took a lot that day to approach my grandmother. This was the first time I had seen her without an oxygen tank by her side in years, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses. I studied her face for a long time, then I prayed. My grandmother wasn’t intensely religious. I think she believed in God, but to what extent -- I’ll never know. So, as an eleven-year-old kneeling down and “praying” I spoke to whoever was willing to listen. Whether it was a God, or my grandmother, maybe no one, who knows . . . I still spoke. After my praying, I plucked up all the courage I had to hold my grandmother’s cold lifeless hand. I wanted to throw up, that I remember. I was so overwhelmed, but it felt nice in some sense. Because at that very moment, I was in my own world with just my grandmother again. I couldn’t say it was a happy moment, but maybe somber is a good word for it.

I placed the speech I had written for my grandmother in her palm and wrapped her hand around it. It was our secret. One last secret, before I said goodbye. 

The months after her passing were tough for everyone in my family. Arguments were made, feuds were started, and by six months of fighting, Sunday morning breakfasts no longer happened. I had never realized how much my grandmother affected the entire family. Once she was gone, siblings were blaming each other for her death, my grandfather practically fell dormant, and my parents fell into what would become a multiple-year distaste for each other. All because of my grandmother.

I suppose no one in my family had a heart like hers. I never felt the warmth of happiness around anyone, that I had felt with her. She was pure magic. 

I’ve grown up my entire teenage life, turning adult life, without her. There are days where I beg her to give me a sign that she’s watching. Some days they come, some days they don’t. My family was never too tech-savvy when I was a child, so there is a lack of pictures of my youth. This means there’s a lack of pictures including my grandmother.

I miss her. Sometimes I still feel anger at myself, because as I grow older it’s harder to remember what she looks like. 

I no longer can remember the sound of her voice. 

I wish I could hug her once more. Or drive around in her ridiculous green jeep once more. Maybe even make fun of country music together. 

I wish she could have watched me grow older. Maybe watch my graduation. Drop me off at college. Help me decide on my prom dresses. God, the things I wish we could’ve done. But, life moves on. I miss her, but I can’t dwell in the past, because she simply wouldn’t have agreed with that decision. 

I pray she doesn’t hold a grudge against me because of our final goodbye. 

I pray that she watches over me and smiles because of my achievements. 

I just hope she’s happy now.

[ellebeebee]

Family

Shortly after the Baron of Namaire passes, Sabine returns home to the Guyenne estate for an overdue visit with her family.  It’s not all tea and roses, and Sabine has business in mind for her siblings.  (And yes, Rosalin is shamelessly inspired by Julie d’Aubigny.)

5821 words, Revaire!mc and no pairing, general

-

Sabine took the hand Chrétien offered, and a few raindrops fell on her traveling gloves.  Black spots bloomed over the maroon silk.  She stepped down from the carriage, careful with her impractical and yet very pretty slippers on the slick running board.  The butler-- the new one that Chrétien had written to her about-- held an umbrella to shield her mostly, and her brother partly, from the rain.

“Thank you,” Sabine told him.

“Of course, madam,” he said, specks of water dotting his coarse dark hair.  He managed a bow that was both elegant in its grace and careful in its keeping the umbrella still keeping the rain off.

It could never be said the facade of the Guyenne estate did not show a modern style-- attractive in its stately proportions with larger windows than the ancestors had used and more delicate crenelations-- but that was the face of the castle.  The interiors and the unseen sections told a different story.  The southern wing jutted out over a lake and would have lovely vistas if the whole wing did not smell of mildew and the foundation had not been steadily dissolving into that very same lake.

Only half the eastern wing was kept open, and many of the western wing’s room were also kept closed.  The best and oldest portraits were kept covered year-round unless company was expected.  Servants were constantly hired and dismissed as the cash flow changed, so new faces were a permanent feature of the house.

“Shall we?” Chrétien asked.

It never failed to surprise her: having to look up at him.  Even though he’d been taller than her for years.  Curly dark hair and dimples, her precious baby brother.  He smiled inquisitively at her lingering.

Sabine patted his arm. “Very well.”

They walked the short distance over the shining gravel to the entrance, Manel and his umbrella following.  The footmen were waiting with the entrance doors.  Rain darkened the shoulders of their wool uniforms.  They bowed as she and Chrétien passed.

Warmth washed over them in the foyer.  White and pink marble, silver sconces and gold gilding.  She had a minimum of time to inspect the latest refurbishment before a side door burst open and screaming bounced about the foyer.

Two bundles of taffeta and ribbon bows bowled into her midriff.

“Sabine!  Sabine!”

Sabine laughed and stooped to grip the two girls strangling her waist even tighter to herself.   They squealed.  She knelt to push them back a little and get a better look.  Identical brown and dimpled cheeks, cheekbones that would one day be sculpted, little bow mouths.  Camilla wore a yellow frock with yellow lace, and Marigold wore blue with black velvet ribbons.  They grinned at her.

“Oh my doves,” Sabine said. “Little dumplings.  You’ve grown so much!”

“Did you bring Pardot’s Theorems--”

“What about The Principles of Thought as--”

“Girls,” Chrétien said.  He handed his coat off to the doorman and frowned at them. “She’s been in the door for a second.  You could at least give a proper greeting.”

Sabine stifled a snort.  His babyface made the frown look very ill-fitting indeed.  She tugged on the twins’ mahogany curls.

“He’s right.  I could be convinced by a kiss though,” she whispered.

They giggled, and together pecked either side of her face. “Hello, sister!”

“Hello, loves!  The books are in my luggage, and I’m sure the maids are already unpacking--”

They flew up the main staircase before she finished the thought.

“Camilla, Marigold!”

Vera appeared in the same archway they’d come screaming from, herself much more sedate in a great voluminous skirt of a saccharine pink.  Her thin and brown shoulders nearly drowned in embellishments, and her head swayed under the great whirl of her dark curls molded into a complicated style.  She smoothed down delicate rosettes and ruffles to smile at Sabine.  Lilah followed her into the foyer as well.

“Sabine,” Vera said after a pause, her arms jerking upward for an embrace.

“Vera,” she said and pulled her as close as possible with that large skirt.  Their jaws clacked together in the cheek kisses.  Sabine held her shoulders and smiled as she inspected her. “My.  Aren’t you a picture.  Perfectly pretty, dear.”

Vera inspected her as well, again pausing a little too long. “And you look-- well.  Quite appropriate.  Quite appropriate, sister.”

Sabine smiled.  The traveling gown was red for mourning.  The seamstress had cut it well-fitted and styled it modernly.  Not too ostentatious to be worthy of second looks, but certainly not dowdy.  Quite appropriate indeed.  Yet Vera’s eyes lingered on the close cut of the dress and her figure beneath it.  When gathered together, Sabine quite always stood apart from the other Guyenne women in not being quite so narrow and svelte.  Not at all, in fact.

And Vera let slip the word ‘appropriate’ in that condescending manner that was ever her particular charm.  Yes.  There certainly was no place like home.

“Lilah,” Sabine said, looking beyond Vera’s shoulder.

Lilah stepped forward in a motion not quite a curtsy and yet still somehow deferential.  As she dipped, her hand swept smooth the front of her simple dress.  Rather too simple, really, in Sabine’s opinion.  A schoolgirl’s crown of braids wrapped around her head and pulled taut at her temples, making her hooded and heavy-lashed eyes rather doll-like.

“Sister,” Lilah said.

Sabine raised a brow. “‘Sister’?  Why, what manners!  What a perfect little lady-- oh don’t, I know quite well you’re all growing up, but if you think I’m going to let you get by without a hug you are sorely mistaken.”

She held out her hands and gestured imperiously.  Lilah’s lips cracked a little smile despite herself.  They hugged, a little awkwardly having been several months out of practice.  And she was turning out to be such a formal little thing, her Lilah.

“Oh, look at my beauty, my love--”

Behind Vera appeared Mother and Father.  Lilah released her as Mother bull-rushed them and scooped Sabine into a fiercely tight embrace.  And then Father threw his arms about the both of them and squeezed them until they squealed.  A great deal of fussing and admiring was had, with complaints about the journey and the eye-rolling about Camilla and Marigold.  Sabine protested the absence of the littlest of her siblings (Andreas, Domin, and baby Marjot); Chrétien smiled and pointed out that it was well past dark and their bedtimes.

When this quieted, and her mother stopped making dewey eyes at the sight of her in full mourning, Sabine looked about the hall where they-- still-- lingered.

“Where is Rosalin?” she asked.

Mother and Father quieted.  Lilah and Vera’s eyes flew to their faces.  Lady Guyenne, beautiful as ever with an artful tumble of dark curls and a thin face and large thick-lashed eyes, stared at Sabine with her lips mouthing around floundering words.  She looked to her husband.  Lord Guyenne, mahogany to his wife’s copper with his coarse hair flaring from his head in a handsome halo, tugged at the lapels of his coat and hesitantly smiled at Sabine.

“Well.  Dear--”

“Where,” Sabine said, her tone changing. “Is Roselin?”

Lord Guyenne’s lips puckered.  When their parents still remained silent, Sabine’s gaze shot to Chrétien.  His dark brows shot up.  He raised his hands defensively.

“I’ve just gotten back with you.  I know as much as you do.”

She turned back on her parents.  They managed placating smiles.

“Sabine, darling--”

She exhaled violently. “No, do not-- I cannot believe the pair of you!  This is the third time.”

Mother sighed and laughed. “Oh, Sabine, really.  It’s not such an ordeal.  You know Rosalin!  She can’t be caged, she’s a free spirit--”

“She is a young girl,” Sabine shot back. “She is a foolish and arrogant young girl you have coddled into thinking that she is impervious to consequence--”

This tirade and back and forth continued on for a while.  Vera and Lilah drifted as close as Vera’s ridiculous skirts allowed, with mirroring awkward nonplussed expressions.  Chrétien’s hands hovered about and reached forward as if to make some gesture of intervention, but he never expressed anything other than silent dismay in his wide eyes.

Mother fluttered her hands. “Oh, enough!  She’s fine--”

“Really?  Really, she’s fine?  Do you even have any idea where’s she gone this time?”

“She has a poetic heart!  Romance is in her blood, and I’m glad--”

“So that’s what this is?  Another love drama?”

“Sabine,” Father said.  He placed a hand on her arm and smiled at her pleadingly. “Please.  Rosalin is an intelligent girl.  She’ll be fine.”

She stared up at him, clenching her jaw. “How long has she been gone?”

He hesitated. “Ah.  A… few days.”

Sabine closed her eyes.  She released a long stream of extremely cross breath. 

“Sabine,” Chrétien said.  He looked at her with beseeching eyes and dimples.  He has always hated conflict.

She exhaled and pursed her lips. “Alright, fine.  Vera, Lilah-- I think it’s time you two went to bed.”

Vera made a sound of protest, her mouth opening in an angry ‘o.’  Lilah discretely nudged her in the side before pulling on some sash or enormous silk rose on her skirt.  Vera made a bit of a squawk as she was led up the stairs.

“You two,” she gestured at her parents. “Continue on, I suppose.”

Mother blinked. “Wh-- Won’t you come sit down for a nightcap?”

Sabine shook her head, already walking past them. “No.  Good night, Mother, Father.  I will see you at breakfast.”

She moved past the grand staircase to the oaken door tucked behind it.  A pair of ‘Good night’s!’ and Chrétien’s footsteps trailed after her into the warm and dimly lit hallway that meandered around the parlors, the library, and the sitting rooms.  A slightly threadbare carpet kept their steps muffled, and the inset panelling kept the damp and cold air from the rain out.  It was late enough that they didn’t encounter servants.

“Sabine,” Chrétien said.

“I have a feeling.  She knew I was coming, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

They found their way to the kitchens.  The broad and tall-ceilinged room was lined with worn wooden counters, beautiful hammered copper pots with dark patina, little terracotta pots with herbs, and dried ham hocks.  The scent of salt and yeast and rendered fat perfumed the air.  At one of the thick-planked tables set around for food prep, a cluster of servants sat over cups of tea.  Brows raised, they stood as Sabine and Chrétien entered.

“My lord, my lady--”

“Hello, Cook,” Chrétien smiled. “This is Sabine.  The oldest of our little brood.”

The older woman-- suspiciously thin for a cook, but appropriately cheerful in the smile-- bobbed a bit.  Another new face hired on since she’d left.

“Oh, yes, of course.  We’ve heard so much, my lady.”

Sabine smiled back, stuffing down her agitation. “Some of it good, I hope.  Please-- don’t stand on my account.  And I have to ask your forgiveness for intruding on your domain.”

“Oh, not at all.”

Sabine gestured and the cook and the two kitchenhands hovered in an almost-sitting position.  They hesitated, looking at each other.  Chrétien smiled encouragingly, and Sabine moved past the butcher’s block and the counters to another of the clean, lemon-scented tables.  She sat, her red skirts rustling loudly, and the servants slowly sat as well.

But the cook popped up again. “Shall I make you tea?”

Chrétien sat beside Sabine, and waved his hands. “No, no, we’re fine.  Please, don’t worry on our account.”

“Yes,” Sabine said. “We’re sorry for imposing--  Ah, my manners.  What was your name?”

“Nadia, ma’am.  But ‘Cook’ is fine.”

“Nadia.  We’re sorry for imposing.  But we’ve a little mouse we’re hunting.”

Nadia blanched.

Sabine stopped short and smiled. “Oh, no.  Don’t worry.  Not a real mouse.  I’m only joking.”

Pausing a moment, she smiled back and chuckled. “Oh, well.  Just so you know, ma’am, I keep a tight ship down here and you’ll find no vermin here.”  She wagged a stern finger.

“A woman after my own heart,” Sabine said.

They all sat like that for a while.  The servants at one table them at another.  Despite their assurances, the conversation between the cook and her girls went stilted and too quiet.  Sabine and Chrétien sat silently, smiling placatingly at their inquisitive looks.  Rather quickly, Cook and the girls left for their quarters.

The candles in the sconces and hanging lanterns flickered as the time dragged.  Sabine let the stillness of the kitchen cool her off, and Chrétien made some comments about the skill of the new cook.  He yawned a few times but shook his head when she told him to go on to bed.

But in fact, they didn’t have to wait that long.  The door to the kitchen yard, around the corner from where they sat, squealed as it cautiously pushed inward.  A long pause.  The hard patter of rain and the blue light of the moon spilled into the kitchen.  The door creaked as it closed.  The tap of well-heeled boots bounced off the walls.

Rosalin rounded the corner, freezing at the sight of her two older siblings sitting in the kitchens.

“Hello, Rosalin,” Sabine said. “Nice of you to join us.”

Her lips flapped open and closed for a moment.  She was soaking wet.  Her black hair was plastered to her skull, her ponytail a tangled mess.  Her jaunty scarlet coat drooped splotchy and dripping from her thin shoulders, and her matching red breeches clung to her legs.  Her black boots shone with rain.

“Uh,” Rosalin struggled. “Uh.  I, uh.  Thought you were coming tomorrow.”

Sabine raised a brow. “That’s the thing about carousing rakes.  They tend to lose track of time.”

Rosalin frowned. “I wasn’t-- You have no idea--” She rounded on Chrétien with a glare. “You!”

He threw his hands up. “I was gone, remember?  I was with her, and had no notion at all about this.  And anyway, why does everyone blame me for these things?”

“Oh!” Rosalin huffed. “You’re always on her side anyway!”

Sabine stood. “There are no sides, Rosalin.  There’s only our family.  And don’t talk to your brother like that.”

She rolled her thick-lashed eyes. “So what?  Is this the part where you give me the lecture?”

Sabine eyed her.  She shook her head. “You’re drenched.  Go change and get to bed.”

“Sabine, you’re not my mother.  You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re right, I’m not your mother,” Sabine said. “But I do happen to be the one paying for your dancing lessons.  Your singing and fencing masters.  I happen to be the one that has paid bribes to alehouses and casinos to forget your face.  I am the one who paid for that very suit you wear and the food on your table, Rosalin-- so.  Go upstairs.  And go to bed.”

Rosalin glared.  They gazed at each other.  Exhaling angrily, Rosalin walked away with an indignant clip in her step.

Sabine deflated when the kitchen doors banged shut behind her.  She closed her eyes, the journey catching up with her.

“Welcome home…?” Chrétien said.

She stared at him, and shook her head. “I don’t know why I bother.”

-

A certain Boneille Guyenne had commissioned the desk nearly a century ago, insistent that it be as impressive as possible.  Her interpretation of “impressive” honestly left much to be desired aesthetically.  It loomed in the middle of the library, nearly the size of a draft horse, with its fluted columns for legs and its crenellation of roses and little birds.  Sabine leaned over its inlaid cherry wood surface.  A black ledger laid out before her.  The fingers of her red gloved hand perused the pages and columns.

Mid-morning light, lavender from last night’s rain, danced over the parquet, the tall shelves, and the leather chairs.

Chrétien stepped through the open archway. “Ah.  The audit’s begun already.”

Sabine straightened and smiled wryly at him. “Trust me.  It’s light reading.  I have absolutely nothing to worry about and you’ve done very well.”

He approached, his hand coming up to rub at his neck bashfully.  He looked down at the ledger with her.  “Really, please check to see if everything matches what I’ve sent you.”

She sat down at the desk’s overplush chair, smoothing out the draping of her red skirts. “Chrétien.  I’m proud of you.”

“Just make sure you really do look through everything.  I’m sure…”

“Did you hear me?” she gazed at him, still avoiding her eyes. “I said I’m proud of you.”

His dimples deepened with his embarrassed smile.  He reluctantly met her eyes and shook his head. “You’ve done all the hard work.”

Sabine gave an exasperated sigh.  She smiled at him, and flipped the ledge shut.  He sat at the edge of the ostentatious desk, trying to keep a little opal gilded lion from digging into his back.

“Any sign of Rosalin?” Sabine said.

“She generally never wakes up before noon.”

Her lips pinched. “Well.  I’m having a talk with her at some point during this visit whether she likes it or not.” Her eyes snapped to him. “Actually.  I need a talk with you as well.”

“Me?  What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing, honey.  Not that sort of talk.  Unless I need to know something?”

“No, no!”

She laughed. “You’re so cute.”

“I--” he started, dark and thick brows knit perplexedly. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sabine inspected him.  The tall and thin windows looked out over the south grounds and its articulated “natural” paths and little copses.  It was easier and cheaper to maintain a naturalistic garden than a formal one.  Chrétien leaned toward the tall side, with limbs that were gradually coming into their own with a graceful way of drawing him up politely.  He dressed well, yet simply, and his pleasant looks invited instant trust.  No one could mistake him for anything other than a noble son.

“You’re going to university,” Sabine said. “No matter what.”

He gazed at her, and his lips pulled a bit tight. “Sabine… I…”

“I know you think that staying here and keeping up with the estate will be the best,” she went on. “But you going and furthering your education, spending time in society and learning more-- that is what will help this family most, Chrétien.”

“I just.  I worry about what will happen here if I’m gone.  I was visiting you for not even a fortnight and Rosalin ran off with us knowing.”

“Rosalin is another matter.  Completely unrelated.” She reached across the desk and laid a hand on his fingers. “I want you to be selfish in this.  I know you want to go; your books and theorems are always on your mind, I know it.  There will be plenty of time to rebuild the family name and all of that later.  But now is the time for you to serve yourself.”

He remained silent.  She squeezed his fingers.

“I want you to go out, meet bad influences.  Make mistakes.  Have fun.  You deserve it, you know.”

“Bad influences?” he smiled.

She frowned. “Well.  Not too bad.  I shall certainly have stern words if you get too wild.”

He smiled a moment longer before looking down and rubbing his fingers on the desk’s surface.

“I… think I do want that.  To, uhm, go.”

She stood and went around to him, pulling him into a hug.  Seated, he actually was at eye level with her.

“I know you do,” she said. “You’re my baby brother.  Of course I know.  And go you shall!”

He patted her back. “Please don’t start on the baby brother stuff.”

“My sweetie!  My itty bitty wuvie-dovie baby--”

“Stop!  You’re bullying me, stop!”

Sabine laughed and released him.  She leaned against the desk beside him.  Their shoulders knocked.  It reminded her of them being small and sitting on a kitchen bench together, squeezed in with the others.  Staying warm in one of the remaining rooms to be heated, during one of the more lean times.

“I wanted your thoughts on some other things,” she said.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “I think it’s time to look to the future.”

A maid passed by in the hall outside the entrance, weighed down with a basket of laundry.  Rosalin’s red suit dangled from the edge.  The laundresses would have a time of it restoring the red wool after the drenching it got yesterday.

“You are going to university,” Sabine stated. “Afterwards, we’ll see, but I’m sure you’ll have options and ideas for after.  Rosalin-- let’s put her aside for the moment.  She is her own tangle of problems.  Vera…” She tapped on the desk with her fingers. “What do you think of marriage for her?”

Chrétien’s brow rose. “She’s… too young still, don’t you think?”

“I don’t mean right away.  A few more years.  But I think not too long, because I highly doubt that she will ever mature much more.  I think the best thing is to find someone patient and indulgent, and of good enough position to flatter her vanity--”

“And enough money to afford it.”

“Yes.  Someone safe and not caught up in politics or the court.  Because she simply is unsuited to those matters.  But, eventually.  I think that would be best for her.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll speak to her about it,” Sabine pushed on. “Now, Lilah.  Lilah-- I would rather push off her marriage for as long as possible.  I see potential in her for political power, and I don’t believe she’d ever be satisfied with a safe marriage.”

“Are you thinking… the Summit?”

“She won’t be old enough for the next one.  But maybe the one after.  Or…” She paused. “I have some ideas for myself, and if she were willing she could be a great help to me.  She has intelligence, poise, looks…”

“But-- I’m not sure what she wants.”

“Me either.  Another conversation to have.  If I can draw her out-- you know how difficult she can be.”

“Yes.  But there’s time.”

Sabine nodded. “Now, the twins.  I think it’s obvious for them.  When they’re fifteen or sixteen, I think we’ll send them along to one of Jiyel’s academies.  They’ll thrive there, I’m sure.”

Chrétien smiled. “They’ve already talked about that, you know.”

“Have they?  Well, it’s settled then.  I’ll look into the different schools.  Or just ask them, because I am sure they know everything already.  And have opinions.”

“So then, the children?”

She smiled. “You’re all children to me, love.”

“You know, you’re not that much older than me.”

“My baby brother.  Adorable little dimpled babycakes.”

He grimaced nervously. “Please don’t.  Domin?  Andreas?”

Her expression faded back to seriousness. “Honestly, I’d like to have them fostered elsewhere.  Preferably together.  Wellin or Arland.  Somewhere staid.”

Chrétien hesitated. “But, they’re so young.”

“I know.  I don’t say this lightly.  Maybe in a few years, but…” She shook her head, and she sighed. “And Marjot…”

Marjot had only been born the previous year.  She was happy little bundle of gurlges and squirming, but she truly was just a baby.

“A baby truly should have her mother,” Sabine said. “But… I don’t know, Chrétien.  I’m nervous about waiting too long.”

Somewhere deeper in the house, Camilla and Marigold and the two young boys were shrieking about something.  Overhead, running feet pounded across the upper floor.

Sabine lowered her voice and leaned in closer to him. “You don’t know quite how bad it is in the capital, Chrétien.  The stories alone don’t do it justice.  Everything is beautiful and jeweled and gilded, and the ballrooms are full of laughter-- but there is suspicion everywhere.  Blood being spilt in the dark, away from the public’s sight but always on their minds.”

She swept a red-gloved hand over her red skirts.  Chrétien reached over to lay an arm over her shoulders.  They leaned into each other.

“Mother and Father…”

“You know how I feel about them.”

He nodded, and went silent.  They sat together-- the two of them, the two oldest and therefore tied together as the responsible ones.  They had always been partners in everything, and knew better than anyone what they each carried.

-

After a day or two of chasing rumours of Rosalin stalking the halls, taking her meals in strange places, and making a nuisance of herself in the servant’s quarters-- Sabine finally hunted her down in one of the closed off wings of the estate.  If ever renovated, the long gallery would be beautiful with its very old and very tall (and very boarded up) windows and its covered antique settees and enormous pink marble fireplace.

Rosalin prowled around the room, wearing white breeches and a blue fencing jacket with its tails whipping behind her.  She moved about with one arm tucked into her back and the other thrusting and slashing with her rapier.  She hummed an arpeggio as she fought an invisible opponent, dust dancing in her wake.

In the doorway, Sabine cleared her throat.

Rosalin paused.  Her expression fell at the sight of her.  She’d somehow pulled the boards away from one window, and its light caught along the wavering edge of her suspended blade.  Sabine stepped forward.

Rosalin lowered her sword arm. “Do you want something?”

Sabine gave her a look. “Could you please try to sound more displeased to see me?  If that is even possible?”

Rosalin’s mouth twisted around and she shrugged.

Picking up her skirts so the pretty embroidered hem didn’t drag in patches of dust, Sabine gingerly minced forward to a couch shrouded in a white cloth.  She grimaced at the layer of powder and fuzz on the cloth and jerked at it until she could toss it to the side.  At the cloud this disturbed, she coughed and waved in front of her face.  The upholstery of the couch was ratty and badly in need of replacement.

Still, Sabine sat with as much grace as if it were the finest silk.  She eyed Rosalin, but she remained stuck to her spot with her feet placed for some fencing maneuver.  As if waiting for her to live so she could restart.

“You can remain standing if you like,” Sabine said. “But I’m going to speak to you anyway.”

They stared at each other for a bit before Sabine exhaled.

“Rosalin, I hope you do realize that I don’t treat you the way I do to anger you.  I love you, and I get concerned.”

Rosalin’s eyes went wary. “I’m not a child.  I can take care of myself.”

Sabine sighed. “I know.  You’re not a child, but neither are you completely grown.  You realize that, don’t you?  The places you go, the things you do… They’re more dangerous than I think you know.”

“I’m not afraid of danger,” she retorted, eyes flashing. “Especially when it’s in the service of what’s right.  When it’s a strike back at the boot on the throats of the innocent and downtrodden.”

“And you think you’re actually helping people?  Helping your great cause and not simply invited scrutiny?  Scrutiny that could very well mean not just your neck but all of ours?  That you aren’t, in fact, simply playing revolutionary?”

Her dark brows drew in anger. “I’m careful.  I’m always careful.  But I can’t believe it-- I knew you were such an overbearing sham, but I can’t believe you’re an actually cold-blooded monarchist.”

She spat the word, monarchist, venomously.

“I am-- publicly,” Sabine stated calmly. “As so many of us must be.  You would be surprised how many of the people you spit at for being bootlickers actually harbor no good will for the current Crown.”

Rosalin sniffed. “No action is as bad as support.”

“Who said I’m not acting?” Sabine said.  They stared at each other.  Sabine remained straight-backed with a direct gaze while uncertainty seeped into Rosalin’s eyes.

Sabine continued. “But that is the difference.  Do you know the type of people that crowd the gallows stage and swing on the ropes?  Those without caution.  That move without subtlety.  And their loved ones and friends swing with them.  You know this.  You’ve seen it.”

Oh, yes.  She did indeed know about all of Rosalin’s little excursions into the cities and their lower quarters.

Rosalin fully lowered her rapier and brought her feet together.  She looked away, bit her lip.

Sabine leaned back. “But you’re right.  You’re no longer a child.  So I’ll let you know that I’ve talking with Chrétien about all of you.  About your futures.  Because Mother and Father certainly aren’t thinking about it.  But when it comes to you, I worry.”

Rosalin sat on the couch with her, quite a few seats away and not looking at her.

“Women have few choices, Rosalin,” Sabine said. “A true marriage isn’t possible for you.  But-- if we discuss our options-- certain arrangements can be made in a marriage.”

Her eyes shot up at this. “I don’t want that.  Ever.  Love should be true and honest and gone into with everything you are.”

“I was talking of marriage.  Not love.”

“I won’t separate the two.”

Sabine studied her.  Truthfully, she could not blame her.  She was grateful to Namaire, and had loved him in a way-- but she’d never been in love with him.

“Maybe there is something in our blood,” Sabine said. “Because now I am very little inclined to disagree with you.  In the future, I…” She trailed off, and she shook her head. “Who knows what the future holds?  But for now, I am not going to force you into anything you don’t want.”

She scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.” But the sullen edge was gone and a more genial, sarcastic sharpness took its place.

Sabine glanced at her with a small smile. “Well, then, what do you think your future will look like?  Because I am struggling to see anything more than corrupting young ladies and winning duels.”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” Rosalin said. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“That’s all very well and good in your youth, but you’ll have to settle down at some point.”

“I don’t see why.”

Sabine gave her a look.  Rosalin pursed her lips and shrugged.

“Look.  I can take care of myself, Sabine.  I know-- I guess-- that you want to help, but I’m never going to be alright with ‘quiet’ and ‘respectable.’”

“Who said anything about respectable?  A good rumour or three can be quite useful.  I’m more concerned about safe.”

“I said I was careful, didn’t I?  And… I’ll try to be more careful.  Your subtle thing.  I’ll try.”

Staring hard at her, Sabine exhaled. “I’d prefer to see it rather than just hear it from you.  But alright.  And no more running off!  If you want to go in to the city, you need only ask.  You’re old enough now that you can pretend to be accompanying one of our friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rosalin said, in an entirely unconvincing tone.  She changed tactics. “You said you were thinking about the future for all of us?”

She was the third oldest.  Sabine was used to relying only on Chrétien concerning family matters, and she was used to expected the worst of Rosalin’s temperament-- but perhaps she was mistaken about that now.  She was the third oldest and therefore some of the responsibilities could be imparted to her.  Or at least discussed if only to open her eyes to the realities the rest of them were in.

Sabine spoke to her about her tentative plans for each of their siblings, and Rosalin commented here and there.  She still seemed wary, as if there was some trap in Sabine’s new candor.

“You seem… oddly concerned about getting us out of Revaire.”

Rosalin now sat facing her on the couch, one soft boot on the floor and the other tucked up underneath her thigh.  The singular uncovered window’s light gilded her dark ponytail and her strong brows, her high cheekbones and proud nose.  She studied Sabine hard.

Sabine leaned back, her red gloves in her red wool crepe lap. “I am, very much so.  This country is a disaster.  It is a bloody sty, and I am quite done with it.”

“But the estate--”

“Look at this place,” Sabine gestured around them. “Look.  It’s a rotting mess.  And what has this horrible old pile of stone ever done for us?  Other than made us miserable with its expense and its history.  Chrétien wants to keep going, to restore everything-- but I have very severe  misgivings about it.  I hope in time I’ll be able to convince him to look to himself first.”

“What about the people?”

“You are my people.  My siblings, my servants, and my friends.  These are my people.  I may sound heartless, but I cannot save the world.  What I can do is protect you all.  And I am determined to do so.”

Rosalin shook her head, mouth drawn tight.  Clearly, she disagreed.  And Sabine really did fear for her.  There was too much death sown into the soil of this country; she had no appetite at all to see any of them struggle to grow in such poisoned conditions.

“If you won’t think of the greater good--” Rosalin shot at her, to which she raised an arch brow. “--Then what, at least, about Mother and Father?  You didn’t say anything about them.”

Feeling a cool stillness crack over head like an egg, Sabine gazed at her. “Our parents have made their choices in life.  I am done with being constantly disappointed in them.  Done cleaning up their messes.  Neither I, nor any of us, owe them anything.  They will have to find their own way, as best they can.”

Rosalin stared back.  It was apparently not the answer she’d expected.

Sabine sighed.  They sat together in silence, each considered the chaotic valleys and hills of their childhood.  The highs and lows of the money and the petty, unrealistic concerns of Lord and Lady Guyenne.  The scrabbling for any sense at all of some safety in their lives.

“My concerns lie with my siblings now,” Sabine stated. “And whether you like it or not, that includes you.  I won’t dictate to you how to live.  But I love you Rosalin, and I want you to be safe and happy.”

Rosalin’s shoulders hunched a bit, and she looked off.

Sabine smiled. “Did you hear me?  I love you, Roz.”

“Yeah.  Well.  I love you too.  I suppose.”

Sabine laughed. “I’ll take it.  Now--” She eyed her sister and her embarrassed expression, and her eyes coi nsidering their conversation.  She continued. “Now.  This latest escapade of the heart-- are you or are you not going to tell me about her?”

Rosalin’s eyes shot back to her, scrutinizing for sarcasm.  Sabine smiled.  Rosalin snorted.  She straightened and flicked away her ponytail with cavelier pose.

“Well-- If you really want to know…”

[anneesfolleshq]

                                         「 THE FANTASY 」

                26  •  PERFORMER  •  MONTMARTRE  

DIRECT FROM LE PETIT JOURNAL:

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚛𝚎. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎. 𝚃𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚢, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚎.

ABOUT:

You learned long ago how to make them want you, how to become a girl-shaped puzzle piece to fill the voids of their hearts. You are an ever changing piece in this game, adjusting to be whatever people want from you, and you are good at it. You keep them wrapped around your finger, inviting them into your arms and your bed, until you grow tired of them -- leaving them begging for more. You are a star within these four walls, and oh, how you sparkle once the show is over — but you are a fantasy, nothing more, nothing less. It is all pretend. You have been playing make believe for so long now, it is hard to remember who you are when you aren’t putting on a show. 

BIO:

In Riquewihr, France on a snowy afternoon in January, Charlotte Webster was born. She was called a miracle, a beam of warm light born into the frozen winter. Her childhood was far from glamorous, but the Websters were nothing if not eternally positive. Charlotte was raised on a beautiful farm full of flowers and animals, an endless playground that she would have believed was the garden of eden if anyone had told her so. She was a happy child, always glistening with sunshine as she went about her life. As an only child, Charlotte had lots of time to herself which she spent reading and daydreaming of her future. She had always thought that she would grow up and get married, move to the big city, become a dancer. She spent hours putting on poorly performed dance recitals for her mother and father, preparing for what she thought was her dream. When she was old enough, she planned on moving to Paris. Anything could happen in Paris. The possibilities were endless, as she saw it.

As Charlotte grew older, her life was faced with drastic changes. Her mother got sick when Charlotte was only eight years old. She had to grow up fast to take care of her parents, tending to her mother while she was ill and cooking and cleaning for her father. Her parents spent nearly every penny they had in order to take her mother to doctors in far-away cities, quickly exhausting all of their resources. After only a couple of months, the family was out of time and money. Her mother passed away, leaving Charlotte and her father alone with little money and even less hope. The loss was devastating to Charlotte. She was still a child and now had to worry alongside her father about what they would eat and how they would stay warm during the upcoming winter. To lessen some of his stress and to help raise Charlotte, her father began dating and bringing new women home to meet her.

With every new love interest her father brought home, Charlotte grew more resentful of him. In her eyes, he was attempting to replace her mother, who had only passed away months earlier. He would introduce his dates as “new mothers,” and each woman would stick around for months at a time. Charlotte had to quickly learn how to adapt. As each new woman came into her home, they brought with them a set of rules and expectations for how Charlotte was to look, act, think, and speak. When Emma moved in, Charlotte was no longer allowed to read books about fairy tales. When Sarah moved in, Charlotte’s dolls had to be retired to the shelf. When Lydia moved in, the whole family had to start attending church services. Finally, Charlotte threw a fit. A royal temper tantrum in front of the entire congregation, begging the question as to why she was being forced to sit in a stuffy old building on such a beautiful Sunday morning in July? Her step mother stormed out and her father, with disdain written all over his face, asked, “Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

It started off nearly impossible. How was such a young girl supposed to learn and adjust to these new rules, only to be given new ones a couple of years later? As time went on, it became easier to just do as she was told rather than put up a fight. She became a chameleon — adapting to whatever she perceived people wanted from her. It was easier this way. It was better for her to become what people wanted rather than risk being rejected. Charlotte decided that she could manage this way until she was able to move away and follow her dreams. Whenever new people would enter her life, she would observe them until she could adjust her personality to fit in with theirs, contorting herself to be the kind of person she believed they wanted her to be.

When she was 16 she packed her bags and moved off to Paris, where she found work as a dancer at L’Enfer & Ciel. Her dance abilities were lacking, but it did not matter here. What mattered was her charm, her ability to keep patrons coming back night after night. Here, she learned how to use her chameleon soul to her benefit: learning what patrons wanted her to be, and bringing their dreams to life. If they wanted innocence, or kindness, or a punching bag, she would give it to them. She molded herself to fit into whatever people wanted from her.

At 19, she got a job across the river at the Moulin Rouge, and this is where she fine tuned her craft. This place would turn her into a star, just like she had always wanted. Her dancing is lackluster compared to that of her colleagues, but it doesn’t matter — it is after the lights go down when she shines. It is her performances after hours that keep patrons coming back for more, that keep them drawing their wallets. She never meant to be a star this way, but she is good at it, and for now that is good enough.

CONNECTIONS:

THE VIRTUOSO: You had been only a child when you met, so eager to be a star -- and he made you feel like one. It was easy to let your guard down with him, and even more so when he presented you with the white powder you have grown attached to. Even after he left, there is still a red thread that runs from your body to his.

THE JUST: You have noticed the way they watch you, and you drink up the attention like cherry wine. Perhaps you can use it to your advantage. 

THE COUTURIER: You have spent plenty of long nights in their studio, playing dress up in their beautiful creations, modeling new hair and makeup ideas that pop into their head. You became fast friends over fabric and gossip.

FC:

Haley Bennett

The Fantasy is currently taken.