#the first three after the greeting one are wallpapers for myself

[doodlesolar]

hi i have more doodles

[heavy-heartstrings]

You Make It Feel Like Home - Chapter 1

Summary: Melanie is a single mother struggling through life. But when she needs to hire a carpenter to renovate her daughter's bedroom she might find out that sometimes life gives you exactly what you need.

Pairing: Syverson x OFC (Melanie Hill)

Word Count: 3500+

A/N: After reading a lot of Syverson fanfic and falling in love with the character I decided to write one myself. It was supposed to be a short one shot but ended up being over 15k so I decided to divide it into three parts. This is incredibly self-indulgent and doesn’t have much of a plot, but hopefully it will appeal to some of you.

Special shout out to Willow Run by @deathonyourtongue​ and Adopt a Soldier by @rmtndew​ these are two of the first Sy fics I read and they really made me fall in love with the character as a father figure type. Check them out if you haven’t already.

... Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 1

I cast a glance at the clock as I hurried to collect the toys that were strewn across the living room. As usual I was running late and Laura’s brother was going to be here any minute. Right on cue the doorbell rang.

A quick glimpse in the mirror on my way to the door told me that my hair was in disarray and my concealer had faded revealing the dark circles under my eyes. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, this guy wouldn’t care that I and my home looked like a mess.

I was taken aback when I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of a bear of a man. He was tall, granted most people were tall compared to me, but this guy made me feel tiny. His height was amplified by the fact that he was broad and muscular, taking up almost the entire door frame. Combined with his short hair and bushy beard he looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine.

His intimidating presence was softened by his kind blue eyes and a warm smile, his deep voice gentle as he inquired, “Ms. Hill?”

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in my throat I nodded affirmatively, “Yes. Mr Syverson?”

“Call me Sy,” he said. “Laura told me you had a damaged wall that needs to be repaired?”

“Yeah, please come in.” I moved aside to let him inside. “It’s the second door on the right.”

I followed him into the room, nervously wringing my hands as he inspected the water damage on the wall. I fervently hoped that he would be able to fix it and that I would be able to afford the cost. If not I didn’t know what I would do. Must likely I would end up having to sell this place for considerably less than what I had bought it for.

“This seems to have happened quite a while ago, when did you first notice it?” he asked, his attention still on the wall as he ran his hand over that bumps and cracks in the wallpaper.

“Two weeks ago. I was going to put up new wallpaper, but when I took down the old wallpaper I noticed the discoloration and the weird texture.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as he turned to face me. “How long have you lived here?”

“Just a little over a month. The people who own the apartment next door said they had a burst pipe in the wall of their bathroom a while back which probably caused the damage,” I explained, my nervousness increasing at his grim expression.

“But since the previous owners of this place were fixin to sell they simply put up a new wallpaper over it and hoped no one would notice,” he concluded, shaking his head in agitation.

I lowered my gaze as I felt my face heat with embarrassment. I knew I had been gullible, the price for the place had been low considering the neighborhood, but since the previous owners were friends of my parents I had taken their word for it when they said the apartment had passed the home inspection.

“Have you had asbestos testing done?” he asked, his voice again taking on that gentle tone.

“Yeah, it was negative.”

“Well, the good news is that since it’s already dry, I can start as soon as you want. The bad news is that since it’s been this way for a while there might be mold. I won’t know for sure how long it will take to complete until the walls are removed, but hopefully not more than a week.”

It took me a second to comprehend that he was willing to take the job, and I could feel the anxiety begin to lose its grip on me. “Um, my schedule is pretty varied from week to week. Would you be able to come in two to three days a week?”

“Sure, no problem. I don’t mind coming in on the weekends if that works better for you.”

I bit my bottom lip nervously, knowing there was still one hurdle in the way. I felt a little embarrassed to ask, but I had to know, “How- How much will it cost?”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me in silence for a moment, making me shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze. “Tell you what, I can give you a fixed price. 1000 for the whole job, no extra expense if the job takes longer than expected.”

The relief that swept over me was so intense I almost felt like I would either faint or throw up. All the other companies I had consulted with previously had wanted at least triple that. I knew Laura had said her brother would give me a good deal, but this was better than I could have dared to hope for. “That’s… that’s very generous of you, thank you.”

“When do you want me to start?”

I quickly attempted to mentally order my schedule for the week, trying to calculate the days I would be able to work from home. “Would Wednesday and Thursday this week work for you?”

He smiled widely, making his already handsome face look even more gorgeous. “Absolutely. Is 8 o’clock alright with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Alright then,” he said, gesturing for me to go first. I walked him back to the hall and opened the door for him. He nodded at me politely. “I’ll see you on Wednesday. Have a nice day ma’am.”

“You too.” I closed the door after him, letting out a relived sigh. Hopefully he would soon have the wall repaired and I’d have one less thing to worry about.

Sy arrived at 8 o’clock sharp on Wednesday morning. I was running late after dropping Amelia off at preschool and didn’t arrive home until fifteen minutes past eight. I apologized profusely for keeping him waiting, but he merely smiled at me and assured me that he didn’t mind. I still felt terrible about it and wanted to do something to make it up to him. I put on the coffee maker and searched through the cupboards for something to offer him. Unfortunately, the only snacks I had were animal crackers and a bag of mini-Oreos. I considered making him a sandwich but decided he probably wouldn’t want that if he’d already eaten breakfast.

When the coffee was done I poured a cup and put it on a tray with a small pitcher of milk and a bowl with sugar. I carried it to the closed door but hesitated as I raised my hand to knock. I could hear him working in there and didn’t want to disturb him when he was busy. The man probably only wanted to be left alone to do his job in peace. I took the tray back into the kitchen and put it on the counter, busying myself with tidying up the kitchen before pulling out some documents I needed to go over for work.

Sy came out of the room about an hour later and I felt myself flush had the sight of him, sweaty and disheveled from his work yet still looking absolutely gorgeous.

“I’m just gonna get some more tools from my truck, I’ll be right back,” he informed me.

Too mesmerized to answer I merely nodded in response, forcing myself not to stare at him as he walked away. When he came back inside I had finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I’d love some, thank you,” he accepted cheerfully. “Let me just put these tools away right quick.”

Since the cup I had already prepared had long since gone cold I poured him a new one and made one for myself as well, mostly so it wouldn’t be awkward for him to drink his on his own than any real desire for it. I had already had a cup this morning and that was usually all I could handle in a day without becoming jittery.

He joined me in the kitchen and I handed him one of the cups, inviting him to take a seat at the table. After a few minutes of slightly awkward silence as we both sipped on our coffees he asked, “So, what are you going to use the room for?”

“It’s going to be my daughter’s room.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “How old is she?”

“She’s three.”

He smiled softly, making my heart flutter. He really had a nice smile. “She must be hankerin’ to get her room back then?”

“No, she’s fine staying in my room,” I said, then felt the need to explain. “Our old place only had one bedroom, so she’s never had a room of her own.”

He nodded again and finished the last of his coffee in one large gulp. “I better get back to work then. Thank you for the coffee.”

Sy spent the rest of the day taking the wall down, only leaving for an hour to go get lunch. I was just getting ready to go pick up Amelia when he came out, a grim look on his face.

Instantly my anxiety was on high alert. “Is there a problem?”

“I’ve gotten most of the wall down and there are no signs of mildew. Unfortunately, the damage seems to extend further than what was visible, I’m going to have to take down the south wall and at least half the floor.”

“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking at the realization. I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, things never seemed to go my way. “H-How much more is that going to cost?”

He was shaking his head before I had even finished asking. “I gave you a set price that’s not changing. It’s just going to take me a little longer to get it done is all.”

As much as I appreciated his kindness, I knew I couldn’t take advantage of his generosity. “You’ll have more than twice as much work to do. You deserve to be compensated for your trouble.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, making him look even more imposing than usual. “Don’t worry about it. The price will be enough to cover the cost of all the materials and I have plenty of time to get the work done.”

I felt my stomach tie in knots, the guilt overwhelming. This man was a virtual stranger and yet here he was offering to help me for free. “No, I couldn’t take advantage of-,”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re not taking advantage. Laura told me what a big help you were to her when Harry got sick. I’m more than happy to help. Alright?”

While my conscience still screamed at me that I was exploiting his generosity, his firm assurance and steady gaze quelled the worst of my anxiety and I found myself nodding in concession. “Okay.”

He rewarded me with another soft smile. “Good. I’m done for the day. Is it alright if I leave my stuff here for tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I can come by a little later tomorrow if you have a lot to do in the morning?”

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment remembering my faux pas from this morning and hurried to assure him, “No. No, eight o’clock is fine. I promise I’ll be here to let you in this time.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I followed him to the door and bade him goodnight, thanking him once again for all his help. After he left I leaned against the door and gave myself a moment to get my emotions under control. Despite Sy’s reassurances I felt awful about him doing all this work practically for free. The problem was that I didn’t have the money to pay him any more even if I could convince him to accept it. I was going to have to find some other way to repay him for his kindness.

I got up half an hour earlier the next day to make sure I would be home by the time Sy got here. Amelia was uncharacteristically cranky having to get up earlier so it took longer than usual to get her ready. Then there had been an accident on the highway so the car ride took almost twice as long as usual. By the time I made it back home it was already five minutes to eight. I got the coffee maker started and began making some sandwiches. I had planned to pick up some pastries from a local bakery to offer Sy but this would have to do.

Eight o’clock on the dot there was a knock on the door. I was once again surprised by the sheer size of the man. His demeanor was as warm and friendly as previously but I couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable, still feeling troubled from yesterday.

He graciously accepted my offer of coffee and a sandwich. As we sat at the kitchen table making polite small talk I could feel most of my unease fade at his easy-going manner and friendly conversation. Eventually he went to work on tearing down the rest of the wall and floor and I set out to get some more work done. He left again at noon to go get lunch and I made myself a salad. When there was a knock on the door I assumed it was Sy coming back, instead I was greeted by my father.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“I need the Hansen file,” he said as he pushed past me, not bothering to wait for me to invite him in.

“I’m working on it right now,” I said, gesturing towards the documents spread out on the kitchen table. “I thought the meeting wasn’t until tomorrow?”

“It’s not, I need to go over a few things before then.” He hurriedly gathered up the papers while casting a curious glance around the apartment. “Where’s Amy?”

“She’s at preschool.”

He gave me a stern glare that always made me feel like I was a little kid getting in trouble. “Isn’t the reason I allow you to work from home so that you can have more time with your daughter?”

“I’m having her bedroom repaired, I thought it would be easier if she wasn’t home,” I explained, trying not to fidget under his critical stare. I was a grown woman and I knew I shouldn’t feel that I had to defend my choices, but my father’s judgment always managed to make me feel inadequate.

“About time, the girl deserves to have her own room.”

I was saved from responding when there was another knock on the door. This time it was Sy and I was torn between relief at the interruption and apprehension over having to introduce him to my dad. I knew my father could be curt at the best of times and he had a tendency to be condescending to people he considered to be working class.

“This is my Dad, Charles Hill. Dad, this is Calvin Syverson, he’s restoring the wall in Amy’s room.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Sy greeted, reaching out to shake my father’s hand.

My father gave him a critical look over, not even trying to hide his scrutiny. “What company are you with?”

“I’m self-employed.”

My father merely huffed in reply and went back to the kitchen. Sy excused himself and went back to work. I followed my father, not willing to let his disrespectful behavior go unremarked. “You didn’t need to be so rude. Mr. Syverson is being very kind to me.”

“What was wrong with the company I recommended you?” he challenged, ignoring my reprimand.

“I couldn’t afford what they charged.”

“Yes, well quality costs. Don’t you think your daughter deserves a room that’s competently done?”

I held back a sigh, sometimes it seemed like there was nothing I could do that would please him. “Dad, between the payments to my car and the loan I had to take to pay for this place to begin with I can barely afford this. And Mr. Syverson comes highly recommended, he built the Wilson’s new porch.”

“If you had finished college as intended affording this place wouldn’t have been a problem.” I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment but he didn’t pay me any heed, putting the documents in his briefcase he left the kitchen but instead of going to the front door he headed towards Amelia’s bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to have a look at what that man is doing to my granddaughter’s room.”

Before I could intervene he had marched into the bedroom. I listened as he began bombarding Sy with questions but luckily Sy seemed to take it all in stride, politely answering all my dad’s questions and explaining the damage and the process of restoring it.

After my father finally left I found myself with nothing to do. I had planned on working for most of the day and suddenly I had all this time to kill. Wanting to do something nice for Sy as an apology for my dad’s behavior and to show my appreciation for his help I decided to use the time to bake some cinnamon buns. The first batch ended up a little too dry but on my second try they came out perfect. I put most of them in the freezer and the reminder on a plate on the table. Sy came out shortly after, he was covered in a layer of dust and his shirt clung to his sweat soaked chest. I could feel myself blushing and forced myself to look away.

“I’ve gotten everything dismantled, next time I’ll start rebuilding the floor. What days next week did you want me to come by?” he asked, seemingly unaware of my ogling.

“Oh, I… I made a list of days that I’m going to be home for the upcoming weeks, maybe you can look it over and let me know which days work best for you?”

I handed him the list and he looked over it quickly. “I should be able to do most of these. I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

“I... I made coffee and there’s some cinnamon buns, if you want some before you leave?”

The smile he gave me in response seemed to light up his whole face and made my heart pound rapidly. “Don’t mind if I do.”

I poured him a cup of coffee as he took a seat. Getting myself a glass of water, I joined him at the table, offering him the plate of buns. He took one and inspected it curiously before taking a big bite. “Did you just make these?”

“I did… they’re my daughter’s favorites,” I explained, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“I can understand why, they’re delicious.”

“Thank you.” His praise made me feel all flustered again. Trying to get myself under control, I hurried to change the subject. “I’m sorry if my dad bothered you earlier. He can be a little intense, always wants to call the shots.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he just wants to make sure his daughter gets the best.”

I doubted my father’s intentions were quite that noble but figured it would be rude to say anything. Sy was just being polite and didn’t need to be burdened with details about my strained relationship with my father. Seeing that he was almost finished I offered him another bun and was delighted when he eagerly accepted. “Laura told me you were in the army?”

“Yes ma’am, twelve years of service. Got my discharge four months ago.”

“What made you decide to start your own business?”

“It was mostly out of necessity rather than anything else to be honest with you. I enlisted when I was nineteen, so I never went to college. I worked at my uncle’s carpentry business a couple of summers so I decided doing some free-lance work would be my best option for now. At least until I decide what I want to do with my life. The old man is still hoping I’m gonna take over the family ranch.”

“You don’t want to?”

“I don’t know. Had always planned on it, I enjoy the work, have been helping out since I was a lad when my grandpa and grandma still ran it.” The gentle smile on his face slowly transformed into a troubled frown. “It just feels like so much of my family is tied up to that place. Even if I take over, I’d probably still be running it like my pa wants.”

I suddenly felt an unexpected kinship with the man sitting opposite me. Being constrained by your parent’s expectations was something I was painfully familiar with. “You want something that’s yours. Building your own vision rather than your father’s.”

He looked at me in silence for a moment, and just as I’m about to start squirming in my seat he nods his head, “Exactly.”

“You could buy your own ranch?” I suggested.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. But places like that are hard to come by, not to mention expensive. Besides, my pa might forgive me if I choose not to go into the family business, don’t reckon he would be quite so forgiving if I became his competition.”

“What about your siblings? They don’t have any interest in taking over your parent’s ranch?”

“Well, you know Laura, she’s really more of a city girl. And Matt is still enlisted, don’t reckon he has any plans on leaving the military any time soon.”

He took another sip of his coffee. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I work as a legal secretary at my dad’s law firm.” For some reason I felt compelled to tell him more. “I dropped out of college when I got pregnant with Amy.”

“You must have been very young?”

“Nineteen.”

Sy reached out and put his hand on my forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was just a brief touch, but it made my heart beat rapidly in my chest. “Well, you could always go back to college in a few years, yeah? If that’s something you really want.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said absently, my brain still trying to recover from the feeling of his hand on my arm.

“Or you could open up your own bakery. With cinnamon buns like these you’d have people lining up around the block,” he joked as he took the last bite.

“Thank you.” I blushed again, not used to being on the receiving end of this many compliments, especially not from handsome men who made my heart race. “You’re welcome to take some home with you if you want.”

“No, I couldn’t do that. I’m sure your daughter will appreciate having her favorite snack to come home too.”

I wanted to keep talking to him, but it was almost time for me to go pick up Amelia and I didn’t want to impose on his time. I reminded myself that he was here for work and was probably impatient to go home for the day.

After he left I hurried to clean up and put the remaining buns out of sight, knowing I would never get Amelia to eat her dinner if she knew what was for dessert. My heart felt lighter than it had for a long time and if my mind was occupied with thoughts of Sy’s kind blue eyes and warm smile I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

[threepointseven]

Home(Dinner Part 2)

Im shortening the exchange students name to S/N AKA student name

Sorry i forgot to answer the person who actually requested this @kurooandkarmaswife thank you sm for requesting! I hope you enjoy 😩

Also lets pretend you cant have more than 1 pact with a human cause yeah. If you havent read Dinner yet go read it since you’ll really only understand this if u read the first part

Fandom: Obey me!

Pairing: not really with anyone but has subtle undertones of solomon & Simeon x reader

Length: sort of long

Genre: Angst with comfort

Gn! Reader and exchange student!

Part three!

Dinner last night, was, well...pretty terrible. I ended up waking up at 2 am to the brothers STILL not home. Apparently even Diavolo had taken a liking to the new exchange student.

A day goes by and finally i get to meet the new exchange student.

Whoah

Is all i can think. I walk into the living room unnoticed as everyone is talking to the new exchange student, i wouldnt blame them.

They look incredible.

I felt a hint of jealousy wash over me. Seeing Mammon, Asmo’s and Beel’s joyful laughs as they talk to them. Their voice was ever so gentle, it’s what i imagine spring to sound like.

I tried forgetting about my distasteful thoughts of jealousy and walked over to them.

“Goodmorning!”

I called out to try and grab their attention

“Oh, MC! I didnt see you there;;”

Asmo said to me as he was taking selfies with the new exchange student

“This is the new exchange student”

Beel smiled

“Hi! My name is MC”

I happily introduced myself

“My name is S/N”

They brought their hand out and i shook it in return. Their eyes were ever so sweet, i felt the sadness come over me as i wore a soft smile.

Something tells me this wont end well.

Weeks go by as i barely get to see the brothers anymore. They’re always around S/N. I find myself longing the brothers touch. The random emergency texts i get from mammon, calls from Asmo asking me if i wanted to go to a club, Belphie always dragging me to his room to take a nap, Beel’s adorable goodnight texts, Lucifer’s complaints about work, Satan’s library dates, And levi’s rants about a certain anime he just watched.. i missed it all.

I guess i missed the warmth and the constant attention i got from them. The attention thats now being directed at S/N.

The new feeling of emptiness leads me to the Purgatory hall, a place i’ve been to quite often after S/N had won over the brothers.

I enter the room praying that i dont see S/N hogging Luke, Solomon, and Simeon’s attention....

What?

Did i just think that?

Am i that jealous?

Have i gotten so used to being in the spotlight that suddenly i become like this when not in the center?

Its an unpleasant feeling and i try to snap myself out of it as i see Simeon, Luke, and Solomon all happily seated on the couch drinking tea and eating pastries Luke made.

“MC! Hey!!”

Luke happily greets me as well as Solomon and Simeon. Im pulled to the couch as im seated next to Luke. I take a bite of the pastry and embrace the comfort of the sugary sweets.

The conversation goes on for a long time as hours go by. Soon enough the entire tray of pastries and tea are long gone.

As the clock hits 8 PM i realize ive been at the Purgatory hall for too long now. Excusing myself i go back to the house of Lamentation to be once again greeted by smiling faces and S/N laying out plates filled with food for the brothers.

The brothers quarrels, Satan’s face of annoyance, Asmo’s whining... The smell of warm food on the dinner table being handed out....

As i hide from the view of the brothers and S/N i look back to when it would to be me that made everyone dinner and calmed them down.

My chair.

My chair had been occupied by S/N,

What?

Did they expect me to sit on the floor for dinner or something?

As i slowly walked to my room i heard the deep voice of Lucifer

“Oh MC,,, sorry S/N is sitting on your spot, we thought you were gonna go to the purgatory hall for dinner tonight. We do apologize”

As i feel my throat closing up i smile and say in a bubbly tone

“Oh it’s fine! I was actually gonna go out with my friends for dinner anyways! I was just getting something from my room, i’ll be out in a sec!”

Lucifer gave me a warm smile and continued conversing with S/N

As i went to my room i started to realize the situation here. I’ve been replaced. I mean who wouldn’t replace me when the actual definition of an angel was right in front of them with their welcoming arms open.

As soon as i got to my room salty tears trailed down my cheeks,

Jealousy?

Sadness?

Anger?

Whatever the emotion was i wasn’t having it. Unlocking my DDD to be greeted by the wallpaper of me and the brothers all dressed up for a ball we went to together once. i tried to hold back my few tears as i called Solomon, a dear friend of mine.

“Hey solomon!!”

“Oh, yes MC? Is there anything you need?”

“I know i just left the purgatory hall but could I possibly stay there for the night?”

“Oh, of course! I dont exactly know why but Luke’s already whining about how you stayed for too little.”

“I’ll be right over”

I hung up the phone, my tears stopping after i heard that comforting voice of his.

That night i stayed at the purgatory hall, happily sleeping next to Luke, lulling him to sleep.

The purgatory hall became my escape. Solomon always made me laugh, Simeon always made sure i felt welcome there and Luke was practically my adopted son after how long i could stay with him.

As i went about the kitchen helping Luke make a pastry i showed him from the human world a strange feeling washed over me. The feeling of something being erased from my my soul, something was fading away. That something felt like it was piercing my soul.

I look around my body to see what it is. As i look around i see it.

My pact marks are starting to fade

I panic as i excuse myself and go back to the house of lamentation.

As i silently enter the room i hear the faint sound of the brothers, they’re discussing something.

“Cmon Satan you’ve gotta be quick! What if they find out?!”

“Removing a pact isnt that easy Mammon.”

As i listen more i realize what it is.

They’re trying to break my pact with me.

And for what exactly?

Because they want one with someone else.

That someone being S/N

It hurt. Who wouldn’t be hurt? tears flowed from my eyes in record time as i tiredly walk outside.

Devildom was a place the brothers always told me to beware of, but right now i couldnt care less.

While i walked around the town with puffy eyes and the stinging feeling of my pact marks being removed, i hear a certain group of people call my name, i look back to see Luke, Solomon and Simeon’s smiles quickly turn into frowns as they see my tears

“What’s wrong MC?!”

Luke worriedly asks

Unable to hold it in i tell Them.

“The brothers are trying to break my pact with them, they want one with S/N apparently. Im afraid i’ve been replaced by that saint..”

Solomon and Simeon’s face turn into faces of empathy while Luke’s turned quite sour

As Simeon came closer to me and pulled me close into a hugged he mumbles out a comforting phrase

“Whatever happens MC, you’ll always be welcome at the purgatory hall.”

The sentence made my stomach overflow with butterflies. I happily hug back, quickly accepting the purgatory hall as my new and improved home.

[pennedbyvaishdas]

Before even a word escaped my mouth, she spilt her words like it was so easy to say whatever she was saying. Beep!—a long beep filled my ears and brain nullifying all the events happening around me— a customer bumping into a table entering the shop, the waitress spilling the coffee while serving, an old lady moving around moping the floor and so were her words getting dodged by a thick wall around me. She hasn’t sipped the coffee yet, it became colder and I knew she hates when it’s not hot. She’s never been on time for our dates.

The eyes of the waitress were on us even though she tried not to witness this ugly thing. Whether it was for my clingy ass or her bitchy words, either was elegant for a third person to watch us. Time ticked backwards in my head swishing her memories, the happy ones like a movie. Looking at her face lacking any kind of expression, she must have been planning for this for a while now.

With simple words like “Please!” and “Sorry”, I wished this severed bond could be mended back to life. Her voice carried words, some pauses and disappointment, I waited for some pain and the pink of my heart flamed in red and everything became darker to pitch black.

The Kite and Yacht, a kite in the yacht. We made no sense—that I knew even before we started anything at all. The only thing that remained the same as before was the honesty in her words which reflected in her face as if she was born as a personification of the same. We weren’t two kites sharing the same sky, neither were we two Yachts sailing the same sea. We were a Kite and a Yacht, if she were to be a yacht I was the Kite in that yacht getting dragged to every direction it took. Now that the Yacht was found ashore, I guess the journey of the Kite came to an end just like that.

I guess it was because I expected this sooner or later, everything bitter got better in a few minutes. When I was having some worst thoughts in the last few days, I thought we both wanted this, but one of us had to step forward. And then it would have been a peaceful breakup, but this—huge breakout, shattering the world we had in a fraction of a second was not beautiful at all.

There’s a huge project we have been working on. I joined the after party the day we completed the project. It’s been three months, I had no other thing going on, the project had been engaging and not fun at all. There were days I would hate her for no reason and there were days I wanted to let it all out crying but tears just ghosted on me—the worst time to do that. I would go over to a friend’s place and watch soccer, rant about the boss. It was peaceful yet not in a settling way, the stench of something that had gotten over was still around me.

“Maybe we should meet!”, I pinged her.

I met her the day I got myself a book as a gift work—should have got a hobby sooner. I saw her walking towards me, she was late as usual. She was tired, noticeably. She greeted me and checked the time on her phone, her wallpaper was changed. It used to be a picture of a tree I clicked on our trip together last summer. Now, it was just her photo, it was a recent one. I have never seen that one before. Seeing things deeply might have helped me that night. Her smile, the colour of her nail and the style of her dress, everything changed. I realised the girl I have been in love with was nowhere to be found now.

I was not hoping to get together but a strange relief gulped me down that washed away the stench. We had dinner and updated each other with work-related stuff. Soon we ran out of topics and I was the first one to leave that day.

“Thanks for meeting me today!”, I was confused if we should have a handshake or not, I skipped it and chose to just smile and say, “Bye!”. I picked up the books and left the place.

-vaishdas

[hockeyboysiguess]

Lines and Sunshine

a/n: this is based on a tiktok i saw and it immediately gave me matty vibes! also shoutout to @nolypats​ for getting me through this one when i had one scene and nothing else in mind to write. 

warnings: swearing

word count: 4K

You sighed as you let yourself fall down onto the couch. Your drink sloshed a little in your cup, splashing onto the back of your hand with a few drops landing on the arm of the curly-haired boy next to you. Matthew groaned and shook his arm with a disgusted look on his face.

“You’re the worst,” he lamented. “How dare you?”

“I dared. I did. I delivered,” you countered smoothly. “Nice to know your carefully curated appearance of four t-shirts, three pairs of gym shorts, and a cut-off sleeve Nike jacket will fall apart if two drops of beer fall on your bare arm that you can easily wipe off.”

“I carefully picked this particular shirt and shorts combination today and did not plan for wet spots on my arm and an overwhelming odor of beer to be part of the ensemble. You’re ruining me here, honey,” Matthew joked back, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he spoke to you.

You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your drink with a smile against the edge of the cup. Matthew gave you a soft nudge with his shoulder in response to your eye roll, which you shook off. The couch next to you shifted suddenly, causing you to break eye contact as the movement rocked you away from Matthew. You turned your head to find that Brady’s sudden weight as he plopped next to you on the couch was the culprit for tipping you almost sideways on the couch.

“Hey, Brads,” you said with a bright smile to him, giving his cup a tap with yours as a greeting.

“Hey, hey,” he replied. “Enjoying the party?”

Matthew and Brady were throwing this joint party together before they left St. Louis to return to Calgary and Ottawa respectively for training camp next week. You’d tried to argue they should call the party “Yoo-hoo, Big Summer Blowout” like from Frozen, yours and Brady’s favorite, and Matthew’s absolute least favorite, Disney princess movie. Matthew had axed the suggestion, something you’d tried incredibly hard to get him to budge on. You’d almost succeeded too when you brought out your best puppy dog eyes, but Matthew had found some extra resolve from somewhere inside and pushed you off, insisting the party remain nameless, which was cooler apparently. You thought it was bull and told him so. 

“You’re thinking that I should’ve let you name this after Frozen, aren't you?” Matthew called you out instead of letting you answer Brady’s question. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” you finished for him with a sharp nod of your head, your ponytail swinging with your sudden movement.

Matthew shook his head, but didn’t disagree, as he turned his attention toward the party. You sighed and let you head fall onto Matthew’s shoulder. He didn’t look at you, but he shifted and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind you to make himself into a more comfortable head rest for you. You sighed in appreciation.

“You haven’t had enough alcohol to get over the hump,” Matthew informed you. “You’re in your ‘I’ve had two drinks and now I’m a sleepy ho’ zone.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you mumbled to him, making him chuckle and give you a small squeeze around your shoulders in reply.

“It’s my job as your friend to call you out on your bullshit,” he laughed as he spoke. “If I stopped, you’d need to demote me to friendly acquaintance and we all know it’s a slippery slope from there to casual acquaintance to that guy you know that plays hockey right into that guy you used to know that plays hockey. I don’t like that career path for myself, personally, so I’m going to keep doing what I was hired to do and call you out on your shit.”

You’d met Matthew and Brady a few years ago at house party of a mutual friend’s not entirely unlike this one, sending the boys off before their hockey season kicked into full gear back then. You’d met Brady first and hit it off instantly, finding kinship in being taller than your older siblings after the constant verbal and physical abuse you suffered at their hands growing up. He’d still introduced you to Matthew that night though, something he swore to this day was his biggest mistake because Matthew had immediately stolen you right from Brady and declared you were his friend first, before Brady’s. You’d tried to fight, but Matthew was persistent and you had the same sense of humor as him. 

Plus, the dimples, the curls, and the coy smile drew you in. You remembered thinking he was cute when you first met him, but also that nothing could ever come of it, so you had forced yourself past that initial feeling and had been his friend ever since with no regrets. Despite the distance, you two had remained close since that day. The two of you made a pretty formidable team when you were on the same wavelength about something. You were pretty sure it might be better for everyone in your potentially shared warpaths that you weren’t around each other as much as you would be if you lived in the same city. 

As the night dragged on, the party shrank in size, but the group of people relaxing in the couch area on the patio grew with Matthew and Brady’s closest friends. You’d been up and down a few times to fill your drink, but Matthew always saved you the seat right next to him. He never forgot about you, not even for a second, something you always appreciated. 

You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You sighed as you lifted your hips and grab it from your back pocket and sighed again when you saw who texted. Aaron. You read the text quickly. He was asking you if you wanted to come over after you were done with the party. Aaron was... fine. That was the best word you had for Aaron. He was nice, polite, decent in bed, and completely unextraordinary in every single way possible. You weren’t seeing anyone else and neither was he, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. Neither one of you really wanted that. Aaron was fine for now, hence why he’d stuck around for six months. He hadn’t done anything to earn you wanting to promote him from casual fling and hadn’t done anything to make you want to get rid of him either. He met your few needs, you met his, and that’s all that mattered to either of you.

“Oh, is that Aaron?”

Matthew’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You shrugged instead of actually answered. You didn’t really want to get into what he thought of Aaron right now. He’d told you that he thought Aaron was basically the human equivalent of beige wallpaper and he couldn’t understand why you talked to him the first and only time you’d let them interact. You’d kept them apart ever since.

“So it was Aaron.” Matthew answered his own question in a curious tone. “Thinking of ditching me and Brads here for him?”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you keep making comments like that,” you sang softly with a layer of caution for Matthew coating your voice as you brought your cup to your lips for another sip.

Matthew chuffed a little under your admonishment of him, but he pressed on.

“Okay, so how long have you been talking to this guy again?”

Matthew leaned forward as he asked you the question, his hands lacing together as he braced his weight onto his forearms pressed against his thighs. He raised an eyebrow at you as he waited for you to answer.

“Six months,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to cover a sly smile that tried to rise as you continued by asking, “why?”

Matthew skipped over your question with a wave of a hand as he shifted back onto the couch, his large frame pressing into the cushions of the back of the couch. He nodded softly, one of his hands moving to his chin, scratching at the stubble there as he thought.

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?” he asked you, his pitch raising higher than normal at the end of his question.

“No,” you said firmly, pressing the red cup between your palms as you watched Matthew react to your answer.

“And he’s not talking to anyone else?” Matthew followed up after a moment of thought.

“Uh, no,” you laughed with a soft shake of your head, thinking that one-sided exclusivity didn’t do anyone any good. Kind of ruined the whole exclusivity concept if only half of the team was playing the same game.

Matthew nodded in fake understanding. You knew him well enough to know he was playing some long game you didn’t know anything about. He carded a hand through his curls, shaking them out a little with a sigh.

“So he’s your boyfriend then, right? He has to be by now and you just forgot to tell me,” Matthew continued.

You shook your head softly, “No, he’s not.”

Matthew groaned and let his head fall back, hovering over the back edge of the couch. He drummed his fingers on the exposed skin of this thigh just south of the edge of his shorts. He nodded softly and tightened his lips before lifting his head. You could’ve sworn you heard him whisper a soft, “Fuck it,” to himself, but you weren’t sure if you’d heard it or imagined it. Matthew sighed as he sat up, the words starting to flow out of his mouth as he turned towards you and locked his baby blue eyes with yours.

“So like, I’m confused here. Six months being exclusive with this dude and he’s not your boyfriend. Is he confused? Like, does he want you or not? Because he’s holding up the fucking line here!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came as Matthew’s blue eyes looked deep into yours, deep into you, and as your friends circled around you started hollering and clapping. Brady next to you was particularly loud, but it was all relative. Everything else was muffled compared to how loud the silence between you and Matthew was in that moment. His eyes were tracking across your face, from the wideness of your eyes, to the wrinkles in your forehead from your surprised expression, to the tight, firm line of your lips you’d closed as you tried to figure out what to do, what to say. Matthew telling you he had been waiting the whole time you’d been seeing Aaron at the very least had beyond blindsided you.

Matthew closed his eyes softly and began to nod in understanding, curls bouncing with the movement. His tongue poked out between his teeth as a sad, forced smile pulled at his mouth. He sighed as his smile widened, but it wasn’t the smile you’d grown to know from him. It was something entirely new. He stood up without another word and headed into the house. You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when the patio door shut behind him.

“He’s planned how he wanted to tell you like, six-hundred ways, but that was definitely not one of them,” Brady laughed next to you. You turned your head toward Brady, your surprised look somehow impossibly intensifying, making Brady laugh harder. “Oh yeah, he’s liked you for years now. You’ve just never lined up. You had that boyfriend, then he was sort of seeing that girl, now there’s Aaron, who is super boring by the way. He’s been trying, but the timing has never worked out for him. Got to give the guy some credit for finally growing a pair and telling you though, even if that wasn’t exactly pretty.”

“How long?” you asked, choking on the word.

You cleared your throat and repeated the question again. Brady shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, probably since that first party honestly. He made me introduce you to him when he saw us talking. Guess he thought you were cute.”

Brady said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was simply ordering orange juice with brunch at a diner on Sunday morning. For you, it made your world tilt violently on its axis. Matthew was always never an option. He was so not an option you had all but deleted every memory of every thought of finding him attractive. Apparently, completely unknown to you, he’d been an option the entire time.

You stood up quickly from the couch, your fingers already pulling up Aaron’s contact information even though you didn’t have a plan on what to say to him. You knew you needed to see the sun in your life again and you knew Aaron wasn’t it. Aaron wasn’t the sun; he was a gray cloud. He was kind enough and unproblematic enough to never rain on your life. He protected you from some UV exposure, meaning bad one night stands and societally named walks of shame, but he was keeping you cool and complacent with you life. You never felt warmth on your skin from him. There was no heat, no love, no passion. A cloudy day was fine for a while. Aaron was fine for a while. You wanted the sun and you knew who it was. 

Your mom had said it the first time you’d invited Matthew over to watch a movie with you a couple of week after that party where you met. While he could be your resident pain in the ass, he charmed your mother instantly, a fact he rubbed in every now an again because your mom, like everyone, was fine, but not thrilled, with Aaron’s existence. 

“That boy is like sunshine, I swear,” she told you. “You light up when he walks in the room.”

Matthew was the sun. You wanted, needed, to feel the sun on your skin. You’d been standing near it for so long. You needed to know what it felt like to actually stand in the light. 

You walked into the house, turning the opposite direction of where you’d seen Matthew turn when he walked in. You shut the door of the front office behind you to try to give you some privacy for this. You were completely unprepared and there was a serious risk you might try and compare Aaron to a raincloud at this point if you talked to him, but there wasn’t ever going to be a better time for this. Aaron answered on the third ring, like clockwork, like he knew you too well in the worst, most superficial ways.

“Hey,” he spoke softly and steadily, as always. “Is something wrong? Need me to come pick you up?”

“Uh, no, I’m good,” you mumbled out before hastily adding a quick, “thanks.”

You cleared your throat before you tried to continue.

“Hey, Aaron.” You cleared your throat again, trying in vain to bring the pitch of your voice down. “This might be out of left field here, but what are we doing here?”

“What do you mean?” he replied after a slightly too long pause. “Are you not okay with this anymore?”

You sighed and tucked some errant strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“That’s the thing Aaron,” you breathed out. “I’m tired of things being okay. This has always just been okay and you know it. This has never been a heart-stopping, Earth-shattering, scream-how-you-feel-in-front-of-a-room-full-of-people kind of thing. And I want that, Aaron. I want passion and I want things this doesn’t have, has never had, and won’t have because that’s not us. This is just, it’s fine, Aaron. But I’m sick of fine.”

You heard Aaron breathe out harshly, not unlike how you had before you’d let all of those feelings come out. You hadn’t realized exactly where you’d been going when you opened your mouth, but you knew you’d arrived at the right thing by the end.

“Honestly, so am I.”

You almost dropped the phone at his words. You had been expecting every reaction ranging from tears to screaming to silence. Agreement wasn’t a response you’d planned for. You’d thrown it out instantly, like you do with Jokers when you open a new deck of cards because they can’t possibly be in play. There aren’t any games that actually utilize them. There wasn’t a scenario you were prepared for where Aaron agreed with you.

“What?” you managed to get out. “You agree with me?”

Aaron laughed softly before saying, “Honestly, yeah. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude when I say this. You’re a great person, but this was just something casual for both of us and I think it’s just gone on longer than we planned since we both got into it thinking it would go bad before we were two months in. It never went bad, so we kept doing it. You and I are kind of alike in that way. Unless something makes us go off the rails, as long as the train has three out of five stars, we’ll stay on it forever basically.” 

“That’s not rude. It’s exactly how I feel,” you told him, making him laugh again. You scrunched your nose up before adding, “Sorry, that probably sounded a little too relieved, huh?” 

“No, no,” Aaron chuckled. “It’s real and fine and I feel it too.”

You sighed and leaned back against the nearby desk, trying to will your nervous heartbeat to slow down for a second. You nodded softly, trying to come up with words to say. 

“What are you still doing on the phone? Go get him. Go get your real guy.” 

You paused. You weren’t sure if you’d heard Aaron right. You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d let anything slip out that could have pointed you ending things toward Matthew. Aaron might have not been your guy, but he was still a good guy and deserved better than thinking you’d dumped him for someone else. 

“Matthew,” Aaron added before you could speak. “He finally plucked up the courage and said something, huh? About fucking time, Chucky.” 

“You knew?” you asked breathlessly. “Did everyone know but me?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” Aaron informed you, laughter edging at his voice again. “So, go get him. Hang up already! No hard feelings. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

Aaron hung up for you. You slowly slid your phone into your back pocket, trying to collect your thoughts. Was what you were doing sort of sudden and crazy? Probably. It didn’t feel that way though. It felt like this was exactly what you should be doing.

Your feet carried you toward the kitchen where you assumed Matthew still was, most likely freaking out about ruining your friendship. You found him with his head hung low, one of his hands supporting him by gripping the edge of the counter behind him and the other feverishly raking through his curls. He was mumbling to himself, trying to gather his thoughts like you just had been. 

“You want to finish having this conversation with yourself or can I interrupt?” 

Matthew’s head snapped up and over toward you. His eyes soften when they connected with yours, before that same sad smile from outside came back onto his face. You knew what it was now, the unidentifiable emotion on his face. Pain. Looking at you, looking at what he thought was your rejection hurt him. He was trying to deal with it as best he could, but he was barely holding himself together. 

“Well, you’ve already interrupted, so I feel like the least you could do is come into the kitchen,” Matthew replied, waving you in with his free hand. 

“Matthew-”

“No, let me,” he cut you off as you started stepping toward him. “I’m sorry. I totally threw that at you in front of everyone. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t cool. And you have Aaron, I guess, so you’re not even really single, so it was really stupid to say. I’m really sorry and I hope-”

“Matthew Tkachuk, shut up for once in your life,” you said exasperatedly as you reached him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then your hands grabbed his and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how it felt. His eyes were locked on your hands as you let your fingers intertwine with his. 

“I ended it,” you told him.

“You what?” Matthew choked out as his eyes snapped up to yours. “With Aaron? Just now?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “He actually took it really well. Turns out he’d been feeling a little stuck too, I guess.”

“Mm, solid,” was all Matthew had to say in reply as his attention turned back to your hands wrapped around his larger one. He wouldn’t let himself get his hopes up about what they meant for him right now. Just because you were getting rid of Aaron, didn’t mean that was permanent or that you were picking him instead. 

He started to gently squeeze your hand with his, letting his large hand dwarf both of yours and he softly moved his thumb in smooth circle over the back of your hand. The small act, the smallest of possible movements, still was far more intimate than anything you’d felt in six months with Aaron. This was what it was supposed to feel like. 

“There’s no line, Matthew.” You spoke softly and steadily, willing your words to wrap around him and take away any temporary pain your hesitation caused him. “There’s only you. You’re the one I want.”

Matthew didn’t need to double check. He knew you were sure from your tone. In the blink of an eye, his hands were on your waist, hoisting you up onto the kitchen counter as his lips crashed to yours for the first time. One of your hands tangled itself into his curls and the other rested on his broad chest, anchoring you to him.

He felt like sunshine on the first warm spring day of the year. Your skin soaked up that first light willingly, relishing in what it had missed as his warmth thawed the permafrost from your bones.

“Jesus,” you breathed out when he finally pulled back. “You’ve know how to kiss like that the whole time and you didn’t just try and do that to get my attention? Damn, Tkachuk.” 

Matthew blushed softly, a new reaction to your words you immediately threw into your favorite column of reactions to pull out of him, noting you needed to make it happen more often. He smiled softly at first, but as he looked at you, his smile wouldn’t stop growing until it was spread wide across his face. 

“I’ll make a note of it.” He paused to slide his hands under your thighs and lift you off the counter in one smooth motion. He guided your legs around his waist as your hands braced the back of his neck for support. “You know, for the next time I try to confess my feelings for a girl in front of all of my friends .” 

“Mm, hope you don’t have any plans to try and use that advice anytime soon,” you teased him back as he carried you out of the kitchen and towards his room.

“Honestly, I already threw that note away. What did it say again?” he asked you jokingly, giving you a quick peck on the lips as he walked.

“It was just a little notice letting you know I’ve moved you to boyfriend status,” you replied with a shrug, but your smile betrayed you. 

“Before I even show you all the tricks up my sleeve? Damn, mind if I show you anyway? I’ve got some pretty good ones that just might blow your mind.” 

Matthew threw you a quick wink as he pushed his bedroom door open with his back just to make sure you knew exactly what he was referring to, leaving nothing open to misinterpretation. 

“Oh really now? Try me, sunshine. I’ve got all night.” 

[chatonne-rousse]

Through a Different Lens

This incredible work of art by @lilianmorganart crossed my dash last week and has lived rent-free in my head since then. I made it my phone's wallpaper and found myself getting emotional every time I picked up the phone to use it (If that doesn't confirm my stratospheric level of unrepentant Adrienette trash, I don't know what does).

I told @tsuki-chibi about it and we discussed how Adrien would totally swoon over it, too, if it was the lock screen on his phone. And that's how this fic was born.

I hope you enjoy this little relationship study through Alya's eyes as she and Nino share life and love alongside their best friends.

Read it on Ao3 here.

*****

"Last set of the night, dudes and dudettes. We're about to be upstaged big time." Nino points out the bank of windows toward the already-glittering Eiffel Tower before needle meets vinyl and the music starts, soft and undeniably romantic. "Let's wind it down by slowing it down."

A blue balloon flutters to the floor beside Nino's feet as he hops from the DJ platform and winds through a sea of his classmates to his waiting girlfriend. Alya wastes no time wrapping him in her arms and pressing a kiss to his lips, turning the greeting into dancing with the sway of her hips that he matches after a few beats.

"How many songs did you line up?" she murmurs when they finally part.

He smiles and winks at her. "Four. It's about fifteen minutes till fireworks."

"Mmm. Nice."

The back of his shirt is sweaty under Alya's hands, but she doesn't care. The lovely chignon Marinette had pulled her hair into before the party has come a bit undone and she can feel the damp curls at the back of her neck. That's July in Paris for you; even the air conditioning in Le Grand Paris doesn't make much of a difference. Thank goodness for the ceiling fans that make the white and blue and red streamers rustle above their heads.

She hears Nino snort softly near her ear. "Are they magical or something? How do they still look perfect?"

Alya doesn't need to turn to know he's talking about their best friends, but she twists anyway, pressing the opposite cheek to Nino's shoulder instead.

And of course he's right.

She's spent the evening drinking punch and giggling with Marinette, shimmying and whooping with her in a happy little clump with Nino and Adrien, making the rounds of friends and food and fun over the past few hours. Marinette and Adrien have, too, but somehow the only sign that it's the end of the evening is that Adrien has loosened his tie.

Marinette's hair falls across her shoulders in the same soft cascade Alya styled it into hours ago. Her gauzy white dress drapes better on her figure than it did on the mannequin in her bedroom. Even the corsage Adrien had presented to her when the girls descended the stairs into Marinette's living room, a stunning red rose in full bloom, sits perfectly on her slim wrist, not a petal out of place. Her best friend really does look like she's limned in magic.

But perhaps that's because of the strong hand splayed at Marinette's waist, pressing her ever closer to her dance partner, or Adrien's cheek at her temple, his blond halo a perfect contrast to her deep raven hair. Maybe it's whatever he's just whispered in her ear that makes her smile up at him, a wide grin of exasperated fondness lighting her face before gentling after a moment into an expression of softest serenity.

Alya's first thought is that it's like the bright and beautiful partnership of the full moon reflecting the sun. But that isn't quite right, because her best friend glows from within, providing her own light to meet Adrien's, radiant and returned in equal measure.

Just how they got to this point remains as baffling to Alya now as it was a year ago when her friends finally put themselves and everyone around them out of their misery and started dating. The blushes continued and the occasional shy stammers never quite disappeared, but she'd watched them blossom together like a spring garden before her eyes, though what she'd been sure would be daffodils had bloomed into beautiful irises instead.

Suddenly Mr. Sunshine had gleamed brighter than ever, his giddy joy nearly uncontainable. So many puns. So much laughter. The former would be unbearable were it not for the latter, which always seemed to brighten Nino's eyes as well, a welcome side effect.

And oh, her best friend had come alive. It was more than having someone to love and love her in return. Alya knew from the day they met that love was second nature to Marinette. It practically shone from her pores.

But this was different - a touch more boldness, a blaze of fierce protectiveness in her eyes, an ability to read and respond to Adrien's emotions in just the way he needed, just when he needed it. How did she know to do that? How had this easy familiarity grown between them so quickly, not a tender new sapling but already an unshakeable oak?

She knows the truth is deeper than what she's been able to wrangle from Marinette, but Alya learned long ago that her best friend held those cards too close to ever let her get a peek. But she sure had tried at the beginning.

"You can tell me, girl! I'm so happy for you, but I don't get it! What happened?"

Alya wheedled, needled, begged.

Marinette just smiled and finished watering her roses before leaning against the railing of her terrace.

"I did tell you! Adrien and I talked. We were honest with each other. That's it." She shrugged one shoulder before her smile turned sly and she bumped her hip into her best friend's. "You know, we can't all find love by getting trapped in a panther cage by a superhero. Not every relationship has an epic origin story."

"Damn right! Seriously, though, I can tell there's more to this. There are deets you're not sharing, and your bestie needs those deets!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Als. I just...saw him. All of him."

Alya just barely resisted the urge to make the obvious joke.

"Mari. My love. My best friend in the world. What could you possibly see now that you haven't seen in the past two years of crushing, staring, memorizing, obsessing, and finally just getting over your fears and becoming real, actual friends with him?" She ticked off each point on her fingers, ending with a grip on her pinky and an imploring look she hoped would coax a detail or two from her all-too-cagey best friend. "If you can't throw a bone to your BFF, think of me as the coordinator of Operation Secret Garden and its many, many, many side missions. At least tell me one thing about Sunshine that I don't know, something you didn't know before, either."

Silence fell over them like a blanket. Just when it started to feel stifling and itchy, Marinette spoke.

"He's the bravest person I know," she said quietly, gaze straying across the rooftop horizon.

Alya thought of the myriad times she'd watched Adrien run away in the direction of his house as she herself had run toward danger in the name of journalism and morbid curiosity. He was sweet and exceedingly kind, but she'd never considered him a bastion of courage. Though of course there had to be lots of things she didn't know, details of life at home beyond the isolated loneliness they were all aware of, things that hadn't occurred to her that her best friend now saw through a lens of love and not just friendly compassion. If the reason they were already so close was because Adrien was able to share the difficult parts of his life that he didn't even share with Nino? Well, Alya could understand and respect that.

She reached out and covered Marinette's hand in hers. "His dad is kind of the worst, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea. The absolute worst. The other day..."

Listening to Marinette that day, Alya had decided that if her friends were happy, she'd be happy right along with them. The details would come in time.

They'd taken silly selfies in Marinette's mirror as they got ready earlier this evening. They'd posed for portraits in the Dupain-Chengs' doorway as though this was a gala event and not a Quatorze Juillet party that Chloé insisted was fancy dress, and snapped shots of their BFF squad together all evening. So without thinking, Alya reaches for her phone - her dress is a Marinette original, of course it has pockets - to document exactly how besotted their preternaturally beautiful best friends are. She grabs three photos in quick succession, thankful for her state-of-the-art camera as she smiles at how it captures the play of light and shadow across their matching white.

"Paparazzi," Nino fake coughs in her hair.

Alya grabs his butt with her free hand in retaliation, and they both laugh.

Marinette and Adrien sway together in a loose approximation of a dance, eyes closed, just barely turning in place, lost in each other. When Adrien reaches for Marinette's hand on his shoulder, Alya has to let go of her boyfriend completely to set her camera to burst mode, but laid-back, ever-patient Nino just huffs a laugh and holds her waist tighter. It's all worth it when she's able to capture the moment Adrien brings Marinette's hand to his lips and presses a series of slow, reverent kisses to her knuckles. She snaps one more photo after he's tucked their clasped hands beneath his chin and settled her against his shoulder.

Alya turns in the circle of Nino's arms and gleefully scrolls through the vast number of pictures she's just taken, pausing near the center of the burst shots and cooing with delight at the treasure she finds. "Oh my god, Nino, look." She shoves the phone under his nose and his eyes cross trying to focus on it.

"Damn. They're too pretty to be real."

She snorts. "Truth. Seriously, though. Have you ever seen two people more in love? I'd say it's gross, but I could also cry just looking at them."

Still smiling, Nino pulls their hips together again and sets them in a slow spin, punctuating the beat with his fingers at the small of her back. Alya pockets her phone and cuddles up to him, grinning into his chest when he speaks quietly for her ears only.

"You know I love you just as much, right? I'm not a model, and um, I'm not as...gooey. But—"

He's cut off when Alya presses her lips to his to stop him.

"You're just the right amount of gooey, mister, and I don't need a model when I've already snagged the hottest guy I've ever met." She delights in his blushing cheeks as she kisses him again. "And yes, I know you do...I love you, too. Thank god it's not a competition, or we'd be losing."

"Naaah," Nino drawls softly, hugging her close. "I've already won."

Alya just closes her eyes and hides her grin in his shoulder, letting him spin them again as the music swells.

*****

Packed on the balcony and ready for the fireworks to start, she and Marinette are giggling over the photos on her camera roll from the course of the evening.

"I don't want to think about how much you pay for cloud storage, Als. You know you have a problem, right?"

Nino can't help his surprised laugh, but has the good sense to bite his lip and look away. Alya nudges him in the side and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Scrolling through toward the latest photos, she stops on one in particular and flips the screen toward her best friend.

"Bet you're glad I got this one, eh, Mademoiselle Judgy Pants?"

Alya knows she's scored a direct hit when Marinette's eyes widen and her cheeks pinken visibly even in the ambient light of the city. In the same moment, Adrien breathes an "ooooh" in reverent awe from over her shoulder as he stares at the glowing phone screen. Impossibly, the look on his face as he takes in the image is even more tender than it is in the photo itself.

Marinette turns to press her burning cheeks to his chest and he wraps her in his arms, props his chin on her head and mouths, "Send me that, please," to Alya, gesturing vaguely from her phone to his pocket.

Request received loud and clear, she grins and gives him a quick salute.

When fireworks finally fill the Parisian sky, Alya attempts a few action shots, though she's well aware that fireworks photos rarely turn out. Next, she grabs a great picture of Nino with the lights reflected in his glasses that immediately gets posted on Instagram.

And when Marinette stands on her tiptoes, wraps her arms around Adrien's shoulders, and kisses him breathless, well, Alya can't resist snapping one last photo of her friends. Adrien's hair positively gleams in the ephemeral glow of the bright red firework that bathes flushed cheeks and white fabric in a dreamy, perfect pink. This one is sent straight to her best friend; she looks forward to the keysmash text of embarrassed delight she'll receive from Marinette later.

Nino's hand slides around her waist to pull her close and she snuggles into his side, stowing her phone in her pocket and simply enjoying the moment.

*****

"Babe," Nino whispers under his breath, accompanied by a nudge of his knee against Alya's under the cafe table, "he's doing it again."

Sure enough, Adrien is gazing down at his phone. It's not even unlocked yet - he's just looking at his lock screen, waking it up each time it fades back to sleep.

"I know. That's why I'm looking up the movie time. We'd miss it completely if we left it to Sunshine."

"This is technically your fault. You do know that, right?"

Alya shrugs. "No regrets."

Marinette returns to the table, picking her purse off the back of her chair and lifting the strap over her head to settle in its perennial position across her torso. Instead of sitting down, she wraps her arms around Adrien's chest from behind and leans down to kiss his cheek. "Did you figure out if we can make it to the movie?"

The question is clearly directed at Adrien, who was supposed to be looking up the cinema schedule, but he's already pocketed his phone and turned his head to nuzzle into her hair.

Okay, Alya may have some regrets.

It's been months since she took the now-famous photo and sent it to him. To no one's surprise, it became his lock screen wallpaper immediately. It also became a distraction.

Because Adrien melts every time he looks at his phone.

No one can truly decide if it's exasperating or endearing, but there are classmates and friends in both camps.

Nino begged him to change it back to the picture of the two of them together, if only to shorten the time between sending his best friend a text and receiving one in return. Alya is nearly at her limit for heart eyes, but she's still the captain of Team Endearing. She did take the picture, after all.

Max programmed Markov to recognize each time Adrien reached for his phone and the time it took for him to unlock it and use it. Markov has perfected the algorithm over time and now has a saved log of each occurrence down to the millisecond. There's no real reason to track this data besides curiosity, but it does help Markov refine his processes, so Max has kept it up. It is vaguely fascinating, though he does feel that it's a terrible use of Adrien's limited free time.

Nathaniel illustrated a cartoon rendition of Adrien, phone in his hand and literal hearts in his eyes. Alya offered him €10 for it, but Adrien himself came in at €20 and now it sits on his desk at home.

Once, Adrien spent so much time gazing at the lock screen that he never did answer his ringing phone. Of course it was Nathalie calling, and of course his father grounded him when he got home.

(Neither Marinette nor Adrien seemed as bothered by those two weeks as everyone had anticipated. That mystery remains unsolved.)

When she thinks about it, Alya decides there are worse things than Adrien loving Marinette so much that he has an emotional reaction to seeing the evidence through a different lens.

Alya just slips her phone in her purse and corrals her boyfriend and their best friends. They have a movie to get to and they only have twenty-five minutes.

*****

In time, the picture has found a place on the wall in Marinette and Adrien's apartment - printed on premium photo paper, lovingly matted and framed. No one would have expected any less.

And it has always made Adrien smile, sometimes when nearly nothing else could.

*****

Several years, several revelations, and enough trauma to last a lifetime have led them all to this moment, on this day that shines with as much joy and light and love as they can muster. It's what a day like this deserves, after all.

With too much behind them to call it a beginning and too much hope for the future ahead to call it an ending, Alya decides she's just watched her best friends walk through a door they'd unlocked years ago and finally found the right time to step through together. The path hasn't changed, paved in hurt and heartache and the kind of helpless hope a person chooses when an abyss yawns below and there are no other ropes to grab. But it has always been lit by the glow of an almost unfathomable love, and that's where healing begins, grows, and flourishes.

So here they sit, surrounded by friends and family, in the same room where the four of them had danced all those years ago on a hot July evening. A towering croquembouche waits in the corner and a table full of photos and memories is on display along one wall; that heart-melting photo of the happy couple as lovestruck teenagers has pride of place in the center.

Clad again in radiant white, Marinette is the perfect picture of a blushing bride, and her groom has been unsurprisingly entranced all day. Alya isn't sure Adrien has stopped smiling since they first saw him this morning, and she and Nino are enjoying every moment of it.

Part of the brilliance shining in his grin is natural, springing from a heart so innately kind that it has countered evil and wielded destruction, yet still beats with compassion. But she and Nino know, better than anyone else, that the Adrien in front of them is a previously-shattered vase mended in gold, stronger and more beautiful in the broken places, and some of his gleam is reflected from those gilded seams.

When it's Alya's turn to toast, Nino helps her to her feet with a smile and hands her the mic before sitting back down beside her. She starts with a story only a best friend could get away with telling, bolstered by the laughter of the guests around her and the grins of the bride and groom. She has a toast carefully planned and memorized, but for all her preparedness, Alya also knows how to improvise. When her gaze sweeps across the picture gallery on the table and the faces of two of the people she loves most, she veers off course but finds her words with confidence.

"I've taken a lot of photos in my life - silly, scary, funny, serious, everything in between. Many of those photos have featured many of you here today. I know I caused my saint of a best friend here a lot of undeserved stress by taking a vast majority of my life's photos in places where I shouldn't have been."

She pauses when a laugh ripples through the room and Marinette shakes her head even as her watery eyes beam back at her. "But I was in just the right place when I took that one." She gestures toward the framed picture on the table, sparkling cider sloshing gently in her champagne flute. "Because the right place for both of us—" she reaches a hand back toward Nino blindly, finding and squeezing his shoulder, "has always been next to you, the most ludicrously attractive, kindest, bravest, best people we know."

Alya takes a deep breath that only shakes a little bit on the exhale. "I'm so—" she blinks and swallows around the lump in her throat. Damn hormones! "I'm so lucky to know you, to love you, and to have been part of your lives and your love story all these years. That's why I wish you nothing less than a lifetime of that kind of love," she inclines her head toward the photo on the table again, "that kind of tenderness and devotion. No one deserves it more than you two, and no one will be happier than Nino and I will to be right there beside you on the journey. So...cheers to the prettiest lovebirds I know, Marinette and Adrien!"

Champagne flutes clink amidst applause and hugs and sniffles.

Her best friends grin at her before turning the same soft gaze toward each other again, just like the picture she took all those years ago that turned Adrien to goo each time he looked at it.

Alya knows now, of course, what she didn't understand back then - that in the same way their wedding today was more than just a beginning, so were those early days of soft looks and fierce devotion that seemed to transcend the blush of new romance. Unbeknownst to their friends, they'd had an ironclad partnership and years of trust in place already. Open eyes and honesty allowed the confluence of several different kinds of love, and it only made sense that the resulting alloy stood stalwart and shone dazzling-bright.

Well, it didn't make sense then, but it certainly does now, even if the luster sparkles through a patina of nicks and dents. After all, even the strongest steel and the brightest gold are refined by fire.

Nino hands her a tissue and presses his palm to her back as she settles in her seat again.

When ever-romantic Adrien reaches for his bride's hand to press gentle kisses across the back of her fingers, Alya can't resist grabbing her phone from the table beside her bread plate. They're a little older but just as beautiful and even more in love, and the photo she snaps captures that perfectly. She smiles down at her phone, pleased, before locking the screen and twisting a little in her seat to place it back on the table, face down.

Alya gets comfortable, rests her head on her husband's shoulder, and simply enjoys the moment.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Kiss Goodnight

Kiss Goodnight

Characters → Y/N & Bucky Barnes

Summary → Y/N lets Bucky in.

Word Count → 2.6k

Warnings → Angst, Self-harm, blood, injury. Lots of fluff in the end.

Beta → the superstar that is @princessmisery666​ // all mistakes are my own.

Dividers → @firefly-graphics​.

A/N → This for @distractedgemini​ challenge - the prompt was Just A Kiss by Lady A. Hope you enjoy! 

Three am. A time for those in hope of finding a slither of peace when sleep prevails, emotions overrule, and thoughts run wild.

Bucky Barnes silently followed the strict lines of the corridors that lined the various quarters of the compound. His thoughts were erratic in comparison to his steady pace. He hoped that each carefully calculated step would subdue his fears, to allow him to sleep without the nightmares creeping in. It didn’t work half of the time, and the other half would usually involve him staring through the eyes of the Winter Soldier, carrying out the horrors he’d been trying to atone for.

Y/N was in the gym, punching the bag with all her strength; nightmares had plagued her sleep and guilt wreaked havoc on her mind. Her sloppy form paired with her overwhelming emotions had her hissing as the skin around her knuckles cracked apart. Regardless of the pain, she continued to pummel the leather as the wrappings turned red with her blood.

Whilst Bucky wandered his way through the main hallway leading to the gym, he heard the slapping of leather, and groans of frustrations. He watched her punch the bag. Y/N. He knew her sloppy form anywhere. But tonight, these punches were full of emotions. He’d offered on many occasions to help but she had continuously declined. 

Sam had joked that it was because she was intimidated by him and his brooding glare. Bucky was certain it wasn’t the reason, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he thought she liked him, or at least tolerated his presence. Over the last few months, he’d noticed her smile shining a little brighter when it was directed at him or her eyes glimmering with happiness as he joined her for coffee in the morning.

The whoosh of the automatic doors opening didn’t pull her attention completely but slowed down her assault. She peered to the right, using her peripheral vision to see who had entered the room. With no further movements heard she turned to come almost nose to nose with Sergeant Barnes. She gulped at the Super Soldier as she realised what a mess, she looked in front of the beautiful specimen before her.

“Sergeant Buc-Barnes. Sir, erm.” She stuttered around her words, breathless from her fight with the bag and the shock of seeing him. She stood to attention, internally scolding herself for her lack of togetherness.

Bucky hadn’t realised he had crowded her space until Y/N turned and looked straight at him. He almost faltered as he took in her appearance; puffy eyes, wild hair and her knuckles blood raw. His mind whirled with uncertainty; he’d invaded her personal space without considering that she might be battling her own demons.

“Bucky. At ease, are you okay?” He internally scolded himself; of course, she’s not! He watched her thoughts cross her features; confusion and, possibly, fear.

Y/N felt herself freezing at his question, she was nowhere near okay and she hadn’t expected the kindness at such a late hour. She didn’t want to talk about it, she knew Bucky had his own problems to deal with and she would be nothing but a burden. Her worries were nothing compared to what he had dealt with in his lifetime.

“S’okay doll, we don’t have to talk about it. But I’d recommend we fix your hands before you cause some serious damage.” Bucky nodded towards the bench and grabbed the first aid kit attached to the wall.

Y/N’s body shivered at his touch while he gently applied the ointment to the exposed flesh of her knuckles. She hissed at the sting and her own stupidity for taking out her emotions on herself, for not dealing with her pain and self-torment properly.

Bucky’s soft hum shocked her, and the way his thumb delicately stroked over her fingers had her relaxing into his touch, softening into his hands. “No bare-knuckle boxing for you, not for a week or two at least.” 

Bucky gave Y/N a lopsided smile, but she couldn’t return it, tears formed in her eyes. The emotions couldn’t be held back anymore, and she just let them pour out. 

Without hesitation, Bucky wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards him. He surprised himself and stiffened at his actions, but the moment he felt her head burrow into the crook of his neck, he knew he would never let go until she wanted too. 

Y/N’s hands clutched his shirt, her knuckles probably splitting open further under the harsh grip, but she didn’t care. Her body shook as the sobs escaped her, her hot tears falling onto the exposed skin of Bucky’s neck. Her hand snaked up his chest and gripped his t-shirt like it was a lifeline, 

“I’m-mm s-sorry.” “I’m-mm s-sorry.” Her quiet shaky voice shocked her, but his touch soothed her, his warm hand brushing up and down her back was more comfort than she had ever expected from the soldier.

Bucky’s skin was electrified as his palm glided against the bare skin at her back, “S’okay, no need to apologise. Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

Y/N pulled herself away from Bucky’s embrace, embarrassment heating up her face as she stood up and tried to mask it by stretching out her arms.

His heart sank from the loss of her body heat. His thoughts focused on how he had reacted to Y/N’s movements, and he felt the tingle of a blush forming on his cheeks. He knew now that he didn’t want her to be physically away from him ever again. 

Without a second thought, Y/N grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him out of the gym. He was full of surprises tonight, he let her guide him without questioning. She expected him to question her, put up a fight or something but he just followed her, his fingers intertwined between her own like they were meant to be.

Bucky followed blindly, a first for the assassin, being directed somewhere was very different from being dragged down empty corridors with no knowledge of the destination in mind. His heart hammered in his chest as they arrived in the residential quarter and she pulled him into her apartment. He’d never been inside her apartment before, always standing at the threshold as he called in before or after a mission.

Once inside, even in the dim light of the lamp leading them to the lounge, Bucky could see the personal touches Y/N had made. From the coloured wallpaper on one of the walls, to the bookcase stacked full of titles he’d never heard of and displaying photographs of the team, her family and friends. Nothing in the room screamed “Avenger!” or “Spy!”

Y/N guided Bucky to the corner sofa before dropping his hand to take a seat. She crossed her legs and pulled a cushion into her lap, holding it tightly to her chest. At his hesitation, she patted the seat beside her with an attempted smile. He saw the anguish through the fake smile and perched on the edge of the couch, turned towards her.

“I don’t really open up to people. Well, anyone.” Y/N started, her eyes down casted and she fiddled with the trim of the cushion, “I can’t stop thinking about what happened on my last mission.”

Bucky nodded, he’d had an inkling; she’d shut herself away for over a week and normally it only took a few days for Y/N to bounce back and prance around the compound in her bubbly way. He sank back into the couch, showing that he wouldn’t leave until she wanted him too.

“I could have saved them Buck.” She looked at him, tears in her eyes once more. “I know I could have, but I chose myself. I was selfish.”

His heart wrenched at the sight, she shouldn’t feel guilty for this, he leant forward, cupping her face with his hands, “Listen to me, Y/N. You have saved more people in your lifetime than anyone could have asked. You will feel guilty for those you haven’t but please try to look at all the good you have done. And think about what would have happened if you had gone back into that building, you could have jeopardised other people or gotten yourself killed. You made the right decision, even if you feel shitty about it.”

Y/N was taken aback by Bucky’s frankness, she had seen it when he spoke to the other Avengers, but she had never been on the receiving end. She looked deep into his blue eyes, only seeing his determination to make her see the sincerity of his words. She sniffled, and he loosened his hold on her face, his hands dropping to hers and holding tightly.

“You will feel guilty, you will hate yourself, you will feel the pain deep in your bones and feel that your soul is tarnished.” Bucky all but whispered, “But you have to keep going, you have to make sure you continue to protect, save and avenge those that cannot do it themselves.”

She squeezed his hands, and then threw herself into him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, “Thank you Bucky.”

Bucky leaned his cheek against her head, burying his nose into her hair, feeling content in her embrace, “Anytime doll. Have you got any hot chocolate?”

Y/N nodded, eyes sparkling with adoration rather than the pain that Bucky had seen since he walked into the gym. It made a warmth grow inside; he was able to bring a little bit of joy during her pain. He navigated towards the kitchen, giving Y/N one last check before he left her alone and was greeted with a smile that had his heart thumping against his chest.

With a belly full of hot chocolate, and marshmallows, Y/N sunk back into the cushions, relishing in the quiet that Bucky had brought to her thoughts with merely his presence and his authoritative tone as he put everything into perspective for her.

Bucky preened at the way Y/N’s body relaxed and her features softened from the frown and distress of her thoughts. He felt pride bubbling within, and he had to squash the grin that he wanted to beam in her direction. Even more so when Y/N rested her head on his shoulder and her fingers traced his Vibranium arm while the other wound around and held his hand.

Sleep was falling heavy against Y/N’s eyes, she wormed her way into Bucky’s arms, not that he put up a fight, and she knew that she would soon fall asleep if she wasn’t careful. Y/N hadn’t been this affectionate or open with anyone in such a long time, let alone this close to Bucky in the years she had known him.

Y/N lifted her head off of his chest to look up at him, his eyes closed yet she could tell he wasn’t sleeping from the way his eyes danced behind their lids, “Buck, I’m going to end up falling asleep here if we don’t move.”

Bucky hummed, and with a swift move, Y/N was pulled up into his arms and was being carried into her bedroom. The lamp flicked off and they were cloaked in darkness, only just making out each other’s silhouettes once he softly placed her down on the mattress, above the covers. 

He curled up beside her, his body framing hers, his torso tight against her back as his arms wrapped around her waist. She felt the heat rising in her body, her heart hammering in her chest at the thought of him being so close to her. It felt so right to be there, and she knew that she couldn’t fight her feelings for Bucky any longer with him lying so close to her. 

Y/N had always had a soft spot for Bucky, and it wasn’t just because of everything that happened with Hydra. She was not giving him a pity party, she genuinely enjoyed his company, as limited as it was. This was the longest and most intimate they had ever been, and she wanted to make the most of it.

A contented sigh escaped her lips and, in his half, asleep daze, Bucky pulled Y/N closer. His thoughts wandered to what this could all mean. He didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. It might be a shot in the dark that she just might feel the same way, yet, deep down he’d always known that she was very important to him. More than a teammate, more than a friend.

She had always made his day a little brighter; the delicate smiles, the refill of the coffee pot with a wink in his direction, and the way she’d reduce the sound she’d make as she pottered around the lounge as he read the newspaper or a book. Bucky sucked in a breath; realisation dawned on him that this was something he didn’t want to mess up.

As if on cue, a mind reader to his thoughts, Y/N turned around to face him, her hand resting against his chest and his Vibranium arm remained wrapped around her. Doe eyes, wide with a tinge of fear and a small smile on her lips. He knew she was thinking about how to approach this and he nodded gently.

“I don’t want to push you.” Y/N’s voice was small in the silence. “I like you; I really like you, Bucky Barnes.”

“I really like you too sweetheart,” Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead, momentarily pausing to take in her words.

Y/N felt the weight of her secret lift off her shoulders, her body humming with excitement that he felt the same way. She relished in his kiss and gripped his shirt a little more. “We don’t need to rush this. Let’s just take it slow.”

Bucky backed away to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips, “That’s okay with me doll.”

Y/N was enraptured by the glow of the moonlight cascading through the window and over Bucky. His soft gaze on her, she’d seen it a few times before, but she’d always thought it was one shared with the rest of the team, and his friends. At that moment, Y/N knew it was just for her, she brought her face level to his, their lips almost touching, she glanced up at him for his permission. 

Bucky wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, and with his eyes closed, he dipped his head to the side. As soon as he pressed his lips to Y/N’s, he felt a rush of electricity jolt through his body. It left a smouldering burn in its wake as their limbs tangled together and their hands caressed one another over their clothes.

Breathlessly, they pulled away from one another. Y/N grinned up at him, a beam that he would never stop his heart from skipping a beat. Bucky cupped her face and pressed a light peck to her lips, her cheeks and then rested his forehead against hers.

“I don’t want you to leave.” Y/N whispered, her warmth breath against his lips.

“You need to sleep. I’m alright with just a kiss goodnight.” Bucky kissed her once more.

They untangled themselves from one another, and Bucky pulled a blanket over Y/N as her eyes began to droop against the pillow.

“Sweet dreams Y/N.” Bucky tucked the blanket around her and leant back against the pillow, letting the soft snores calm his racing heart.

He knew she’d be in his dreams tonight, and he couldn’t wait to see what morning would bring.

the end.

Everything Tag List: @reann-loves-sebstan​ / @aroyaldarknessblr​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ 

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers​ / @musesforart​

[chilling-seavey]

When Universes Collide - The AU Mini Series

The Lotus Inn is a place we all know well; and a place where all universes collide in a small ripple of the time space continuum. It’s the spot for characters of alternate universes to meet and interact – even those who are from vastly different worlds and timelines. In this one-shot, the characters from the universes of this blog gather for lunch at the Lotus Inn restaurant and discuss their similarities and differences.

Warning: This does contain spoilers to any and all fics on my blog so read with caution if you haven’t read all of them!

A/N This obviously isn’t part of any timeline and is just something I wrote for fun with a bit of help from T-Anon and @randomlimelightxxx​! To tell each Daniel apart, they will be called by their fic name as their formal title…it might be a bit awkward at first but it would be the only way to not confuse the heck out of you since there are five nearly identical looking Daniel’s sitting around one table. (Also, I see this play out like a stage performance in my head which is weird).

A/N2 Let’s see how many times the word ‘Daniel’ is used in this story

The Lotus Inn – 11:54am

A table for five sat empty in the corner of the restaurant. The room was trimmed in purple neon lights and decorated in floral pictures with an old brick wall supporting the large bar along the back. It wasn’t busy as the crowd usually came in for the daily after-dinner partying and the quietness of the restaurant was only filled with the bar tender wiping down the glasses to stock.

The door to the restaurant opened and a stream of bright light pooled into the room from the outside, nearly brightening the space more than what the large paned windows along the from wall allowed. In stepped a young man, his hesitation obvious as he stepped over the threshold and his blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He wore a military uniform that was ironed to perfection, donned in two well dressed medals on his left breast, and he took off his matching cap when he stepped inside, offering a stiff nod in greeting to the bartender.

Passchendaele Daniel

Age 22

He was the first to arrive and he made his way over to the reserved table in the corner, sitting on the chair closest to the door. Habit. Made for an easy getaway if it was ever needed. He held his hands together on his lap, back straight, and his flat expression starting to fall into space.

The restaurant stayed silent. The bartender kept to himself and the few other patrons sat on the far side of the room, minding their own business.

The door opened again and a voice fell inside along with another pool of light.

“She’s a one-year-old, Jack, give her a cookie and sing her a song and she’ll go right to sleep. Ask the other two for help; they’re great with her. I can’t come back now, my meeting has barely even started. I’ll be an hour, tops. I think you can survive that long.”

The slightly older man who just came in had his cellphone pressed to his ear and closed the door calmly behind him. He looked a bit flustered and definitely tired; his dyed blonde hair was faded to mostly its natural brown tones again and he shoved his car keys in his pocket messily as he listened to whatever his friend was saying through the line.

Anything But Mine Daniel

Age 25

His blue eyes landed on the young man already at the table and he paused in spot for a moment before saying much quieter into his cell phone, “I gotta go. I’ll call you after.”

He hung the phone and headed slowly over to the table, holding out his hand to the man in front of him.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.”

Passchendaele Daniel glanced up at him and then to his out stretched hand and pulled a tight smile before taking his handshake, “Myself as well.”

They shared soft smiles as Anything But Mine Daniel sat down in the chair on his other side. They fell into a momentary silence, not quite knowing what to say at first. It was a strange situation to be in: staring at yourself from another universe and entirely different timeline.

Gentle music filled the restaurant and the two young men glanced across the room to the jukebox. A third stood in front of it, having just slid in a quarter to select a record, and the gentle voice of Elvis brought liveliness to the restaurant. He turned with a pleasant smile, his hair slicked back in a soft wave, and startled slightly by the older two staring back at him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel

Age 18

He offered them a crooked smile and headed over to join them, “Hi.”

They shared their introductions – being easy since they all shared the same name and nearly the same face – and Heartbreak Hotel Daniel took his spot across from Anything But Mine Daniel. He glanced over at the man in his old military uniform beside the oldest but looked away against before he could be caught staring. He adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt and dropped his shy gaze to the wood table top.

“What desserts do you offer here?”

The three men all looked towards the bar where another was stood on the bottom brass foot rest of the bar counter to stand higher, holding himself up on the marble top as he spoke to the bartender. He wore a Georgian style suit, dressed poshly down to the puffed tie in the collar of his pale blue jacket and shiny black shoes, his soft brown hair brushed pristinely over his forehead.

Amoureux Daniel

Age 17

The bartender eyed the young prince for a moment and then simply gestured to the menu hung on the brick wall behind him.

“I’ll just take the lot of it.”

He slid a few paper bills across the counter before heading over to the reserved table. His smile was wide and infectious and he offered firm handshakes around the table.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Prince Daniel of York. Second in line to the British throne.”

“Royalty at our table? That’s unbelievable.” ABM Daniel gaped, eyeing the youngest’s clothes as he plopped himself down in the free chair across from Passchendaele Daniel.

“Forget Royalty. I’m going to be a composer.” Amoureux Daniel tisked as he leaned back and loosened his tie around his neck to let himself breathe before rolling up his sleeves too.

“A composer? I’m in music professionally. What do you play? Piano?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Piano and cello. Piano’s my favourite though.” Amoureux Daniel grinned.

“Mine as well.” Passchendaele Daniel smiled shyly.

“You as well? Oh, splendid.” Amoureux Daniel clapped excitedly. “I was worried you lot would be as lame as my older brother honestly.”

Passchendaele Daniel’s smile fell as fast as it was formed and he dropped his head down. The other three easily saw this change and the youngest two from across the table habitually looked the eldest for guidance. ABM Daniel’s eyes were wide with surprise and he set a gentle hand on Passchendaele Daniel’s shoulder.

He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Passchendaele Daniel took a moment to compose himself before looking up into the friendly eyes of his older counterpart, “I lost my brother in the war. He was my best friend.”

“Shit.” Amoureux Daniel breathed from across from him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel slowly pressed his hand to his mouth in shock.

ABM Daniel hesitated a moment but gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, “I’m really sorry.”

Passchendaele Daniel only shrugged lightly, “It is what it is, I suppose.”

“What war were you in? The First World War or the Second?” Heartbreak Hotel Daniel asked as gently as he could around the obviously traumatised man.

Passchendaele Daniel’s eyes went wide in fear suddenly and he looked between the other three guys, “There is a second?!”

“I didn’t even know there was one in the first place.” Amoureux Daniel said in defence as he reached for one of the desserts before the bartender could even set the plate down at their table.

ABM Daniel and HH Daniel exchanged wide eyed glances before looking back at the frightened soldier. ABM Daniel rubbed his hand over his back soothingly, offering the best reassurance he could, “Not in your time, don’t worry. But I think we need a new topic to talk about now.”

“Please.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled thankfully.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a fifth one of us here too?” HH Daniel asked.

“I thought so too.” ABM Daniel pulled out his cell phone to check the time.

“What is that?” the other three young men asked him at the same time.

ABM Daniel glanced up at them and looked between their mirrored confused expressions like he was sitting at a table with triplets. Different brunette hair styles and different clothing but all with the same light blue eyes and youthful faces. He looked back down at his iPhone and held it up slightly, “This?”

They all nodded.

“It’s my cell phone.”

“It’s a telephone? Where’s the chord?” HH Daniel asked, leaning over the table to lift it up as if to look for the chord that should have somehow attached him to the wall.

“Where is the handset?” Passchendaele Daniel added. “If there is no handset, how do you hear your friends?”

“I have no bloody clue what the hell any of you are talking about.” Amoureux Daniel laughed through a mouthful of cake.

ABM Daniel smiled and looked between the other three, “I guess that’s right since you are all from the past, huh? Well in my time they make telephones that can go in your pocket. They don’t need chords.”

“That’s brilliant.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed. “And you can talk to your friends into that little box?”

“Yeah. Wanna hold it?” ABM Daniel offered.

HH Daniel leaned over the table to get a look as Passchendaele Daniel carefully took the iPhone from ABM Daniel and cradled it in his two hands like it would break if the wind blew too hard. The screen lit up as a text message came through and Passchendaele Daniel gasped in surprise, staring down at the lit-up screen and the little box that read words.

ABM Daniel reached over to swipe away the notification, revealing his lockscreen wallpaper: a photograph of his family from the day his youngest was born, all cuddled up together on the couch.

“Is that your family?” HH Daniel asked, still leaning over the table.

“Yeah. It is.” ABM Daniel smiled widely, taking his phone to set it on the table for all of them to see, “That’s my wife, Florence, and our girls; Clementine, Penelope, and Lucy.”

“That’s so sweet.” Amoureux Daniel said, “I just had a son a few months back.”

“You have a child?” HH Daniel gaped over at him. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You have a kid at seventeen?”

“Yes. Ran off and got married young. He’s just born so no need to have a fit.” Amoureux Daniel snickered teasingly. He picked up the plate of desserts and held it out to him. HH Daniel stared down at the desserts for a beat but then shook his head politely.

“My wife is expecting our first child.” Passchendaele Daniel spoke gently.

“Oh, congratulations!” ABM Daniel said, helping himself to a dessert from the spread.

“Yes, thank you.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled. “I am a bit frightened; I must admit.”

“Parenthood is a scary thing but it’s also the most amazing thing you could ever experience.” ABM Daniel assured him as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “I am sure you will be a great dad.”

Before anyone else could speak, loud muffled music could be heard from outside the restaurant and they all turned to looked out the large front windows; watching as a shiny white Tesla pulled up to the curb. The music cut off as the drivers side door opened and their fifth guest stepped out. His hair was dyed blonde and hair sprayed to messy perfection and the sunglasses perched on his nose were designer, his whole outfit dripping in expensive pieces, down to his leather pants and black boots and silver chain hung around his neck.

He came inside the restaurant and everyone’s eyes were on him – even the bar tender – as he slid off his sunglasses and offered a cool smile to the room.

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit Daniel

Age 23

He caught the glance of the other four young men at the table in the corner and he sauntered over to greet them. He offered a handshake to all of them before sitting at the far head of the table, “Sorry I’m so late. Promo ran later than expected.”

He glanced around the table at the four pairs of wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a beat of silence.

“Wow, this is sick. It’s like I’m looking in four mirrors.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. He set his sunglasses on the table. The other four pairs of eyes followed the action but they didn’t speak. “You’re right. Need to at least make up for my lateness. Hey, bartender?”

The man looked over to the table as QTVTP Daniel raised his hand up to get his attention, “Pitcher of water, round of beers, and let’s get some appetizers? Give us your top…six sellers. All on my card.”

“You don’t have to pay for all of us.” ABM Daniel said.

“Let me. It’s the least I could do. You come all the way out here to this shabby hotel and I’m thirty minutes late.”

The bartender brought over the pitcher of water, five glasses, and five bottles of beer, setting them all on the table. QTVTP Daniel took out his OffWhite wallet and pulled out his credit card, passing it over to the man with a smooth thanks.

“Let’s drink, boys.” he smiled, rubbing his hands together before reaching for one of the bottles.

“I’m not of age.” HH Daniel mumbled.

“Neither am I.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I don’t drink anymore.” Passchendaele Daniel said.

“I have to pick up my daughters after this so no alcohol for me either, thanks.” ABM Daniel finished.

QTVTP Daniel looked between the four sitting around him, “Wow. Alright. More for me then.”

ABM Daniel took the initiative to pour the others their glasses of water as he offered a casual question to the late arrival, “What promo were you at?”

“For my record company.”

All four heads snapped back up to look at him.

“You work at a record company?” HH Daniel gaped.

“Own it. Yeah.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. “My best friend and I have owned our own company for the last…two or so years? We’ve travelled the world together. Made some music. Made a name for ourselves. It’s amazing.”

“Wow. It’s always been my dream to be a signed artist but my parents convinced me to go to university instead.” ABM Daniel said.

“It’s pretty sick.” QTVTP Daniel smirked. “You meet a lot of cool people.”

“Are you well known?” Amoureux Daniel asked. “Do you work with people such as Bach? Or Mozart?”

“Bach or Mozart? Nah. Not yet at least. But we just signed a band that dropped their second album and it went number one worldwide.”

“Good God.” HH Daniel gasped. “You’re like Elvis.”

“I guess.” QTVTP Daniel laughed lightly, taking a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do you produce too?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Yeah. We do most of the producing but we write and manage too. I have an eye for the industry.”

“That’s so cool. I’m working at a production studio myself. I’d love to run some demos by you…get your professional opinion…bounce some ideas around.”

“Yeah, for sure, bro! That’d be awesome. We can do that later.”

The other three young men stayed in momentary silence, sipping their water with Amoureux Daniel nursing the plate of desserts. He glanced over at HH Daniel on his right, staring at him for a moment, especially the remanence of a bruise that was colouring just under his left eye.

“Did you get in a fight?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

HH Daniel looked over at him, watching the youngest bite into a truffle, “Yeah. Corbyn beat me up.”

That caught the table’s attention and they all looked at him in surprise.

“Corbyn hit you?” ABM Daniel gaped.

“Mhm.” HH Daniel nodded shyly. “I was trying to stick up for my soulmate and he didn’t like that I was trying to take her from him so he beat me up.”

He stood up and lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the fading bruise over his stomach as well. The men groaned pitifully at how obviously it must have hurt.

“My Corbyn is so nice.” Passchendaele Daniel frowned.

“Mine too.” ABM Daniel added.

“Mine’s kind of lame. Everyone in my life is lame.” Amoureux Daniel tisked.

“What? You think you’re better than everyone?” QTVTP Daniel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass bottle.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to have to live the same boring life that they think I need to.”

“I’ll drink to that.” QTVTP Daniel agreed.

“Here, here.” Passchendaele Daniel raised his water cup and they all held out their glasses into the middle of the table to cheers through soft laughter.

Their conversation paused a moment as they drank. HH Daniel shifted in his seat slightly, tossing back the rest of his glass of water is he had been deprived for days and set the empty glass back on the table with a loud clunk. QTVTP Daniel slid over a bottle of beer and none of them spoke as they watched him unscrew the cap and take a long sip. The eighteen-year-old grimaced through the drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re really going through it, bro.” QTVTP Daniel stated.

“Yeah, I suppose.” HH Daniel grumbled, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Well obviously since he got punched in the face.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I just…” HH Daniel sighed, staring at the table top, “We have soulmates in my universe and even though I found mine…she doesn’t want me so I’m suck tasting everything she tastes and it being a constant brutal reminder of her.”

“Why doesn’t she want you?” ABM Daniel frowned.

“I’m a loser? Hell if I know.” HH Daniel scoffed, he took another long sip of the beer no matter how disgusting he thought it tasted. At least it overpowered the taste of tea that was grazing his tongue.

“There’s a girl you’re in love with who has a trashy boyfriend? Well, take it from me who has literally been in your shoes,” ABM Daniel reached across the table to grab the beer from the eighteen-year-old, “You get nowhere from drinking away the pain or hating yourself.”

“You had this happen too?” HH Daniel asked softly, hopefully.

“Yeah; was best friends with this girl I was hopelessly in love with and I had to see her go from boyfriend to boyfriend no matter how often I was there for her.”

“So what happened?”

“She became my wife eventually.” ABM Daniel smiled softly, “Just give it time. Don’t push her because she’ll just feel suffocated. Let her come to you. She’ll see what she’s missing.”

Amoureux Daniel held out the half empty plate of desserts to HH Daniel and he finally took a small pastry as the youngest said, “In addition, you are in a universe where you can taste what she tastes and, from my experience, the way to a woman’s heart – and up her skirt – is through her stomach.”

Passchendaele Daniel choked on his water while laughter rose over the rest of the table.

“What do you know about ‘going up skirts’? You’re, like, barely fifteen.” QTVTP Daniel scoffed through his disbelieving laughter.

“I am seventeen, thank you very much, and I have a baby.” Amoureux Daniel corrected, nearly boastfully. “I know just plenty about going up skirts.”

Of course, that was right when the bartender came over with their food and his confused expression had the five young men smothering back their nervous laughter. ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel cleared a space on the table for the food to be set down and all five of them thanked the man before he headed back behind the bar. With a full spread in front of them, they all dug in and piled up a small plate each to start to eat. It was quiet for a moment as they got settled and started to eat, passing the salt and pepper and various plates to each other when asked. It was comfortable.

“So,” ABM Daniel broke their silence first, directing his question to Amoureux Daniel, “how did you and your wife meet?”

Amoureux Daniel cracked a cheeky smile, “Well, she came to England to marry my older brother, but she liked me better, to be blunt. We would sneak around the castle and a few times at night…you know…”

There were two ‘oo’s from ABM Daniel and QTVTP Daniel, while Passchendaele Daniel looked between them all with wide eyes.

“You…You were involved with her before you were married?” he stammered.

“While she was engaged to my brother too.” Amoureux Daniel hid his smirk behind a bite of a mozzarella stick. “My most thrilling and incredible few months, I must say.”

“Oh my gosh.” Passchendaele Daniel’s cheeks flushed a slight pink and he tugged at the collar of his uniform. “That’s…ahem…”

“Did you not go near your wife before your wedding night?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

“Let’s not go nosing into everyone’s private business.” ABM Daniel said strongly.

“Wait, I’m still confused. Where did you sneak off to?” HH Daniel asked shyly.

The table chuckled lightly – even Passchendaele Daniel cracked a nervous smile – and HH Daniel looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

“To bed.” Amoureux Daniel laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll understand one day.”

“I…you…I-I understand perfectly well.” HH Daniel blushed furiously, turning quickly down to his plate and shoveled a nacho in his mouth to avoid continuing the conversation.

“To answer your question,” Passchendaele Daniel continued, trying to keep himself a bit brave and a bit interesting to the four other men, “No, I did not go to bed with Elizabeth until our wedding night. It did not feel right to deflower her until our union was official.”

“Deflower her.” QTVTP Daniel repeated slowly, biting back his smile as he took a sip of his beer.

“Well that’s what it is, is it not?” Passchendaele Daniel said sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I like to think that making love is the most sacred act and shouldn’t be just thrown around to anyone.”

“I agree.” HH Daniel mumbled, earning a thankful smile from the soldier.

“Jeez, then I’m quite the sinner.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled to himself. “I slept with my girlfriend on our first date.”

Passchendaele Daniel huffed softly and turned down to his plate. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel glanced at each other through the awkward tension that seemed to settle.

ABM Daniel cleared his throat, “Let’s maybe change the topic. This isn’t really lunch appropriate.”

“Wow…you are such a dad.” QTVTP Daniel snorted, shaking his head in near disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” ABM Daniel frowned at him. He couldn’t get much of an argument out before his phone was ringing in his pocket and he pulled it out, sighing when he read the caller ID, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

The other four watched him get up from the table and head across the restaurant as he answered the call,

“What is it now, Jack?”

The table fell into a momentary silence.

Passchendaele Daniel broke it first with a mumble of, “Jack in my universe is dead.”

The other three looked between themselves nervously. They didn’t answer, ducking their heads down to their plates to focus on eating their lunches. No one spoke until ABM Daniel returned and he sat back down with a heavy exhale.

“Sorry, being a dad is a job that is never done. What did I miss?”

Amoureux Daniel, HH Daniel, and QTVTP Daniel just looked at him and shook their heads ever so slightly. Passchendaele Daniel sniffled, keeping his head down, and took a sip of his water.

“Everything alright back home?” HH Daniel asked softly over to ABM Daniel.

“Oh, yeah. My youngest just hates when I’m not within arm’s reach so she’s been giving Jack some trouble. She’s only one so…doesn’t know much better.” ABM Daniel smiled at only the mention of his daughters. “I have pictures…if you want to see.”

“Of course.” HH Daniel beamed.

ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up his photos app to swipe through a few and he passed the phone across the table. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel shifted closer together to see and QTVTP Daniel leaned over the side of the table to look at the pictures too. QTVTP Daniel took control of the swiping since he was the only one who knew how cell phones worked and they all smiled at the pictures on the screen, ‘awe’ing at the cutest ones.

“The baby looks just like you.” HH Daniel said. “Well…like us, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” ABM Daniel chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Passchendaele Daniel stayed quiet on his right, eating in silence, and unbothered. He sat as if he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. ABM Daniel looked over at him as the other three kept scrolling through his pictures and he reached a hand onto the table to gently get his attention. Passchendaele Daniel looked up at him with a flat expression and almost tearful eyes.

“Are you alright?” ABM Daniel asked softly.

“I don’t do well without my Elizabeth.” Passchendaele Daniel whispered for only him to hear. ABM Daniel was always the best listener and the easiest to talk to and it was obvious to the struggling soldier that he was someone he could trust.

“Do you have a picture of her?” ABM Daniel offered, as some way to keep his mind busy but happy.

A small smile perked at the side of Passchendaele Daniel’s lips and he nodded, reaching into his uniform jacket and he pulled out a small sepia photograph and held it out to his new acquaintance. ABM Daniel smiled thankfully at him and took the photograph, looking down at the old fashion photograph of the gentle young blonde woman.

“She’s beautiful.” ABM Daniel said politely.

“She is. I’m the luckiest man in the whole world to have her. She saves my life every day.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed, his gentle smile grazing his lips ever so delicately as if he was in deep thought.

Three teasing exclaims from across the table caught their attention and ABM Daniel quickly reached over to snatch his phone back. The picture they had swiped to was of Florence in nothing but a small towel blow-drying her hair in the bathroom mirror; a simple moment that ABM Daniel couldn’t help but capture with her in all her natural beauty.

“No more of that.” he blushed furiously as he pocketed his phone again.

Passchendaele Daniel offered his photograph of Elizabeth to the table and the three young men on the other side gladly took it. She was effortlessly beautiful and the three youngest at the table stared at her for a bit longer than was honestly necessary. Passchendaele Daniel bit back a proud grin at their obvious interest.

“I don’t have a photograph of Loretta.” HH Daniel mumbled. “If I did, that would be considered extremely creepy on my part.”

The photograph was passed back to Passchendaele Daniel who pocketed it again and HH Daniel reached to grab another serving from the platters in the middle of the table. A small corner of paper poking out under the dish caught his attention and he wiped his hand on his jeans before pulling it out from under the plate. His eyes went wide at the photograph of Loretta that stared back at him from his hand.

“What’s that?” Amoureux Daniel asked, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.

Surprised, HH Daniel couldn’t find his words for a moment, “I-It’s Loretta.”

The Lotus Inn works in almost magical ways through this ripple in the time space continuum. HH Daniel pulled the picture closer, his heart only aching slightly at simply the sight of her.

“She is hot.” QTVTP Daniel broke the momentary silence.

The four other Daniel’s glared at his bluntness and he put his hands up in defence as he sat back in his chair.

“You can’t have her so don’t even try.” HH Daniel scolded softly before turning back to the photograph. 

“I don’t want her. I have my own girlfriend.”

HH Daniel glared warningly at him as he passed the photograph across the table to ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel to take a look at too.

Amoureux Daniel shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, sure enough to pull out his own picture of Louisa and their brand-new baby son. He stayed perfectly quiet for a moment as he stared at the image himself, disbelieving.

“Oh wow.” he breathed. “It looks so real.”

HH Daniel looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sweet photograph of the young mother holding her baby, “That’s adorable.”

Amoureux Daniel smiled over at him, “That’s my Louisa. And our little prince.”

“Let’s see!” ABM Daniel excitedly held his hand out to take a look at the photograph.

QTVTP Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel glanced over his shoulder with mirrored smiles.

“Damn,” QTVTP Daniel said as he sat down again, “Glad to know we have taste.”

Their pictures were passed around and stories were shared – QTVTP Daniel offering up his phone to show off pictures of his girlfriend and he shared his excited plans to propose to her. 

The five young men seemed to find their comfort with each other. Laughter soon filled their table between words of advice and guidance and comfort and soon the food was gone and the drinks were finished and they were all resting back in their chairs through their conversation.

“Is your hair naturally that colour?” Amoureux Daniel asked QTVTP Daniel.

QTVTP Daniel habitually ran his hand through it, fluffing it up a little at the sides, “No, it’s dyed. I kinda like it like this though so I might keep it.”

“It looks cool. Maybe I should go blonde too. Loretta seems to like blondes better anyway.” HH Daniel said.

“No!” The other three at the table said quickly.

HH Daniel looked between all of them in confusion, “Why not?”

“Florence cried her eyes out when I went blonde.” ABM Daniel said. “I swear she was ready to divorce me. It’s not worth it.”

“You look just fine the way you are.” Passchendaele Daniel agreed. “Don’t change just because her boyfriend looks a certain way.”

“Yeah. You’ll regret that.” ABM Daniel nodded.

“I dunno. I don’t regret it.” QTVTP Daniel said coolly.

“You’re not helping.” ABM Daniel snapped lightly, making the rest of the table laugh.

A momentary silence fell over the group, all of them staring into space with content smiles and full stomachs, most topics of conversation well used. The bartender came over to clear the empty plates and they all thanked him once more. ABM Daniel took out his phone to check the time again.

“Well, it’s been over an hour. Maybe we should say our goodbyes. I have little ones to pick up.”

“Yeah.” HH Daniel sighed, setting his napkin back on the tabletop. “I have to pack for college.”

“I have a meeting...” QTVTP checked his watch, “5 minutes ago. Shit. Jonah’s gonna kill me.”

He got up quickly from the table and put his sunglasses back on before taking one last sip of his beer. They all stood up after him and started to gather their things to go.

“Can we take a selfie before we leave?” ABM Daniel offered.

“A what?” HH Daniel laughed.

“A selfie.” Amoureux Daniel breathed. “That’s a ridiculous word.”

“A picture of yourself.” QTVTP Daniel explained.

“Yeah! Come over here.” ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up the camera.

“You can take photographs on your telephone? Incredible…” Passcehndaele Daniel breathed as the group gathered behind ABM Daniel and they all leaned in close.

The picture was taken, framing five exact smiles, five exact pairs of light blue eyes, and yet five slightly different hair styles and fashion choices. All their own individual but yet all one in the same.

They shared handshakes that turned into friendly embraces with pats on the back, well wishes, and final goodbyes as they headed their own ways home to once again be seperated by the division of space and time between alternate universes.

ABM Daniel lingered back in the restaurant for a moment, grazing his finger over the table he stood beside with a calm smile. He approached the bartender and ordered a plate of desserts to go – he didn’t get much since Amoureux Daniel seemed to hog them all for himself – and he wanted to bring home his girls a treat. He paid for the cakes and thanked the bar tender before heading out of the restaurant and into the bright sunlit street. His car was parked farther down and he waited in the drivers seat for Florence.

She came quickly out of the Lotus Inn as well, the heavy wind blowing urging her to hold her jacket closed as she rushed down the sidewalk, her dark blonde hair billowing around her head messily and she helped herself into the passenger seat of their car. With the door closed and the wind kept out, she sighed deeply with a content smile and smoothed her messy hair down.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

They both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“How was lunch?” she asked.

ABM Daniel thought for a moment as he took the car out of park and pulled out onto the street, “It was strange at first but really nice. How was yours?”

“Super fun.” Florence giggled.

“Great! Oh! We took a selfie. I wanted to show you how similar we all looked.” Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket and blindly passed it over to her as he drove through the streets of their city.

Florence took it and typed in his passcode with an excited smile. She opened up his pictures and tapped the most recent one, her smile falling, “Dani, this is only a picture of you.”

“I know!” Daniel laughed. “We looked like quintuplets or something!”

“No…I mean you are the only person in this picture.”

Daniel stopped the car at a red light and glanced over at his phone in her hand. His smile fell as well as he stared at the selfie he had taken before they all parted ways, only his own face captured in the frame, his four new friends missing as if they never existed in the first place.

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | prologue

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, future dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader 

Of first meetings with your landlord and being enamoured with the hauntingly beautiful house. A new start.

► warnings(!): none for this chapter, eventual dubcon/noncon, eventual choking in future chapters. this is a dark fic.

a/n: I’m opening a taglist for this series, just hmu with an ask.

When people think of Fall, they can’t help but attribute it to the crispy coldness, the yellowing of leaves, or children in pumpkin patches. Young adults would probably think of the pumpkin spice lattes from cafes, or for the fans of the occult, All Hallow’s Eve’s approach comes to the mind. Just like the changing of leaves, for you, Fall reminds you of new beginnings. A fresh start.

The autumn wind chills as you huddled closer in your coat, trying to retain warmth. Your old car —a Studebaker Lark ‘63— parked on the curb of the road as you approached the house. 

Ahead over you, in its Gothic Revival glory, sat a white wooden house. The drab grey sky made it seem more imposing in stature. The roof was a contrasting grey, steeply pitched with an arched gable. Delicate wooden trims decorated the front; nothing intricate but a simple design. Dirty windows entered your peripheral, the accumulated dust blurring them. 

Taking everything in, the house seemed well-maintained, but the chipping of paint reminded you of its age. 

Nevertheless, for a structure of such grandeur, it was astonishingly inexpensive. After hours of pouring over internet searches, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you stumbled upon it. 

The house was a classic; with its architecture and size, you deemed it perfect. Located in a quieter part of Maryland, bordering DC; not too far from your place of employment, but far from the cacophonies of the city. This, you considered, was your fresh start.

Standing near the driveway was a greying gentleman; grey hair perfectly coiffed, crow’s feet in the corners of twinkling blue eyes. You assumed he’s in his 60’s or 70’s. He greeted you, his weathered face smiling, with a walking stick in hand, although he still seemed strong for his age.

“Good day, Mr Rogers,” you smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

“It’s a pleasure, dear,” he replied. “Let’s go in, shall we?” 

Stepping onto the porch, you observed your surroundings. The rustling of trees by the wind was the most prominent of sound, if anything else, it was dead quiet. You could see other houses scattered in the distance, however no immediate neighbours were within vicinity. 

The click of the front door unlocking pulled you. The inside was dark, the dusty windows permitting little light, while the floor was covered by a thin layer of dust. 

Mr Rogers walked in first, pushing the door and held it open for you. You thanked him, pleased with his gentlemanly ways.

A hiss left you at the sudden switching of lights, attacking your eyes as they readjusted. You blinked a few times to take in the interior. 

The hallway was long; cream coloured wallpaper hugged its sides, ending to a larger room in the distance. The walls were bare except for a few random antique mirrors. To your left, a stairway sits. It contrasts the walls; a rich, sturdy, mahogany. To your right, an entrance way opens up; silhouettes standing in the dim shadows.

“I apologize, it’s a bit dusty,” said Mr Rogers, sheepishly. “I try to clean it up at least once a month.”

“By yourself?” you ask, bewildered.

He chuckled, “No, with a cleaning company, dear.”

Telling you to follow him, Mr Rogers stepped into the entryway to your right, switching the lights on. 

The silhouettes you saw earlier were of the furniture strewn about; chesterfield sofas, armchairs, and antique floor lamps crowding the room. A fireplace stood near another entrance, a large mirror erected over its mantle, reflecting the rays from the porch windows. It looked like a scene out of those classic films you used to love. If tidied properly, this would be the best reading spot, you thought.

“This is the parlour,” he announced, “Great for having guests over.”

“It’s beautiful,” you beamed. 

Moving forward, Mr Rogers walked through the other entryway, leading to a dining room. From your vantage point, you could see this is the room the hallway ends up to. 

Smacked in the middle, a sleek white marble dining table sits. Its length stretches across the room, sets of dining chairs accommodating tens of people. It looked ideal for hosting dinner parties. 

The dining room was connected to the kitchen in the back, easing the transferring of food. When you stepped foot into the kitchen, you didn’t expect it to be extravagantly spacious. You smiled, envisioning  yourself cooking meals in this kitchen.

“There are a few pots and pans under the cupboards if you ever want to use ‘em,” the older man says. “They were my wife’s” 

Curious, you pressed, “Your wife, sir?”

“Yep, my wife, Peggy,” he smiled, eyes distant, lost in a different time, “Actually, she was the one who owned this house, or atleast, her family did. I inherited it after she passed away, felt it was too big to live by myself ya know?”

You hummed in understanding. He must have lived a fulfilling life with his wife, judging by the look. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it, composed himself, and marched on.

“This here leads to the back of the house,” he gestured to a door, the upper half a transparent window. You could see tall blades of grass and the dense trees swaying out back, reacting to the wind. “And this one’s the laundry room, the bathroom’s next to it,” he continued, opening a second door in the kitchen.

You both left the kitchen, entering the hallway through the dining room. As you passed, you noticed a set of stairs obscured under the main staircase. It was smaller, leading down under, ending where a thick black door stood in slight darkness.

“Uhm, Mr Rogers?” you asked, pausing. “What’s that room?”

The older man stopped, turning to look back. 

“Oh, that’s the basement. Nothing exciting down there though, just a furnace and some tools. I’ll show you soon,” he seemed to ramble, before turning his back quickly. Without waiting for you, he started climbing the stairs, slowly, hand gripping the railings tightly, walking stick in the other.

That prompted an eyebrow raise from you, he almost seemed flustered. Shrugging it off, you followed.

“So, tell me, dear,” he started, “What brings you searching for a house in this area? It’s not exactly the most happening of places for youngsters.”

The question surprised you. Usually most landlords don’t bother to know such, especially of potential tenants. Their only concern being prompt payments, or you’re out.

“Um, I’m a vet, and I actually work closer here than if I live in the city,” you replied, “Plus, it beats the DC traffic.” Which was true, harrowing through traffic everyday was exhausting.

Mr Rogers chuckled in response.

The second floor was the same layout as the floor below; a long hallway with doors. You noticed there were even more mirrors on this floor. Come to think of it, there were mirrors in every room you’ve been in so far.

“There are three bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor,” —the man explains, opening a door— “And this is the master bedroom.”

It was spacious and regal, light blue walls with dark furniture occupied the room; a king-sized four poster, a vanity, and a large wardrobe stood next to a closet. On the furthest side, two stained glass doors stood, leading to a balcony overlooking the front yard. The colours from the glass reflected on the walls, giving allusions to crystalline shapes. You imagined how they’d reflect during sunset. It was perfect.

The tour commenced with Mr Rogers showing the other two bedrooms and bathroom. At the end of the hall, he led you to a wooden ladder that stood connected to a latch door in the ceiling. 

“That’s the attic, nothing much but dust and some old furniture,” he pointed, “You can take a look at ‘em and see if they’re to your liking when you decide to move in.”

Heading down the stairs, the basement was the last place on the tour.

“So, how are you liking the place so far?” he asks, walking beside you.

Biting your lip, you chose your words carefully. “It’s beautiful, the furniture, the decor, and such big space as well,” you said, “Although I’m surprised that I’ll be getting all of this, especially with the price.” 

The elder man picked up on your apprehension, “Ah, about that, I’ll discuss the details with you after we finish.” He took the lead, pushing the thick black door with his body. He was stronger than you expected. 

A sense of foreboding was felt at first as the door creaked. After going further down the steps, it wasn’t as dark as you expected. Minimal light shone in through small windows on the upper walls, the glass separating the two worlds.

The dangling chain on the ceiling was pulled, flooding the space in light. Adjusting to the brightness, you could see it was dustier in the basement. Cobwebs hung in corners, entangling corpses with them. Thick dust covered the surface of shelves, as if a blizzard invaded. An even thicker silence settled, deafening to the core.

“Don’t you worry about that thing,” the man’s voice echoed, pointing to a furnace in the back, “Got that serviced this year, if anything happens just let me know.” Turning to the shelves, he seemed to inspect them for a few moments, eyes squinting. “And there’s a lot of tool boxes in here,” he gestured to the heavy shelves, pushed to the walls, “Feel free to use ‘em.”

Not wasting any time, Mr Rogers turned back towards the stairs. You followed suit, pulling the chain, basking the basement in darkness once more. 

As you began to ascend, a sudden strong scent invaded your nostrils, wafting through like an uninvited guest. You gave another whiff. A musky scent, wild, and smoky, further reminding you of Fall. 

Casting one last glance into the darkness, you shrugged it off, and closed the door. Must’ve been Mr Rogers’ faint cologne.

You observed the state of the porch as Mr Rogers locked the front door. The porch needed sweeping, you noted, stepping on a sea of dead leaves, their crunching audible. 

Overlooking the lawn, you noticed a pair of blue eyes at the edge of the porch. A pair of white fluffy ears accompanied, flickering occasionally. You smiled, it seemed like you had a visitor.

Squatting down on the steps of the porch, you chittered, hoping to catch its attention. After a few seconds, a white blur zoomed in, scurrying then stopping abruptly at your feet. It mewled, wide blue eyes staring, demanding attention. You petted and scratched below its jaw, the creature emitting content purrs. 

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you,” voices Mr Rogers from behind, “She’s a stray, always coming ‘round.”

“I’m surprised, she’s very friendly,” you said, petting snowy fur.

Seconds pass, the cat’s purr the only sound. 

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering regarding the rent,” he breaks the silence, taking a seat on the porch steps. “Why it’s so… well, cheap, for a fully furnished house like this.”

“Well… yeah, I actually almost thought it was a scam,” you replied, sheepish. “I had to actually see it for myself.”

The older gentleman laughed, “I don’t blame you, it sounds too good to be true.”

And indeed, it was. For a classic house like this, dating probably a century back, and fully furnished, something must be up. It was too good of a good bargain.

“Actually, there’s a reason why I put it that way,” he admits after a few beats. “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts, dear?” 

You frowned, wondering where he’s going with this, “Can’t say I do.”

“Let me guess, atheist?” 

“Agnostic.”

He smiles mirthlessly, “Well, I can’t say I believe in them either, but for the past years, I’ve been having trouble getting tenants to stay.” That piqued your curiosity.

“What do you mean, sir?” you pressed, intrigued.

“Past tenants have told me they’ve been… spooked while living in the house, like things disappearing and reappearing, or hearing footsteps and what not,” the man explains, “But I can’t say it’s true since it’s all peaceful whenever I stay here, or check up on maintenance. I’ve even had a friend stay here for a week, and nothing!"

Ah, the classic household haunting you’ve always seen in movies; missing items, heavy footsteps, the feeling of being watched. Sitting on the steps, you felt like a walking cliché; the stupid girl who goes into a large house knowing it’s haunted, wanting a taste of thrill. Yet, you can’t be bothered. You’ve always been a skeptic, a believer that science and logic can debunk these things.

“What I wanted to ask you is, would you still want to move here after all I’ve told you?” the older man asked. “I’d understand if you want to back out.”

His question shows how concerned he is about others, even if it’ll put a damper in his business. You felt lucky to have stumbled upon an honest and understanding landlord, not everyone had that privilege. But something felt off.

“I don’t understand, while I appreciate it, why do you need to disclose this, sir?” you ask, weirded out. “Isn’t it buyers beware?”

“It’s a part of the law to categorize it under ‘stigmatized’ property,” he replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you didn’t know,” he chuckled, you joined him. “So, what about it, dear?”

Stroking the cat, you thought about it. You were never a believer of ghouls nor other other-worldly beings, and you weren’t going to start now. While the presence of ghosts could never be proven or denied, you believed that every occurrence has a logical explanation, even the paranormal. You weren’t about to let go of a wonderful place just because some ghost decided to move in as well. Stigmatized or not, you’ve found yourself a good deal. The perfect start.

“Don’t worry Mr Rogers, ghosts or no, nothing's gonna stop me from living in this house,” you smiled. He returned it.

Later, after much discussion and the exchange of handshakes, you left the house with a sense of relief. Pulling out of the driveway, you waved to the older gentleman, before speeding off. 

A few metres ahead, checking in the rearview mirror, you saw Mr Rogers still standing in the driveway. 

His smile never faltered.

The next day finds you working endlessly at the clinic, meeting furry patients left and right, tending to their dilemmas. The clinic was almost never vacant, the seats occupied always leaving behind fur. To you, it has always been a fulfilling job. Sometimes you’ll get scratched, or hissed at, but at the end of the day it was always worth the care.

Lunch came a bit later. Sighing, your shoulders relaxed. After attending to a cat that decided it needed to throw a hissy fit, you really needed a break. While shovelling food into your mouth, your phone suddenly rang; Sam Wilson flashing on the screen.

“Hi, baby,” you picked up.

“Hello, baby,” came the sultry voice on the other end. “How’s my girl doin’?”

“She’s doing fine, thank you for asking,” you teased. “Why’d you call? Did something happen?”

Muffled chuckles rang through the speakers, “No, nothing happened, just wanted to know how you’re doin’. Hey, how was the house? All good?” 

“It was gorgeous! And fully-furnished too!” you replied, gleefully. “It was all antique, the master bedroom was my favourite,” and you continued telling him of everything, from the fancy parlour to the stained glass doors. Sam listened attentively, humming and responding at appropriate times. And this is why you loved him. He was always the talkative one out of you two, yet he never talked out of turn, always putting you first. “Oh, and I’ve found out why it’s so affordable.”

“Let me guess, someone died in that house?” 

You chuckled, “Close, apparently it’s ‘haunted’, ooh,” you booed. “The landlord said he had never experienced it during all his years there, nor did his friend that apparently stayed there. So it makes you wonder, if it were just stories from people paranoid about living in an old house.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam hummed. “Can’t wait to have sleepovers at your new place now.” 

You laughed, missing his dose of humour and his presence terribly. “I wished you were there with me.”

“I wished I had too, baby,” he murmured, “So when’s the moving date? Gotta put these bad boys into good use.” You heard him grunting, probably flexing his bicep from the other end. Sam’s antics always amused you. He was your happy pill.

“I told Mr Rogers —that’s the landlord— I’ll be moving in two weeks,” you explained. “Do you mind taking a day off to help me? Pretty please?”

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[propsandmayhems]

Can you use the prompt “Can I kiss you?” with your favorite ship?

omg literally thank you sm anon because this was so much fun to write!! i got this ask and immediately started writing!!! i did blackdale which is not my fav ship ever but i just was so inspired so i hope u like 

i also posted on ao3 since it ended up being so long 

“Can I kiss you?”

Lucie Herondale x Jesse Blackthorn 

Lucie Herondale should be happy. 

For the first time in over a year, everything was going well. They had defeated Belial and Tatiana. Her brother and her parabatai were happily married. Matthew had quit drinking and was beginning to heal. She and Grace had successfully returned Jesse back to life and convinced the Clave it was done by Belial, not by their own involvement in black magic. She still had her family, her friends, her Marks, and was learning more about her powers with the help of her Uncle Jem. 

Yet there was still something missing. 

Upon his return to life, the Clave - in an uncharacteristic act of generosity - had given Chiswick House to Jesse. For the past three months, he had holed himself up in the great stone pile, working to attempt to return the grand house to its former glory. 

The first month after she and Grace brought Jesse back, Bridget had begrudgingly driven Lucie out to Chiswick House every day. She would bring all sorts of offerings - new books; freshly baked jam tarts; perfectly sharpened daggers and even a brand new sword, the blade stamped with a ring of thorns that matched the pattern on his locket, which she had ordered in from Idris. Jesse would always meet her at the front door, attempt to refuse the gift, finally accept and then bid her goodbye. That first month, he never once invited her in. 

But Lucie Herondale was nothing if not persistent. 

The second month, he continued his work on Chiswick House. One day, the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of a newly installed wrought-iron gate. “Well, this is new,” Lucie heard Bridget drawl from the driver’s seat. Hopping down from the carriage, Lucie took in the new gate, black metal soaring up into the gray London sky. On the very top of the gate, curving bars formed the words ‘Blackthorn Hall.’

“I’ll walk up from here, Bridget,” Lucie called over, while quickly scribbling an open rune on the metal. Slipping through the gate, she made her way up the stone drive, her boots lightly crunching the rock under her foot. 

Looking around, Lucie could tell that Jesse had already made wonderful progress with the house. The front lawn was manicured and free of the overgrown weeds that had overtaken the hedges along the drive. Despite it being a dreary day, the white stone facade of the house even seemed to shine brighter. 

Lucie had made it to the door and before she could take the knocker in her hand, it swung open. Jesse stood on the threshold, black hair tumbling in front of his eyes. He was in shirtsleeves, as he nearly always was when Lucie visited. Lucie couldn't bring herself to be scandalized, since she had grown so used to seeing him in shirtsleeves in his ghostly form. He wore no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing the entire curve of his throat and his un-Marked skin. “I was in the study and I saw you walking up the drive…” he began, and then wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s your carriage?”

“At the front gate. Bridget and I stopped to admire the new gate you installed. ‘Blackthorn Hall?’” She asked, to which a blush rose up on his cheeks. It still startled her to see him with colour on his face. 

With a small smile, he nodded, “yes. Do you like it?” 

“I do,” she grinned and then held up the basket she had carried up. “I brought you scones.”

“Oh,” he said, flatly. Lucie’s smile fell, and he hurriedly added, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a scone.” 

“You’ve never had a scone?” She exclaimed. “How can you even consider yourself an Englishman?” 

He laughed - a beautiful, sonorous laugh - and then looked at her for a moment. “Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally asked. 

“I would love that,” she smiled. Jesse stepped aside to let her and the scones into the house, closing the door behind her. 

Jesse led her through the foyer and up the staircase, then down a hall and into a drawing room. Although the wallpaper and decor in the room were dated, the wood of the furniture was polished to a shine, and the dust that had previously coated the walls had been cleaned away. A fire was roaring in the hearth, battling away the dampness of the cool, November day. Above the mantle, the sword she had brought Jesse was balanced on two pegs. 

“Oh,” she breathed when her eyes caught the blade. Noticing what she was looking at, a flush traveled up his exposed neck and settled on his cheeks. “I am so glad that you like it.”

“I-” he began and abruptly stopped, his face morphing into an expression she was unable to identify. “Maybe you should go,” he said suddenly. Lucie’s face scrunched up in confusion as he stepped back from her. “If anyone found out you were here, just the two of us… you would be ruined.”

Lucie huffed. “Not like there are hordes of men knocking down the doors of the Institute asking for my hand in marriage anyways, Jesse.” 

Watching his shoes intently, he took another step backward. “Please, Lucie, just go.” 

“Fine,” she replied sharply, dropping the basket of scones on the conversation table on her way out. 

After that, Lucie did not return to Blackthorn Hall. She hadn’t heard from Jesse in nearly two months. Now, Lucie watched from across the ballroom as her parents greeted the families arriving for the annual Christmas ball. Faces seemed to blur by her - the Wentworths, the Townsends, the Pouncebys. 

Then Jesse Blackthorn walked through the ballroom doors. Lucie was convinced her heart truly stopped beating. He was dressed immaculately; all his clothes were obviously new and flawlessly tailored. His dancing oxfords were unscuffed and the black of his tailcoat was balanced by the crisp white of his waistcoat. He was a perfect picture in black and white, the only color in the entire image being the green of his eyes - which were fixed on Lucie.

When their eyes met, Lucie’s heart restarted at triple-time. All but ignoring her parents’ greetings, he moved across the room to Lucie with purpose. Too fast and not soon enough, he was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch him. But the memory of the way he had told her to leave flickered in the back of her mind. “What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms across the red bodice of her gown. 

“Well, the entire Enclave is invited to the Christmas ball, and I am a member of the Enclave.” He pointed out, to which Lucie rolled her eyes. He took a small step closer to her and continued, “is there a place we can talk, privately?”

Lucie looked around. Many were watching them, as Jesse wasn’t exactly covert in making his way over to her. A small voice in her brain was screaming no, you will be absolutely ruined! You will never be married as is, you are only making it harder for yourself! But her heart was thumping out the sound of Jesse’s name. She nodded, “yes. Follow me.” 

With a relieved smile, Jesse followed her down the same hall that led to the games room and into one of the lesser-used withdrawing rooms. A fire had not yet been started in the room and the air was frigid, causing goosebumps to rise up on Lucie’s arms. After closing the door, Jesse turned to face her. In the witchlight that illuminated the room, the green of his eyes was the same colour as the canopy of trees in Brocelind Forest. “I’m sorry,” he started, moving closer to her. “I am truly sorry for the way I acted these past few months, and especially the last time you came to visit me. May I be frank with you, Miss Herondale?” 

Lucie swallowed and nodded, unable to form words. 

He took another small step closer to her. “You have permeated every inch of my mind. I see the colour of your eyes in the sky and the curl of your hair in the branches of trees. I hear your voice narrating the books I read. When I try a new food, I find myself wondering if you like it. When I manage to sleep, I dream of you. That first month… every day you came to my door and it was all I could do to not gather you in my arms, to feel your warmth. You risked everything for me - you could’ve had your marks stripped! I am not worth what you could’ve lost.” 

She stared up to him, blue eyes wide. “I knew exactly what could’ve happened to me and I chose to take the risk. Because I care about you. I care for you in a way I have never cared for anyone else.” Gathering her red skirts, she moved towards him. “I, of course, would have done the same thing for my family or my parabatai; but I feel for you in a different kind of way. I can’t explain it, but some part of me just longed to have you beside me - to be able to reach out and touch you.” Tentatively, Lucie extended her arm across what little space was left between them. Laying her hand gently over his shirt-clad chest, she felt his newfound warmth for the first time. She remembered how cold he had been when he had been a ghost. But now, the heat from his skin radiated from under his shirt, warming the chill from her skin in the frosty room. “Is this okay?” She asked, and he nodded slowly. 

“Lucie…” He began, searching her blue eyes with his own green pair. “I just fear I will never be what you deserve. I am not a man with any sort of honor. I live in a house tainted by years of demonic activity. I cannot even bear marks like a real Shadowhunter.” 

“It is not up to you to decide what I deserve,” she said. She meant to sound menacing, but her voice came out as barely above a whisper. Unblinking, Jesse reached up and caressed her cheek. 

The heat from his hand on her cheekbone sent sparks of fire all the way down to her toes. Lucie let her eyes flutter close and leaned further into his touch. He was warm, so so warm, almost burning hot. She quickly forgot the lack of fire in the room. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, thumb drifting over her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, and in an instant, she was gathered up in his arms. The hand that had been resting on her cheek moved to cup her neck, sending jolts of lightning down her spine. Jesse partially bent down and partially pulled her up to him, connecting their lips. Lucie’s mind whirred with the softness of Jesse’s lips on hers, his hand on her neck, his other hand grasping at the silk bodice of her dress. I can finally write the perfect kissing scene! She thought with joy, then realized, wait… am I supposed to be doing something? 

Slowly, she lifted her arms up around Jesse’s neck, coming to rest at the edge of the collar of his tailcoat. Wisps of his black hair brushed against her fingers. She turned her head slightly, allowing herself better access to move her lips gently against Jesse’s without clacking their teeth together. 

Raising herself further on her tip-toes, she brought herself closer to Jesse. His hand at her waist encircled her tighter, bringing her body flush against his. Every one of her nerves was alight with the feeling of him surrounding her. His scent, his warmth, his taste. Lucie had never even considered that you would taste the person you were kissing! She had never liked the flavor of mint tea before, but she loved the way it tasted on Jesse’s lips. 

Unexpectedly, Jesse removed his lips from hers. Dipping his head down, he laid kisses along her exposed collarbone. “You are my shining light,” she felt him murmur against her skin, his breath hot and his body alive. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. She thought if she tried hard enough, maybe she could just melt into his touch and completely lose herself in the warmth of his embrace. 

A quick rap at the door of the withdrawing room caused them to spring apart from each other. “Lulu?” her father’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you in here?” 

 She looked to Jesse in panic and then quickly remembered that Jesse was very much visible to everyone now. However, if Will walked in and saw the state they were in, Jesse was very likely to return to his previous ghostly mode of being. “Yes, I’m here! I just came in to… fix my shoe.” 

“Cariad…” He sighed, and she could picture her father pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you come back here with Jesse Blackthorn.” 

“Jesse Blackthorn? I led him to the games room, you could see if he is there if you need him.” 

The door handle jiggled. “Open this door or I will.” 

Lucie looked to Jesse with a sheepish smile. He had an unreadable look on his face as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek before turning and moving towards the door. Lucie watched him brace himself as he pulled the door open, expecting to face the pure fury of William Herondale. 

Instead, her father was grinning from ear to ear, with Tessa by his side. “See, Tess, I told you! She was not visiting Chiswick House every day just to ‘lend the support of the London Institute.’”

“Papa!” Lucie threw her hands up. Jesse looked as if he was about to faint. 

Tessa rolled her eyes and waived off her husband. “Yes, yes. I always thought it would be Matthew, but you were right, as always.” 

Lucie gaped at her parents. “Were you two betting on who I would marry?”

  “Yes,” Will shrugged nonchalantly. Tessa nodded in agreement

Taking her husband by the arm, Tessa began to drag Will back towards the main ballroom. “Come along then, dear. I left Gabriel in charge of greeting the guests.” 

Will looked at his wife, completely dismayed, and then the two dashed down the hall and back towards the ballroom. 

Jesse turned to her, still frightfully pale. “Marry?”

Her mouth went dry. “I… I didn’t mean - I don’t expect -” she stammered, fidgeting under his green gaze. 

 Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “It would be my absolute honor.”

[chimmyboii]

Nice Guy - Part 1

Pairing: Chanyeol x reader x Baekhyun 

High School au!

Summary: After finding out her boyfriend, Baekhyun had cheated on her at a party, Y/N goes into meltdown. Chanyeol, Baekhyun’s best friend, decides he can’t stand watching the girl completely fall apart because of his best friend and decides to befriend her.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The teacher drones on and on, I continue to tap my pencil against my jotter. Head leaning against my hand until it goes numb. I think about Baekhyun, about his smile, his lips, how he makes me feel. Just everything. These thoughts continue to roam around me head, getting dirtier and dirtier until I think about our night together last Friday. How his hands caressed my body, the feel of him inside me. I can feel myself getting aroused at the thought. Sneakily, I reach down and grab my phone from my bag, I type a text to him.

Me: thinking of youuu ;’((

I notice I have number of notifications. One from WhatsApp, and almost twenty from Snapchat. Frowning, I click on WhatsApp first, seeing as it was my best friend Lisa that had message the girls group chat. I re-read her message, the frown still on my face. 

Lisa: y/n please don’t go on snapchat! 

I eye the number of notifications on the app. I click on it, unable to help myself, the curiosity getting the best of me. Most of the notifications are from other pupils from the school, people I don’t talk to. A lot of the messages were from girls apologising to me, hoping I’m okay, that I deserved better. What the fuck. I click on the Snap from Jongdae that he sent me this morning, that I forgot to open. It was a video, but not just any video. It was practically a sex tape. It seemed to be filmed in Chanyeol’s bathroom, I recognised the wallpaper. The girl is propped up on the sink, legs spread wide. The male has his hand between her leg, thrusting his fingers rapidly into her. The volume on my phone is low but I can still hear the moaning coming from the girl and Jongdae’s quiet snickering. Still feeling confused, I look at the caption Jongdae had labelled the video.

Baekhyun and his girl Y/N getting it onnnn lollllolll ;)

“Yassss Baekhyun man, get it!” Jongdae’s voice cheered in the video, the man’s head snapped to the door. I gasp loudly, causing the person next to me to glance at me. Baekhyun quickly withdraws his hand from the girl, causing her to whine and tug at him, wanting him to continue. Baekhyun hurries to the door where it seems Jongdae is standing.

“What the fuck man!” Baekhyun growls, reaching for the phone. The video ends there. I stare as the video as it once again replays, it’s the second time I note how sober Baekhyun is. Being in a relationship with him for three years, I have seen him drunk a number of times and I can assure you that Byun Baekhyun is completely sober in that video. I click back on to WhatsApp and text Lisa.

Me: I saw it. When was the video filmed?

Lisa quickly replies back. 

Lisa: It was at the party on Friday, I’m so sorry y/n

I feel sick. I lean my head on the desk in hopes the nauseous feeling would disappear. I can feel the tears begin to well up. Last Friday was Chanyeol’s football game and I knew the boys were planning on having a party afterwards. But I had a test on Monday, it was a resit, so it was important for me to pass it. I told Baekhyun I wouldn’t be able to make it, but he insisted that he’d spend some time with me before going to the party. Baekhyun had come over after Chanyeol’s game. The memory that once aroused me is now making me feel sick.

I lay breathless on the bed, Baekhyun flopped beside me. My body still tingled from the intense orgasm I had. Rolling over, I lean my head on Baekhyun’s chest, his hand began to stroke at my hair. It was silent, just the sound of our breathing returning to its normal state. I turn my face a bit and press kisses on his chest. Baekhyun hums, pressing his own kiss on the crown of my head. My index finger draws circles on his pelvis bone, just above from his crotch. Baekhyun lets out a chuckle.

‘You want to go again?’ I nod almost bashfully, sitting up I swing my leg over his waist, straddling him. I rub myself over is limp length, enticing a moan from him. ‘Two orgasms and you still want more!’

I giggle, rubbing myself against him harder, listening to slick sound of my arousal. ‘I can’t help it; you make me feel soooo good!’ I whine playfully. I can feel him start to harden once again underneath me. Baekhyun sits up, hands wrapping themselves around my waist. He presses kisses along my collarbone and down to my chest. I clutch at his neck, leaning my cheek against the side of his head, I let out soft sighs. Baekhyun’s left hand reaches down to breast and clutches it, his lips trail down until they are sucking onto my nipple. I tug at his brown hair, rocking my hips faster against his hard length. Baekhyun stops me, lifting my hips up and positions his length at my entrance. Slowly, I lower myself on to his hard length.

‘Fuck Baekhyun,’ I breath, leaning back slightly so I can see his face. I connect our lips, allowing my tongue to dance with his. I rock my hips back and forth. Baekhyun guiding me with his hands. 

‘That’s it baby,’ he moans, now lifting his hips up to meet mine. I whine and lean my head against his shoulders, Baekhyun falls back onto the bed pulling me with him. From this position, Baekhyun is able to thrust up harder, making me squeal. He keeps thrusting until I feel myself heat up deliciously, a fluttering feeling arriving at the pit of my stomach.

‘I’m going to cum,’ I gasp, gripping the pillow next to Baekhyun’s head. Baekhyun takes this a sign to thrust even harder until I can’t breathe. 

‘Oh my God!’ I yelp, coming around his length. I twitch in Baekhyun’s hold, the pleasure almost hurting. I feel Baekhyun thrust two more times before he releases his load inside of me, it’s hot, making me shiver. Leaning back, I look at this sweaty face and smile happily. He returns the smile, leaning up to press a kiss to my lips. We kiss for a while, lips dancing along with each other. 

‘I love you,’ I whisper against his lips, I press two more kisses before sitting back. His face was blank, his brown eyes roam my face. I look at the clock on my bedside table. It was almost eight. Rolling off Baekhyun, his length slips from me.  

‘You better get ready baby,’ I say pressing a kiss to his cheek before going to bathroom to clean up and take a shower. When I got back, Baekhyun was dressed and was styling his hair in front of my wardrobe mirror. I go up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing soft kisses to the side of his neck.

‘I’m so lucky to have you,’ I breath. Baekhyun smiles softly, before turning around and kissing me deeply. 

He sighs in my mouth before pulling back, ‘I better go,’ I nod dizzily, my mouth chasing his. Baekhyun pulls out of my embrace and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. 

‘See you Monday!’ he smiles cheekily, ‘good luck with your studying, you’ll ace it babe!’ And with that he was gone out the front door. 

The nausea feeling was more prominent now, shooting my hand up in the air. The teacher stops speaking and looks at me wide eyed.

“Yes, Miss Y/N?” he asks. The rest of the students turn around and look at me. Some look at me with a pitied look on their face – my own eyes widen. How do they know? Looking back at the teacher.

“I don’t feel well, can I go to the toilet?” He just nods before resuming explaining the problem on the board. I practically sprint from the classroom to the toilet. Once inside, I rush to the nearest cubicle and slam the door shut, locking it. I lean over the toilet and gag, hoping to be sick and get rid of the nauseous feeling. Nothing comes up, I just continue to gag. As this is happening, tears begin to slip down my cheeks. I don’t realise until they hit the water in the toilet pan. Leaning back, I let out the first ugly sob, the pain of the betrayal finally catching up with me. Pulling out my phone, the lock screen making me sob harder. It’s a picture of Baekhyun and I at his birthday two months ago. With shaky hands, I click on Lisa’s contact and press call, knowing she has a free period right now. It rings for three then I hear her voice.

“Hello? Y/N?” I can barely greet her; sobs just keep coming out. “Babe, where are you?”

“Bath-r-room,” I stutter out, “the one by the science department,” Lisa hums, I can hear her slamming and banging in the background.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” with that she hangs up. I lean my head against the toilet and continue to sob.

Three years we had been together, I may be naïve, but I truly believed he was the one for me. I gave him everything; he was my first everything. First kiss, first love and first time. And now, I can’t get that back. It’s been completely ruined. All I see now, looking at his face, is his hand between that girls’ legs. The same hands that were between mine five hours before. 

My thoughts were broken by the sound of the bathroom doors slamming open, hitting off the wall. I sit up and unlock the door and face Lisa. As soon as the doors open, she spreads her arms wide, inviting me into a hug. I fall into her, sobbing again. I continue to cry into Lisa’s arms until there’s no tears left to cry. Lisa’s fruity perfume calms me slightly until I pull away and lean against the sink. 

“I just don’t understand,” I whisper, throat sore after all the crying I had done. Lisa reaches into her backpack and pulls out a bottle of water handing it to me. I nod in gratitude. “I mean he was completely sober!” 

Lisa’s doe eyes widen and her mouth drops.

“He was sober?! Jongdae told me he was drunk,” I shake my head.

“No, I know when Baekhyun’s drunk and he certainly wasn’t there.” I gulp some more water before sighing. 

“I could forgive him if he was drunk,” Lisa looks at me, eyes glaring slightly.

“You’re going to stay with him?” she asks, I shake my head rapidly but then shrug. 

“No, y-yes! Ugh, I don’t know,” I whine, heart beating painfully in my chest.

“Babe he cheated on you!” Lisa reasons, “and like you said he was sober, he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Yeah but why? Why did he feel the need to cheat on me?” Lisa sighs, her arm wraps around my shoulder.

“I don’t know Y/N,” Another tear slips down my face, I roughly wipe it away.

“I know this a bit TMI, but he literally fucked me that night, before he left for the party,” Lisa grimaces.

“That’s disgusting and more the reason for you to dump his ass!” 

We fall silent and I wash my face over the sink. I look at the phone beside me when I remember something.

“How does everyone know about it?” I ask Lisa. She sighs, pulling out her own phone and clicking on Facebook, she scrolls through her feed for moment before groaning. 

“It’s been taking down. Basically, Jongdae uploaded the video to Facebook on Friday,” I groan and place my head in my hands. 

“Why did he have to do that!” I moan and Lisa rubbed my shoulders.

“Drunk Jongdae has no brain!” I was about to comment more when the bell went, signally the end of period and the start of lunchtime. My heart began hammering loudly in my chest again as I knew I’d have to face him – and the rest of the student body. At the look on the face Lisa grips my shoulders.

“You can do this okay? Whatever you choose to do, I’m here,” I nod, gulping. Lisa walks me back to my science class to collect my bag and jacket I had left there. My teacher notes my pale face and assumes I’m ill. He wishes me to get well soon, I just nod. We walk slowly to the canteen; my legs feel like jelly as the canteen comes into view. The memories of Baekhyun and I flash through my mind. I feel choked up again as I realise, I’m about to lose him. I stop suddenly, tugging Lisa with me. 

“I’m going to lose him,” I whimper out, feeling like I’m about to have a panic attack. Lisa shushes me, running a hand over my arm.

“You don’t need him Y/N, you never did. You lived without him before, you can do it again. And anyway, he’s the one that losing you, you were the best thing that ever happened to him!” Lisa suddenly ranted, her chubby cheeks turning red with rage as she continued. “He’s the one that ruined this, he deserves to feel pain like you do,” I nod, the video coming back to mind. With sudden courage and anger, I drag Lisa into the canteen with me. 

I spot the boys sitting at their usual table at the back of the canteen by the window. I spot him first. Of course, I would, even after what he’s done to me, my eyes will always seek him out. He’s poking at Kyungsoo, laughing like nothing is wrong – like he didn’t just cheat on me three days ago. I storm towards him, Jongin catches my eye. His eyes widen and he quickly nudges Jongdae who quickly looks in my directions. Jongdae clears his throat loudly and nods his head in my direction. The rest of the boys stop talking and look in my direction; Minseok waves at me but stops when he sees the look on my face. Baekhyun finally turns to me when he notices Kyungsoo eyes have followed the rest of the boys. 

Baekhyun’s face lights up, he stands from his chair and makes his way towards me, meeting me halfway. He places his hand on my waist, which I quickly yank off like I was burnt. He frowns for a moment but then goes to plant a kiss on my lips, I turn my head to the side abruptly, his lips grazing my cheek. I push him away harshly, he bangs into Junmyeon who sat behind him. Baekhyun glares slightly.

“What the hell, babe?” I let out a growl.

“What the hell, babe? Really?!” I shriek, pushing at his chest again. Lisa utters my name in warning, eyeing the rest of the canteen. The rest of the students have stopped eating and talking. Their gaze’s intent on both Baekhyun and I. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and calm myself, even though I have every right to go crazy. When I reopen my eyes, they are blurry again with tears. Baekhyun’s face falls and I notice the realisation on his face. He knows that I know.

“Why?” I croak out, he opens his mouth and I can just tell by the look on his face he’s about to make an excuse. “And don’t say you were drunk because I saw the video Baekhyun. You were not fucking drunk!” He hangs his head and shrugs. I scoff and shake my head. I look at the rest of the boys behind him, they’re silent watching us. My eyes scan over every boy until they connect with Jongdae who suddenly bursts.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know it wasn’t you I swear! I-I was drunk and saw Baekhyun and I thought she was you – that’s no excuse I know-”

“Be quiet, Jongdae!” he immediately shuts up, “it’s not you I want an explanation from,” I glare at Baekhyun who still looks at his feet. 

“Come on, babe!” I prod sarcastically, “tell me why you felt the need to shove your fingers up another girls hole!” Baekhyun flinches at my words and I laugh bitterly. “What’s the matter Baekhyun? Don’t like hearing it out loud, well tough! Doesn’t matter anyway because the whole school fucking knows!” At this Jongdae mutters a weak ‘sorry’ which I ignore, my eyes never leaving my boyfriend who still continues to stand there emotionlessly staring at the ground. 

I gasp, my heart breaking further as I continue to look at him, now realising. “You don’t care, do you?” my voice breaks and that’s when Baekhyun finally looks at me. “That’s why you’re not answering because you don’t care that you cheated. You don’t care that you hurt me-”

“I do!” Baekhyun cuts off, his voice high. “I do care about you, Y/N.”

“Then how could you do this, Baekhyun?” Once again, he shrugs, and this time I can’t stop the sob escaping my throat. He takes a step towards me; I shake my head and step back. “I love you,” I whimper and Baekhyun winces, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. Shaking my head, “You can’t even say it back,” I turn to leave but Baekhyun reaches out and grabs my wrist.

“Wait, Y/N please,” he pleads and tug at my arm. Kyungsoo stands and gently peals Baekhyun’s hand off of me. 

“Let her go, Baekhyun.” Baekhyun roughly shakes his head, eyes now welling up with tears. He pushes Kyungsoo off him and pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around my waist as an attempt to hug me. 

“No, no, no,” he mutters, “I can’t let you go please. Y/N don’t do this,” Leaning my head against his chest, I swallow back the tears that threaten to escape. Taking a step back, I wipe them off my face. 

“I didn’t do this, Baekhyun, you did,” With that I walk out of the canteen, ignoring the looks from the other students. Lisa walks slowly behind me, not saying anything, just letting me have my moment. We go outside onto the school grounds and find a bench to sit on. The wind felt refreshing, and it calmed me in a weird way. The sound of rapid footstep coming towards us had me tensing, expecting it to be Baekhyun.

“Y-Y/N?” the deep voice called from behind me. I turn around, along with Lisa, and see Chanyeol. He shifted his weight onto one foot then the other, looking between me and Lisa. “Is it okay if I talk to you alone?” Lisa glares, suddenly becoming protective.

“She doesn’t need any of Baekhyun’s bitches coming to give her grief!” Lisa barked and Chanyeol’s eyes rounded, hands raising up in defence. 

“I-I’m not, I just want to know if she’s okay…”

“Does she look okay to you?!” I calmly place a hand on Lisa’s shoulder, she looks at me, her features softening. 

“It’s okay,” I nod, Lisa sighs before standing up and grabbing her backpack. She turns back to me as Chanyeol takes her seat. “I’ll be in the library if you need me,” I just nod before turning to the nervous tall boy beside me. We’re silent, I’m waiting for him to announce why he’s here. The thing is about Chanyeol, he’s Baekhyun’s best friends, have been since nursery. But we never spoke, not really, only the passing greetings or just general discussing. 

“Ummm…how are you- wait! Don’t answer that, that’s a stupid question!” I shake my head, smiling softly. He falls silent again, right leg nervously shaking, foot tapping on the ground. I watch other students, a couple, walking past us hand-in-hand. They look at each other adoringly, giggling to each other. I look at the girl, she gazes at the boy with bright eyes, practically heart eyes. As I gaze at her, I realise that that girl will give everything to that boy, and she has no guarantee he will love her the way she loves him. She will waste her high school years, loving him until he decides one day, he doesn’t want her anymore.  

“Three years,” I start, startling Chanyeol who turns to look at me. “I loved him for three fucking years! And now look at me, broken, ruined. And he couldn’t even give me a fucking reason!” I shout, the couple turn to me and I glare at them. 

“I’d run if I were you!” I shout at the girl, her soft eyes squint in confusion, “he’ll never love you. He’ll use you too keep his bed warm, keep his dick wet and then he’ll dispose of you! Men can’t love!” I see her chin wobble and then she bursts out crying. Her boyfriend turns to me and glares angrily. 

“Hey, psycho bitch! Keep your opinion to yourself. Just cause your boyfriend fucking cheated on you doesn’t mean other men will!” I stand, steam practically exploding from my ears and was about to charge for him when Chanyeol wraps he’s long arms around me. I yell at him to let me go, punching down on his hands. 

“C-Could you guys ummm, leave please!” Chanyeol begs the couple. The girl rapidly nods and tugs her boyfriend away. “Y/N please calm down.” Eventually, I did, settling back onto the bench. I hunch over, my face in my hands. 

“He didn’t even say he was sorry; you know?” I mumble, looking up I see Chanyeol nod. “All he did was fucking shrug, I mean who shrugs their fucking shoulders when they get caught cheating?!”

“Baekhyun did,” Chanyeol commented and I roll my eyes. 

“Must be a guy thing,” I state and Chanyeol scoffs, so I turn to him and I glare, “What got something to say? Going to defend your bestie?”

This time Chanyeol glares and I sit frozen, I have never seen him angry before. 

“That guy was right, Y/N. Not all men are like that okay? Yes, what Baekhyun did was a shitty thing to do but that’s Baekhyun, he’s his own person.” I gulp, feeling a little intimidated at Chanyeol. “I know for a fact that if you were my girl, I would have never treated you like that, ever!” My mouth drops at his confession. “I-I mean, hypothetically speaking, ummm…no girl deserves to be treated like that.” Slowly, I nod unsure of what to say. The bell rings for the last two periods of the day, saving me from having to create an awkward response. Chanyeol stands and rummages through his trouser pockets and pulls out his phone, quickly he unlocks it and pushes it in front of my face. On his screen is a number, I look up at him confused.

“It’s my number,” I nod, still just looking at it, “i-in case you just want to talk or something, I don’t mind, I’m a good listener,” 

“But Baekhyun’s your best friend. Wouldn’t it be weird if I called you to rant about him?” Chanyeol shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Nah, I may be his best friend but he’s still a dick. And anyway, I wouldn’t mind having some more blackmail on him,” a cheeky smirk appears on his face and I let out a light laugh. Taking out my own phone, I stare at the wallpaper for a second before opening it to my contacts. After I put in his number, Chanyeol offered to walk me to class. I spot Kyungsoo and Jongin eyeing us by the stairs, so I declined.

“No, it’s okay, I’m going to meet Lisa. But thanks anyway and also thanks for you know, coming to check on me. You didn’t have too,” Chanyeol shakes his head, a cute smile on his lips.

“I wanted to. And I meant what I said, you can call me whenever, at any time I don’t care,” Chanyeol reaches out and places his large hand on my shoulder and squeezes it gently. “You’ll be okay, Y/N.” With one last smile, he walks off to where the Kyungsoo and Jongin are waiting by the staircase. I turn around and spot Lisa standing by the library entrance, a confused look on her face. 

“What the hell was that about?” she asks, I just shrug unsure myself. As soon as we walk around the corner, Baekhyun comes up the stairs. His eyes widen as he spots me, quickly he dashes towards me, shouting my name, Chanyeol grabs a hold of him before he can reach me.

“No, man, you’ve done enough,” Chanyeol growled, Baekhyun’s eyes darken and was about to resort when Kyungsoo step in. 

“Now’s not the time, we’ve got class come on!” He and Jongin tug the two boys away from Lisa and me. I sigh in relief, looking at Lisa whose eyes are trained on their retreating figures. 

“I can’t wait to go home and forget about this,” I complain, beginning to walk to class, Lisa hums beside me. In class, I think about Chanyeol’s words about me being okay and I just hope it’s true. I know one thing for sure; Baekhyun is going to regret fucking cheating on me.

[annaraebananawriter]

Be Proud of the Small Steps

Hey, I actually posted two things of writing today! I’m proud of myself. Then again, I have been up all night and Ch. 16 was finished yesterday so...however, I’m still proud of myself regardless.

Now, this Oneshot is mostly just a message to me. I’m currently five days clean of self-harm and i just...needed something to remind me that that was good enough. That it was a start. So, this came to be! It also mixed with an idea I’ve had for a bit, so it all worked out anyways.

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Dreamtale

Characters: Nightmare, Dream (Who belong to Joku) and mentioned Cross (Who belongs to Jakei)

Pairings: Implied/Referenced Cream/Xunshine

Warnings: Talk of Self-Harm, Self-Deprecation/Self-Hate, Implied/Referenced Depression, and I think that’s it? Let me know!

Word Count: 3456

~oOo~

Today was a rather…important day for Nightmare. It wasn’t important because it was a holiday or anniversary or any of those types of things. Rather, it was important because it held a certain memory that both his brother, Dream, and he would never forget.

Nightmare thought about it as soon as he woke up. He laid in bed for a minute, ignoring his alarm, just thinking and remembering that memory. When he decided to get up, he still thought about it, it just moved onto the back burner of his mind. There, but not intruding. He moved out of his room and down the stairs, following the smell of breakfast.

When he entered the kitchen, Dream greeted him. His brother was holding a spatula and was in the middle of flipping some eggs over. His eyes were a bit dim, as he also knew the significance of the day. It always held a bit more impact for Dream than it did Nightmare. By habit, his eyes went down and he was surprised to see bare arms. Luckily, all the marks were still old, but Dream had always covered them up on this day and Nightmare never told him not to. The change made him wonder.

The weight of the day hung between them as they sat and ate in silence, both wanting to talk but not wanting to make the first move. It was still a delicate subject.

Today marked three years since Dream has last cut.

It seemed silly to make such a big deal out of that. Three years seemed like enough time to just forget about what happened, put everything behind them and move on. And sometimes, that was what happened. Sometimes, that was what someone needed to do. Although, that was rare. Most of time, even making it a day would hold so much importance it could be overwhelming. And if a day was that that, three years seemed impossible or unreal. It would remain that way until the milestone actually came.

Nightmare had been so scared, back when he discovered Dream’s secret. The image he had of his brother fractured, becoming too jagged to ever fit back in place. They had lied on the floor around him as he thought to himself, what should he do now? He was in a new game; one he was a beginner at. He had no clue what the controls were yet. There was only one thing he was sure of and that was that he needed to convince Dream to stop.

And that wouldn’t be easy. He had read stuff about this topic before. He knew that the habit was addicting and he knew that it was hard to stop. He had read it, but he had never thought he would need to heed it before. But he didn’t want to make the wrong move. Not now. Not ever. And there was another tricky part.

Dream didn’t know that Nightmare knew about his habit.

Nightmare hadn’t discovered him in the act. Dream had never told him. There had been nothing to give away what was hiding behind the long sleeves. All Nightmare had to go off, was some bloody bandages that made a daily appearance in the bathroom trash. And that little thing was just enough evidence. There weren’t many reasons they would be there, after all.

The reason this whole thing was tricky, was that Nightmare now had an obstacle between him and getting Dream to stop cutting.

And that was that he had to confront Dream.

~oOo~

He remembered it clearly.

He had spent the whole night pacing his room, ruling out so many words and scenarios that he could use. None of then sit right with him. Either it was too bland, too fake, too hesitant, too scolding, too anything wrong. It left him even more anxious than when he had started. He had no clue how to do this. He was an idiot for ever thinking he could. Maybe if he just ignored it, Dream would handle things on his own. He knew that he was wrong before he could finish the thought.

However, there was something good in this mess. Dream and Nightmare would be home alone today. Their parents had gone to a business meeting across the country and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. That gave Nightmare time. Time to talk to Dream, time to think everything through, time to research some ways to stop someone from hurting themselves.

It didn’t help him from being nervous. He stood outside of Dream’s door, hyping himself up to knock. It didn’t work and he continued staring. This wasn’t easy. It wouldn’t be easy to go up to someone’s door and confront them about their unhealthy ways of hurting themselves and convince them to stop, or at least try to. Nightmare swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment and knocked before he could convince himself to walk away and try again later.

His eyes opened just as the door in front of him did. Dream blinked back at him, leaning against the door. His brother smiled. “What can I do for you, brother?”

If he didn’t know any better, he would say Dream was perfectly happy. But as he looked, he saw the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he had a sliver of white showing underneath his sweater, the light bags under his eyes. And above all, the slightly unfocused look in his eyes, like he was just doing something and was still working off the aftereffects of it.

Nightmare narrowed his eyes and started things before he could back out. “Can we talk?”

Dream tilted his head, confused. “Uh…sure.” He stepped back to make room for Nightmare to walk past him. “Come on in.”

Dream’s room was mostly yellow themed. A few stray items were thrown in, but it kept it's aesthetic overall. Pale yellow wallpaper, no designs on it, just a solid colour. Dark yellow bed, with stuffed animals on it and two pillows buried underneath them all. Dark brown hardwood floor with a yellow rug. Posters, paintings, books. It was a cute room. It fit his brother perfectly and he couldn’t imagine him harming himself in a place like this.

It made him sad to think about it.

Dream sat on his bed, right hand playing with his comforter. He always played with something when he was nervous. It made Nightmare feel batter that he wasn’t the only one feeling like this. He took the desk chair. They at in silence for a few seconds. Nightmare racked his brain for one of the ways to start this that he hadn’t ruled out but thought of none. They were all garbage.

“So,” Dream said, “what did you want to talk about?”

How to start things…did he start by saying that he knew? Or was that too direct? Should he be subtle about it, let Dream piece things together? Or should he leave, make up an excuse and let his brother come to him in time? No, that wouldn’t work. Dream wouldn’t come to him. He would try and deal with all of this on his own because he didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems.

For someone who self-harms, their loved ones finding out is one of their greatest fears. They know what they’re doing is wrong and that they should get help, but they don’t want to make anyone sad, like they are. They don’t think their problems should be shared, don’t think that it should be lifted. They caused it, so they need to fix it.

Nightmare hated that line of thinking. He wanted to help Dream. Dream was his brother. He loved him. So much, that he wanted to share his problems, help the other get through them and be stronger. He wanted that. He loved Dream, and so he would move mountains to make sure he was happy. He needed Dream to see that. He couldn’t ignore that his brother was hurting right in front of him and try and wait for Dream to come to him. He needs to make the first move.

So, he will. “Lately, I’ve been seeing these bloodied bandages in the trash in the bathroom.” Nightmare said, keeping his eyes on Dream, who stilled, eyes staring right past him. “They appear there almost every day. It’s a little concerning, to be honest. And I know that they’re not Mom or Dad’s, as they have their own bathroom.” He tilted his head. “We’re the only two who use that bathroom, and I know for a fact those bandages aren’t mine.”

Dream clenched a handful of the comforter. Nightmare paused a minute. He knew Dream didn’t want to hear this. He wanted to be anywhere but here. But he had to do this. He couldn’t let Dream continue to destroy himself.

His voice turned soft. “Which leaves you, Dream.”

“I’m fine.” Dream said coldly, his voice stiff and clipped. His shoulders were tense as well. “Everything’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Dream stood up suddenly. There was a fire in his eyes, not one of anger, but one of fear and panic. He was hurting and directing that hurt at himself, mostly. “Why do you even care? You haven’t cared for years. You can’t start now.” His hands were shaking slightly. “You can’t.”

Well, that stung.

It was something he deserved, however, so he let it happen. Let it wash over him, making sure to acknowledge it and let it go. Yes, he made so many mistakes. Yes, he shouldn’t have left Dream alone. But that was in the past now. He wanted to make up for that. He had to make up for being such a fool.

Dream needed to see that. He was hurting and Nightmare had to lessen that, make sure he knew that, despite everything, he never stopped caring about his brother. Never. And he wouldn’t ever stop, either.

Nightmare stood up slowly as well. “I care. I always have, Dream. I never stopped. I admit, it was wrong of me to ignore and avoid you. I’m sorry. I hope that, one day, you can forgive me. But this isn’t about me.” He took a step towards his brother, who scurried back. “You’re the one that’s hurting, Dream. I want to help you.” Dream shook his head. “Please, let me help you.”

Dream shook his head again, harder, and Nightmare could see the shine of tears on his eyes. It pulled at him, made him feel guilty for causing it, but he had to. He had to get through to him. His brother took a few more steps back. “No.” His voice was shaky now. “Get out. Get out of my room.”

Nightmare was silent. They both knew that if he left, Dream would be in a dangerous place, a place he should never be in. If he left, Dream might do something very bad. Just like how cornered animals were highly dangerous, a cornered person, who was very emotionally unstable, was easy to aggravate and push off the edge.

Nightmare also shook his head and took another step. “I don’t think I should do that, Dream.”

Dream tensed, scowling. The panic in him was over spilling. Nightmare had to wrap this up. Quickly. “Get. Out!”

His brother reached forward, as if to push Nightmare away and make a break for it, but he had other plans. He grabbed his brother’s arms (gently, of course), and pulled Dream forward into a hug. He felt Dream tense and struggle, but he kept his grip firm. He wouldn’t let the other break out of this, not until he said everything he meant to say.

“I’m sorry.” He felt Dream still for a second for increasing his struggling, desperate not to listen to him. “I’m really, really sorry. I should never have left you alone. It’s my fault you’re hurting.” Nightmare felt his own vision blur and his eyes become wet, but he blinked past everything. “You don’t have to forgive me. Just…let me help you. You’re the brightest thing in the world, and I don’t want you to burn out, ever. You deserve to shine.” He tightened his grip. “Please.”

Dream shifted, having given up escaping. “It’s not your fault.”

Nightmare closed his eyes, reigning himself back in. “Then whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“That’s not true, either.” Nightmare pulled back, now that he was sure Dream wasn’t going to force him away. His brothers stared back at him, tired and defeated. “It is most definitely and will never be your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Dream smiled sadly. “It’s hard not to.”

Nightmare tipped his head. “I know.” He took a breath and prepared himself. “Will you let me help you?”

Dream looked away, struggling with himself. He twisted the end of his sweater around.

Nightmare waited. He had gotten what he wanted to say out. That was all he wanted. He was prepared to hear whether Dream would let him help or not. No matter what, he would respect it. Hopefully, even if he said no now, knowing Nightmare was there waiting would give Dream a little boost. If he needed him, he would be there and hopefully, that would be enough to ward off any bad things.

It would hurt him to stay waiting, but he would do it. He wanted Dream to be comfortable, after all. If he said no, he would wait and maybe help in the shadows, just…asking if the other was okay every now and then. That would be good.

Dream looked back at him and asked, “Can I think about it?”

It wasn’t a yes, not exactly. But it wasn’t a no, either.

Nightmare smiled. “Of course.”

~oOo~

Dream wouldn’t get back to him with an answer until a few days later. The whole time, Nightmare had waited, just like he said he would. He had kept his promise, even if it was mostly to himself. When Dream eventually approached him, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up, revealing the scars, all he did was smile.

His brother shifted on his feet. “Okay,” Dream said, barely above a whisper, “you can help.”

Nightmare nodded. “Thank you.”

He only got a small smile in return before Dream left, but that didn’t matter. Dream had trusted him. Dream was going to trust him. That was the best news he had heard in his life. It made his heart soar. He made another promise to himself that he wouldn’t rest until Dream was better. He would keep the fragile trust he had been given and, hopefully, given time, help it grow into something strong enough to withstand anything.

He would not let Dream down again.

He wouldn’t.

~oOo~

Back in the present, Nightmare, after setting his dishes in the sink, turned and watched Dream for a minute. His brother had gotten a call while they were eating and was now chatting animatedly, his plate still in front of him. He had a big smile on his face and his eyes were bright. He looked genuinely happy.

These past three years have been…full, for lack of a better word. There had been many ups and downs for both of the brothers. Dream had relapsed a few times, the first time being the roughest. He had been hysterical, apologizing over and over. It had been a while before Nightmare could calm him down, remind him that it was okay. Relapsing didn’t mean he failed. It was a natural part of overcoming it. It was okay.

Nightmare, on the other hand, had been so stressed one night that he had snapped and said some hurtful things. It had been his turn to apologize repeatedly. Dream had remained silent for a while and that only worsened his worries. He felt so bad, so angry at himself that he had broken his promise again. It had taken Dream’s soft and light hug to calm him down enough to listen to him. That he was forgiven, it was alright. He understood that he was trying and that was enough. Everything was still going to be alright, for both of them.

But somehow, together, they made it through. They had reached three years. It seemed like only yesterday Nightmare was worrying over how to approach Dream safely. It was insane to think about. But, remembering everything, looking at how happy Dream is now…

It made everything worth it.

Dream giggled once more and said his goodbyes, hanging up his phone. He fell silent, staring at his phone with a smile. While he was thinking, Nightmare moved and took his plate from him, placing it in the sink. He contemplated doing the dishes right away, but decided not to. There was time for that tomorrow.

He turned back to Dream. “So,” he said, drawing the word out to make Dream look up from his phone. “what part of that phone call has you so happy?”

His brother laughed, setting his phone down. There was a light blush on his face that already gave him his answer. “Cross called. He’s coming by later to, as he said exactly, ‘smother you in my undying love for the rest of the day.’” Dream shifted, smile still present. “You know him. He’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Nightmare did know Cross. At first, he had been a bit suspicious of the other. Dream had just gotten through a rough bit and all of a sudden there was a guy that seemed too nice, at least to him. To Dream, it seemed like love at first sight. Cross had spoiled him with so many gifts at the beginning of their relationship, as a way to show he truly meant that he was being true and real, not acting on Dream’s heart.

Dream had trusted him pretty fast. Nightmare did not. He hadn’t trusted him until, during one of Dream’s episodes where he was mostly stuck in his head, not responding to anyone in the physical world. He had been trying to get Dream to come back, but nothing he had tried had worked, even the ones that had worked for other episodes. It was a bit confusing. The Cross comes through the front door without knocking and, as soon as he addresses Dream, his brother blinks and seems brighter, like he had come back to earth.

Seeing that had made Nightmare pause and rethink things. Maybe Cross was being genuine. It had only been months since he had met Dream and already, he had such a bond with him. It seemed to be just as strong as the one with Nightmare himself, something he didn’t think would ever happen. It put him out a bit, to know Dream didn’t need only him anymore, but the proudness overtook the feeling easily. The fact that Dream was branching out meant that he was really getting better. He should be proud. He was proud.

He had strived to be more open to Cross. It worked and now it was like Cross had always been there. He helped so much, and he was so sweet to Dream to boost. Nightmare approved of him.

“That’s good.” Nightmare tilted his head, gazing going back Dream’s arms. There still wasn’t an explanation for that. He decided to be straightforward this time. He trusted his brother to be honest with him. “Is that why you’re wearing short sleeves today?”

Dream straightened, his hand automatically coming up and resting on his arms in an unconscious attempt to hide them. “No, actually. It’s not.” He shrugged one of his shoulders. “I just…wanted to try something new.” He looked over to Nightmare. “You get it?”

Nightmare tilted his head. It meant so much to him that Dream was trying this. Even if it was only for today (especially today of all days), it would still be progress. It made him smile. “Yeah, I do.” He started to say something he had taken to saying every time there was a bump or a step forward: “Be proud—”

“—of the small steps.” Dream joined him, as he knew this by heart now too. He rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “I know.”

Nightmare laughed. “Just making sure.”

Because it was true. He said this so that Dream remembered it: be proud of the small steps. No matter how small they were or what they were, they mattered. If it was an hour clean, good. If it was getting out of bed, maybe just sitting up, good. If it was going outside, just to your car, then good.

It didn’t matter what the step was.

It always counted.

[notdeadyet09]

The gift

Read on Ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314749

ship: Wayleka

Warnings : Jeremiah is creepy and Bruce needs therapy. Also some mild gore

Jeremiah was like a cat, Bruce had surmised before picking up the box on his porch. Always leaving dead things on his porch.

It was a pretty box, Bright stripes, and dots tattooed on the skin covering it (he was wearing gloves). A bow and card in red ink detailing a warning that might have been something to fret over 3 years ago.

They weren’t the same people they were 3 years ago either. Now he stood a little bit taller, the need to shave happening more (not as often as he would have liked) and smiles coming a bit easier.

Bruce was still a serious boy, usually dressed in all black and a frown naturally taking over his face but now his eyes lit up more often and he seemed more relaxed. Jeremiah liked to think that he was responsible for that.

He opened the box once he got inside, Alfred sighing about teenagers and clowns. Inside was a red rose, the thorns dipped in what Bruce knew wasn’t strawberry jelly. The blue latex of his glove turned slightly purple with the blood. It was a nice gift, considering the last one was a severed ring finger with the ring still on it (not a proposal, they had both made it clear that they weren't ready). But Bruce was getting tired of burning skin boxes. Alfred was too judging by the look he was giving the 19-year-old.

Bruce hardly noticed, instead choosing to put the rose in a vase. The blood washed away, the clarity of the water showing slightly pink. The petals would wilt in a week unless this was one of Ivy’s little monsters (Bruce doubted it seeing as the girl wasn't in Arkham and never really liked Jerimiah). Turning back around to his Butler watching the slightly disapproving look on his face “You're not going to stop me."

“I’m not planning on it. I’m just worried about you Master Wayne,”

Ever since Bruce had pulled Jeremiah back from the guardrail at Ace Chemicals and the clown had gone to Arkham; the gifts were a constant. They started small of course, a box of chocolates that had been thrown away as soon as they had arrived. Bruce had always wondered what was in those.

The first independent visit to Arkham had been filled with creepy, inherently wide-eyed glances through panes of glass. It had gotten easier after that though

"I know Alfred but I’m seriously ok. If anything goes wrong I can defend myself remember?” Another way these three years had paid off. He could fight, and now he could fight well .

Alfred merely sighed and stepped away from the threshold, Bruce deciding against wearing the heavy black jacket he seldom left the house without. He would have felt bare without it, like a naked babe in the woods, waiting for wolves to pounce had it not been for the plastic knife in his shoe and the iron chain in his pocket. Once placed on the magnets in his rings (gifts from Mr. Fox) they made surprisingly efficient iron knuckles.

He had also taken his phone with him, screen cracked from a run on with a mugger yesterday. She had been easy to take down but he needed to get that fixed

Leaving Wayne manor he looked up, the walls casting shadows along the grounds. The architecture hadn’t changed nor would it ever but it was home. A home plagued by tragedy upon tragedy but it hurt less now, now that Bruce had some people that he knew loved him. But it was still an imposing building, winding stairs and old wallpaper that even if Bruce died, would never change.

The back car, something expensive that would easily identify him waited in the driveway The humming of an engine and soft music were the only things Bruce could hear as he drove to Arkham. A home away from home, not that he’d ever admit it. Despite hating the treatment of inmates (he took them to court a year back and thighs have gotten better) and many people in there wanting his blood, it still held a sense of comfort .

Maybe he was crazy. Wouldn’t Jerimiah love to hear that.

Pulling up the asylum was the easy part, convincing himself to go in was harder. It had gotten easier over time, but he still felt the stab of guilt for all the people that he had let die by the inmates’ hands.

No bruce, you can’t save everyone! A voice that sounded suspiciously like Jeremiah reminded him. It was hard… he was getting used to it.

Walking through the front doors, he greeted the security guard with a head nod. They stiffened up, likely one of the people under Jerimiahs control. As much as Jeremiah hated to be similar to Jerome, there was no denying that they both were very good at getting people to follow them.

He lifted his eyes to one of the workers, seeing Echo’s stare back. She’d been working there for a while under some different name every time. Cold, calculating eyes and a fake warm smile filled her face.

“Hello Doctor Klovn, how are you today?” False pleasantries though they enjoyed each other's company were exchanged and a meeting with Jerimiah was arranged.

“Mr. Valeska will see you in meeting Room 3,” She spoke as if Bruce was then only about to be shoved in a room, chains around his wrists. She thanked him, walking down the hallways, noting the lack of silence. It was another thing Bruce (though he could convince himself that he didn’t) liked about the place. There was no silence, whether it be music that seemed oddly fitting for the old Asylum or screams (he preferred the music) of the less collected inmates.

The hallway was familiar, the same room that he had (for the first time without Ecco) seen Jerimiah in. Though it was easy to get turned around in here, walls looking the same, with the seldom decor to grace its walls. Something Bruce would try to work on. Though as many people had told him, he was not an interior decorator, the latest being Jerome. Jerome was dead, it was no question about it. After the fateful day at the graveyard; Bruce never went a week without checking on the grave, making sure that ginger-haired clown didn’t wake. Some might call it paranoia but anyone who had known Jerome knew that it was a precaution they needed to take. Bruce still had the faint white line on his neck and a few scars from when he had to dive staples out of his arm.

Jeremiah hated that, likely not for the reasons a sane person would. Maybe something about not being the first one to give him such scars or the fact that Jerome was gone, the marks he left on Bruce weren’t. Being an only child and (maybe?) not crazy Bruce never got it.

Entering the visitation room, with its white walls and silver table, Bruce took notice of the security cameras. It was a habit he had never known was one until Jeremiah pointed it out, saying something about looking for people who he didn’t know if they were there. Then he had said something about never having to worry about the camera’s being on him when he was talking with Jeremiah.

He kept true to that promise, the camera’s green light flickering off. Another constant since the beginning of these visits. No surveillance made Bruce feel free, most of his life being surrounded by flashing lights and Paparazzi hounds. He sat down in the uncomfortable chair across from the door that the gift-giver would be walking through.

Drumming his fingers on the metal, the almost silence becoming a little too much for him, he reminisced about the fateful day when they had figured out what this was

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“Y’know Bruce it is rather rude to lie… especially to me,” It was the 8th or 10th visits (numbers always varied when it came to Jeremiah) and they had finally ditched the glass between them.

“I’m not lying Jeremiah I’m just distracted,” Gordon had made an unusual comment about moving Jeremiah offshore, away from Gotham and away from Bruce. It had sent a sickly feeling to Bruce’s stomach. He wasn't sure why then.

“And what’s distracting you? He couldn’t lie, Jeremiah knowing more of his tells than he’d like.

“Something Jim said just made me think” It did make him think. Think about the sickly feeling and what caused it. Luckily the drive had helped him figure it out.

“You know I like it when tell me what’s on your mind Bruce,” Bruce had sighed, not really sure how to word it

“They were thinking of moving you offshore… I don’t agree,”

“And why is that Bruce?” A smile had made its way into Jeremiah's face, adoring and hopeful. This time Bruce knew what it was for. And he wasn’t sure if he’d like to go back to ignorance or confess to his crimes

“I would miss you,” Bruce confessed, not seeing Jeremiah's smile widen. If he had looked up he would have seen the (slightly mad but) Loving Away Jeremiah's eyes spoke. He would have seen the hands reaching for his.

He didn’t, only noticing those pale hands when they pulled his own up to Jeremiah's chest.

“You can feel that Bruce right? You know I would miss you too.” Bruce could indeed feel the frantic pounding of Jeremiah’s heart, the part of his mind he longed to destroy revealing in the notion that Bruce had some power in this dynamic.

“I know you would...Miah,” the nickname came out smoothly, a jump in Jeremiah’s heart to prove that it had worked.

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

The opening of the door broke Bruce’s memory, Dark eyes meeting stark green ones.

“How lovely it is to see you, Bruce,” Jeremiah’s tone was soft but happy, almost ignoring the guard that had walked him in.

Bruce simply nodded, not sure what the guard would think. It was foolish in Jeremiah's opinion and a little bit offending that Bruce didn’t think that Jeremiah would let someone not under his control walk him.

“Thank you Mr. Summer but you can leave now,” There it was again, the feeling that Jeremiah was the one in control, not the people who put him in these chains. Bruce watched the guard walk stiffly out the door, and Jeremiah sighed.

“I’m guessing he wasn’t very fun to work with,” Bruce said with no small amount of humor in his voice. Jeremiah peered into his eyes, watching them flicker to life with emotion. The clown always liked when Bruce allowed himself to show that fire, a little voice that still sounded like his brother saying that Jerome was the one who put it there. Jeremiah promptly ignored it.

“He was too easy. All I had to do was tell him how much better life would be if he just followed me and boom! He’s like a sick puppy,” Bruce noted to the obvious line with a sigh, as he had already seen the slight terror on his face when Jeremiah had spoken to them.

“And what kind of boom are we talking about, Miah?” Jeremiah laughed, a cold sound that only Bruce could recognize as genuine. Bruce was straight, of course, I mean what’s a little manipulation with threats. An invisible bomb in his mother's room or a promise of pain if Mr. Summer ever betrayed him.

“I’m guessing you got my gift,” Jeremiah was smiling, knowingly as Bruce bristled. The small part of him that recognized Jeremiah for the mad man that he was really didn’t like the way that Jeremiah looked at him.

“Yes, the skin made it feel especially romantic,” Bruce replied with false anger, the glare all but disappearing seeing the adoring way Jeremiah looked at him. Handcuff shined brightly as he reached up, cold hands taking Bruce’s in a tight grip. Bruce rubbed Jeremiah’s thumb with his own, a feudal attempt to warn them up. It was pleasant Jeremiah thought, the way Bruce openly expressed affection. It was a stark reminder of what they were three years ago when the only way Bruce would touch him was in anger,

“Only a rose, seldom as beautiful and half as deadly as you could prove as a gift to you,” it was poetic, in the way Edgar Allen Poe was, like a clown’s greasepaint, beautiful but slightly off. Something that would haunt a small child’s dreams and nightmare.

“You’re insane Jeremiah,” Bruce said with as much of a loving smile as someone like Bruce Wayne could make.

It was debatable, the insane nature of Jeremiah Valeska. The gas laid as a trapped by Jerome, or the almost offensive love he held for Bruce. Of course, Jeremiah would never call himself crazy as it was easy (far too easy) to convince himself that he was sane. That he was doing all of this for one purpose. One man.

“If I’m insane then you are just as crazy as I am,” Both of them noted the familiar words said by the other Valeska. They ignored it, Bruce because he seldom tried to think about the dead man and Jeremiah out of pure spite.

“How is Arkham treating you?” Changing the subject was something that Bruce was good at. Though it was questioned Bruce had asked every single visit. Always said with the same amount of faked aloofness.

“I’ll be out soon,” A different answer surprised Bruce. He’d be getting out. It wasn’t surprising that we would. No, but it was surprising that he planned to.

Jeremiah, over the course of three years, had only escaped twice. But the general public only knew about the second one. The first, almost 27 months ago. A Private visit (kidnapping Bruce corrected) in an old church.

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They had just had the fateful 8th or 10th visit and Jeremiah wanted answers. He had got them anyway. And Bruce had gotten answers to his own questions

“Why would you miss me, Bruce?” A question that maybe Bruce had the right answer for.

An answer that would mean that Jeremiah was right. That they did have a connection.

“Because… you were my…” Bruce had tired of not wanting to say the words he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

“I was your what?”

“You were someone I loved,” And there it was. Shocking the person who said it and the person who heard it. Loved. Past tense of course, as Bruce wasn’t able to admit that maybe the love wasn’t all gone yet.

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“Back to causing trouble?” Bruce said only slightly exasperated.

“Only for you my dear, always for you,” Another smile that three years ago Bruce would’ve flinched at. Now he met it with a smile of his own.

“I know Jeremiah, I know,”

And Bruce did know, having finally seen it after all of this time. They were all different people, but the most being Gotham’s Dark Knight. Jeremiah’s Prince.

[urimaginespimp]

Michael Gray: Better Man pt 14

Olivia was still half asleep when she felt that something heavy was draped across her torso. And when she finally fluttered her eyes open, the first thing she saw was a wallpaper that definitely is in her apartment, but definitely wasn't the one in her room.

The body beside her slightly moved, and that's when the events the night prior finally came back to her.

Turning to face Michael, he appeared to be still sound asleep. She took the opportunity to just look at him. It bothered her that him sleeping shirtless still had the same effect on her.

Seeing him like this brought her back to mornings when they chose to stay in for a little bit longer in bed; Either being intimate, just holding each other, or just being playful - only to be disrupted by Tommy's booming voice entering the house, threatening them both that they'd better be decent when he comes in, and that they're already an hour late.

Because no matter how he tried to act unbothered from seeing John and Esme before, he once let it slip to her in between drinks that it scarred him.

Keeping herself from laughing at the memory, she decided to look at Michael's sleeping face. She had always told him before that whenever he was asleep, he still looks like the same innocent kid when he first came to Birmingham. But looking at him now, she doesn't think that the same could be said.

He's gotten a lot more handsome, there's no room for argument on that, but he also has this air around him. Kind of the same one you'd get around Thomas.

But thank the heavens that Michael still knows how to smile.

"There's no old man behind me you're staring at again, right?" Michael asked in a deep voice, smirking at her with his eyes still shut.

"No, but its bold of you to assume that I was staring at you when you haven't even opened your eyes yet." She reasoned, trying to sound smooth.

Finally opening his eyes, his blue orbs in a still slightly dimmed room were now looking back at her.

"Hi." He smiled at her, arm still on her waist.

"Hi." She replied shyly. "How was your sleep?"

"The best one I had in years." he answered, tightening his arm around her waist to pull her closer. "You?"

"Eh... I've had better." She teased.

"Of course, you have..." he yawned. "Still was with me though." He smirked at her.

"Michael it's like 7 in the morning. You shouldn't be this arrogant." She said, making him laugh.

Shaking his head, he raised his arm from her waist and touched the ends of her hair.

Looking at his knuckles, she took notice of how some parts of them had little light scars, possibly from old cuts.

"Have you been fighting a lot back home?" She asked him.

"Bigger business means more danger." He answered, still touching with her hair. "Your hair is still the same length from two years ago." He observed.

"I did cut it above my shoulders when I got here." What she said got his full attention.

"What are the chances I'd see it in the near future?"

"When I'll feel like it... Which won't be that long from now." She smiled.

She has been thinking of getting it shorter again. She just couldn't be bothered to style long locks every day.

Loud knocks were made on Michael's door.

"Oi you two! Having a guest in the apartment is not the time to be locked all day in the bedroom." Ada exclaimed from outside.

Olivia sprang on her feet and rushed to open the door.

Expecting to be met with a scowling Ada, she was actually faced with a smug knowing look.

"Good morning, Olivia." her eyes were full of mischief. If there was something she and Ada really bonded over when they were younger, it was eavesdropping in family meetings by pressing their ears against the wall when they weren't allowed in. Now with how her friend was looking at her, there might be a possibility that she heard last night's conversation.

"Good morning." She greeted back, almost embarrassed at the possibility that she did hear them, and excused herself to the kitchen before her friend could see how red she'd gotten.

"Great morning, Michael?" she heard her ask him with a teasing tone. -------- The three of them were sitting together and enjoying breakfast when Michael asked her something.

"What tie should I get for the charity gala, luv?"

"A gala?" Ada asked, intrigued.

"We, I mean Livy has been invited by a client to their charity gala which will be two weeks from now, and I'm her plus one." Michael informed his cousin.

"Oh, I almost forgot about that. I got a letter saying it's pushed back for another two weeks. Any would do, Michael. I'll just wear an old dress anyway." She answered.

"Like hell you are?!" Ada exclaimed.

"Ada I'm not comfortable going dress shopping alone. You know that."

"Well I'm still here, aren't I?" She beamed. "You're still stuck with me 'til tomorrow."

"You don't have any agenda at work today." Michael reminded her. "But I can go down there by myself just in case someone comes looking for you."

"Are you sure you're okay with that?" She asked him.

"Better for you to miss than get sick of me." Michael answered, winking at her.

Ada scoffed but was trying not to smile at them. --------

"I like it, but the only problem is it's red." Ada said, touching her chin while looking at the nth dress she was fitting.

"I thought red is my color?" Olivia was confused. They've been going dress after dress in New York for over two hours now.

"Undoubtedly, yes. But it's also Michael's favorite color." She answered.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Well, every dress you wore on formal events back home were shades of red. Don't you want to give yourself a nice change for once, and be unexpected to your date?" Ada reasoned out.

She had a great point. Back in Birmingham, it was red, after red, after red, in any party they went to. Michael loved it on her, she felt sultry in it too. A change out of her usual 'business' fashion. But she had to admit, her choosing red over and over again, had a lot more to do with getting Michael's praises.

"I've always wanted to wear a black dress in a party." She beamed at Ada.

"Say no more." Her friend smiled at her proudly. -------- Ada and her just got out of a cafe after having lunch.

With her dress all covered and securely placed on her right arm, and new shoes in a box on the other, the wind blew from her back, causing some of her hair to go forward, some of it to even landed on face which annoyed her. "Ada?" She turned to her friend whose hands were also full with new clothes she bought. "Would you mind accompanying me while I get my hair cut?"

--------

His mind recalls the note Finn gave him that morning.

As much as he wanted to be angry at Tommy for sending him away, he couldn't. Not when it was under his mercy that he even got to be here. He was hellbent on not telling him where she was the day prior, but what made him change his mind? He knew his mother talked to him, but when has Tommy ever listened to her?

Michael was in Olivia's office the entire day, just sitting and playing with a mini hourglass he found on her desk. They've been gone for hours.

He doesn't know how many times he has flipped it over, and was starting to regret even teasing about making her miss him earlier, as it seems that the tables have turned. Trying not to sound like a simpleton, he decided to just make his eyes roam around the place.

Olivia's office wasn't as big as the one they had in Birmingham, nor was it really small. But the furniture, the color pallet screamed her. If he would just have came in without even knowing that this was her office, one look around would definitely remind him of her.

Who knew getting exiled would actually bring him to this - making up with the only woman he's come to love besides his mums, and actually getting in-touch again with the reality that he wasn't a god. Yes, his family was powerful, but they were no near being godlike.

The address that was written on the note wasn't what bothered him, it was the one written below it. Tommy told him himself years ago that she was actually doing well on her own, and not to come and ruin her life again. So why did his note below the address tell him to do the opposite?

The hourglass had just finished again. Flipping it once more, he stood up from her chair and transferred on the couch to lie down for a bit. After some time, he drifted off for a nap.

Michael. A voice called him. Michael wake up.

Slowly opening his eyes, a smiling Olivia sitting beside his lying body was the first thing he saw. Then he noticed something new.

"Your hair..." He sat up. It was now resting just above her shoulders. "You look breathtaking, luv." Moving closer to her face, she thought he was going to kiss her, when he reached out to touch the ends of her hair.

Trying not to shake off the disappointment, she told him. "Ada's back home. We actually thought you'd be back there when we got home, so I went down here by myself." She smiled at him.

"I didn't realize that I fell asleep."

"Well dinner's waiting back home." She stood up and offered her hand for him to take.

He took it and stood up as well, taking his coat on his arm, and they locked up the place to walk home together.

[socially-awkward-lvl-over9000]

Welcome to RAD

Notes: Continuation of my OC/Self Insert. Part one is here, part two is here. Should I make a master list?

This turned out longer than I had hopped. I forgot how much of the intro was just Lucifer talking your ear off.

That night Satan was summoned as per his request. He noted how she was getting better at summoning him by herself, without him willing himself to be summoned. He was greeted with the familiar sight of the small brunette, though less anxious as she was when they first met. “So, what’s up?” Before he was able to speak the loud sound echoed through the house that sounded like a door opening. He watched the blood drain from her face as she quickly pushed him over to the closet. “Hide now, please don’t make a sound.” Even as a whisper the blond demon felt the pact seal his mouth shut and his body let him be pushed into the closet at the command.

He felt his temper flare up as he wanted to demand what was going on, but his angry thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging of knocks that he could hear from the closet. “Why are you still awake?!” Satan could tell the voice was male, most likely her father.

“I’m just changing, I’m heading to bed now.” Satan looked at the clock on his D.D.D. It was only just after 9 at night, he didn’t understand why a seventeen year old was being told to go to bed so early. She sounded frightened, and Satan started to understand why she hid him.

He heard some more yelling but Satan had already heard enough to understand the situation. His anger was no longer directed at Allie, but the man that was in the process of stomping out of the old house. A good few minutes after he had left, after the brunette was sure her father was gone, he was let out of the closet. “Sorry about that.” He observed how she was still shaking slightly as he felt the hold of her pact order fall from him.

She got out of his way and sat on her bed as he made his way out of the hiding place he was shoved into. “It’s fine, just don’t do that again.”

“Sorry, but if dad had seen you…” She trailed off, thinking he was talking about being shoved into the closet.

“Not that, don’t use your pact on me again.” Satan thought she had found out about how to use her hold on their pact on her own. There was no way she unintentionally used it.

Though her confused look said otherwise. “Used my pact? What do you mean?”

There was no reason for Satan to believe she was lying, plus it wasn’t like he knew everything about pacts. “I didn’t mention this when we first made the pact, and I’ve avoided mentioning it but, as the pact holder you are able to use your pact with a demon to command them. When a command is issued with the pact the demon has to obey, even if they don’t want to.”

Her eyes widened at the implication. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t- but how did I- I didn’t mean to.” She didn’t want to force him to do anything, she just really wanted didn’t want her dad to see him.

There was really nothing that could come from dwelling on it so Satan decided it was best to change the subject to why he was there in the first place. “Here.” He handed her the paperwork that he had been handed before he was summoned. “There is going to be an exchange program in the Devildom, and you’ve been chosen to participate.”

She took the small amount of paperwork and looked it over. “Exchange program?” The paperwork was simple stuff, asking for her name, date of birth, any allergies, medication, etc.

She skimmed over the explanation, how she would be spending a year in the Devildom, while the demon that delivered the news sat down to play with her cat. “What if I say no?” Satan didn’t even have to answer as he casually flipped to the last page and pointed at the last bit of text at the bottom. “Even if you do not fill out this paperwork you will still be summoned to the Devildom for this Student Exchange Program. Thank you for your participation.”

“Signed Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom.” Satan finished. “I don’t believe declining is an option.”

The brunette sighed and accepted her fate, but before she started on the paperwork another worry popped in her head. “How am I going to explain this….” She had just finished senior year not too long ago and her dad was expecting her to get a job, and she doubted her dad would be okay with this. “And I don’t really want to leave Kira alone, my dad hates cats…”

The demon could see why she would worry about those things. Between the scene he heard and the new information of her dad’s opinion of cats, Satan was starting to think her dad might be as bad as Lucifer. “You can put Kira as your familiar, then you can most likely take her with you. As for how to explain all of this, I believe there is some sort of plan, I don’t know if it’ll be an effective plan but I assume they have some sort of plan.”

Most of the night was filled with Satan helping her fill out her paperwork and trying to keep her from panicking. “A week?! I seriously only have a week to prepare for a whole year?! In Hell!”

She was pacing now. Normally Satan would have lost his temper by now, but he was surprisingly calm. His main concern was calming her down right now. “You only need to bring any immediate essentials or things you can’t replace. You’ll be given an allowance to buy other things you’ll need while you’re there.” Most of this was explained in the paperwork, but Satan figured hearing it voiced might reach her panicked state a bit better. He stood up and stopped her from pacing. “Do you want me to help you pack? That way you don’t have to worry about it all week.” The blond felt an unfamiliar emotion bubble in him when the human face planted into his shoulder and nodded. He felt the urge to hold her there, but he didn’t know why. He felt her worry and exhaustion as she fiddled with her pact mark. He had yet to tell her he could feel her when she touched his mark on her thigh, but some part of him didn’t want to for fear of her to stop.

It was almost dawn when the pair was done. She had a Coca-Cola duffle bag filled with some clothes and some essentials. She also had a backpack with a few books, CDs, her laptop, and headphones. Kira’s carrying case was also packed with the kittens favorite toys and a few snacks, though most of her kitten's stuff couldn’t be packed till right before it was time to leave. Satan layed down on the girl's bed. “I’m going to sleep here now.” He was tired, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get much, if any, sleep before class started.

He wasn’t serious though because the human that occupied the room reacted the way he expected. “Oh no you aren’t. Come on, get up.” He actually let himself laugh a little as she grabbed his hand and tugged on his arm till he stood up. “Thank you for helping me, but I gotta send you home now.”

She sent him back to the Devildom, where he got lectured for being out all night. He couldn’t care though, the blond felt almost… excited to have the small brunette in there, where he could see her every day. All he had to do was wait one week, the entire week he had been texting her and keeping her updated as he found out information on her stay. In that one week he found that she would be staying in The House of Lamentation, like the third exchange student, that Satan was going to be in charge of taking care of her, and that, with the information she gave about ways to keep her calm, she was going to be in Levi’s room until her room was finished. Satan didn’t know how he felt about that one. It made sense though, he knew she had a love for the ocean and the water was calming for her, plus it was only temporary. They only had one guest room ready, so they needed to clear out another one for Allie.

The week passed and after the three angels came Asmo with his pact holder Solomon, then it was Satan’s turn to go get Allie. He sent her a text telling her it was time and he was summoned. It was one of the first times he had been summoned during the day. The white floral wallpaper seemed almost two bright under the light from her windows. Allie stood there, clearly nervous, with her backpack, duffle bag, and cat carrier. This was also the first time she summoned him when she wasn’t in pajamas. She wore a simple blue tee shirt with a butterfly print on it and baggy jeans. “You ready?” She seemed too nervous to speak, but her kitten meowed to let everyone know she wanted out of her carrier. “Hey, I’ll be right there with you.” He held out his hand and had an actual smile as she took it.

“Is that your school uniform?” Satan realized this was the first time she had seen him in his uniform, today was a day of a lot of firsts.

“Yes, you’ll be wearing something similar at RAD.” With a flash of light the timid human found herself in the student council room of RAD in the Devildom.

She was startled at first by the cheerful voice of the demon prince himself. “Hello, and welcome to the Devildom Allie.” She assumed he was Lord Diavolo, since he was the only one in a different colored uniform. His red uniform matched his hair, but everyone else was in black. “I’m sure you know why you’re here.” The small girl nodded, still holding Satan’s hand. Diavolo was intimidating, to say the least. “Well, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Diavolo, I am the ruler of all demons. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo, though we only call it RAD. Right now you’re standing in the assembly hall, where we officers of the student council Gould our meetings. I am the president of said student council.” The demon prince paused, though the human still didn’t seem too keen on speaking. “This is Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride.” He gestured over to a man with black hair with grey tips and red eyes. “He is also the Vice President of the student council and my right hand man.”

Allie had remembered hearing a few stories about Lucifer from Satan, the older demon seemed to be the cause of most of the blond haired demon's anger. Lucifer smiled at her, but it seemed more like a just a polite smile rather than a genuine one. “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, Allie.”

Said human was able to mutter out a small, “H-Hi.” With an awkward hand wave. To say she felt out of place and in over her head was an understatement.

The Avatar of Pride continued despite the awkward greeting. “Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationships with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step toward this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program.” Allie remembered some of this information in the paperwork she did a week beforehand, but having it spoke aloud helped her understand it better. “We have sent three of our students to the human world and three to the Celestial Realm, and we are welcoming six students to our school: three from your world and three from the Celestial Realm.” It was nice for Allie to know that she wasn’t the only human going to be here, even if it was only two others. “Since you already have a pact with Satan, you have been chosen as one of the humans to participate in this program of ours. Your period of stay is one year. You will have to work on tasks that you will receive from RAD. After one year, you will write a paper about your exchange here in the Devildom.” The human timidly raised her hand. “Yes, what is it?”

She almost resembled a frightened kitten as she spoke. “Um… what kind of tasks?”

“It’s similar to school work in your world, and speaking of such, here is your D.D.D.” The raven haired demon handed her a red smartphone. “Your cellphone from your world won’t work here, so this will be your new phone for as long as you’re here.”

The brunette let out a polite, “Thank you.” as she was handed the phone.

“You already know Satan, the fourth oldest, he will be the one mainly helping you through your year here.” Lucifer continued.

Before anything more could be said Diavolo stepped in again with his cheerful smile. “But Satan won’t be the only one helping you, why don’t you introduce your other brothers Lucifer?”

The demon in question sighed, he didn’t seem to actually want to do that. “Very well, I suppose I better have to. Mammon isn’t here at the present but I’m sure you will meet him soon enough.”

“You’d be better off if you didn’t though.” The purple haired man that seemed to be playing on his phone the entire time.

Lucifer looked unfazed by the interruption. “That’s Leviathan, though we mostly refer to him as Levi, he’s the third oldest and the Avatar of Envy.”

Levi looked up from his phone for the first time. “I’m a ‘that’? Oh I get it, it’s cause I’m just a yucky Otaku, huh. So not fair.” He seemed to sulk lower into his chair and went back to his phone.

Allie perked up a bit at the word Otaku. She hoped that meant the same thing here as it did in her world, if anime existed in the Devildom it would make staying a whole lot easier for her. Lucifer continued, ignoring his pouting younger brother. “And this is Beelzebub, the sixth oldest.”

The redheaded man he referred to looked grumpy to say the least. “I’m hungry, can I eat yet?”

That reminded Allie of something she had, and she was ever the one to try and be helpful. “Um… I have some chips if you want…”

the tall redhead perked up at that. “Really?” He got up and made his way over to the much smaller human as she nodded and put down her cat carrier and duffle bag to reveal a bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips from her backpack and handed them to the demon. “I like this human.” Said human smiled a bit at the words and the smile that her chips brought to Beelzebub. “You can call me Beel.”

Satan waited till Beel walked back to his seat to ask, “Why did you have chips?”

Allie just looked at his face, not his eyes still he noted, and replied, “My dad doesn’t like Sour Cream and Onion, but I do. I didn’t want to leave them and have them go bad.” It seemed like the most obvious thing to her, but then again Satan had already come to terms that this human was odd.

Once Beel was back in his seat Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off by the sound of the door opening. “I’m back~” A blond man walked through the doors and over to them in a way that reminded Allie of Angel from Rent. “Solomon is all set in Purgatory Hall.” His eyes fell on Allie. “Aw~ is this Satan’s pact holder? She’s so tiny and cute! Well... not as cute as me but still.”

Allie could hear the Avatar of Pride huff with exhaustion. “This is Asmodeus, he is the fifth oldest and the Avatar of Lust. Asmodeus, this is Allie, our second exchange student from the human world.”

“That’s me, but you can call me Asmo.” The Avatar of Lust walked over to the human that had only just let go of Satan’s hand. She kinda regretted letting go because she could feel her anxiety rising as Asmo approached her. “Dear, I appreciate your fondness of my shoes but my eyes are up here.” She was able to timidly look up to the man’s chest. “Further.” Slowly her gaze rose but right as she was about to look into his eyes… she blinked and looked at his hair. “Okay, rude, Satan did you already warn her about my gaze?”

Satan himself wanted to laugh. “No, I didn’t have to. She doesn’t look anyone in the eye, it probably has to do with her anxiety. Though I probably should warn you Allie, Asmodeus’ gaze can charm people and he can use that to manipulate you.”

Lucifer seemed to have enough of the interruption. “Sit down Asmodeus.” He waited for his younger brother to make his way to his seat before continuing. “There are Seven of us brothers in all, but not all of us are here. I am the oldest.”

Diavolo took it from there. “During your stay in the Devildom, the brothers will be here to help you along the way. You’ll also be staying in the House of Lamentation with them for your protection.”

The human nodded, she understood that this was the demon realm and that she couldn’t survive on her own, she was grateful they would let her stay with them. “Well, now that that’s done.” The eldest stood up from his own seat. “Satan and I will be showing you the way to the house, we have a few more things to discuss before we welcome our third exchange student. Levi, you come too.”

The purple haired boy looked surprised. “Eh! Why me?!”

Allie grabbed her bags as Satan led her to the door. Lucifer apparently wasn’t too keen on waiting on Levi. “I will explain at the house. Come or I will force you.” That got the other demon out of his chair. Allie held onto the back of Satan’s jacket, a habit of hers when she was nervous. She had no idea how she was going to survive this year.

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #25

character - Minho

words - 1710

warnings - n/a

description - AU where you’re the only female member of the Royal Guard and Prince Minho likes you.

a/n - requested anonymously; this is my first time trying to write a maze runner au, so it took some effort to come up with a decent foundation for the request. this is like a modern royal au, with all the technology of the maze runner universe, except there’s a royal hierarchy. also, this is super long omg i’m so sorry

Working for the Royal Guard was not as bad as people made it out to be. It seemed to be a common understanding between anyone working for the Palace that being a member of the Royal Guard was the least favourable job one could be assigned, despite the high pay. There were many things you’ve heard guards complain about: the odd, numerous hours; the constant austerity; the solitude; and above all, the Prince. Every single one of these complaints seemed unwarranted to you — except the latter.

Prince Minho could be insufferable at times. He was handsome, without a doubt, and incredibly intelligent — there was no way he would have been chosen as the Heir had he not been. Out of the few selected candidates, he’d been the only one to show all the qualities of a future King of the Glade. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had it out for you and you didn’t know why. You were a good soldier, having advanced in your ranks faster than most. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so competent at your job. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been assigned to protect the Prince and could have saved yourself from Minho’s constant tormenting.

He would always try to get you alone, teasing you endlessly and doing everything possible to get under your skin. He always seemed to get such a kick out of it. It was a personal goal of his to get you flustered whenever he could. It would have been fine if he were anyone else — you might even have indulged him — but he was the Prince and you were anything but royalty.

You were situated at your post, outside the doors to his private parlour, one of the two guards on duty. Another soldier, Gally, was on shift with you. The two of you hadn’t exactly gotten along when you’d first gotten promoted; he’d thought of you as weak simply because you were a girl. But after an attack in the dead of night by several Cranks during which you’d single-handedly taken out every assailant, Gally’s level of respect for you grew instantaneously.

Unfortunately, that had also been the incident that had drawn Minho’s attention to you.

“What time is it?” you asked, trying your best to stifle a yawn.

Gally glanced swiftly at his watch and then repositioned his hands behind his back in a stiff stance. “Two-thirty,” he replied. “Half-an-hour left, and then we’re good.”

You hated being scheduled to work nights but it made sense. Crank attacks didn’t happen during the day.

“What are they even doing?” you continued, jerking your chin towards the parlour. “They’ve been in there for hours.”

“No shucking clue,” he shrugged. “Probably trying to map out the Scorch. The recon team came back this afternoon.”

You nodded, though your understanding of the kingdom’s dynamics were limited. Everything was on a need-to-know basis and apparently, this was not something you’d ever needed to know.

A few minutes later, the parlour’s metal doors slid open with a hiss and two boys walked out, a brunet and a blond, the latter sporting a subtle limp. You recognized them as Minho’s advisors, Thomas and Newt. They were clad in black like most of the Palace staff were, with dark circles adorning their under-eyes.

“Minho wants to see you,” Newt said, his accent thick with fatigue.

As the boys disappeared down the fluorescently lit hallway, Gally unsuccessfully tried to hide his snicker.

“Duty calls, shank,” he teased.

“Slim it,” you muttered. Drawing in a deep breath, you entered the parlour, the metal doors sliding shut behind you.

Minho didn’t adhere to the all-black dress code. Instead, he wore grey jeans and a dark blue button-down, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose toned forearms. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them but you were still taken aback by how attractive they looked — how attractive he looked. He was pouring over some hand-drawn maps at a round metal table, a pencil in his hand. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes.

You cleared your throat to announce your arrival, though you knew very well he was already aware of your presence. He was always aware of you.

“(Y/N),” he greeted, his face lighting up with a cheeky grin. “Wow, sleep deprivation looks really good on you.”

You smiled through tight lips, furiously thinking about the glorious paycheck that was awaiting the end of your shift.

“Likewise,” you said. “So, how come you aren’t sleeping?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged. “Royal duties.”

“You’re going to overwork yourself to death.”

Minho’s grin widened. “Does that mean you care about me, (Y/N)?” He tossed his pencil onto the table and moved closer.

You struggled to keep your voice even. “No, it’s just that if you die on my shift, I’m going to have to do a lot of paperwork.”

He rolled his eyes and motioned to a chair by the table. “Make yourself at home,” he said. The idea seemed so out of reach to you — the Palace would never be your home. Sure, you slept in the bunkers like every other guard, but there was nothing homey about it. It wasn’t a place where you could ever put down roots.

Nevertheless, you took a seat. It wasn’t as comfortable as you’d imagined it would be, which surprised you; you thought the Prince would have a more comfortable environment than he did.

The more you looked around the parlour, the more you realized that it was the wrong word to call it.  A parlour was supposed to be opulent and inviting. Minho’s was grey and dark and unwelcoming, with the same fluorescent light fixtures as in the corridor outside. There was no personality to it — nothing that screamed Minho — and was clinically void of non-essentials. Back in the day, future kings would be living in lush and opulent castles with ornate wallpapers and chandeliers and mounds of colour, not this bunker they had the audacity to call the Palace.

“Relax, sunshine,” he said. “You’re so stiff all the time. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let any Cranks break in here and hurt you.”

You frowned and scoffed. “Oh, please. Big help you were last time. Yelling that you were going to, quote, kick their shucking ass, is not much of an achievement.”

It was easy to be informal around him; he didn’t enforce his title as a Royal the way you’d seen previous leaders do. He took the requirements of his job seriously but not the reverence. 

“Well, if I did all the work, you would be out of a job,” he joked.

“And what a shame that would be.”

You hadn’t meant to come across as bitter, but there was a flicker of hurt on Minho’s face.

“You don’t have to keep guarding me,” he said, sharply. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll have them assign you somewhere else, with the same pay-grade.”

The offer was tempting. It would probably mean no more odd hours, no more having to deal with randomly orchestrated attacks, and you’d still get the same financial compensation. But the thought of not having to deal with Minho made you uneasy. He couldn’t be right, could he? Did you actually care about him?

“I’m alright,” you said, lowering your gaze.

Minho’s smile came back at full force. “I knew it. I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, right.” He swatted the air dismissively. “That’s okay. It’ll be our little secret. No one has to know you have a crush on me.”

A spasm of panic bubbled in your chest. A crush? Your first instinct was to deny it. You were a soldier. You were unimportant in the hierarchy of the Glade, just a pawn, albeit a well-paid one, that was ready to lay their life down on the line to keep the peace. While you weren’t prohibited from starting a family or settling down, the last person you could ever do that with was the Prince.

Minho would probably end up marrying someone like Teresa, the pretty brunette ambassador you sometimes saw at council meetings — someone with a political relation to the Glade. Definitely not someone like you. The only role you had in his life was to protect him with yours.

“It’s not professional for me to talk about this,” you said, hoping he’d drop the subject. He didn’t.

“So you don’t deny it,” he noted. Minho braced himself on the armrests of your chair, his face awfully close to yours. The faint scent of his cologne was intoxicating.

“Minho, please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging him for.

He feigned innocence. “Please what?”

“Stop playing with me,” you said. “At the end of the day, you’re a Prince and I’m just a guard.”

“It’s just a political title,” he replied. “It only governs what I do for the Glade, not what I do for myself.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You can’t be this shucking oblivious.” Minho shook his head. “Come on, (Y/N), you’re smart. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You can figure it out.”

The thing was, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you didn’t want to let yourself believe in the possibility of a future together.

“I—” Your breath faltered as Minho closed the distance between you, his mouth feverish on yours. He tasted like a mistake, all sweet and warm and beautiful, one you were suddenly very ready to pay for. When he moved away to look at you, there was an affection in his eyes that you swore no one else had held for you.

“I’ve been shucked and gone to heaven,” he laughed. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

With newfound confidence in your veins, you straightened and looked him dead in the eye. “I think we need to do that again to find out,” you answered. Minho grinned in reply and kissed you again.

When three o’clock rolled around and your shift came to an end, you didn’t leave the parlour like you were supposed to. In fact, you didn’t leave at all.

Not until morning.