#the one on the right (if the flower hadn't gave it away already) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alotofpockets · 1 year ago

Text

Unknown | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Actress!Reader

Summary: You get a flower delivery but the bouquet isn't from who you thought it was.

Warnings: Angst (happy ending), stalker fan.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2k

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You were busy rehearsing lines for tomorrow when your doorbell rang. On the other side of the door stood a delivery person with a bouquet of flowers in their hands. “Thank you, have a good day.” You say when taking the flowers from them. The flowers were absolutely beautiful, you find the tag, which reads a simple ‘I love you x’, your heart warms at the thought of your girlfriend thinking of you while she’s away.

Alessia was attending an award show on the other side of the country, and her management had arranged for a few interviews surrounding it, making her trip three days instead of leaving the same day again. Usually you’d be Alessia’s plus one to events, as would she for you, but this time you weren’t able to. You were in the middle of filming your new project that was being filmed in London, so you were able to stay at your own place for the duration.

You were about to leave for work when you found out that your car wasn't starting. In frustration you hit the steering wheel, you couldn't be late for this shoot. You text Lotte, hoping that the usual early bird is awake already.

Y/n: Heyy, are you up already?

Alessia’s teammates had become your friends over the two years that you had been dating.

Lotte: Yeah, what's up?

The girl responded within a minute.

Y/n: Is there any way you can drive me to work like right now? My car isn't starting and I have to be there in an hour.

Lotte: Yes, I've got you. I'll be there in ten.

You head back inside, deciding on having a quick breakfast at home, instead of having breakfast on set to save you some time.

With a knock on the door Lotte announced that she was there, you let her in to offer her a cup of coffee while you finished your breakfast. “Thank you so much for doing this.” She gives you a side hug, “Of course, no problem at all.” She sits down at the counter and looks over at the flowers. “Less?” She asks and you nod with a smile, “So sweet, right?”

Lotte dropped you off at work and told you to call her when you needed a ride back. “Thanks again, Lotte, I owe you one.”

You hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Alessia yet, when you weren't filming she was in interviews. But it was a good day of shooting, you managed to get two scenes done today like how the crew had planned. You gave Lotte a call, before you changed out of your character's clothes back into your own.

“You're a lifesaver, Lotte.” You say as you step into her car. “Do you have dinner plans tonight? If not, can I please invite you over as a thank you?” Lotte accepted your invitation but made sure to let you know that it wasn't necessary as a thank you but she'd love the company. The two of you were so deep in conversation when you arrived back at your apartment, that you didn't notice that Alessia’s car was parked in the lot.

Once you get into your apartment, you notice a familiar pair of shoes standing next to your door. “Lessi, baby, you're back early?” You ask full of enthusiasm, but you're met with silence. It's only when you walk into the kitchen that you see her, she looks both angry and upset. “Who are these from?” Your brow furrows, “What do you mean who are they from? Are they not from you?” Alessia stands to her feet, “I didn't, so please don't fool me.”

Lotte who had been quietly standing in the background speaks up, “I know it's none of my business but Less, this morning y/n was happily telling me the flowers were from you.” Alessia looks between the two of you. “And what exactly are you doing here?” You step in now, realising that Alessia might be thinking the flowers were from Lotte. “My car broke down, and Lotte is the only person I know that's awake early enough for my set times, so I asked her to drive me to work.”

Alessia seemed to calm down, and believed what you were telling her. “Why would someone randomly send flowers without signing their name?” You shrug, “I have no clue, maybe someone left the wrong address or something. Let’s just leave it behind us, I want to know how your event went.” The three of you prepare dinner, and talk the rest of the evening.

Everything seemed to be back to usual, until a couple days later a box of chocolates was delivered to you on set. The handwriting on the note matched the one on the bouquet, a cold chill ran down your spine when the realisation hit that this wasn't just coincidental but that there was someone out there that knew where you lived, and when you would be on set.

Your first thought was to video call your girlfriend. After pressing the call button, you start pacing your trailer. “Hi my love, is everything alright?” She could read on your face that something was troubling you. “Less, the flowers, it wasn't a coincidence. They delivered something here addressed to me.” Alessia was furious but stayed calm for you. “Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm coming over right now, and we'll talk to security at the set, make sure no strangers or packages are to be accepted. Then once you're done with work I’m taking you back to my place. I've got you, okay?” You nod. “Thank you, baby.”

Alessia stayed on the call with you until she arrived at your set and had her eyes on you. You ran into her arms, and she held you tight. “It's okay, you're okay.” She whispered to calm you down. “I know but it's just so scary that they know where I live and where I work.” With a nod she let you know that she understood your worries. “Do you have time to talk to security now or do you need to head back?” You look at your phone, “I've got about fifteen minutes before I have to get back. Can we please talk to them first?”

She took your hand, and explained to the head of security what was going on. He assured you that they would make sure that they would keep you safe, and even offered for someone to walk you back to your car, just to be sure. You thanked him, before making your way over to the set.

The rest of your work day you were able to put the worrying to the back of your mind, knowing that Alessia was here and the security team was aware of the situation. It was later that evening, in Alessia's apartment when the worrying started to come back. “They know where I live. What if I go back to my apartment and they're just there? What am I supposed to do?” Alessia held you through your worries. “We're going to figure something out, my love.”

You didn't get much sleep that night but with an early call again, you made your way to the car. As promised a security guard escorted you from your car to your trailer, which you were grateful for. During hair and makeup, you were more quiet than usual, being too tired to use your energy for socialising.

The day was going fine, until you heard commotion coming from outside your trailer. You open the trailer door to see if everything was alright, only to find a man trying to get through security screaming your name. “Y/n! You haven’t been home all week, I had to come see you at work. Please come y/n, I need to see you.” You’re frozen in place at the top of the small stairs. “Get back inside, we've got this.” The security called over his shoulder. You closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it.

Alessia had explained the previous encounters you had with her teammates, everyone had been very supportive and said that if you needed anything they were there for you. She was in the gym with them, when her phone rang, your name on the display. You knew each other's schedules very well, so she knew that if you were calling during her training times something was wrong.

She snapped out of her shocked state, and answered the phone. “Y/n, wh-” She didn't get further than that as you interrupted her between sobs. “He's here” Alessia's worry grows. “Here as in on set?” Her words caught the attention of their teammates, who all stopped what they were doing. “He's next to my trailer, security is trying to keep him back.” Alessia got up and started gathering her stuff, “I'm on my way. I can stay on the phone, if you’d like.” You shake your head, “I'm okay, you focus on driving please.”

The small group of her teammates that were in the same part of the gym, had all grabbed their stuff as well and followed Alessia to the locker room. “We're not letting you go alone.” Katie said, Lotte, Caitlin, and Leah nod agreement.

They arrived and saw a parking lot filled with police cars, and saw two officers walk a man to the car in handcuffs. Alessia was so angry that she wanted to run up to him, she didn't know what she would do but thanks to Katie holding her back, she wouldn't have to.

The group walked up to the security guard securing the entrance. Alessia holds up her visiting badge, he nods in approval, “What about the rest of you?” Alessia speaks up for them, “They're with me. We're here for y/n y/l/n, she's my girlfriend.” He shakes his head, “I'm sorry miss but I can't let anyone in without permission.” That's when Alessia sees the head of security, “Paul! Can you come here for a second?” He rushes towards Alessia, “Miss Russo, I'm so sorry for what happened. I will get to the bottom of how he got in, you have my word.” Alessia shakes her head, “Thank you, Paul. For now, can you get my friends in?” He tells the other security guard to let them through and escort them to your trailer.

You see the familiar Arsenal training kits in the corner of your eyes while you’re giving your statement to the police. “Excuse me, can you give me one moment?” The officer looks over her shoulder, and nods. You run towards Alessia and let her wrap her arms around you tightly, as your head is pressed into her chest. Once you’ve had your moment of comfort, you step away from her and say a quick hello to the rest of the girls. “I need to finish giving my statement, you can wait in my trailer if you want to.” You point toward the one that is your. Alessia tells the girls to go ahead, while she stays near you.

Once the officer was done with your statement, Alessia wrapped her arm around your shoulder and placed a kiss on your temple. “Let’s go inside, my love.” You told the girls what happened, and they tell you that they saw him being put into the back of a police car in handcuffs, which honestly made you feel a bit better.

Alessia was focussed on one part of your story, the fact that he had said he needed to come to your work since you hadn’t been home. That meant that he had been spying on your house, and also didn’t know where you had been staying. “Hey, love, I know it’s under the worst circumstances ever, but I have loved living with you over the last couple of days, and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to move in with me, like permanently.” Your smile grew, “Yes, I would love to. It’s been so great to come home to you.” Alessia brings you in for a hug, as your trailer fills with aw’s.

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freeluigihesbae · 10 days ago

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𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝟐

(3,362 words)

part 1

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

(*) - picture only for outfit, not physical appearance of reader.

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi couldn't sleep the entire night, twisting and turning after intermittent 15 minute periods of shitty sleep because he couldn't forget your eyes. Those orbs had so much love and concern in them he might as well place you in a field full of flowers, and he wouldn't be able to distinguish you from them.

It was like someone gave him a potion to drink, except it didn't have to touch his tongue; only his eyes.

What were you?

He kept asking himself the same question.

Now, it's not different. Luigi grabs the phone from his nightstand.

3:34 am

He groans, throwing his face into the bed. There was nothing to do to compensate for the sensations he felt when he looked into your eyes. And those weren't just any eyes to him, no no no. They were these doe eyes, perfectly round and enrapturing like they were meant for him to see and better yet, drown in.

He opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling while letting his mind do its work and paint the memory, which he watched dancing around in the space above him.

Love at first sight isn't the right phrase because something is beautifully obsessive with how he feels. He wants to hold you and look back into the world you hold in your eyes.

He thinks about your eyes, thinking of them akin and second to the Earth. Colorful, yet they were only one color. Bright, yet they didn't shine unless the sun draped its light over them. He doesn't care though, because he doesn't need the world around him to supplement the love and glimmer that he already saw.

In a room pitch dark, he knows your eyes would be the stars it was missing.

Luigi forces himself to close his eyes, squeezing and un-squeezing them but refusing to open them again because if he did, he'd be staring right back into your eyes and that was going to kill him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You wake up, groaning at once when you realize that stupid cast is still on your leg. It isn't helping that you have a ridiculous number of credits, clubs, and extracurriculars that you had to stop participating in for the sake of your injury. Guilt has its side effects.

It's 7am, and you push yourself out of bed, grabbing the back of your leg for support. There's nothing to look forward to today, you think, as you make your way to the bathroom. You pat your head, realizing your hair looks like a nest which you didn't need a mirror to confirm, but nevertheless, it leads you to your dirty mirror.

You blink a few times at the bright light you turn on, shoving your face into your hands before looking up.

Your eyes widen. You remember the instance from yesterday, where you bumped into Luigi and- and-

You have a date? with him at 3pm!

Your eyes widen, neck straightening out awkwardly before you cough and smoothen yourself out. You quickly turn the faucet on, feeling a small rush of energy before you get yourself ready for a 9am class.

You already knew who Luigi was, but you never knew his name. You saw him on posters and countless pictures that were hung or shared around campus. Rumors used to spread that he'd be with the new hot girl on campus, one of whom was Ash.

Ash was your closest friend but because of conflicted schedules, you hadn't got the time to catch up but nevertheless, she had messaged you that her homecoming crush had rejected her. A call with treats and a nice relaxing session was in the works for later that evening, but for now, you focused on getting ready to push through your AM classes.

You run and turn the water, letting the warm droplets hug you in all their sweetness as you hum away a nice, relaxing tune.

You realize you're hugging yourself, rubbing slowly. Luigi's hands suddenly come to memory, wishing yours rubbing around your body were his instead, no matter what they were doing. You remember the way his features had softened and spilled with adoration when he saw your crying face.

You hate to admit it, but the moment you pulled you into the hug and placed his hand in that comforting, reassuring manner on the back of your head, you felt butterflies. But not just any butterflies - no no no. These were butterflies that were iridescent and awoke a certain desire to stay in his arms and beg the universe to make the stars align so that at some point, he'd hold you again.

You had enjoyed your time at Penn, but watching everyone else get into a relationship had done its job, wearing down on you. It's not that getting into a relationship just because everyone else was, was the important thing. Rather, it seemed nice: comfort, kisses, hugs - having someone that truly cared about you and could be the one-point failure.

Except, they wouldn't be a failure if they really were the one for you.

But, you can't keep your hopes up too high. After all, Luigi was just feeling bad about snapping at you and this was a perfectly appropriate way to say sorry - the cast gave you extra points so if there's anything good coming from it, you sure hope your meet-up will be the one.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi tries to focus, but can't find it in himself to glue his eyes onto the teacher's screen like he should.

It was 2:30pm and the last thing he cared about was his damn class.

"You must be regretting what you did with Ash, huh?" Luigi's friend, Arvind, nudges him in the ribs for which Luigi scoffs about and turns to respond to.

"Nah. I don't know why you guys made her think I like her because I never did." Luigi is curt - the last thing he wants to think about is Ash and the whole fiasco from yesterday.

"Listen man. That was their idea. I didn't take any part in it. Just want the best man to have someone to go to HOCO with." Arvind snickers but his eyes soften when he watches Luigi's face stay the same. "You okay? What's on your mind bro?" Arvind asks with real concern this time and Luigi smiles before turning away and fiddling with his fingers.

Here goes nothing, Luigi thinks, before sharing the secret inside of him.

"I think I have a date?" Luigi blurts it out, trying to get the words out of him as fast as possible.

Arvind's jaw drops.

"Yo, were you seeing another chick this entire t-" "She's not a chick, and no, I just met her yesterday." Luigi's smile disappears as he internally rolls his eyes. Of course this is what Arvind would say - why did everything have to be so unserious and so...degrading?

Where was true love? Not the time, Luigi thinks, as Arvind is jumping around in his seat.

"You bagged a chick in less than a day BRO," Arvind is shaking Luigi's shoulder, who's biting his tongue, wishing his friend would shut up. "You gonna get laid after the date?" Arvind is laughing to himself and Luigi can't stand it any longer, pushing his chair back before nearly spitting his next few words out.

"She's not a chick. She's a woman and I think I have a date to get to know her and treat her better than you and all the others guys in our stupid friend group ever would." Luigi stands tall, looking down on Arvind whose features contort into shock. "That's what I thought. All of you are so damn shallow." Luigi quips and walks away, thankful that everyone else was leaving class because he could hardly wait.

He pushes the doors open, bracing himself for the cold while running through hundreds of scenarios for how Cafe Amore would go, unable to contain his excitement. His previous anger dies down as his mind is now refocused on you, letting his mind flicker back to your beautiful eyes.

He forgets that he never got your name because he's already calling you something else in his mind. A name he hopes he never has to stop uttering.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your 2pm class just finished, which meant you had no time to get ready. You limp out of the building as fast as you can, where you just completed the class and to your luck, Cafe Amore is right across the street.

You whip out your phone, fixing your hair and thankful you took the time to get ready half well before putting it away.

You're wearing a shorter-length, high rise and black leather skirt with a baby pink satin shirt tucked in*. Your belt is silver, with small charms lining the links it's made of. Your hair is in a faux ponytail, thanks to the claw clip you used earlier. You know you look good because there's never a day where you go without compliments, but it was those butterflies again.

You wanted to look good for Luigi and it was hard to admit that you looked perfectly fine.

You walk into the cafe, closing your eyes at the sweet smells of tea and chocolate that permeate the air. You take a deep breath in before walking over to the very back, choosing an isolated booth to set your bag down before quickly fixing your outfit and looking out the window.

The sun is yet again in your company, it's warmth making you feel less alone despite Luigi not sitting in front of you. You lean your head against the window, smiling as you wondered what your little meet-up would be like.

You question why you're feeling so invested, like this was an actual date. It wasn't, it really wasn't, but something in the way he held you yesterday tells you otherwise about, not this being a date, but about what existed between the two of you.

The time is 2:58pm, and you calm yourself, knowing that Luigi would come.

He does.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Luigi is panting, running through the crowds of students hoarding the sidewalk as he tried to find the cafe. He completely forgot that his class was on the other side of campus, nearly half a mile away from the cafe. It would take ten minutes exactly by walk, but by the time he walked out of class, it was 2:51pm.

That means he had to run.

So he did.

Thanks to his efforts, he checks the time to see a wonderfully sitting 2:59pm. He takes a moment to set his back against the glass of the cafe, watching his own breath create vapor in the atmosphere before turning around and fixing his curls. He thinks he looks stupid but in this moment, he draws on the compliments his friends had always thrown him and takes the risk, opening the door and walking in.

The cafe is busy and warm, which Luigi quietly thanks them for, but no matter where he turns his head, he doesn't find you.

Panic slowly builds up as he walks around, tilting his head and checking each table. People start to look at him oddly and after 30 seconds, he thinks that you're not here.

In a last ditch effort, he turns the corner away from the front counter and walks towards the back, where he always studied. No-one ever went to sit there, especially since the cafe owners made it a point to reserve it for him due to the lack of traffic around the place.

He knew you wouldn't be there, but still, it was worth a try.

He walks forward, eyes slightly crest-fallen while holding onto hope you might've sat there. From his line of vision, he can't see the inside of the booth since he's standing directly behind it.

After a few steps more, his lips part and he gasps.

There you are.

Your head is perched against the glass but your eyes are closed, letting out tiny breaths as you're clearly fast asleep. Luigi can't help but close his fists, feeling his entire body viscerally react with adoration as he took in the details of the satin wrapping itself around your frame, one that was much smaller than his. He appreciates the sunlight reflecting it's beauty on the faux stones that line your earrings, all while staring at your lips that were dutifully lined with lip gloss.

It's illegal, he thinks, that he can't kiss you in this moment.

But the one thing he was waiting for the most was your eyes.

Luigi walks over before sliding into the opposite booth, sitting down and quietly setting down his items. He hesitates, but finally slides a hand onto one of yours, that's innocently sitting on the table. His index fingers slowly reach out, as he's gulping in fear of you getting scared.

"Hey." He softly speaks, tapping the inside of your half out-stretched palm and slowly, he watches your eyes flutter open, eyelashes stuck together. Your head lifts up, making him quietly giggle at the red spot on the side of your head that was leaning on the window. Your lips smack together slowly as he watches you lick your lips and finally, finally.

You look into his eyes.

Luigi thinks he's going to pass out just from how breathtaking the sight is. You're just waking up from your sleep, unaware of the world around you for a few seconds and in that time, Luigi reads it all. He basks in the way your eyes glimmer in the autumn sun that's quietly adding to the ambience.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You gasp, realizing you fell asleep for a few minutes.

"Luigi I'm so sorry. Oh my god-" You cover your mouth gently, not wanting to mess up your make-up before you hear him laugh.

"You look really pretty when you sleep. I don't mind at all." His fingers are in your palm, you realize, which he only adds to by squeezing his fingers around. You take in a small breath, eyes fluttering again as you feel the electricity between both of yours' skin.

"Oh." You quietly respond, but inside, you're scrambling for a good response. Was he flirting? Was this real?

You stare back into his eyes which are intently watching you. It doesn't take a detective to see how he's desperate. What for, you can't tell, but there's a certain boyish desire you see twinkling in his pupils, thanks to the sunlight.

"So..." Luigi starts, smirking at your expression. He knows exactly what he's doing, you think, before you parrot him.

"So..." You giggle before he pulls his hand away. Instantly, you miss it but you don't say a thing, because this isn't a date.

"What can I get for you on our date?" Luigi asks and his eyes widen before he's stuttering. "I-I- didn't mean that it's just like casual - what do you want to eat?" He asks, waving his hands around and before you can answer, he slaps himself across the face. "D-Do you want to drink something? I can get you something to eat with it. You don't have to eat something because the two aren't like- like mutually exclusive-" "How about we check the menu together?" You cut him off, giggling ridiculously hard at how nervous he is. He looks up at you and he fights back every urge to close his eyes, unable to take the stare coming from your now crescent shaped eyes, adorably crinkled from your laughter.

Luigi stops, letting out a breath before he looks up to his side. You're already standing up and holding out your hand. He gulps before sliding his hand into his, nearly fainting at the size difference.

You're feigning confidence but in truth, it's overwhelming when he stands up. He's at least half a foot taller than you and it's taking everything in you to not fold into half and let him carry you to the counter instead.

"I'm sorry if I walk a bit slow, this cast is really holding me back. Sometimes I wish someone would carry me everywhere." You snort, tightening your grip around his hand but he furrows his eyebrows.

"Did you have a long walk to the cafe?" Luigi asks and you can tell there's genuine pain in his eyes because it's true.

Luigi feels pain bloom inside thinking about how you probably had to drag your foot across the stupid campus. Did he want to punch the fibers of fate for doing this to you?

Maybe.

You stutter but decide to lie a little, just to test his water.

"Y-Yeah I had a long walk here." You say, biting your lip when Luigi's face becomes even sadder.

"I'll help you with that." Luigi says, his face serious and you tilt your head, questioning him silently. No need to speak, because he answers by tipping you back and picking you up bridal style and you squeal, wrapping your hands around his neck and widening your eyes.

"I-Is this okay?" Fuck, Luigi stares into your eyes and feels his own knees shake before he brushes the thoughts away, smiling at your reaction.

"L-Luigi you don't need to do this I was ki- OH!" You jump when he throws you up a little to adjust your position in his arms, making you giggle and dig your face into the crook of his neck.

"You're such a menace. Put me down." You try to fake seriousness, but you both know you're lying. You totally love it and he doesn't think twice before not believing you.

"Too bad." Luigi starts walking and you can't stop the laughter spilling from your lips as you repeat yourself, increasingly more unserious every time and Luigi finds himself giggling too. You both ignore the stares from others in the cafe, lost in your own world of the hilariousness of the situation.

Luigi sighs before putting you down gently, smack dab in the front of the counter where the cashier is staring incredulously. You throw your head back, laughing and watching Luigi cover his face.

"I can't believe I just did that." Luigi mutters and you slap his chest.

"I can't either but I-" you stop yourself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying you liked it, but you can't stop the intensity of his stare.

His curly locks are spilling over his hairline, sharp jawline complimenting his stubble and high nose bridge. His look is curious yet intense, desperate to know what you are going to say.

"You?" Luigi stares at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence and you part your lips, moving in an inch closer-

"Ahem." The cashier is staring at you both with a blank expression and it makes you both stand apart, like a pair of thieves just found guilty.

You were... but let's move on.

You and Luigi share a look before he reluctantly looks at the menu, rambling away about what his favorite pastries and dishes were. You stare at him lovingly, hanging onto every word he spoke with intention.

"Get the strawberry - caramel coffee. It's the best thing they have and," Luigi stops talking before looking you up and down. "It matches your outfit." It evokes a stupid laugh from your mouth and Luigi has to bend, keeping his hand on your back to stop your from falling.

"Okay." You nod, moving to open your purse to pay but the cashier is already saying a soft thank you and moving to get your drinks and pastries.

"What?" You ask and turn to look at Luigi, who's got a mischievous yet arrogant smirk on his face.

"Apple Pay. Used my watch, bambi." Luigi says, ignoring the look of surprise on your face.

Bambi.

He just called you bambi.

That seals the deal for you because for the rest of the date, he keeps calling you sweet things, dropping bambi every now and then to reignite the butterflies which are now desperate to escape.

Desperate to escape by making you smash your lips on his. Or the other way around. :')

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#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fluff #bruh idk #this is so fucking cute

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billiethepumpkin · 6 months ago

Text

Best Pain I Ever Felt: Eijirou Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Fem!Reader. Descriptions of violence. Descriptions of injuries. Emotional.

Featuring: Eijirou Kirishima.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

You saw it on the news.

Everyone had. You had probably a dozen text messages and at least three phone calls from people who loved you asking if everything was alright, if you'd had any word.

If you had, your heart wouldn't be sitting in the soles of your shoes right now. It seemed impossible. Your mind was trying to convince you that you hadn't really seen what you just saw. But you did. There was no denying that it was real. You knew by the warm tears that fell down your cheeks without any beckoning.

Red Riot had taken on a massive attack. He had been fighting some villain that you had only heard of a couple of times. You guessed he was supposed to be a small time villain, but the way he was attacking Red Riot... It seemed relentless, like he was made for killing even the toughest heroes.

Red Riot, who took every hit without so much as flinching. Red Riot, who refused to let any of the pain show, no matter how badly it felt like his skin and bones were on fire. Red Riot, who kept going back for more, ready to defend his city and the rest of the world, if it came down to it.

Red Riot, who loved you deeply. Red Riot, who bought you flowers after any mission that kept him away overnight. Red Riot, who took baths with you and gave you massages, even though his work days were much more taxing than yours. Red Riot, who would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, to show you that he loved you.

The villain had tried to escape, but was so beaten and exhausted after his showdown with Red Riot that he was easily arrested. The last image of Red Riot that the news had shown was a split second of him knocked out on the ground, covered in scrapes and bruises, bleeding from the side of his head. You wondered how long it would be before somebody at the agency called you. It had already been twenty minutes. Maybe, you thought, their not calling was a good sign. Maybe it meant there was nothing to report, that everything was fine. Maybe it meant that he was okay.

Or maybe it meant that people at the agency were drawing straws to figure out who was gonna break the news to the boss's babygirl...

You couldn't sit there anymore. Someone had to know something about what happened. You tried to call the receptionist at the agency--nothing. You guessed it was kind of late, probably past her normal business hours. You tried to call a different agency number. And when that failed, you tried to call your husband's cell phone, because maybe someone from the agency had it and would be able to give you some kind of answer as to what the hell was going on.

No answer.

At this point, you stopped thinking. You got in your car and drove to the agency. Somebody had to tell you.

When you got there, the office was eerily quiet. You walked around for a little while. Finally, someone came walking down the hall in the opposite direction. "Hey, Ms. Y/N," he said. "You didn't hear? Red Riot's at the hospital."

After figuring out which hospital, you didn't even bother to say goodbye to the man as you rushed away. You begged the front desk at the hospital to give you any information on your boyfriend. But when she couldn't reveal anything to you for privacy reasons, one of Kirishima's sidekicks called to you from a few feet away. "He's going to be fine," he reassured you, leading you to a bench outside the room where he was resting. "He was hurt pretty badly. He has a concussion and a collapsed lung, along with needing several stitches and a heavy dose of pain meds. But he's okay."

For the first time since you watched the story on the news a little more than an hour and a half ago, you took a massive breath, your hand falling onto your chest in an attempt to ground yourself. You felt tears well up in the corners of you eyes. "Thank you," you muttered as the sidekick opened the hospital room door for you.

And there he was. Your Kirishima, wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to several monitors for his own health. His eyes were closed, resting. You could hear his labored breathing, even through the oxygen tube in his nose.

How could someone do this to another person? Someone as wonderful as him? You silently swore you were going to personally hunt down whoever had done this and take care of them yourself. Then you remembered they'd already been arrested. You guessed there wasn't much to be done about it.

You caressed his arm, still sweaty and covered in dirt after his fight. His eyes opened at your touch, and he looked right at you. "Hey, babygirl," he said, smiling sleepily.

"Hey," you said, your smile and tears intertwining. Your fingers laced with his, dried blood and debris now smearing over your hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad right now," he answered. "Doc's got me on all kinda pain meds though."

"You scared the hell outta me," you whispered, quickly wiping the tears away before they could completely fall down your face.

Kirishima's hand reached up to hold your face, catching any of the tears that continued to fall, regardless of how you commanded them not to. "'m sorry, honey," he responded.

You shook your head and held his hand against your face "No, don't be sorry," you told him, kissing the dirty palm of his hand. Seriously, he just took a massive beating, and somehow he feels like he needs to apologize? "What did the doctor say?" you asked him. You already got some information before.

Kirishima took a deep breath. "Concussion. Collapsed lung," he said. "Doc said if everything looks good, I can go home tomorrow."

"That's good," you remarked. "I'm gonna take a few days off so you have an extra hand."

"You don't have to do that," he tried to say.

"I'm gonna take care of you," you told him.

"Pshh, I'm fine. You don't have to do anything for me," he tried to claim. Even in his words, you could tell that he was a little unsure. Red Riot was the toughest hero you knew. And Kirishima was the strongest man you knew, even beyond quirks. Kirishima moved a little, seemingly trying to move himself to the side a little. He winced with every single movement, shutting his eyes tight to brace himself against the pain. When he couldn't take it anymore, he gave up. He stopped moving and allowed tears to fall down his cheeks. "Shh, shh," you breathed, wiping his tears away. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't try to move."

"You mean to tell me I can't even make room for my girl on the bed?" he argued with himself. He was trying to make light of the situation, but his voice shook in frustration as he remembered just hours ago, when he was the hero people called when they needed someone tough. Now, he couldn't even shift his weight in a bed.

"I don't think you need to make room for me, babe," you rolled your eyes.

"Y/N, please," he asked. "Everything hurts, inside and out. I'm practically bedridden. All I want is to hold you. Please?"

You pressed your lips together, thinking of a response. You had half a mind to double down, to tell him you'd sit right next to him, but that he needed to rest in the bed. But you knew better than that. You knew he'd at least be here for the night, seeing as it was already almost nine o'clock at night. And you knew it'd be torture for him to not be able to do anything for himself the entire night. You could give him this one thing. You sat next to him on the bed, as closely as you could get to him, and you carefully laid your head on his shoulder. He was wincing before you even lowered your full weight onto him. Once you were fully situated, he took another deep breath, and his pain seemed to ease. "Does this hurt?" you asked, being careful not to press anywhere that would be too painful for him.

"Yeah," he asked, his face spreading into a sweet smile. "Best pain I ever felt."

#mha #bnha #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha angst #bnha angst #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima fluff #kirishima angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima x reader

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paper-daisy · 10 months ago

Text

Like many of us I'm doing a TWD rewatch, looking for all those pre-relationship moments, and a great little one in 4x01 is after Michonne arrives back at the prison -- there's a moment where Daryl tells her "Glad to see you're in one piece." HOWEVER, when he says that he turns to look directly at Rick. Who in turn quickly looks away, almost bashful.

You can just imagine what Daryl had to put up with, with Rick in those early days. So I had to fic it.

Rick never said the words aloud. He never outright said, "I'm worried about Michonne. I hope she's okay. I hope she comes back." He was never that obvious. But to someone like Daryl, a man naturally of few words himself, it was clear as day that their fearless leader was never fully relaxed whenever that smartass/badass - who was more than capable of taking care of herself - wasn't safely tucked away behind their walls.

But what Rick would say when she was gone was - "There was a herd moving south, right?" Where Michonne had last gone hung unspoken between them. And when Daryl answered Yeah, Rick would just place his hands on his hips and nod, jaw tight, as he scanned the perimeter of the compound as if waiting for someone to magically appear.

He would say - "There's a lot more bandits out there, roaming in packs. Isn't that what you said?" A grunt and a shrug from Daryl, and Rick would nod like they'd just had a conversation and go back to his farming, digging the shovel into the dirt with a bit more force than necessary, making a point to not look at the fence. They hadn't heard from Michonne in two weeks.

He would say - "Nights are getting cold," while standing outside at the communal kitchen, plate in hand, his gaze always drawn to the barely visable fence line. Daryl had hummed in agreement, fighting the urge to tell him that Michonne should be fine as she had pilfered his poncho, something Rick already knew.

And on one strange occasion he said, "Do you think we should get some more ... art? In here?"

This had stopped Daryl in his tracks. "What?"

Rick shrugged, perhaps a little sheepishly, but continued. "We have a library, potted flowers, even some toys and things for the kids. This is our home now. Thought ... maybe it could use a bit of ... brightening?"

Daryl just starred blankly. "You want me to, what? Bring back pictures?"

For a moment it looked as if Rick was about to finally say what was actually on his mind, before he instead gave a rueful smile and waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the conversation. "Nah, nah, never mind. It was just a thought."

He walked away, leaving an utterly perplexed Daryl behind who simply shrugged and went on his own way. It was only later that day as he passed by Michonne's empty cell did his eyes fall upon that weird colourful cat thing, the one that looked like it was about to start a fight. It was such a stupid, useless thing but Daryl remembered how Michonne had presented it to him with an air of triumph, as if it was the most gorgeous thing in the world. He didn't get it.

Did Rick really think that if he made the place more art-filled, Michonne might want to hang around longer? he wondered, then immediately dismissed the idea. Well, clearly not because he gave up before he started. Like with other things.

Only once had Daryl said the unsaid thing.

Almost everyone was asleep. Well, Carl was hid under his blankets reading comics and there were low conversational sounds coming from some darkened cell, but for the most part things were quiet.

And they were kept quiet by an exhausted Rick, pacing back and forth with a fussy Judith, bouncing her non-stop so her cries wouldn't awaken the entire community. He'd nodded to Daryl, who in turn took a moment to ask if he needed help putting Judith to sleep tonight.

"No, thankyou" said Rick tiredly. "I think she's pretty much worn herself out by now. Should be sound asleep soon."

"You too."

Rick sighed. "Yeah. I just ..." He shifted Judith a little, "Even when I do get to bed, I can't seem to stop thinking. Thinking of plans for the future, for the people we have in here. The people we bring in. How to protect everyone inside these walls. Keep our people safe despite ... well, despite everything." Rick looked at Daryl as if he might have the answers to those questions he hadn't quite asked.

All he could do was shrug. "We just try. Trust that we all know what we're doing. Lookout for everyone here. Not much more we can do, is there? Future don't care about anyone's plans."

Rick didn't look totally reassured, but he still smiled slightly as Daryl's efforts. "Yeah. I just worry, is all."

"I know." And as Daryl passed by he gripped Rick's shoulder and muttered, "Shouldn't worry so much. Michonne'll be back, all in one piece. You'll see."

And the man had the audacity to look confused, stuttering out, "Yeah, I know that, but - but I wasn't talking about Michonne, specifically. I'm not worried about her. She can take care of herself, I know that, and she always comes back, it's just ... with everything ..."

As he trailed off Daryl eyed Rick critically for a moment. He really thinks he's selling it, he thought, before giving a soft grunt that was akin to laughter and wandering off to bed, leaving a somewhat disconcerted Rick behind, gently bouncing a sleeping Judith.

And the very next day who should come riding through the gates but one Michonne, smiling, baring gifts and all in one piece, as Daryl made sure to point out to Rick, who's ears suddenly went bright red as if Michonne might somehow be able to figure out that they'd been taking about her just that night before.

But she didn't notice. She was too caught up in her almost obsessive search for the Governor and already planning her next venture out, unaware of Rick's barely suppressed disappointment or of the sigh that Daryl kept clenched behind his teeth as he tried to subtly talk her out of another long run. It wasn't her who was stuck with Rick and his wordless pining.

Because it was pining, even if he never said nothing. If they were in school Daryl might've suggested he pass her a note.

When she had quickly offered to go back out again with the rest of the scavenging party - even though, as Carl had said wistfully, she'd just got back - and Daryl could do nothing more than give Rick a comforting pat, grimacing slightly as the man's expression said exactly the same thing his son had vocalised.

God, this was going to wear thin soon.

Ah well. Wasn't like they had TV anymore.

#the walking dead #richonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes #daryl dixon #Heehee #just a spurt of fanfic on tumblr - haven't done that for a while. :)

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

Text

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

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fantisyoflove · 7 months ago

Text

Don't Think I'll Stay - one shot

Hooking up with Remus Lupin. Not cannon. Everyone is alive and 25. [What could have been without the war]

Warning: period accurate misogyny, drinking, and smoking

This version of Remus by @industrations

[]

The boys had shown up right in the middle of the busiest time. James had come out of support for his friends, his girlfriend Lily home with their son.

Sirius had convinced them, Remus and Peter, that they should try hooking up with muggle women tonight.

-before-

"Come on Moony! Muggle girls are way easy! So impressed by stupid shit. Besides you can say your scars are from a motorcycle accident or like some fight or whatever!"

They were all sitting in the living room of the flat Sirius, Remus, and Peter shared. Remus was smoking by the window while Sirius paced dramatically while trying to convince him to go. He had changed his mind again. It was one thing to try and talk to witches, atleast then he could lie and say something cool like 'oh this? Yea just a run in with some dragons'. In the magical world his scars were easier to explain away. In the muggle world appearances meant a lot.

Remus sighed and walked over to stub his cigarette out in the tray on the coffee table and then threw his hands up in defeat.

"Alright, alright! I'll go"

Sirius pumped the air with his fist, jumped up and clapped, "Woooo!"

Dramatic.

-now-

Walking in the thrum of bodies felt overwhelming. They had pregamed at the flat but he was already itching for a drink and another drag. He motioned to the bar and James gave him a thumbs up.

Once he had a drink in his hand he scanned the crowd behind him to spot his friends.

James was dancing with nobody in particular but he kept a close eye on all 3 of them. If all he could do now is live vicariously through them he would.

Peter was chatting to one girl along the wall. She looked nervous and gave half hearted smiles as her eyes flicked back and forth, probably trying to find a friend or a way out. Remus couldn't put his thumb on it but something about Peter always rubbed people, women specifically, the wrong way.

Sirius, of course, was leaning up against a table towards the back with a circle of girls around him. Remus watched as he knocked back one girls drink and then took another girl to the dance floor.

Rolling his eyes he turned back to the bar. As long as his friends were busy they wouldn't be nagging him to 'just put himself out there'. He didn't think there was a 'one' out there for him. Being a werewolf he was lucky he hadn't been kicked out of society entirely. It was his friends that helped him. All he needed was them.

"Hey, umm is this seat taken?" A shy voice perks his ears.

She looks like she would smell like flowers and honey. He thinks dreamily.

"Oh ... um, no, go ahead!" He stutters as he pulls the stool out for you a bit and you take his hand to help yourself up. A curl of sandwood and wood smoke greets him surprisingly.

A cold sweat tickles his back. You are holding his hand. His scared and mangled hand. You are holding his hand and you arnt flinching away or quickly letting go to then wipe it on your dress. You smile at him and thank him and then casually let go of his hand.

Remus quickly turnings back to his drink, hunching his shoulders and arguing with himself in his head.

From the corner of his eye he can see you fiddling with the strap of your purse and then motion to the bartender for a drink but you are promptly ignored.

"Here, uh let me. What would you like?" Remus offers.

You give a soft smile and tell him what you would like.

Remus lifts himself from his chair, gives a wave, and then calls out your order. The bartender nods to Remus and you refrain from rolling your eyes.

"Thank you" you say as the drink is set before you.

"Remus" he says quickly

"Sorry?"

Remus coughs to clear his throat, "sorry, I said my name is Remus"

"Oh, well hello Remus im Y/N" you take a sip of your drink and try not to down the whole thing.

"Look I am so sorry," you begin and his face falls, "I mentioned to my friends that I thought you were cute and they made me come over here." You are fiddling with the strap again and blushing up to your ears.

"I am not very good at this whole" you wave your hand in the air, "thing."

Remus feels like he is on a Rollercoaster. His stomach had dropped at least 3 times and all for very different feelings.

"No, no! You are fine! I am also here under duress" he says leaning in closer like it's a secret.

"Oh?" You give a nervous giggle.

That seemed to break the ice and you both start talking. You talk about your jobs and school, some of his answers seem very vague but you just assume it's because he is also nervous like you. He tells you about his friends and points them out to you around the room. You in turn point out your friends who are still sitting together at the same table and don't even have the decency to act like they weren't staring. One even waves to you two.

You do roll your eyes this time, "sorry they can be so ..."

"Sweet?"

"Nosey!" You both laugh. Touches your knee innocently enough. Your friends had told you muggle men were easier to get into bed and it had been a long time since you had slept with someone.

"Would you ... I mean you can say no ... but would you want to maybe get out of here?" You ask and force yourself to meet his eyes. If he is going to reject you might aswell get it over with.

"Oh? I, yea I mean yea let's uh. Do you wanna come back to mine?" Now he is fidgeting with his glass and struggling to meet your eyes.

You take his hand in yours, "lead the way."

[]

Your friends give you a thumbs up and make smoochie faces at you as you walk past them to leave. Remus glances around, probably looking for his friends, but doesn't seem to find them anywhere.

You wish you could apperate because the London air is chilly but all you can do is hope this muggle man doesn't live too far away!

You both settle into a calm silence as you walk. He notices you shiver slightly and goes to reach for his wand before remembering that he can't use magic around you.

"Here" he says as he stops on the footpath and shrugs off his jacket for you.

"Thank you." It is so warm and smells like coffee and old books. You pull it closer around your neck and breath in deeply.

Thankfully a short 10 minute walk is all it took to reach his flat. He pauses at the door and realizes that his wand, which he needs to open the door, is in his jacket pocket.

"Oh um can I see my... " He starts

"Oh right sorry." You fumble as you take the coat off and hold it out to him.

He unlocks the door and opens it but then slams it shut again.

"Okay, umm. I didn't actually think I would be bringing anyone here. Would you mind too terribly if I clean up quick?" He looks so embarrassed and honest and man oh man you could loose yourself in those soft amber eyes.

"You want me to wait here?" You couldn't stop the tone of dumbfounded from leaching into your words.

He flinched, "uh yes, please. I promise I'll only be a moment!" He doesn't wait for your reply but hastily squeezes inside the small gap in the doorway before shutting it in your face.

You looked as shocked as you feel.

Muggles.

You roll your eyes again. You really should stop, your mother says it causes wrinkles.

You go to pull your dress down and your hand brushes against your wand strapped to your thigh. You hesitate at first but then quickly unclip it and stow it in your purse instead.

You here some crashing and banging around like he is just frantically throwing things into different rooms at this point. And then in exactly 2 minutes he throws the door open again.

Remus had used magic to clean up the flat and was still holding his wand in his hand when he opened the door. Thankfully it was the hand behind the door he thought as he quickly shoved it behind his back and into his waist band.

You cover your mouth to stop a nervous giggle from coming up. And walk inside the flat.

[]

Remus led you to his room and then sat on his bed. Hands behind him to lean on he just watched you with a bemused half smile on his face.

"What?" You ask nervously. He shakes his head and then hides his face in his hands.

"You don't seem real." He whispers

You set your bag down by the edge of the bed and straddle his waist.

"Does this feel real?"

The small gasp from his lips is addictive and you want him to do it again.

"No" he breaths

You card your fingers through his hair, it's so soft. You can now see he recently had a mullet but must have not gotten around to triming it back again or he was trying to grow it out.

His eyes are searching your face and you give him a genuine smile as you lean down and capture his lips with yours.

His hips roll into you as he gasps against your mouth. His kisses with his whole body. His hands are gripping onto your hips and pull you in closer. You nip at his bottom lip and he groans.

"Real?"

"Very real."

You tease your fingers along the hem of his shirt before pressing your hand against his soft belly.

"Wait" he sputters grabbing your wrist.

"If you're about to warn me about what you look like under your shirt, please don't. I like you, Remus, no amount of scaring will turn me away. Besides if you show me yours, I'll show you mine" you give him a mischievous wink.

He hasn't let go of your wrist yet but he nods.

"Could.. could you go first?"

You kiss him on the nose and stand up to turn around for him. He stares at your back a beat to long before you turn to look at him.

"Could you pull my zipper?"

"What?! Oh right yea yes." His hands are shaking but he grabs onto the collar of your dress and the zipper and pulls it down.

You hold the front against your body waiting.

Remus holds onto your hips and pulls you closer so he can kiss along your spine. You shiver and wiggle away to face him.

Part of you wants to do something sexy but the other part of you feels like nothing you could do in this moment would be sexy and you just feel awkward and your mind is running a million kilometers a minutes... you catch his eye and see the soft patient expression on his face. He looks so vulnerable even if you are the one almost naked here.

Finally you decide to just let the dress fall to the floor. Remus sucks in a breath and reaches for you. You let him pull you back into his lap as he kisses you again. First on the lips, then on your jaw, down your neck, across both shoulders and then finally, as he gazes up at you with those beautiful sleepy eyes, he kisses you between both breast's.

You let your head loll to the side as he takes his time undoing your bra and kissing you all over. You let out a soft moan when he takes your nipple into his mouth. The flat of his tongue swirling around it before the tip flicks against it.

Letting go with a small pop he leans back to look you over. "So where are these scars you told me about."

You giggle and take his hand to trace over a thick patch, the size of a baseball, under your ribs.

He lifts an eyebrow at you. "Is that all?"

"So far yea,"

He shifts you onto the bed and stands before you.

His eyes search your face one more time just trying to remember you in this moment, happy and carefree. He is afraid, afraid of what you'll say or do once he does show you all of himself.

With a deep breath he yanks the shirt off and tosses it onto the floor his trousers follow and he is left in just his pants. He hasn't looked at you yet.

"See we arnt so different" you say cheerfully.

His head snaps up and he looks at you confused.

You take his hand and pull him towards you onto the bed. He hesitates but then climbs in next to you.

One night won't hurt.

He leans over you and kisses you again. You pull on the waistband of his pants and he helps you push them all the way off. Then your panties come off and you breath catches in your throat as his cock brushes against your thigh.

This is really happening.

He grinds into you as his teeth graze against the soft spot on your neck. You arch into him and he begins to kiss and suck that spot in earnest.

He draws his hips back and then rocks them forward. The pressure slowly builds, "okay?" he hisses in your ear.

You press your forehead against his and nod eagerly. He smiles and places a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

One final thrust and he is sliding all. the. way. in.

Breathless sighs echo each other with every push and pull. Hot urgent kisses becoming more frantic until finally, finally, they fade into cries of passion.

Remus kisses you one more time before slipping out of you and rolling off of you with a satisfied groan.

"Brilliant" he huffed.

"Fuck" you say taking a deep breath. You lay there in your post orgasam haze just listening to the rain outside.

When did it start raining?

Remus scooped you closer to him, holding you against his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh in pure content.

[]

You are lightly snoring next to him when Remus hears the front door slam open and the drunken, very loud, voices of his friends. He holds his breath as he slips out of the bed, making sure to cover you with the blanket before he tip toes out into the hall.

Remus runs to the living room, "Shh guys shhh"

"What are you on about, Moony?" Peter slurs

"Yea what does moon moon have against *hiccup* my *hiccup* my..." James was holding up a very drunk Sirius who was unfortunately not holding up his end of this conversation.

James slung him onto the couch, "Moony, you always leave early and then I am left to tend to the children on my own!" He then drops his full body weight onto Sirius's legs.

Sirius groans but doesn't try and kick him off.

"I left with a girl" Remus said stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Oh fuck off, no you didn't" Peter snaps throwing his jacket at Remus. Remus watched it fall to the ground a good two feet in front of him, unamused.

James was looking back and forth between the two of them, he was feeling skeptical of Remus too.

"I did and all your yelling is going to wake her up so please keep it down!" Remus hissed.

Peter got a shit eating grin on his face and he starting shuffling towards the hall. "Well then Moons lets just see this girl then!" He made to run past but Remus catch him round the middle.

"Don't!"

"Oh come on Moony! I just wanna see her!"

"No wormtail! Seriously please just go to bed!" Remus shuffled side to side to block Peter's way to his room.

Peter got a green look to his face and fell back into an armchair. "You're lucky i had way too much to drink tonight to fight you."

Remus rolled his eyes, "Just got to bed."

Peter shot a look at James, "I still don't believe him."

James shrugged and slapped his palm down on Padfoot's backside. "Welp Pads, since you are so comfy here guess I get your bed tonight" Sirius groaned but couldn't even lift his head to protest.

[]

Back in his room you woke with a start at the sound of the guys arguing. Carefully you dressed and pulled your wand to apparate back home.

With a pop you are back in your flat. Your flatmates had all made it back home as well given the amount of heels discarded by the front door.

You softly padded down to your room, as you passed one of the girl's doors it opened to a man, holding all of his clothes in a ball in his arms, sneaking out.

You both made eye contact and he gave you a crisp solute and then let himself out the front door.

"Muggles" you scowl and relock the door once more.

[]

#imagine #fanfic #writing #fandom #harry potter #smut #mauraders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #remus x reader #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew

63 notes · View notes

thetomorrowshow · 8 months ago

Text

when to hold 'em

ur honor i love the flower husbands

The crown of antlers is in his hands.

He holds it, turns it, examines every angle.

Then places it on his head.

Scott looks up, across the silent plateau, to the darkness that gathers on the other side.

Sìín kuvi ndakuatura nu Ndíoxī.

"You've got this!" a little boy shouts, pumping one fist in the air.

Scott rolls his eyes over to Jimmy. "I thought you said this would be private?" he comments archly.

Jimmy shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "Word gets out. Especially to kids."

"Right. And since you and I were the only ones who knew about this, the children found out through. . . ?"

"I have no idea."

There are six or seven children sitting or standing in the long grass of the field, some tens of meters away. Jimmy waves to them. All but one wave back.

Scott pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't want anyone getting hurt, Jimmy," he bites out.

"You won't hurt anyone," Jimmy insists. "They're far enough away that they aren't even an issue. They just want to see some magic!"

That's the problem.

Scott's curse isn't a party trick. It isn't something to be gawked at and applauded by children. It's a curse, barely controlled, and a very dangerous one at that.

And it isn't just that he doesn't want them getting hurt. That's most of it, of course, but. . . .

Scott really doesn't want an audience. He doesn't want people to see him fail.

(Last time he failed, he was surrounded—by elves and enemies alike.)

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because Jimmy just makes a sound kind of like a sigh and squeezes his hand.

"You're all right," he says quietly. "I'm not leaving. You can control it when I'm here, right?"

"Control is a strong word," mutters Scott. It implies that he can do a lot more than keep an imaginary door shut.

Not to mention, he hasn't been able to let go of Jimmy. They've learned over the past couple of days that when they separate, Scott loses whatever hold he has. It had been unpleasant that first morning, when Scott woke late to find that Jimmy had already gotten back to work, leaving him coated in frost and ice weighing down the tent.

He really has no control if the magic is untamed without the tamer's touch. In all fairness, Jimmy has more control over the magic than Scott does.

But Jimmy just smiles (so brightly that Scott can't help but reluctantly smile back) and points to a patch of wildflowers a good fifty feet away from them.

"Shoot ice at that," he instructs, and Scott, with another glance at the children and more than a bit of trepidation, raises his hand toward the flowers.

He pushes, releasing a little bit of his hold on the magic, letting it conduct out through his arm, pulsing and freezing and—

Frost and ice shoot from his fingertips in a barrage (and the force has him stumbling back a step), about half of it hitting the flowers and the other half falling around them, with some icicles stabbing into the ground a good several feet away.

Scott quickly reasserts his hold on the magic and pulls his arm close to himself, pressing his side into Jimmy.

It's terrifying, using this magic. This magic that, just a few days past, had been using him.

There's no way of knowing just how much damage he's capable of. Based on what he did at the town, Scott thinks he could practically level a village.

It isn't nice, having that much power.

"Whoa!" a young boy screams, and all the other children join in the excitement, chattering about the magic.

"Nice one!" Jimmy says, dragging Scott over to look, sword bouncing on his back.

The flowers are shredded, heads torn from stems and petals torn from heads. A bit of grass is pulled up in a streak, dirt stark against the yellow stalks of grass. Frost coats the area, shards of ice stabbing into the ground.

Scott feels a little sick, looking at it.

That could have hit a person.

If he hadn't figured out that touching Jimmy gave him a measure of control, he could have killed anyone in the camp.

Jimmy's already tugging him back, probably wanting to practice again. He wants Scott to get good at his aim, and Scott isn't sure if it's so he feels more safe with himself, or so he can be more useful in attacks.

"I'm just a weapon," he says offhandedly. Bit of a fall from king of the elves.

"Come on, now," Jimmy says consolingly. "You're a beautiful weapon."

Scott snorts. "Try that one again."

"My favorite weapon?"

"If I could let go of your hand, I would."

Jimmy grins. "What I'm hearing is I can be as obnoxious as I want, and you can't do anything."

"Oh, you—"

Their flirting is cut off as a child crosses the invisible boundary, skipping up toward them.

"Stay back there," Jimmy commands, voice ringing with sudden authority, stepping forward with an arm out.

Scott glances at him, more to make sure that it's still his Jimmy there than anything else. He forgets, sometimes, that Jimmy actually has power. Not just the power of a ruler, either—some sort of unknown, hidden power had to have played a part in his survival, and his ability to heal others. Scott's seen him heal so many of the survivors that they just rescued, just by pressing a hand to their wounds. Jimmy, somehow, is a living, walking, healing miracle.

As much as they're teasing each other today, Scott can't help but feel a little hollow inside. It's still so hard to be here, to hold the hand of his once-dead betrothed.

Not that he has any other option.

Not that he doesn't want to.

The child halts immediately, waits for Jimmy and Scott to come toward her.

She's a little older than the other children, and one that Scott recognizes—from when, he doesn't know—, her scales like freckles spattered across her cheeks and nose.

"Codfather!" she says, standing at attention. "We've found something."

"I'm honestly just surprised it made it all the way down here," Scott muses, turning the satchel over in his hands. Below it, on the table in Jimmy's planning tent, lies the crown of antlers and a thin grey book, instantly recognizable as the one he had forgotten to give Lizzie.

"That would be the enchantments," Jimmy says, leaning on Scott's shoulder. When Scott turns his head to raise an eyebrow at him, he elaborates.

"Well, look, see the way the stag kind of shimmers? That's a protection kind of enchantment, to keep the bag from tearing. And the cod is a homebound enchantment—wherever you are, it'll find you."

Scott blinks.

How on earth would he be able to tell that just by looking at it?

"Are you making things up?" he asks dubiously.

Jimmy frowns. "What? No. My people showed me every step of the process when they were making this. We had a promising young Cod—Everarda—she was going to Gem's Academy, and she enchanted the thread. And Theo attached the strap—I think Jesse did part of the bag itself, and—"

"And the crown," Scott murmurs, picking it up with more reverence than he's shown it in some time.

It still shines, despite traveling down river for weeks and ending up buried in the mud. Its glow, perhaps, is more due to its divinity than any amount of polish.

How had it found him here?

Aeor, no doubt.

Scott's been kind of ignoring his god, as of late. Sure, he's said a couple of prayers here and there—some of them sobbing, silent prayers in his frozen world, others rote repetition and dull words—but he hasn't exactly been the most faithful of chosen ones.

It isn't that he doesn't respect Aeor. He still worships his god. It's just . . . easier, he supposes, to pretend as if this is all there is. His story ends here, and he dwindles away.

Yet every night, he tosses and turns, struck by recurring dreams. Dreams that have an oddly golden quality, dreams in which he has the crown of antlers and is alone against Xornoth.

Dreams in which he thinks in a tongue that is unrecognizable to him.

He's been ignoring the dreams, hoping them to be nothing—and in so doing, he's been ignoring hints from his god.

The fact that the crown is here again, one of the artifacts necessary to defeat Xornoth—and he doesn't think he really needs the boots anymore—feels like a bit more than a hint.

His stomach swoops unpleasantly. If Aeor's sending him messages of this magnitude, he clearly wants Scott to get going.

It's not like Scott can take on Xornoth with nothing changing. Xornoth almost killed him last time. He still has no idea what he's doing. Not to mention, Xornoth is surely even more powerful by this point, surrounded by soldiers and Rivendell's magic and who knows what else. There's no chance of survival.

Yet Aeor is pushing him. Aeor is telling him to go up against his brother another time and fail. Aeor is sending him to his doom.

And Scott's going to do it.

He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here, with Jimmy, in this little temporary civilization forever. He wants to forget about the world outside, forget that everything will likely collapse in a matter of months.

He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to fail again.

But he has been feeling like he's living on borrowed time.

And he can rub his thumb along the light scars on Jimmy's knuckles and wonder if he feels the same.

"What's this?" Jimmy asks, drawing Scott from his morbid spiraling by picking up the grey book.

"I—I don't know," Scott says, still reeling from his moment of revelation. "Something Oceanic, I think. I meant to give it to Lizzie."

He's going to die. He's being sent to his death like a lamb to the slaughter.

The long hours spent in Gem's secret library seem like a lifetime ago—a time when devastation was fresh, when Jimmy was dead yet the world seemed more hopeful than it does now. He barely recalls how they found the book in the first place.

"And it stayed in your bag the whole time," Jimmy muses, turning it this way and that. "What's it about?"

"I don't know, I couldn't read it."

"Hm." Jimmy flips the book open to the first page, while Scott gently sets the crown back down and turns to the young teen who had found the items.

"And there was nothing else there?" he questions.

She shakes her head. "Nothing that I saw, Lord Smajor. I can show you the place, if you like."

It's unlikely that the boots would have made it there. It's not like they had some sort of tracking spell, after all. It's more likely Lizzie found them, washed up on one of her islands.

"That won't be necessary," he tells the girl. "If anyone finds magical boots that burn to the touch, however, find me."

She nods, takes a few cautious steps back. Scott waits expectantly for Jimmy to dismiss her, but when he doesn't, she just shrugs and bounds off.

Scott looks back to Jimmy, who has stepped uncomfortably far away, the fingers of his right hand just brushing Scott's waist. Scott steps more into reach, peeks over at the book that Jimmy is so intently studying.

It looks much the same as he remembers, if a bit more wet. Strange, faded blue letters, made large with thick strokes. Not much of a conceivable pattern to split up the words (unless it's a character based language?), or even a way to tell if it's written from right to left or not.

But Jimmy is scrutinizing this old little book, mouth moving slightly as his eyes slowly travel across the page.

"Can you read it?" Scott asks incredulously. Jimmy can barely read Common, how on Aeor's great earth is he reading whatever this is?

"I—I think so?" Jimmy says, looking up from the book. "I've never seen this language before. At least, not that I can remember."

Right. Amnesia.

"I think I used to be able to write in this," continues Jimmy, voice hushed as his eyes return to the book. "That's crazy. How old is this?"

"Very," Scott says. Then, still confused, "Can amnesia make it so that you forget an entire language?"

Jimmy doesn't answer. Instead, he points a shaking finger at a point on the page, letting go of Scott (who presses his arm to Jimmy's, maintaining their vital contact) to do so.

What's so exciting about that part? Jimmy's suddenly gone white as mountain's snow, eyes watering as if he's about to cry. What could possibly bring him to tears so quickly? Is this a book of prophecies? Is Jimmy reading about the doubtless end that awaits them?

But Jimmy, voice weak, doesn't say anything like that. Instead, he says, looking over at Scott, "This . . . this is about me."

"It's a journal, of some kind," Jimmy explains, later, sitting on the grass in his tent, a plate (which was really more of a carefully sanded piece of wood) of berries and two bowls of thin soup between them. "I think Lizzie wrote it."

Scott frowns. "Lizzie? Are you sure?"

That just can't be possible. Gem's library had been sealed for likely hundreds of years. Jimmy's only—well, he only showed up ten years ago, and Lizzie—Lizzie's been around for a while, but fish hybrids don't live for longer than the average human lifespan.

Right? Lizzie's been. . . .

"Lizzie joined the House Blossom Alliance over twenty years ago," Scott says aloud. He was there when she showed up to her first meeting, he remembers that. She'd seemed young, small, hair falling into her face, clearly dressed in her nicest of clothing—which was almost meager compared to the glory of some of the other empires.

Still, she had commanded the respect of all of them, speaking boldly and making firm promises. Scott remembers being begrudgingly impressed, though not quite as much as the boy Mezelean Prince, who repeatedly urged his father (in a voice a bit too loud to be a whisper) to arrange an alliance.

If Lizzie had only inherited her kingdom at that age, then there was no way she had been able to write whatever that book was. Neither she nor Jimmy would even be born for centuries.

"Lizzie joined then . . . and none of us really knew much about the Ocean Kingdom, but we'd seen their buildings begin to rise above the water and she seemed legitimate. . . . And then you showed up about a decade later and started reaching out to empires, didn't you?"

"Why are you reciting history to me?"

Scott snorts. "This is barely history, more of a contemporary review," he tells Jimmy, adjusting so that Jimmy's heel isn't digging into his thigh. They've contorted themselves a bit oddly, perhaps, one of Jimmy's legs reaching around their dinner to keep physical contact with Scott, but there's only so long that they can hold hands in a day.

"I just don't understand how the books came to be in Gem's hidden library."

"Maybe it wasn't all that hidden?" Jimmy suggests. "Maybe Lizzie found it and put these books in."

"Are you sure Lizzie wrote it?"

"Yeah, it's her handwriting."

"That is definitely not her handwriting," Scott says, pointing to the open book beside Jimmy. "That isn't anyone's handwriting. That's an ancient Oceanic script that nobody remembers."

"I remember it," Jimmy says, popping a berry into his mouth.

"Yes, but you don't really, right? You can read it, and write it, but you don't know how you know it or where you learned it. How do you know it even talks about you?"

"Lizzie's writing to me in parts of it."

"How do you know it's you? And not someone else named Jimmy?"

Jimmy frowns. "It's not exactly my name, you know. It's a word that means me. Nobody else would have that."

It does not make sense.

None of this makes any sense.

"Sounds inefficient for a language," Scott murmurs absently, ignoring the pang in his chest as he remembers that Jimmy died and now is back so what does sense even matter?

"Right, it changed to use names as the Ocean Kingdom grew. Barely anybody even knew this form of it by the time. . . ."

Jimmy trails off, eyes unfocusing with a concerning suddenness. His lips move ever so slightly, forming unsaid words.

"Jimmy?" tries Scott, reaching over to tap on his knee. Jimmy blinks, eyes refocusing on Scott.

"Sorry, what was I saying?" he asks, brows furrowed.

And if that isn't strange, Scott doesn't know what is.

"Something about the language developing over time?" Scott prompts.

Jimmy bites his lip, looks askance. "I don't . . . I don't know. I don't remember. I don't. . . ."

He doesn't look like he's going to cry, exactly, but he certainly looks troubled, and his eyes catch on the book.

"None of it makes sense," he says quietly, and Scott could not agree more. "Lizzie wrote that. I know she wrote that. I don't know how. And it's . . . I need to talk to her."

"It's from before you lost your memory, isn't it?" Scott asks after a moment. He isn't sure how far he can push this, but he feels a sense of idle curiosity. What does the book say? Why does it worry Jimmy? How did it get in the Crystal Cliffs secret library, unrecorded and forgotten?

Jimmy nods. "It's gonna eat at me, Scott," he says, already sounding tired. "Lizzie's writing about all sorts of things that I don't remember. They just don't make sense. I need to talk to her, figure out if she remembers any of this."

"You're saying we need to go to the Ocean Kingdom."

Again, Jimmy nods. "Yep. At some point." He looks away, sighs, briefly looking far too old yet much too young to be leading a camp of refugees, let alone a kingdom.

Jimmy's always had moments like that, when his bearing makes it obvious to Scott that Jimmy stumbled into this role ten years ago and gave it his all, despite his lack of experience.

He doesn't deserve this—war, death, pain.

Jimmy doesn't deserve any of this.

But Jimmy doesn't dwell, even if Scott does. Instead, he looks back up to meet Scott's eyes, lips quirked in a smile. "What about you? What's with the crown?"

Right. The crown.

Scott swallows.

He and Jimmy have talked a little. Just enough to air out any pressing concerns, for Scott to realize that his conflicting feelings were not unwarranted but unneeded, and for Jimmy to accept that Scott is struggling and help him feel assured of his love as often as he can.

But they haven't talked much, despite literally never leaving one another's side. They've been so busy keeping the camp running and planning attacks and defenses and experimenting with Scott's curse that they haven't been able to sit down and talk, like they're doing now.

Does Scott tell him what it means?

Does Scott tell him that by sending the crown, Aeor intends for Scott to go up against Xornoth again, just to fail as he already has? Does he tell Jimmy that this little respite was nice, but it can't last forever?

Maybe he can put it off. Maybe he can stay with Jimmy just a little bit longer, in the relative peace of the camp.

It's selfish. Scott ought to at least try to fight Xornoth right now, if only for the elves in captivity.

But Scott's kind of tired of trying to save the world. Let someone else do it, for a change.

He forces a smile, fiddles with a berry between his fingers. "It's just a Rivendell treasure. You needn't worry about it."

He'll stay, Scott decides, as Jimmy gives him a soft, loving smile. He'll stay as long as he can.

Which isn't very long.

As it turns out, their little frozen-town trick from the week before didn't go over well with Mythland, and it's only the next morning that a woman comes running to the planning tent, declaring that she'd seen three unfamiliar men searching for the camp while she was on patrol. That means that Mythland knows roundabouts where the first camp is (the newly-formed second is off to the northeast, and as far as they know, hasn't been discovered), and the probability of attack is high.

It's time to move, then. Scott spends all morning running from place to place with Jimmy, helping children and disabled and those unwilling to fight pack up and prepare to move to the second camp, from whence a proper plan will be formed.

It isn't terribly easy to mobilize a camp of hundreds of people in only one day. Many of them, in the short month or so that they've been here, have settled in as if it were their home. Some of the families have collected possessions, strangely enough—Scott watches an elderly man argue with Jimmy for almost ten minutes in some strange Oceanic dialect over not wanting to part with his chair. Jimmy responds patiently, but Scott can feel his body tense more and more as he responds in the dolphin-like clicks and whistles of the dialect.

Finally, Jimmy pats the man on the shoulder and says something in a low voice to him, then moves on.

"What'd you say?" asks Scott, hanging on to Jimmy's arm as they walk away, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hurried packing.

"I told him he can leave the chair or die in it, I don't care," Jimmy says breezily, and Scott almost laughs.

"One of these days you need to learn diplomacy."

"I said I'd go find his husband, he can be diplomatic."

It takes an hour to find him, however, because at every turn, Jimmy is pulled aside and asked a question, called over for help, or stopped to listen to some sort of plan or explanation. The camp is quickly emptying, guides hurrying back and forth between the camps to lead more people to the safer location.

"I hope we aren't being watched," Scott says offhandedly, watching a group of a dozen or so Cod head out, laden with makeshift packs. "Then they'd find the location of the other camp, too."

Jimmy doesn't reply, just points beyond the treeline, out toward the outskirts of their massive camp. There, past the chaos of destroying shelters and striking tents, Scott sees several people in light armor, each carrying a weapon, making circles around the camp.

"Patrol is doubled," Jimmy says shortly. "All the way down to Camp Two."

"How many people are in Camp Two?"

"We have . . . what, two hundred joining them?" Jimmy guesses, readjusting the sword strapped to his back. "So they'll be up to around five hundred. It'll drop, though, as they send us fighters tomorrow."

They're leaving tomorrow, too. Everyone who is left in the camp tomorrow at noon (the able fighters, that is) will be marching out. The plan is to head out toward the Ocean Kingdom, add their little force of four hundred to Lizzie's armies, and from there plan with Lizzie a way to try and defeat Xornoth.

Scott should feel better about it. He'd felt for so long that Jimmy's small goals were pointless, after all.

But he knows now that it's hopeless to try and sway this war. Scott feels like there's a rain cloud looming over their heads, ready to strike down with lightning and set the camp ablaze. Death surely lurks just beyond their line of sight.

There's no way to defeat Xornoth. His power will only grow, the God of Darkness fed by the fear and torture he brings to the land.

Maybe Aeor wants Scott to take a shot at it just so that he can go to the afterlife with full honor. Elvish history and religious lore is fairly vague on anything other than the separation of the afterlife, but it's always had a sense of peace and happiness. Maybe Aeor knows that Scott is bound to die, and wants to hurry it along so that he can get some peace for once.

For a god that sends him frustrating hints all the time, he's really outdone himself with this one.

He's going to die. Aeor is sending him to his death.

Jimmy notices something's wrong, somehow. Jimmy, who never notices anything, even when he's not busy with mobilizing an entire camp over the space of a day and a half, notices that something is wrong, which means that Scott isn't hiding his thoughts very well.

He used to be so much better at this. Back before he met Jimmy.

But Jimmy frowns at some point during the day, rubs his thumb over Scott's knuckles, and asks how he's doing.

And when Scott asks why Jimmy would even be concerned, Jimmy points out his wings and how stiff they are, and the way his fingers are repeatedly tapping against his side, and the anxious frown on his lips, and asks if he's having sensory overload.

No, he's just thinking about his own imminent death. Nothing to worry about there.

He wants Jimmy to live. He wants Jimmy to gather his little force and leave the land of the Empires, go somewhere without demons and death, somewhere his people can rebuild.

He doesn't want Jimmy to be captured and subjected to torture, or killed, or whatever evil is in mind for him.

He wants Jimmy to be happy.

If it comes to it, Scott decides right then and there, he'll split off from the group. He'll leave a note, telling Jimmy to get out when it all goes wrong, and fly to Rivendell alone, ready to confront his demon brother once and for all.

And then he'll die.

Right.

He's going to die.

They set out at noon the next day, Scott's satchel uncomfortably heavy with the weight of both the crown and general travel supplies—some food, first aid, and a bowl and spoon. Jimmy hikes beside him at the front of the pack, the mysterious runes carved into the old leather of the hilt of his sword sparkling in the sun.

If Scott had been in charge of this expedition to the Ocean Kingdom, he would have set out at dusk rather than noon, the hot sun beating down on their backs. He barely gets half an hour into the march before shrugging off his coat and draping it over his head, sweat dripping into his eyes.

Elves aren't made for heat, not noonday, marching-through-tall-prairie-grass, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky kind of heat. It's hot, but worse than that it's humid, so Scott has to deal with not only the burning sun but also the thick air that threatens to choke him. He stops frequently to take a sip from the waterskin bumping against his hip, to wipe the sweat from his brow, to pray for clouds, and he can only hope that his skin isn't burning beyond recognition.

At least last time he trekked through the plains, he was covered in ice. Now he's overheating, out of breath, and just generally exhausted.

And they haven't even been walking for a full day.

His wings itch to take flight, glide through the air and feel the wind on his face, make it to the Ocean Kingdom in under an hour instead of the several day journey that the force has embarked on.

They're walking the whole way, despite the fact that the nearby river would be a much faster way to travel for Cod. Jimmy says that the river is being watched intently, and that four hundred rebels is a little conspicuous. They'll be expected to take the river route, not go around.

And Scott also suspects that Jimmy doesn't want to leave anyone behind. Not all of the rebels are native Cod, and not all are capable of breathing underwater—like him, for example.

Not that Jimmy would change the plans and safety of his entire camp for just Scott.

They walk all afternoon in even warmer weather (and it can't really be that warm, because all of the Cod are doing fine, but Scott is really just not suited for this), and they're about to press onward after a blessed break for supper when one of the scouts sent on ahead comes running back, a little dot on the rolling yellow-green plains ahead that gradually becomes larger.

When they arrive, huffing and puffing, green in the face, they salute Jimmy and bow a little to Scott, accepting a drink of water.

"There's a small Mythland camp up ahead," they manage after a moment to catch their breath, sweeping their sweaty brown bangs out of their eyes. "An expedition or scouting group, probably. Fifty soldiers at most."

"We stop here to rest," Jimmy decides immediately, without waiting to consult the two Cod that he's chosen to be his seconds-in-command. "We'll continue in a couple of hours. Can you lead me to the camp?"

The young Cod nods, and before Scott knows it, they're guiding him and Jimmy away, a group of five of the stealthiest Cod accompanying them.

Scott doesn't really think it's a good idea to go spying—not when both he and Jimmy are rather high-profile, and letting go of Jimmy could have disastrous consequences making it impossible to split up—but who is he to make the rules around here?

And maybe he just doesn't want to go because his legs and back ache from the journey thus far, and his excessive clothing is all stuck to him with his own sweat.

Or maybe he doesn't want to go because he's going to die in a matter of days and he wants to spend as much time talking to Jimmy as possible instead of silent surveillance.

But as dusk falls and the world darkens, Scott finds himself lying on his belly at the peak of a small, ridge-like hill, peering down at a small camp of Mythland soldiers.

There's probably fifty men or so, most of whom are preparing or eating an evening meal between the six rows of tents. None of them are in armor, milling around the two campfires on either end of the camp, over each of which is a pot of something cooking (probably a stew).

"Fire is good," Jimmy murmurs. "It'll throw off their vision. We can probably get pretty close."

He points to a tent on the edge of the second row away from them, a bit bigger than the others, which two men are currently exiting. “I bet the man in charge is there. I want to know what his plans are.”

"Can we risk it?" Scott whispers back, tearing his eyes away from the camp to focus on Jimmy's shadowed face, two bright streaks across his vision from the light of the fires. "If we get caught, the whole operation is done for."

Jimmy clicks his tongue, reaffirms his grip on Scott's hand. "If we get caught, you fly us out of there, okay?"

"What? Jimmy, I haven't flown in weeks—my wings were broken, I don't even know if they'll support my weight, let alone—"

"Then we won't get caught," Jimmy says simply.

Right. Because that's the way that works.

Still, Scott only sighs and nods, and after a few long moments of silent communication with the other five rebels, Jimmy and Scott crawl back down the hill, sliding back on hands and knees until they're far enough back that they can stand fully.

They wait there, silent, until dark has fully fallen and the air cools, various nighttime critters hopping out of their hiding places to make their voices heard. Scott leaps back in surprise when a field mouse crawls across his foot, briefly losing contact with Jimmy and sending an icicle straight through the mouse, skewering it to the ground.

Jimmy sucks his breath in between his teeth. Scott cringes, gripping Jimmy's bicep and feeling his control acclimate again.

He hates this. He hates not being in control. He hates being cursed.

"Just . . . try not to do that again?" Jimmy says after a moment.

Scott nods wordlessly.

They don't say anything after that, and soon enough they can't really see anything beyond a foot ahead of them, and Jimmy begins to lead the way around the curve of the hill.

It isn't too difficult to move through the tall grass quietly, crouched over to hide in it, but Scott finds himself gritting his teeth every time Jimmy stumbles over a stalk or tramples some grass. Can't he just be silent? Scott has massive wings behind him and he isn't getting caught on anything, it can't be that hard.

He has to remind himself every couple of steps that different people have different skills. Elves have light feet and are better at sneaking than most, after all. It isn't Jimmy's fault that he's a flat-footed Cod.

"Left," Jimmy breathes in his ear, and Scott freezes. "There's someone on watch."

Scott looks around, trying to get his eyes to acclimate to the darkness. The firelight is throwing off his heightened vision (just as Jimmy had predicted it would for the enemy) , but he can maybe see a figure standing out in the grass to their right.

Now that he knows the man is there, if he pays attention he can hear him. He can hear the slight wheeze that accompanies each breath, the almost-silent rustle of clothing.

They shift left, Scott keeping an eye on the shadowy figure, making sure he doesn't head this way.

But as they move, Scott's still-alert ears pick up another sound, distant and almost indistinct.

Ba-thump. . . . Ba-thump. . . . Ba-thump. . . .

It might be his imagination, but it seems to be growing louder.

"Do you hear something?" Scott ventures to whisper, glancing around to make sure the guard doesn't hear him. Jimmy shrugs.

"No. What is it?"

He doesn't see anything. But he can still hear the rhythmic thudding, ever so slightly louder. Maybe it's his heartbeat?

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

Jimmy continues moving, bent over almost double, masked by the tall grass. Scott follows, their fingers linked and connecting them, swallowing back his bad feeling.

It sounds like a drum. A beating drum coming closer and closer.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump—

"Are you—" Scott starts, before something clicks in his memory and he knows exactly what the sound is.

Uh-oh.

Ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump—

Scott drags Jimmy back by his tunic, pulling him down on his back in the grass, the sword in its scabbard jostling against Scott's arm (flattened under Jimmy as they both lie supine on the ground). Scott presses his free hand to Jimmy's mouth, silencing the question about to burst from his lips.

Just in time, as a horse and rider come barreling through, barely two meters away from them, hooves thudding against the grass and saddlebags clanking. The horse gallops across the field to the camp, which is still far enough away that they can't hear anything more than the general bustle of a camp getting ready for bed.

Scott carefully sits back up once he's sure the danger has passed (and Jimmy does too, with considerably more noise), watches as the rider dismounts, tying the horse's reins to the post that's been set up at the edge of camp, next to the pack ponies that are lazily munching on the grass.

"He looks important," Jimmy whispers.

He does. The rider is wearing the official white surcoat of Mythland, a polished leather satchel strapped across his chest. He doesn't even unsaddle his horse, just continues on into the camp, stride slightly bowlegged.

Neither of them even have to say anything. Both Jimmy and Scott just move forward in sync, zigzagging from left to right, slower and slower the closer they get to the camp as the grass grows shorter, until they find themselves right behind the tent that the rider entered, the larger one that is luckily off to the side rather than in the center.

It's dangerous. There's a tent behind them a little ways, and others in their line of sight—made especially risky by the firelight emanating from one of the campfires, only a row away from them.

Still, nobody seems to be wandering about over here, and Scott trusts that either he'll hear them coming or Aeor will protect them.

Now, though, he needs to focus.

"Can you hear anything?" whispers Jimmy. Scott shushes him near silently, presses his ear up against the canvas. Jimmy does the same, his bad ear out toward the camp.

A couple of indistinguishable murmurings—pleasantries, if Scott had to guess—then the most obnoxious slurping Scott has ever heard—

"I don't believe I understand," a man's voice says, gruff and low, muffled through the tent wall. "The king wants us to abandon our course?"

"For the time being," a younger voice—the rider, Scott guesses—says.

"But we just sent our report. We've found the rebel camp. We need to attack before they move. I was expecting two thousand soldiers, not a messenger telling me to head to the coast."

"Everyone is being sent to the coast," the rider responds. "The rebel camp will still be here later."

"Or they'll all go hide in their little badger-holes. We could lose the Codlands if they get bold."

A chuckle. "It wouldn't take much to re-conquer them, I assure you. Especially without their ruler."

Scott squeezes Jimmy's hand. Jimmy squeezes back.

"I don't know," the first man says. "Something strange is going on with those rebels. Did you hear about Medokrill?"

"I don't bother myself with the names of their primitive villages."

"Froze. Overnight. Three men got frostbite."

"The weather of this place does not—"

"And in the morning, most of the Cod had vanished." The squeaking of a chair, another horrid slurp. "Now, I don't like that sort of coincidence. The town freezes—in August, mind—and that same night, the rebels strike and sneak everyone out of there. And only Medokrill froze. Even the prairie around it was untouched."

"What do you want me to do about it?" the rider asks after a moment. The other man chuckles.

"Keep it quiet, ideally. I don't know who or what has that kind of power, but I'm thinking the blame lies with those fairies. They might not be so neutral, after all.”

“I'm sure His Majesty would find that quite informative.”

“Remember that we don't want to scare our men, or give the Cod hope. Keep it quiet. But otherwise, you could get me my men so I can quash this rebellion."

The rider clicks his tongue. "The command is coming straight from His Majesty. Everyone is going to the coast for an attack."

"What could be so important—"

"The Ocean Queen is gone," the rider says.

Jimmy stiffens beside Scott.

"She'll be arriving in Rivendell early tomorrow morning. The King intends to . . . delay her return, if you take my meaning. We attack while she's gone. By the time the day ends, we should have the upper hand and the fish will surrender within the week."

"Hm." The other man goes silent for a long moment. "I don't know how I feel about that. Tomorrow?"

"You're the last group to know, unfortunately. You should make it to the river in under an hour, and from there it will be several days' march to the coast itself. With any luck, the fighting will be done before you even arrive."

A long, drawn-out sigh. "And I don't suppose my little espionage group was small enough to escape the King's attention?"

"Every man, General. This could be the end of the war."

"Right. Well, it'll be morning before I can get my men moving. That wouldn't be too much of an issue, would it?"

"I suppose I might have stopped for the night before reaching your camp. Officially, I arrived tomorrow morning."

"Sure. And none of that stuff about the freeze leaves this tent, all right?"

"And you never heard a thing about the Ocean Queen's permanent little trip."

Another slurp that sets Scott's teeth on edge.

"Agreed. Have you been to the Capital lately?"

"Not in several weeks. Why?"

"Just wondering how the new market law is going."

"Ah. Well, I can tell you. . . ."

Jimmy tugs, lightly, on Scott's sleeve, and after a moment longer of listening to make sure they don't return to the earlier topic, Scott allows himself to be pulled.

They sneak back through the grass, not stopped by the sight of any sentry, off toward their vantage hill, around the side of it and to the back, where they find the other five rebels that they'd brought with them sitting cross-legged, conversing in whispers and pulling apart stalks of grass.

"Back to camp," Jimmy says shortly when they look up, and walks straight past them, pulling Scott with him.

Without a word, they follow him, stealing off in the direction of their resting soldiers, several hills away.

"What are we—" Scott whispers, but Jimmy shakes his head.

"Later."

Later.

How much later?

This is kind of important news, in Scott's opinion!

If Sausage is concentrating all his forces on the Ocean Kingdom because Lizzie's going to be in Rivendell for some reason, their whole mission is for nothing. They won't be able to strengthen her armies if they can't reach the ocean, but they can't go back—soon they'll be closed in, Mythland having conquered the Ocean Kingdom, so maybe they can flee to the Overgrown—but the general already suspects that the Overgrown is aiding them, and joining their ranks would only lead to an invasion—

"Who's there?" a guard calls, peering out into the darkness.

"It's us, Lanale," Jimmy says, and Scott stops to survey their rebel force.

It's too small. It's absolutely tiny. There's approximately four hundred of them, some as young as fourteen, ready to fight to try and free their country.

And that captain had just casually ordered two thousand soldiers to entirely wipe out their little force.

There's nothing they can do to help Lizzie against all of Mythland's armies. They won't even make a difference. They surely can't join the Overgrown, as it would lead to an attack. They can't stay here, not with Mythlanders combing the prairies for them.

He has no idea what Jimmy intends to do. He can't see any way out.

Yet Jimmy moves with purpose, and Scotr walks with him, picking through sleeping rebels, until Jimmy finds the woman he wants and shakes her awake.

She stretches, stands slowly, pushes her hair back. "Codfather," she yawns, clearly not-quite awake. "What do you need?"

"You're a good leader, Millie," Jimmy says, skipping pleasantries. "I need you to be in charge while I'm gone."

Millie blinks. "Gone? Gone where? What's happening?"

"I'm putting you and Emilio in charge," Jimmy explains, rather impatiently. "There's been a change in plans. You need to split up. You take most of the fighters over the river to the Overgrown, all right? Volunteer to join Katherine's army. Emilio needs to take fifty men and go back to Camp Two. Emilio will gather everyone who is able, and lead them to the Overgrown. Got it? Everyone is going to House Blossom."

"I—what?"

"Jimmy—" Scott starts—what is he talking about? That will only make things worse, and where will Jimmy be?—but Jimmy doesn't stop.

"Scott and I are leaving right now to Rivendell," he says firmly. "Can I trust you to lead these people to the Overgrown?"

Rivendell?

How?

Millie nods, all traces of sleepiness gone. "Of course, Codfather. And Emilio as well. They're a good fish."

Jimmy claps her on the shoulder once before turning away, pulling Scott back in the direction they came from.

"Wait!" Millie whisper-shouts, and Jimmy pauses, looks over his shoulder.

Millie gives him a grim nod. "Codspeed."

Jimmy nods back, once, then continues on.

"I'm sorry, what?" demands Scott, once they've retraced their path through the dozing force. "I—what are we—Rivendell, Jimmy? What—"

"We have to warn her," Jimmy says, and that may be true, but they can't just abandon the people here to go on a rescue mission miles and lifetimes away!

"Right, but it's logistically impossible—we ought to be headed to the Ocean Kingdom, warn her military commander, bef—"

"He literally told us where she was gonna be, we have to go out there—"

"He told us Rivendell! We don't know where in Rivendell, and more importantly—we can't get to Rivendell! How are we—"

"It's my sister, Scott," Jimmy says, and Scott falls silent at the desperate look on his face. He thinks he can see, by the moonlight, the sparkle of a tear on his cheek, somehow distinguishable from the shine of scales pushing through the scars on his face.

He got those scars, Scott remembers, when he fell through the Void and the nothing tore away pieces his skin, dissolving everything that was Jimmy.

Scott promised himself then, as his wings beat desperately and tears streamed down his face and he carried the unmoving body of his fiancé in his arms, that he would do anything for Jimmy, as long as he survived.

"It's my sister," Jimmy says again now, and Scott's eyes flick up from his scars to his beautiful, serious, brown eyes. "I'm not gonna leave her. I'm not gonna let Sausage murder her."

Scott glances away.

If they reveal themselves, Scott will have to face Xornoth.

If they save Lizzie, Scott will die.

And maybe that's dramatizing it a little bit, but it's true. If they go out into the public, if everyone knows that they're alive, then Xornoth will come after them.

Instead of, maybe, several more weeks with Jimmy, Scott's timeline has dropped down to a matter of days—hours, even.

He can't leave Jimmy so soon. He just found him again.

But one more look at Jimmy's pleading, teary eyes, and Scott knows that he can't leave Lizzie to die. She doesn't have a chance against the demon.

No one does, but he can at least hold Xornoth off while the others get to safety.

He'll never see Jimmy again.

"All right," he says, even as it breaks his heart. "We'll do it. But how do you intend on getting to Rivendell?"

Jimmy's eyes slowly slide up, up to the half moon, to the stars surrounding it. "Well, remember my escape plan from earlier?"

"Jimmy."

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alicerosejensen · 1 year ago

Text

Requiem

Warning: reader death; mentions of suicide; dark; angst; mentions of alcohol.

Synopsis: Leon is tired of losing those he loves. Another scar on his heart that you gave him when you decided to leave forever.

A/N: I think this is what I can write best. I just actually feel better after posting this.

It would be better to tear your heart out of your chest than to burn and rot from love.

Leon didn’t want to deal with the funeral, but it seems that no one else would have cared about it anymore. And here you are lying in front of him, surrounded by flowers whose velvet petals touch your pale skin. As tender and short-lived as you yourself. You lie in your coffin in complete silence with your arms folded on your chest and it seems that nothing can interrupt your eternal sleep.

Actually, that’s how it is.

So beautiful and calm. Death can't take that from you, but death took you from him. More precisely, you did it yourself without leaving even a short farewell note with “I’m sorry” written in careless handwriting. You left him nothing but bitter memories of the last months.

Leon looks at you without saying a single word. Without you, there is too much Emptiness here, but as you know, the most painful daggers are stabbed in the back by loved ones. Why couldn't you just talk to him when his heart was always open to you? Now he has nowhere to hide from the pain, and Leon would gladly dig himself a second grave next to you or lie down in the same coffin with you - a cruel traitor who so callously trampled on his love, sneakily escaping to another world, and anger really splashes inside him, bursting out with tears.

Claire carefully puts her hand on his shoulder and it seems that he is hunched over from the weight lying on him. Your death... your voluntary departure from life hit him harder than a tombstone. After all, you ran away from him, from this world, into your dreams and into some other world of your own that is so strikingly different from this one. Leon even wonders if you did it? Tears flow down his cheeks against his will, Leon has no strength to restrain them, just like the day he found you there on the bed.

A day that he will curse for the rest of his life...

He knew that it was hard for you, that there were days when you just couldn't get out of bed and put yourself in order. Sometimes he sat you down in front of him and untangled your hair that you hadn't combed for too long, and even took up scissors when combing couldn't cope with tangled strands. He knew that it was difficult for you and made sure that you took your medications, but it seems that everything turned out to be complete shit, because if the treatment would have been useful, then you would be lying on the bed or the couch right now.

Not in a wooden box that costs a lot of money.

Endless suffering that was worse than death for you and you gave up by stopping the fight. Leon hates that day.

In particular, when he realized that you were not breathing.

When opening the door of your small apartment, the prickly evening air hit him in the face with a strong stream blowing from the open window. Then he looked at the lowered window, thinking that you were just sleeping, and did not immediately notice the empty pill bottle on the floor. You were already as pale as you are now, with blue lips, but Leon thought it was just from the cold... not from death. He lay down next to you, gently hugging you, kissing you on the cheek, trying to warm you with the warmth of his body, rubbing your icy palms and whispering various tender words in your ear, trying to gently wake you up. What a fool! Leon has seen so many deaths, but when you lay in front of him, it took him a few minutes for his heart to break forever.

"Princess?" The agitated voice was filled with notes of panic and fear. In the end, he turned pale himself when he turned your silent body.

Humble silence and a damn rude voice. Leon shook you by the shoulders, slapped your cheeks with his palms, trying to force you to open your eyes, but you left without saying the last goodbye. The whole world was like one big sand castle collapsed right in his hands and your body was just a reminder of what connected you to each other. The sound of crying did not subside for a long time in the four walls. Leon continued to hold you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, rocking you as if cradling a small child and warm drops of salty tears fell on your face and lips. Until at some point a hole formed inside him that allowed him to focus his vision on the ill-fated empty pill bottle that caused your death.

His head was lying on top of your head, but Leon just watched and waited without knowing what, because who better than him to know that miracles do not happen.

Like every living soul, you have been fighting for life for a long time, forever stumbling and once falling into such a deep hole that there is no strength left to get out of there. Despair has clung to you from all sides, turning you into a kind of ghost that even pills could not help you find new colors of happiness for later life. In the end, you ended your life path prematurely considering that death is also a medicine.

That's just not necessary to self-medicate.

Perhaps after you die, you decide to wait for Leon on the border of life and death, afraid to cross the final line alone forever. But if this line exists, will he forgive you?

After all, you didn't watch how he drowned his pain in bottles of alcohol, and then organized a funeral, denying Hannigan and Claire help, because they just knew that he was tearing apart and that a loaded gun had long been in his apartment with the safety off. It was worth pulling the trigger once, but then who will take care of you? Leon has not believed in God for a long time and now it's even good because despite your act, the thought that you will suffer after death scares him even more. However, if so, then he was ready to go down to Hell to you.

Leon still has a lot of pain left. He was so tired of losing loved ones. Probably one day he will go through all five stages of grief and accept your departure, leaving himself a slight melancholy and happy memories of which he will be reminded of your things. But it won't be soon. This bleeding wound on his soul will torment him for a long time and only time will turn it into another scar on his heart.

Meanwhile, he listens to the serene memorial service and, just like you, drowns in these gloomy thoughts, because now, despite the hellish training and zombie outbreaks, Leon does not know how to live on without you, so he begs you to just wait for him on the other side.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon x you #agnst #Spotify

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

nah but imagine miguel helping you tie your hair up before a big mission and then he just gets sappy about it because...

miguel heard you grumble as you let your hair fall down messily and sighed as you looked at your disheveled appearance in the mirror you were holding. you wanted to feel a bit better about yourself today, spruce yourself up, give yourself a nice hairdo to treat yourself–but you couldn't figure out how exactly to braid your hair the way you wanted to. it frustrated you to no end how you knew how to beat criminals and villains in your home dimension, contain anomalies and lead squads of spider people, but had no clue how to tie your hair up in a more classy way.

"you good?" miguel asked you as he looked over at you from underneath his glasses as he looked up from the reports he was reading. you smiled at him and nodded, with your hair looking tousled. "i just... can't seem to get this hairstyle right." you said as you began to run your brush through your hair as you tried to fix it up. miguel gave a hum as a response. "what's the occasion?" he asked you as you chuckled while you brushed your hair. "nothing, just wanted to do something nice for myself, is all. just wanted to feel pretty." "but you're already really beautiful." he blurted out as a soft whisper.

you got a bit embarrassed at miguel's little quip, smiling to yourself a bit. miguel got down from where he was working and sat down next to you by the sofa. "you really want to tie it up?" he asked you as he brushed away stray hairs from your forehead. you nodded as miguel gestured for you to turn around. he gently took a few locks of your hair and some bobby pins. he worked his way through your hair softly, tucking and wrapping your hair into intricate little braids.

miguel sighed softly as he placed the bobby pins in your hair, admiring his handiwork. the bobby pins had little violet and pink flowers in them, just like the ones gabriella had... he hadn't done anyone's hair, nobody but gabi's. "you're... really good at this, mig." you complimented him with a warm smile as you admired your reflection in the mirror. miguel nodded and thanked you. "...i used to do it for a girl i once loved." "really?" "yeah, a... a girl who really looked up to me." he said as he felt over one of the bobby pins he didn't place in your hair.

it had a light blue flower design, and was gabi's favorite. he gazed at it with tender eyes and a small, sad smile as he felt over the bumps of the petals. you looked over at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "i bet... she really loved it when you did her hair. seeing as how great you are at doing this." you said as miguel chuckled lightly at your assumption. "oh, no, she hated it. hated it whenever i did her hair because she knew i sucked at it. so i did her hair every day, even though she kept telling me i couldn't do it... until i got better, and she finally found a good word to say about my handiwork." he reminisced with a wider grin as his voice cracked a little while he was narrating to you.

"and it looks like all your hard work wasn't for naught." you uttered, and with that, miguel ceased feeling over the bobby pin and looked at you, his smile now gone, replaced by his usual, neutral expression. it wasn't one of indifference or apathy, but rather... one that was conflicted, but well concealed. "...i'm not so sure about that." he said as he got up from the sofa and went back to his platform to work.

you couldn't decipher the meaning behind miguel's words, you couldn't fully comprehend why he was so ambiguous about it, but you didn't dare to question him. you respected his privacy, what he didn't wanna elaborate on, you didn't pry; but you felt in his tone when he was speaking about that girl whose hair he used to do, you felt a warmth in it, a fondness. but that warmth came with an undertone of... sadness, a profound longing, but it was probably just you thinking that. probably.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @ophanimgold

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lalune9x · 3 months ago

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SCTIR Translation - Chapter 472: Letter (3)

The central table was also decorated with flowers. A five-tiered tray was piled with various desserts. The elegant tea set was adorned with flowering vines that spilled over and cascaded down to the floor. Beyond all that stood Sung Hyunje.

Chapter translation under the cut.

---

Chapter 472: Letter (3)

'This is close to what I expected.'

It seemed to be a banquet hall or something of the sort. The overall lighting was dim, with only the center brightly illuminated. Round tables and chairs had been pushed to the edges, leaving just one table in the middle.

The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers and grass. Not only were the tables decorated with fresh flowers, but every corner of the room was adorned with them. I wondered how much all those flowers must have cost.

'Looking at this, it seems he really does like flowers.'

Director Song once mentioned that over the years, he'd received enough flowers from Sung Hyunje to fill several trucks. He also had an indoor garden at his house. Though on the other hand, Yoohyun and Hyuna-ssi had apparently never received any flowers from him. Soyoung had said she'd gotten one or two occasionally, though she'd grimaced while commenting that they felt more like a warning, the way the mafia sends messages.

Beyond all that stood Sung Hyunje. I'd often wondered before why he went to such lengths for this kind of thing. Though in fairness, he probably just gave orders while his subordinates did all the hard work.

'They must be well-paid.'

Probably something like 100,000 won an hour. Honestly, I was also kind of tempted. Imagine earning a month's salary for a single day's work. And even though those tasks could be done by a regular person, given that an S-rank hunter was involved, they probably got hazard pay too.

As I crossed the plush carpet, I couldn’t resist asking. "How much did you pay for all this labor?"

"…Hmm. I’m not sure."

"But you must have had a budget."

"It's pocket money. I don't set a budget for light hobbies. Surely Han Yoojin-gun is the same."

"No, not really. I even recorded things like the cup of tteokbokki I bought on the street in my expense journal. I set limits for how much I can spend on snacks each month."

I had been the same even after becoming an adult. Even when I bought a cup of coffee on a cold day, I'd think about how much money I had left to spend that month. Now, though, my assets were so vast that keeping track had become difficult, but I never spent money carelessly on personal hobbies. I always checked roughly how much something might cost and how much I'd already spent.

"Well, Sung Hyunje-ssi, I suppose if you went bankrupt, you'd bounce back quickly."

Even if all the Awakened and dungeons disappeared tomorrow. Maybe he could go into show business. These days, high-rank hunters were considered the new nobility, but before that, celebrities had held that status. He was Korean by nationality, but I bet if you dropped him in Hollywood, he'd fit right in, as if he'd been a child actor there who'd been successful since a young age.

It was late autumn, almost winter, but the table that I stood resolutely in front of smelled like spring.

"I was too agitated yesterday," I said, meeting his golden eyes squarely. "Because I like you, Sung Hyunje-ssi. That's why I got so angry, disappointed, and frustrated."

If I hadn't been fond of him, I would've just thought, 'Oh well, this is a hassle,' and left it at that. If I had never stepped inside the marked boundary, I wouldn't have felt suddenly pushed out. If a close friend said out of the blue, 'I'm moving away today,' of course, I'd be confused. I'd be hurt they didn't tell me sooner, and I'd worry about why. But if it were just a stranger from the neighborhood moving, I'd just think, 'Ah, those people are moving,' and end it there.

"I also like you very much, Han Yoojin-gun," Sung Hyunje said as he lifted the teapot.

"If you're sincere, then you could show me the letter. And you could also tell me exactly what you're planning."

He poured the tea into a cup.

"You said you received a proposal, but you didn't tell me any of the details."

Given that the people involved were those who had dragged me to China, I was naturally sensitive about it, but maybe the proposal was something trivial. It could just be a dinner invitation. Maybe Park Hayul's noonim even had a thing for Sung Hyunje. He did seem to be popular with older women. If you thought about it, even the Crescent Moon was older than him.

"This letter, you mean?"

Sung Hyunje put down the teapot and took out the letter. I immediately held out my hand, but of course, he didn't give it to me.

"There are restrictions, naturally," he said.

"A contract, huh? Well, there's no way someone would deliver such an important letter without any precautions. It's probably something like 'don't show or share the contents with others,' right? Come here."

It was just a contract. Surely it couldn't be SSS-rank or higher. I opened my arms as if to hug him, but he just placed the letter down on the table.

"If the contract is broken, Chloe will leave too."

Ah… Of course. Even if they locked down the airports, an S-rank hunter could easily cross borders. She could swim to China or Japan if she had to.

"Then will you help us catch Hunter Chloe?"

"What should I do?" Sung Hyunje said, the corners of his lips curling in a mischievous way. "The contract terms aren't that straightforward. Naturally, there are exception clauses."

He tapped the table lightly with his index finger, right next to the letter.

"I don't have the loyalty to be willing to risk my life," he continued. "If I can't protect the letter with my own abilities, and it gets taken from me, it won't count as breaking the contract."

"Hey, Sung Hyunje. If you don't want to die, hand over that letter."

Obviously, he didn't give it to me. That so-called exception clause was basically meaningless. How was I supposed to take the letter from him? Maybe I should butter him up and take him to meet the Elder.

"If you have time, would you like to go on a date with me? I know a nice dungeon nearby," I said. I'll treat you well.

"As much as it's a shame to turn down a rare date invitation from you, we haven't even visited the aquarium yet, so I'll have to decline."

"I think we could make do at your house for that."

Sung Hyunje put on a disappointed face, as if he was going to cry. He really could make it big in Hollywood. Just look at that detestable expression.

"Ah fine, let's go to the aquarium," I said. "How about we take everyone along?"

"If even one S-rank hunter accompanies us, taking the letter out of my inventory could result in a breach of contract."

"…That's annoying. So you can only bring out the letter when you don't feel threatened?"

"That's right. Right now, I can even place it on the table with no problem because Sung-Han Gyeol didn't come along."

"It's Han Gyeol. Maybe it'd just be easier to check the letter after we've caught Hunter Chloe."

How could I possibly take the letter from him by myself? Even if he took a few steps back after putting it down, I wouldn't even be able to touch the table before he restrained me.

"She might not come in person to get the reply," he commented.

"Then could you just... Ah, that would be a waste."

If Sung Hyunje stayed on our side, it would be better to keep the contract intact, regardless of whether Chloe came in person or not. We could dig up more information that way. So, the best course of action would be to check the letter's contents without breaking the contract.

'...But there's really no way, is there?'

F-rank stats, no attack skills, and even though I had various gear, my opponent was a disgustingly strong natural born S-rank with combat foresight. There was no way I could take anything from Sung Hyunje with my abilities. That was why he was so relaxed, knowing the contract would remain intact.

I had to take the letter in a situation where Sung Hyunje was absolutely certain he wouldn't lose it. It was like being told to go through a closed door without opening it, breaking it down, or using teleportation.

His golden eyes curved in a relaxed smile.

"Shall I add a condition that if you successfully take the letter, I'll obediently cooperate?" he offered.

Was he making fun of me now—wait a minute.

"You're annoyingly confident," I said.

I frowned deeply and tensed my legs. I glanced to the side, pretending not to look at the letter, and—

Crash!

I lunged towards the table. The letter that had seemed to be within reach vanished in an instant, and the table tilted sharply. The flowers and dessert tray came crashing down to the floor alongside me. I ended up sprawled on the carpet, covered with the tablecloth and flower vines. My thigh, which had hit the table hard from my forceful lunge, was throbbing.

"That wasn't a very commendable attempt," he chided.

I raised my head from the pile of flowers. Golden chains that had appeared out of nowhere were holding up the teapot and teacups. Not a single drop of tea had spilled. Forks and knives jingled as they dangled in midair.

"Well, I thought I'd at least give it a try," I muttered, sitting up among the heap of flowers.

Sung Hyunje lightly flicked the fallen table up with the tip of his foot. As if pulled by invisible strings, it righted itself neatly. The teapot and teacups settled smoothly back on top.

"As you can see, there's no way I can take the letter from you by force," I said. "So how about a wager? Judging by the conditions, it seems it might work."

"If there's even the slightest chance I could lose, then it's impossible."

"We'll make it something where you have no chance of losing. If I win, you hand over the letter, completely intact, with the contents readable. If I lose, I'll do one thing you want, Sung Hyunje-ssi, whatever it is. But it has to be something related only to me—nothing like handing over the Rearing Facility, or asking Myungwoo to make you a weapon, or forcing Han Gyeol to change his family name."

If Sung Hyunje lost a bet that he was absolutely certain he wouldn't lose, it would be like losing the letter by a force of nature. That level of loophole should work, and was probably why he was taking out the letter and putting it down in front of me.

"That's quite tempting."

"You can ask me to side with you, if you want. Or you could even take me with you when you leave Korea."

At my words, Sung Hyunje's eyes narrowed momentarily. Did he interpret it as me asking to be taken along if he was going to join Park Hayul's side or wherever else?

"The condition will be one I want, not one Han Yoojin-gun wants."

"In any case—what do you say?"

"And the wager is?"

"Hmm, let's play tag. It won't be for long—let's say just ten minutes. I absolutely won't go through the door, or break the walls, ceiling, or floor."

"You have teleportation items, don't you?"

"With the points I have left, I can't afford any. And teleportation can't pass through barriers. Besides, it's only ten minutes—do you really think you couldn't catch me if I jumped outside? If I receive help from anyone else, I'll automatically lose. That includes monsters."

Sung Hyunje tilted his head slightly. He knew that, on my own, I couldn't possibly escape him for ten minutes.

"Since I'm at such a disadvantage, how about you give me three tries instead of one? What do you think?" I suggested.

"I could still win even if it were just five minutes, however…" He looked at me carefully. Of course, he'd be suspicious. "You said you spent almost all your points in the Nightmare Dungeon, didn't you?"

"Before that, I blew through them buying Yoohyun a sword. I can't afford anything like an SSS-rank item, even if they're one-time use."

"You had been serious about trying to kill Director Song Taewon, too," he said thoughtfully. He seemed to be recalling the items I had used back then. The most useful one I had left was probably the Mini Mini Cookie.

"And the dungeon rewards this time wouldn't be for yourself either," he said.

"You're unnecessarily well-informed."

Sung Hyunje took out a pocket watch from his inventory and placed it on the table. A contract appeared beside it.

"If I happen to win, you can't break the contract or withhold the letter," I added.

"I don't have the loyalty to suffer a penalty. If it's taken away because my abilities fell short, I'll accept it gracefully."

Just in case, if I won, I would deactivate my Curse Resistance immediately. We each signed the contract. Right after that—

Clink!

"Ugh, wait a moment!"

In an instant, chains wrapped around my body. I was lifted lightly into the air, flower petals falling in a flurry.

"That's try one."

"Shouldn't you give me time to equip my gear?!"

"I'll give you three minutes. And of course, I won't deduct it from your time."

How generous. Just before the chains released me, I used an item. The King of the Mist Sea's 71st Drawer. My surroundings immediately shifted. I could see the bright blue sky, and beneath my feet—

"What—!"

Splash!

The sound of displaced water echoed loudly. Damn it, was it because she was a jellyfish? Why was there water here?! I had Grace activated, of course, but that didn't prevent me from swallowing a mouthful of water. At least it wasn't salty.

"Damn it—ugh—stupid Jellyfish!"

— Tweet! Tweet!

Wasn't it called a 'drawer'! Even Grace seemed startled and popped out. I floundered in the water, trying to swim, but even staying afloat was a challenge. Quickly, I pulled out a wire and threw it toward a tree that I'd caught sight of. The wire wrapped around the tree, and I used it pull myself and crawl onto land.

"Cough—that was close…"

I could just leave this place immediately, but then I'd lose. So, soaking wet, I collapsed onto the grass looking like a drowned rat. Both my shoes were gone... they had been expensive.

"No, but this… Can't I specify where I land?"

Appearing above water might not matter for the Jellyfish, but it did for me. With Grace, I'd honestly prefer a fire pit. Then again, I guess being in a fire pit could still be dangerous if I ran out of oxygen. But seriously, what kind of drawer was this…

"This drawer…"

— Tweet!

As I stood up, a building that looked like a villa came into view. It was a three-story mansion painted in bright colors that reminded me of a resort in the Mediterranean or some kind of vacation spot. It was on a small island surrounded by water, but the lake wasn't very large. The horizon curved like a dome enclosing the area in all directions. It felt like being trapped inside a snow globe.

"...Is this supposed to be small compared to Myungwoo's smithy?"

They had said it was just a simple storage room? And that it wasn't spacious?

"Grace, you'd better head back inside. It might be dangerous."

I couldn't be sure what might pop up. To kill 10 minutes, it would be better to stay put and not wander around unnecessarily.

I felt pleased at the thought of how surprised Sung Hyunje must be right now. He definitely didn't expect me to have an item like this. In terms of grade, it would probably be about L-rank. Especially since I'd gotten it from someone who had been a former enemy and who had no reason to be friendly towards me. Unless he was a fortune-teller, there was no way he could have known.

I decided to leisurely wait out the 10 minutes before going back out.

"If I can keep using this, it could really be used as a vacation home."

The weather was nice, and the water looked clean. I wondered what the inside of the mansion was like. It seemed that it would be quite difficult to replenish the drawer's mana stores, though.

As I slowly walked toward the entrance, casually glancing around, something caught my attention.

'...Huh?'

Something moved. What was that?

#tsctir #sctir #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #my s class hunters #jinjae #hjyj #the imagery in this scene is so pretty... why is shj so good at romantic date setups ahhh

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anonymityisfunwriter · 11 months ago

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Hi!! Just wanna say I love your writing sm! And could you please tell how the friendship between loki and sunshine blossomed? I just love how sunshine is with people btw

- 🌻

Okay, okay, that's such a good question, like we already know how Sunshine and Loki met and we've seen a few glimpses into their friendship, but we don't know how they actually became friends. And that is an injustice. So allow me to recount how exactly Sunshine and Loki became friends.

F is For Friends Who Do Stuff Together

Part of The Grumpy X Sunshine Series

Loki smirks to himself. He wasn't going to do anything too awful, perhaps a little mischievous but why would anyone expect anything else from him?

It was their fault really. Leaving their newest addition all alone while he was lurking around the Compound. You're low hanging fruit ripe for the picking.

He didn't even have any real plans for you.

Perhaps he'd take you to Asgard for long enough for Thor to come looking. Long enough to frighten you, certainly. In truth, he was just bored and looking to stir up a little bit of chaos - and they made it far too easy for him.

After all, you're completely oblivious to him looming behind you. It was almost too easy.

He creeps up slowly, watching as you tend to a bouquet of flowers in the common room.

You're not even in within arm's reach when, without ever looking over your shoulder, you chirp, "Hi, Loki!"

He freezes, completely caught off guard, his plans entirely derailed, "How did you-"

You turn around with a bright smile, "How did I what?"

"How did you know I was there?"

You shrug, "I heard you."

"Impossible." It disturbs him more than it should. He was a god. Not just a god, but the god of deception and trickery. You were just the strange newcomer.

"Maybe you're not as sneaky as you think you are."

Despite how deeply unsettling this turn of events is, he smirks to himself. He knows you're completely unaware of the challenge you just issued.

So he tries. Again. And again. And again.

And each time, "Hi, Loki!" or "You almost got me that time!" or, worst of all "You're getting better everyday!"

It was maddening. Infuriating, even. He even scared Thor a few times just to make sure he hadn't somehow lost his touch. But no, his brother fell for the old snake in the common room trick every time without fail.

For three months, you held his attention. It was a new record for Loki. Every chance he got to catch you off guard, he took. And none of them ever worked.

One day, he swears he's finally done it. You're talking so enthusiastically to the SHIELD agent before you that there's no way you know he's lurking around the corner.

"Hold on," you tell the SHIELD agent you're speaking to whose name Loki hasn't bothered to learn. You turn around to find Loki a foot away from you, "Hi, Loki."

"What the hell was that?" the SHIELD agent demands.

"Oh, it's just this game me and Loki play." You dismissively wave your hand. "He tries to sneak up on me and I find him before he does. It's sort of like a very intense game of hide and seek."

"I think he's trying to kidnap you."

"It's alright. He's my friend."

Loki falters just as he's about to storm away, "I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"I said that it's alright because you're my friend," you casually repeat.

"That! Right there!" Loki explains, gesturing between you and him. "When did we become friends?"

"Umm... I don't know. We've been playing this game for like three months, so like three months ago, I guess."

Loki's eyebrows furrow together. He's not quite sure if it's the most endearing or the most disturbing thing he's ever heard. Worst of all, you don't seem to be afraid of him. "I've been trying to abduct you for three months and you call me your friend?"

"Well, I know you'd bring me back eventually. Plus, I've always wanted to visit another realm, it's on my bucket list!"

"What gave you the impression that I'd return you?"

You shrug, "I'm not worried about it, I trust you."

Your words strike a chord deep within Loki. He can't remember the last time someone trusted him, but you did. You did because you considered him a friend. "You trust me because I am your friend?"

You nod repeatedly, "Pretty much."

The corner of Loki's mouth twists upward, "Huh..."

"What?"

"I think I might need to find someone new to wreak havoc on."

"Oooh, we should play a prank on Sam!"

Loki smile mischievously at you, "I think we'll get along just fine."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

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writesick-lover · 1 year ago

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Jabberjays and Mockingjays

Coriolanus Snow x reader

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

Summary: You meet Coriolanus Snow during his service as a Peacekeeper in the 12th district. The 10th Hunger Games were forgotten, Lucy Gray was gone and Snow is now stuck with someone who promises a fair company. What looks like a happy ending can easily turn into an ugly betrayal. All it takes is a click of a device.

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Stay safe, lots of love and if you like my work feel free to like reblog and comment! :)

Also if you want to ask me anything -> /ask

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

Coriolanus Snow served his time in District 12, mostly bored out of his mind. He tried to accompany other Peacekeepers to the bar every evening in search of at least some fun, just for his eyes to find the podium and fall on the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. He gritted his teeth as Lucy Gray left the podium, performing another of her songs like always. Not a glance spared his way.

Instead, she threw herself onto a nearby chair, stuffing her mouth with a small piece of meat she got for her performance. Her fingers dug into the bone. Her lips were smeared with grease. A wave of disgust rose in him, sending shivers down his whole being. She was a victor. How could she live like this? How could she just come back and live her ordinary and poor life after what she has been through? And how could she treat him like a ghost? After what he had done for her?

While there was disgust in Snow, there was never an ounce of anger. After all, if it wasn't for Highbottom, he would be in Capitol holding his prize, knowing damn well he played the same games as she did. That's just how it was. And if Lucy Gray hadn't known how to play the game, she wouldn't have been a victor. But the game was over, Lucy Gray was rather forgotten and so was he, now stuck in the poorest district, forced to do the dirtiest work, his ego hurting every time he looked around, knowing very well he did not belong here, at least not like Sejanus seemed to.

It was a sunny day when Snow creeped out of the centre of the 12th and towards the flower-covered Meadow. His heart was beating out of his chest as his legs carried him down the hill to a lonesome tree, watching over the rest of the woods down in the alley. It was where he spoke with Lucy Gray for the last time. He came unarmed, relying on the completely abandoned stones under the tree. Yet, they weren't. Not really.

"You can go keep peace where it's actually wanted," a voice from above made him jump up. His right hand immediately reached for the absent belt on his hips. He almost forgot he didn't bring his gun, didn't think he needed it. As his eyes slowly scanned the tree trunk from the roots to the branches, he noticed a sly smirk flashing between the greenery of the tree's leaves. The intruder seemed to be amused by his scare. He couldn't help but frown in confusion as a disobedient smirk already sat on his lips. How did he not notice?

"Got you good, huh?" the person spoke once again, now their voice coming from in front of him, accompanied by an intentionally loud thud that made him jump once again, this time his palm reaching for his heart.

His widened eyes scanned the person that now stood steadily on the ground, already knowing they had to be from the Covey. The pieces of colourful fabric that covered their body, matched with the green of the forest and the occassional bright colour of the flowers. The crown on their head was made of early dandelions. And the fact that no one in their right mind except the Covey would dare to stray so far away from the District's centre, gave Coriolanus a clear answer who this person was.

But Coriolanus knew he was an exception as well. He also dared to stray this far away.

"Do you greet everyone like this?" he breathed out the air he was holding in his lungs up until now.

"No, just lost peacekeepers who seem to get in the way," you shrugged, already taking him in from head to toe. No weapons, but white hair cut into a buzzcut which would sort him into the peacekeeper's family immediately, if his uniform wasn't giving that out already. It made you scoff.

"You shouldn't be here," the peacekeeper's voice broke the silence. "I could call the others if I wanted to," he threatened, but it only made you laugh out loud, your melodic laughter catching the attention of the birds around.

"What's so funny?" you looked back at the man in front of you, only to find his composure completely serious, almost as if he meant everything he said. "You cannot do anything here," you spoke, the giggles still hearable in your voice. "You shouldn't be here as well,"

"But neither should you," the blond repeated once again.. "Covey is way lower in the alley, you barely come here,"

"They barely do. Let's say I come here a bit more, alone," your voice got lost in the breeze around you as your last few words turned into a whisper. Nevertheless, you straightened up your posture, waiting for the peacekeeper's next words, ready to flee if needed.

"Coriolanus Snow," was what came from between his lips. Your eyes widened. "That's my name," Coriolanus felt like he had to explain, based on your confused expression. "Y/n," you let out, not believing your own ears. A mischievous smile painted his lips, "Well, Y/n, what now? I like to come here alone too,"

If someone had told you a peacekeeper would accompany you through your days in the Meadow, you would laugh into their face. There was no way. But Coriolanus turned out to be different. He started to talk to you about how it was in the Capitol. You started to teach him how to survive in the wild.

"Don't eat that!" you scolded him once as you walked through the trees, hiding from the hot flames of the sun's beams. "That's nightlock! You could be dead in a minute," you found yourself screaming, smearing the juice of the berries on his hands, trying to get rid of the deadly fruit.

"I... didn't know. They looked like the berries you showed me the other day," he said, stunned, staring at the dark purple on his hands.

"They do, but they are not. Let's get you cleaned," you grabbed his hand, the paint smearing your hand too. You dragged him deeper into the woods, the trees thickening. But they were no escape from the hotness now, its source coming from your hands intertwined together, his piercing gaze burning the tips of your ears.

You soon found out you were drawn closer to the convicted ex-citizen of Capitol, and he was too, something you never imagined, even in your wildest dreams.

"If you could be anywhere but here, where would you go?" he asked you once, his curious eyes watching you. "I would just disappear to the woods," you hummed. You didn't notice his subtle smile dropping. "What about you?" you asked Coriolanus, taking in his strong features in the setting sun. The orange brought a bit of warmth into his usually cold stare.

"Woods sound nice. But I don't think it's my forte," he mumbled, his eyes already stuck on you. "I will have to be careful about the nightlock. And what would I do when you leave?" his fingers crept up your neck, sending shivers through you, but you let him, wondering how far they would dare to go.

"You could come. I would have shown you everything," you found yourself whispering once again, but he could hear you.

"I think with you I could," he whispered back, the breeze bringing his voice to you before it was locked between your lips, moving against each other, dancing like the leaves in the wind. There was no more Lucy Grey on his mind, and maybe he was actually willing to throw away his Capitol dream for a time in the woods with you. Because he didn't think he had a shot at coming back to the Capitol.

After a while, Coriolanus brought a friend of his, Sejanus. And although you found yourself a bit bitter about it, he started to become your company more and more by day. But he also started to grow closer to your heart.

"What would you do if you could go anywhere you wanted to, Sejanus?" you asked in the middle of the night, hanging from the tree as Sejanus looked up at you.

"I would go see my parents," he spoke softly. And then he added, "I can't visit them and I wish I could. But it's okay. I am fine with where I am right now, as long as I am free from the Capitol,"

Your eyes darted to the blond but Coryo just laughed.

Sejanus didn't.

Coriolanus leaned himself against the wooden cage full of birds they came to catch. You couldn't remember the name, but he told you they were mutts, destroying nature, creating mutations.

"We will run," Sejanus started. A silence fell upon you three. Then a subtle click sounded in the air and Sejanus continued. "I spoke with some people from the district. We will rescue Lil and escape through the loose fence," Again, all of you fell silent. Your heartbeat rose. "What?" you whispered to the night but Coryo cut you off. "You won't survive a minute there, Sejanus, you're from Capitol-"

"I'm a good shot," you watched Sejanus turn to Coriolanus, both their glances determined to convince the other. A good shot. You thought, soon enough realising. The rebels have guns.

"Why are you saying this?" Coriolanus asked out loud, his voice cold.

"It's us, together, remember? You are my friend," you watched Sejanus' lips spread into what looked like a smile in the moonlight. You couldn't help but smile too. This might be your chance.

"There is a new bird in the woods. I think I saw it before, but I don't remember where," you commented on one of your casual walks with Snow a few days later. He arched his eyebrow but didn't act surprised at all. Yet, he still asked. "Really? Which one?" he said, almost uninterested, lost in his thoughts. "That one," you stopped in your tracks, making his stiff body bump into you. He hissed before looking up, his fingers unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

"Oh, you mean Jabberjays?" he whispered, making you gasp. You found yourself backed up against the tree trunk, your left wrist pinned against the hard bark, Coryo's hand already on your collarbone, slowly sneaking up your neck like a snake. Your right hand automatically fell on his hip.

"Yes, Jabberjays," you repeated, your face brightening, hearing something click. Suddenly, your voice spread through the air, repeating the same word billions of times. "We were here to capture them, remember?" Coryo spoke through the mimic of your voice, so similar, you almost thought your mouth must have kept on going. Your hand travelled to his arm, and down to his fingers, holding something. You hugged his hand in yours slowly picking it up, while withholding eye contact, his bright blue eyes sending cold down your body as usual.

"And this is how you set them off, right?" his fingers let go of the device under the touch of your fingers. "This is what they used during the revolution," your voice was now all quiet as you turned the device off. "They used it to spy on people,"

"On rebels," Coryo nodded, drawing closer.

"Are they spying on us now?" you looked up, stopping him with your gaze. He looked up, staring at you intently, switching between your eyes and lips.

"Could they hear about our escape?" and before you could ask anything else, his lips were on yours once again, their warmth contrasting to his always freezing gaze. His hand around your neck, becoming tighter with every graze, his movements more passionate.

"Coryo," you breathed. He smirked at the nickname but didn't answer and shut you up with more kisses. "Coriolanus," you tried again but to no avail. "Coriolanus Snow," you finally spoke out loud, making him groan.

"You need to go," he frowned at your statement. "Duty calls?" you smiled a bit at his state, his eyes widening as he realised he was about to be late. "See you by the tree," were the words he spoke before he rushed out of the woods. Leaving you alone, with the small device still in your hand.

You waited. You waited for days, but there was no sign of Coriolanus nor Sejanus. You almost forgot how it was to spend your days alone, sitting in the crown of the tree, your only company the birds flying around. Suddenly you took notice of the Jabberjays and Mockingjays, spending your time saying something, making Jabberjays say it back and watching as the Mockingjays repeated the intonation of your voice.

But after a few hours, you couldn't keep on going. You found it foreign and scary, how well the Jabberjays repeated what you wanted them to. Their eyes were empty, looking almost pointless when they didn't have anything to repeat. But one day, there were no Jays to keep you company. There was no sun, no breeze. Just silence. Everywhere.

You found it disturbing. For the first time in your life, you willingly made your way to the centre of District 12. But you found it empty just the same. Except for the square by the hanging tree. And then you realised.

You wanted to run away badly, kept ordering your feet to turn around and flee, knowing you were never the type to digest the hanging. But you didn't stop, no, you kept going until you arrived, standing in the audience on one of the stairs above the crowd, your eyes darting to the boy standing under one of the branches. His dark eyes screamed in fear with dark messy curls falling into them, occasionally silencing his already silent pleads. Your stomach turned. Sejanus.

But why? Why would they hang him? He was a peacekeeper, he did his job well. The only thing you knew was unpopular with the peacekeepers, was befriending the district's citizens. But they all did, they were all poor just the same.

There was a woman on the other side of the tree. You recognised her. Her husband was hanged a while ago, you heard. Her name was Lil? One of the rebels. And you started to understand.

You found Coryo pretty quickly. After all, he was standing right under the tree. Gun in his hand. His eyes trained somewhere in the distance. At you. Coriolanus Snow kept his composure, not an ounce of expression on his face. How could he stand there? Without moving? How could he not protest against the death of his friend? Wasn't he, too, supposed to run away with them? Run away...

You were brought back to the night Sejanus told him about the plan. There was a click, a cage full of birds you couldn't remember, until Coriolanus told you days later, that Jabberjays, they are able to copy exactly what you say if you use the device to record. The device you held in your hand, tied to the birds sitting on the tree.

Peacekeepers keeping peace under it with two rebels about to be hung. Jabberjays and Mockingjays, all together, one created by Capitol, the other by the district. Your fingers moved in your pocket, you heard the click as a thick rope was thrown over Sejanus' throat.

"No!" he yelled out. "Ma! No, please, Ma! Help me Ma!" his screams filled the air, sending shivers of terror down everyone's spine. Except Coriolanus Snow, who didn't move, his eyes stuck on you, your hand, the black device in it. Small tears formed in his eyes as the sound of rope tightening filled the air, the sound of wood falling to the lower platform, Sejanus' screams never falling silent, filling the branches above his head.

The Jabberjays screamed, the Mockingjays mocking them and with the return of the wind, you were gone, away from the district, away from the lonesome tree, away from Coriolanus Snow, away from the device created by Capitol.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

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abarbaricyalp · 10 months ago

Text

Written a week late for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event!

Sorry about any typos in advance

Sam Wilson, God bless his nearly perfect soul, didn't have the self-serving skills that the good God gave a gnat. From across the diner, Annalise watched her best friend's son ignore every single sign that his handsome, quiet friend was putting down across their quickly emptying breakfast plates. Her own breakfast was cooling below her, but she had already forgotten about her blueberry oatmeal (cinnamon on top).

To begin with, Sam had invited her to eat with them, despite the fact that were clearly new flowers sitting on the table as well. She knew Bucky Barnes had already made friends with the local florist and she knew he had a weekly order of Sam's favorites set up. (Sam had dropped his affinity for carnations since high school, but still liked yellow flowers and baby's breath). Bucky had also been sitting with his hand on the table, palm up towards Sam, but Sam hadn't taken it yet, hadn't seemed to notice, except to occasionally move some silverware closer to him. Then there was the matter of Bucky's feet, which Annalise could see clearly under the booth as he keep putting his ankle to Sam's, only for Sam to apologize and move his feet back.

Sam Wilson had all the easy charm of his father, but didn't seem to have inherited Paul's keen sense of when the attention was on him. Paul had been a flirt and a half back in the day. He clocked Darlene's interest before Darlene even admitted it to herself (or Annalise, for that matter). Oh, how he had worked day and night to woo her. And then he spent the rest of his life doing the same thing.

Sam was staring down an oncoming train of attention and devotion and he didn't even hear the whistle.

"Dom," she said softly when the waitress walked back by her table. She was across from Sam's booth anyway, but she was pretty certain that even if she was right next to them, neither young man would hear her, too focused on each other. "Could you send a slice of chocolate cheesecake over to them?" she asked. "Keep it between us."

Dom looked back at Sam and Bucky as well, humming in agreement. "Ma'am, consider that fine idea on the house," she laughed. "Might forget a spoon too."

"Oh, now you're speaking my language, young lady," Annalise laughed. "Isn't it great when a plan comes together?"

Dom squeezed her shoulder with an exuberant grin before she disappeared into the kitchen again.

She wasn't the only exuberant one. The boys were bright and cheery as well. It was nice to see after a couple of weeks of quiet from them. Times when one or the other of them was pulled away for their superhero business were always rough. Times when they were both gone were downright untenable. The recuperation needed for the superheroes also never sped things along.

But they seemed to be more at ease, finally back home, as they swiped bacon and toast from each other's plates and cried foul at the same time.

Sam Wilson deserved the world and every happiness. Even as a young boy, clambering over the pulpit to set up his daddy's readings before church, but getting distracted by the crickets that needed a helping hand outside, he had a heart of gold and a moral compass that would go toe-to-toe with most adults in the community. Annalise could remember all of his accolades from high school so well. The sports trophies, the academic achievements, the service awards. She didn't know how he found the time in the day for everything he did, and then helping his parents with the boat and the food boxes as well. All the Wilson kids were like that, but Gideon had gone off without a forwarding address and Sarah had learned to go for what she wanted, created a fairytale love story in front of everyone. Sam had joined the Air Force and spent the rest of the story sacrificing. It wasn't until he came home for Cassius Sr's funeral that they even heard about the accident in Bakmala. It took years after that and a slip up from Sarah for them to learn just how deep the relationship between Sam and his Air Force partner actually was. He just never spoke about it, even to his longest supports in the community. Just focused his attention on Sarah while he could before going off to save the world again.

Too much pain had visited the Wilson household in waves that just never stopped coming. First Gideon leaving, then Paul and then Darlene, then Cassius Sr. and then Sam's partner. Or near enough that order. Plenty of sunshine too, though. Sarah's boys were stunning fruit off of the healthiest of trees. It was hard not to see Sam when Cass was running around town, feeding strays, or when AJ read at church.

But Annalise had been waiting for Sam to bring someone home, make something just for himself. Being Captain America was hardly helping matters. If the young man had ever run out of excuses for his lacking love life before, he had a fresh host of them now.

If you can have lunch with me once a week, you can find yourself a nice man too, she'd said to him a while ago.

It seemed like he had found himself a nice man, she had to admit. No matter how goofy a name like Bucky was, there was no denying he was a good man. (Sure, she'd heard the youngsters talking about The Winter Soldier, but she'd never met the Winter Soldier, thank you very much. Just Bucky Barnes) He was exactly the kind of man for Sam. Not afraid to get his hands dirty, strong and supportive but soft too, on the inside. He was clearly so far gone on Sam that his eyes practically radiated hearts at all times. And, oh boy, could he keep Sam on his toes. They were delightful together in a way that made her ache for her own long-gone love.

And Sam was oblivious to it all. It wasn't for lack of interest. During their lunch dates, the conversation could center entirely around Bucky some days. No matter what else Annalise brought up, Sam would find some way to circle it back around to whatever heroic, or idiotic, thing the other young man had done recently. (Not so young, she supposed. Bucky corrected her every time she said it) If Sam wasn't as far gone on Bucky as the reverse, it was a near, and growing, thing.

So she watched them flirt and banter and pretend like their fingers weren't touching on the table as Bucky mooned over Sam and Sam couldn't look away from Bucky.

Dom came back just as Sam was eating the last of Bucky's pancake. It took a moment for them to look away from each other and to clock the cake she was setting between them.

"Oh, we didn't order this," Bucky corrected sweetly.

"Or that," Sam added as Dom produced two glasses of mimosas as well. His eyes instantly darted over to Annalise.

"Don't worry," Dom assured. "It's on the house. Just a little early-bird-regular special." She smiled brightly at them--there'd been a time Annalise would have loved to see Dom settle down with Sam and they'd have made a lovely couple too--and then turned to leave.

It was Bucky who reached for the spoon first. Then Sam, who came up a spoon short.

"Oh, wait--" he started to call, but Dom didn't look back. Sam shot another glance towards Annalise, who was doing nothing but minding her own business, thank you.

"Well, this is some of the best cake in the state," Bucky pointed out smoothly. He offered the first bite to Sam. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that."

Sam put his fingers over Bucky's hand on the spoon. He maintained eye contact for just a second before he had to look away as he took the proffered cheesecake.

Bucky grinned cheerily at him before taking at least twice as big a scoop for himself, which led to a familiar scene of them squabbling and trying to strong arm each other into relenting.

"I'll give you the rest!" Bucky insisted, trying to hold the spoon away from Sam's reaching hands.

"The middle is the best part of the slice!" Sam argued, halfway climbing across their booth table. He put a hand on Bucky's shoulder to hold himself upright and had almost reached the spoon when he hip-checked the glass of sweet tea between them. Annalise had lost track of whether it was his or Bucky's. They both had a sweet tooth to end all sweet teeth.

Bucky took the opportunity of Sam reaching back to catch the glass to shove the spoon in his mouth. Sam squawked out a sound that Annalise was sure Captain America shouldn't make and then actually reached over like he was about to pry into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky quickly smacked a hand over his lips as he bent over laughing. "Stop it. I'm gonna spit it on you if you don't stop," he warned, trying to fend Sam off with his other hand. "Don't make me laugh."

"You didn't even taste that!" Sam accused. "That was a waste of the perfect bite!"

"I did taste it," Bucky promised. "It was so good. You missed out."

Annalise was starting to agree with AJ. Sam and Bucky were gross together, in the most endearing way. She hadn't seen Sam goof around like this since junior high. It felt like a little bit of sunshine had been restored to the world.

Bucky chopped off a bite of the crust and offered it to Sam as reconciliation. Judging by the way Sam was still pouting, it was only partially working. Sam took the spoon and they settled down as they finished the cheesecake and their mimosas.

Sam had mentioned that Bucky couldn't get drunk, on account of his serum whatnot, but Annalise wasn't sure she bought it. Every time she saw him drinking, he still seemed to get loose limbed and smiley. Then again, she only ever saw him drink around Sam, so perhaps she was giving credit where it wasn't due. She watched him practically melt into the booth seat, hooking his ankle on Sam's and finally being allowed to stay there as they chatted about their plans for the day as orange juice and champagne slowly fizzled away. They were back to working on the house they'd bought. Technically there had been a housewarming party a couple of weeks ago, but she'd seen the both of them in and out of the hardware store often enough since to know the work was not done. She'd bring over some pie for them. Bucky liked cherry and Sam liked peach, both of which she had in her kitchen.

Eventually, she turned her attention to her thoroughly cold oatmeal. She had almost finished it when the boys started shifting around, bickering about the bill. Bucky darted away to pay for it, even though he'd just been complaining about having to use the restroom. Sam came over to her table, catching her eye as he stood. By the time he sat across from her at the two-seater, she still hadn't looked back up.

"Surely you can't still want to have breakfast with me," she teased him finally when he didn't offer a new greeting.

"You're really just gonna set me up like that, huh?" he asked. The gap in his teeth always gave away his grins, just like Paul's had. He really did make her chest ache sometimes. "Just 'cause Bucky won't blame you doesn't keep you out of my sights."

Annalise scoffed softly and shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Samuel Thomas. Mind your manners."

Sam held up his hands placatingly. "Was there any reason cake appeared between us then?"

Annalise shrugged and pretended to read something on her phone. Usually she read the news while she had her breakfast, but she hadn't even opened her subscription because Sam and Bucky were more interesting. "I suppose there was extra. It can only sit out so long, you know."

Sam put his chin on his criss-crossed fingers, elbows on the table, which she swatted at but was ignored for. She continued to pretend to read a text message until she sighed.

"I just think you deserve something nice. You never take anything for yourself," she admonished lightly. "And I'm not talking about cake, young man."

Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise, but not at her words, she didn't think. Just at the admission. "Bucky is not nice," he said. "He's a pain and a lot of work."

Annalise hummed with a smile, thought of her loves. "All the best things are, aren't they?"

And Sam smiled. Really smiled. The sun came out. Birds sang. He really was her favorite Wilson child. "Yeah, sometimes they are," he agreed.

"Ready to go?" Bucky asked, appearing like he'd been summoned by that smile. He had his hand on the back of Sam's shoulder, inching towards his neck. "Hi again, Mrs. Corbett," he said to Annalise warmly.

"Yeah, mind pulling the truck around?" Sam asked.

Bucky glanced at Annalise, then back to Sam. "Sure," he agreed. "I'll give you two a little while longer to gossip."

Sam had a scar below his left eye that hadn't been there when he'd left for the Air Force. Shrapnel, she'd heard from someone, but she wasn't sure how true that was. Sam never talked about it and it'd be rude to ask. The first time she'd seen it, it had made her heart stop to think about something so violent coming so close to Sam's face, his eyes. By then, it had been a pale thin, still a little tender and thin, but healed. By now, it was barely noticeable, unless the sun was shining in the window just right to make it shine a little. Unless she was watching it as Bucky's lips came down on it, even though Sam's left side was across from where Bucky was standing.

Sam's eyes were still closed, long eyelashes fluttering, as Bucky stood up again. "Don't leave me idling for too long," he warned as he squeezed Sam's shoulder and turned for the door.

She watched Bucky leave, a Levi's ad come to life, and then looked to Sam who had come back to the world of mere mortals.

"Now, Samuel Thomas Wilson," she started, pointing a spoon at him.

Sam laughed merrily, slapping a hand across his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I didn't set you up anything! You set me up!" she accused. "Why haven't you told me?"

Sam was still laughing, shaking his head as he clutched onto his ribs. "I don't know, Miss Lise. I guess...I just liked having it for myself for a while. I was gonna tell you first," he said with a hand over his chest. He settled back in his seat and watched her with a slight apprehension.

Annalise watched him back. "I like Bucky," she said. "I don't like his name, but I like him. You did good there."

"I know you like him," Sam assured. "You just tried to set me up with him."

"Well, the last time I tried to set you up, you just never showed up," she said with a sniff.

"It was a dinner with you!" Sam defended. "I didn't know you were going to ditch me with a stranger."

"She wasn't a stranger. She was only three years younger than you."

"I lived in DC at the time," he added.

Annalise shrugged. "You skipped. Did you know Bucky then?"

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. "No, not then," he said. "Not yet. Besides, it took us a while to get there, even once I did know him."

Annalise knew there was a whole novel worth of story behind Sam and Bucky. She read the news about Sam, and Bucky had been mentioned in a few of them, but she hadn't been paying attention to him at the time, nor did she care to go back and reread anything.

She reached out for Sam's hand and squeezed his fingers. "I'm glad you're happy, Sam," she said softly. "It's what you've deserved for a long time."

Sam put his other hand over hers to squeeze back. "Do you think they'd like him?" he asked softly.

Annalise looked out the front windows, where Bucky was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the truck Sam had had since high school, singing along to some song she couldn't hear. She squeezed Sam's hand tighter.

"I do, Sammy," she said with a smile. "I really do. They'd be so proud of you. All of you. Always."

Sam kissed her hand before standing up. "Thank you, Miss Lise."

"We love you, Sam," she said, standing to hug him. She kissed his temple fiercely. "Good job on this one."

He smiled again and then left to get into the truck. He paused outside the driver's side to kiss Bucky through the open window.

Annalise smiled too. "Dom," she called, sitting again, "could I get some cheesecake over here. I earned it."

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #writing #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier

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