#the only thing she's asked of him for herself he gives so freely so hopelessly

[taemcains]

he really did... stay close...

[faithhearted]

Something about her words had affected him deeply, his eyes abundant in tormenting heartache as he opted to remain silent rather than answer her. He’d been hurt before, just as she had, but the idea of him giving up as she had thought to do was oddly distressing. 

Major Tallmadge most certainly didn’t possess the suave or quick wit of Major Andre, and yet he’d managed to make her care so quickly, just as Andre had. Perhaps she was a hopelessly romantic little fool after all. 

"And...is that the key to your survival?" he asked, his tone soft, "In this line of work...you merely lock away your heart, refusing to feel while in the arms of another?"

“One shouldn’t be afraid of it,” she answered with a slight shrug, “Merely smart…Besides, the heart cannot be locked away with the snap of one’s fingers. It’s a complicated thing, just as people are complicated.”

Mena’s hand slid from his chest down to his thigh as she scooted in closer, finding herself partial to the warmth his body emitted. Still wearing nothing but her shift, the room was cold, even with the fire roaring in the hearth. 

"I give too freely," he confessed, "and perhaps you don't give nearly enough...What a pair we make."

“Sounds like a recipe for the perfect Shakespearean plot – though I cannot decide if it’d be a comedy or tragedy,” here, she offered a humorous smirk. 

The time had come for talk of their backstory as a couple and fortunately, Benjamin seemed partial to her ideas. It was utterly rejuvenating to be around someone who appreciated her for more than her body.

Once, she’d thought Andre had been the one to do so, but in the end, despite the pretty words, fond touches, and lovely promises, he’d proven himself to be just another man using her to satisfy himself, a means to an end.

Only time would tell what it was Benjamin intended for her. 

"A laundress," Benjamin echoed, nodding. "An heir will always be a source of contention, so this will work to our favor -- both in mine and yours.”

“Please, hold your applause,” Mena hummed, taking a mock bow.

“The womenfolk will likely pity you, and the men...well..." His expression darkened. "I imagine they might find themselves amused, and desirous of proving themselves more capable than myself."

“Men do love to engage in rousing games of my-horse-is-bigger-than-yours,” Mena boldly brushed her hand along the front of Benjamin’s breeches, “Although in this case, I have ample evidence to declare the rightful victor.”

“You’re not less of a man or a person for doing so. You do what must be done and move on.” 

"And is that your philosophy?" Benjamin challenged, though without any true malice. "I'm afraid I have a difficult time just 'moving on...' I'm certainly able to repress, but that doesn't mean the wound doesn't still linger." Nor fester.

Philomena, unfortunately, seemed intent on pressing upon one of these very wounds. “If knowing one woman in this way ‘upends’ you like this, then how will you ever hope to gain vital intelligence from others of the fairer sex?”  

He gaped at her, tremulously opening and closing his mouth. Sarah had upended him; he'd poured everything into his hopes for a life with her, and the result had left him cracked and empty. Perhaps Benjamin was incapable of handling womenfolk; perhaps he could never engage in intimacy without it bearing such warmth and meaning and sentiment . . . even something that should be as simple and straightforward as this mission.

In the end, Benjamin couldn't answer Philomena. He remained painfully silent, unable to meet with her eyes as she approached on light feet.

“Well, in a way, you still can,” she reassured. Despite his nerves, he held still and allowed her to draw her hand over his chest. “You’ve not given your heart away yet, and no one can take that from you – not until you let them. That’s what’s important in the long run. Trust me, the woman who wins your heart won’t love you any less, were she to find out what you’ve sacrificed.” 

"And...is that the key to your survival?" Benjamin softly asked. "In this line of work...you merely lock away your heart, refusing to feel while in the arms of another?"

In truth, it sounded tragic to him. He understood the safety behind the idea, but to succumb to being a used, mindless vessel set only for another's pleasure rather than a mutual love and desire...well...it sounded downright abhorrent, and for the first time, he found himself genuinely pitying the woman before him.

"I give too freely," he confessed, "and perhaps you don't give nearly enough..." A tired smile flooded his features. "What a pair we make."

Never seeming to be one to dwell upon emotion, Philomena closed in with commanding intent. “Then, while I tell you, you must hold me like you would your wife,” she encouraged. She slid her palms along his forearms until their hands interlocked. “While we needn’t be too overzealous in public displays of affection, we still must make it seem as though you’re ardently yearning for me even when we aren’t touching. Prove to them we are both longing for each other in ways they’ve not felt themselves in ages. It will make us both more attractive, more enticing.” 

Despite it being a ruse, Benjamin could already feel his face heating with a healthy blush, his eyes becoming low-lashed and heavy as she drew him closer. "I don't imagine men have to do much pretending with you," he offered, nuzzling her temple. "We cannot touch beyond interlocked arms and the occasional brush of fingertips, but I promise you: this part of the ruse I can most definitely maintain."

Was it wise to hint at his lingering desires? Assuredly not, and yet if Philomena wished to push at the admission, he was determined to rebuff any such advances.

In regards to their ruse, she suggested, “Perhaps I was a laundress, struggling to make ends meet in New York and we met shortly after your arrival. We’ve not been married for long but as difficult as it is for us to keep our hands off each other, we’re worried I’m not able to conceive a child. That’s where the marital tension comes in.”

"A laundress," Benjamin echoed, nodding. "An heir will always be a source of contention, so this will work to our favor -- both in mine and yours. The womenfolk will likely pity you, and the men...well..." His expression darkened. "I imagine they might find themselves amused, and desirous of proving themselves more capable than myself."

[myrulia]

Im a lil shy to ask in my og account so i will do it in anon! Can u do prompt 19? ( i hope im not breaking any of your rules!) your writing is delightful! 💖❤️ lots of love for u!

.｡.:*✧Prompt 19: "Are you falling in love? I have a feeling you are."

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Reverse hashira au, mentions of decapitation

╰╴⇢｡.:*✧A/N: I honestly had lots of fun with this so thank you! You deserve love as well!💜

`` The meeting shall now commence. ``

Muzan Kibutsuji, the leader of the Demon Slayer corpse, announced to the 9 hashira before him. They all kneeled in his presence out of pure respect, their heads hanging low but high enough to the point of seeing him.

`` Today we will discuss an important matter regarding our Moon pillar, `` said the male with such gentleness in his tone.

His words did cause them to raise their heads in confusion, knowing that the Moon pillar, or better known as Michikatsu Tsugikuni, was never one to involve himself too much in situations other than the purging of demons that wished to cause harm to humans. All eyes were on the spiky raven haired man for a split second before Kibutsuji spoke once more.

`` [Y/N], you may come out now. ``

You revealed yourself by coming from the shadows of the building you were inside, stepping onto the engawa just a few feet away from where Kibutsuji stood with his child close by. You fidget with your fingers out of pure nervousness, being in front of the 9 most powerful demon slayers you ever heard of in all your 19 years of living. The fact that they were in their presence alone made you want to poof out of existence.

`` This is [Y/N] [L/N], a very strong demon slayer who I believe has great potential. I wish to raise her ranking in sight of her power, so as of today, and for the rest of her time as a demon slayer, she will be a tsugoku taught under Michikatsu. ``

This brought shock to the pillars who now brought their heads up to get a better look at who you were. But the Ice pillar drew his eyes elsewhere, to Michikatsu. 

`` Our quiet Tsugikuni getting a cute tsugoku? It makes me quite jealous. ``

`` Mind your tongue around Kibutsuji, Douma, `` spoke the Shockwave pillar, or better known as Hakuji Soyama. The male always had a deep resentment towards Douma, and you had yet to learn the extent of it all. Michikatsu, who had been silent the entire time, took the chance to ponder his own thoughts and really process it all. A tsugoku? He did not have time to teach a student when he so desperately desired to get stronger to protect the weak.

Kibutsuji raised a finger to his mouth, causing the pillars to suddenly stop speaking. In your eyes, this was the utmost level of respect one can receive, truly shocking you at how much they devote their lives to this man.

`` Now then, how about we allow [Y/N] to introduce herself? ``

Your head snapped up in Kibutsuji's direction, your eyes wide with shock but all he gave you was a small nod, looking at the pillars again only to see that their eyes had locked onto yours. You cleared your throat before speaking, nervousness taking over your emotions.

`` As you have heard before, my name is [Y/N] [L/N]- but you may call me [Y/N]! My breathing style is the breath of moon, similar to Tsugikuni-san. I hope I meet your expectations of a demon slayer. ``

You bowed your head low in respect, hoping that your introduction was a decent one, but when you heard a hearty laugh erupt from the Ice pillar, worry started to set in that you made a fool of yourself.

`` She really is a cute one. Makes me upset that I do not have my own tsugoku. ``

`` That is because the last time you had a tsugoku, `` started Hantengu. `` You got the poor thing lost. ``

Lifting your head, you are met with the pillars now conversing amongst themselves, semi-arguing about the situation with Douma and his former tsugoku who apparently quit after multiple attempts of asking the latter out. You could not help but but let out a small snicker, bringing the attention back to you.

`` I was the one who made her laugh first!`` Said Douma, feeling triumphant at that moment.

`` No, it was just your stupidity, `` said a young girl with long white locks who got up and spoke with attitude in her tone, although her gaze was now directed to you. 

`` I apologize for them, I'm Ume pleasure to meet you. ``

The young girl bowed, but following right after was everyone else who also bowed in your direction. The whole ordeal painted obvious signs of shock onto your face because you always thought it was the pillars who deserved respect, not the other way around.

`` I apologize for my insolence as well, and my idiotic co-worker here, for our terrible first impression. ``

Hakuji held his head the lowest before raising it again, flashing you an attractive smile that would make any woman swoon immediately. You smiled in return at the 8 of them who decided to formally apologize, but the one who you assumed to be Michikatsu was silent and still. 

`` Now that we are all acquainted with [Y/N], the meeting will now come to a close, you are free to do as you so choose. ``

And with that, Kibutsuji went inside the building with his daughter holding his hand until they were no longer in sight, leaving you with the 9 pillars who went back to conversing with themselves, unlike another woman who you failed to truly notice. She had long brown hair, as well as long bangs covering her eyes and pale skin. You stared until suddenly you felt someone's presence behind you, a tall one at that.

Your small shriek of shock grabbed the attention of everyone still in front of you, looking to see Michikatsu appear behind you in a matter of seconds, a serious expression all over his face. 

`` How do you expect to be a good tsugoku if you scare easily? Always be on guard no matter who you are with. ``

The male left just as quickly as he appeared behind you, your nerves being left rattled and all over the place with how much he startled you. A look of concern was given to you by Hakuji, Douma, and Ume, the only three to really interact with you.

`` Dear [Y/N] got so scared, don't worry I'll protect you from Tsugikuni~ ``

`` More like he needs to be taught some manners, `` spoke Ume as she helped you up, flashing you a beautiful smile. You simply nodded, processing the turn of events. Was that same rude behavior something you'd have to endure during your time as a tsugoku?

                     ◆◇◆◇✧◇◆◇◆

Nightfall came quicker than expected, but it was much anticipated. Tonight would be the night you get to directly study under Michikatsu, following him under the moonlight as you study his movements and learn everything he teaches you.

You put on your haori, as well as sheathing your katana inside your saya and swiftly leaving your household to meet with your sensei at the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters to discuss plans for the night.

You arrived there early and ahead of time so you can make a good first impression, only to see the spiky raven haired male leaning against a tree with his arms crossed impatiently.

`` You finally arrive. Good to see you have the mindset to be early on any occasion, that is the only decent trait you have so far. ``

You approached the male with your eyebrows furrowed, having enough of his attitude, but a voice within you stopped you before you could say anything that would make the man before you have a reason to dislike you.

`` Thank you sens- ``

`` Gratitude will get you nowhere. ``

Michikatsu suddenly leaped into the tree he was previously leaning against, standing on a sturdy branch and looking down at you below him. 

`` Tonight we shall practice your speed if Kibutsuji-sama has acknowledged you. So, try to keep up with me. ``

`` Wh- ``

Before you could voice out your opinion, Michikatsu already leaped from the branch and onto another tree. Your reflexes instantly kick in, causing you to run after him and jump into the tree where he previously was, only for him to leap to another tree. The process continued of you tailing him hopelessly throughout the night until you both were well into the forest beside the headquarters.

You managed to catch up to your teacher, but just before you could land beside him the male landed in a small clearing beside a pond with koi fish swimming about freely in the clear water. He suddenly stopped to catch his breath seeing as how you both have been playing this game of cat and mouse for quite a while.

You landed beside him, catching your own breath and watching as the fish continued to swim freely, the silence taking over between you. 

`` For a fresh student, you are fast, I'll give you that. ``

That was all he said, and even though so little was said, the semi-compliment made you smile with gratitude. Michikatsu side eyed you, looking down at your smaller form since you were distracted by the pond. This gave him a chance to study your physique. You had a smaller build, but he could easily tell that you were strong, after all, Kibutsuji did say you had great potential. You may have been quiet for the most part, but the male knew that you had much more to say than you let on. He truly was perspective. 

`` Tsugikuni-san, why have we stopped at a pond? ``

Your question caught him off guard, so he tore his gaze away from you and went back to the usually stoic and blunt person he is. 

`` To catch our breath, but our break is over. Stay close in pursuit. ``

The training continued again, going on for hours throughout the night with the same cat and mouse game you started with. Leaping from branch to branch at a fast pace staying hot on the pillar's trail. Although, at the end of the day, he has had much more experience than you have, for you struggled to keep up with him this time around.

Michikatsu suddenly stopped on a random branch of a tall tree, his back facing you but his head being turned so he can face you. 

`` This is where we will stop for the night. You started to stagger and slow down 4 trees before. ``

`` No. I can continu- ``

`` As your teacher I order you to stop. ``

You flinched at his sudden command, yet you kneeled down to catch your breath nonetheless. Michikatsu suddenly appeared beside you, the same way he did so when he first pulled off the seemingly difficult trick.

`` That is all, go home, your first night of training is over. ``

                     ◆◇◆◇✧◇◆◇◆

One night turned into two, two turned into thirteen, and thirteen turned into twenty-four. You had been training your physical strength for twenty-four straight nights in a row, refusing to give yourself a break to become the type of tsugoku Michikatsu can be proud of. Despite all your efforts, he still showed little to no sign of a significant reaction that expressed if he was impressed, proud, or disappointed with your abilities.

Tonight, you planned on changing that.

By Kibutsuji himself, you both were assigned to killing a demon who was sighted near a mountain not too far from the headquarters, and you both happily accepted the mission.

So now, here you are, standing beside your teacher at the foot of the mountain where the location was said to have been.

`` Let us deal with this demon quickly so we can return to training. ``

`` Are all we ever going to do is train? `` You spoke up, freely speaking your mind for the first time since you started studying under Michikatsu. This, however, made him turn around in an instant and loom above you, intimidating you fully.

`` Are you complaining? ``

Gulping a thick string of saliva, you shake your head no, which ultimately pleases your teacher. You could have sworn you saw him smirk out of the corner of your eye, but pushing that to the side, you both trek on your adventure up the mountain.

You followed closely behind until you sensed another, foreign presence near you - except it was not just one, it was multiple. You looked up at Michikatsu only to see him completely still, yet his hand gripped onto the handle of his katana. You shifted closer towards him so that you could watch your surroundings from another angle, but before you knew it a demon was now directly in front of you. 

`` [Y/N]! ``

Michikatsu yelled your name, signaling for you to go straight into battle mode. You did so by swinging your katana instantly, only missing its neck by a hair. 

`` There are 5 of them, you take care of 2 and I will do the rest. ``

`` Yes sensei. ``

You followed his plan, following the other two demons who decided to run away in the opposite direction from where you were chasing them, but by jumping and flipping above their head, landing in front of them, you were able to catch the creature off guard and successfully behead it in a timely manner. 

`` Don't think you won just yet girly- ``

Another demon tried to surprise you from behind, but it was too late for it as well, because you already swung your katana and successfully decapitating it as well, leaving it to wither away on the ground just as the other did. 

`` Both down. ``

With your success, you internally celebrated as you ran throughout the forest in search of your teacher, only to hear the swinging of a blade not too far from you. Following that sound, you see that the three demons he followed after ganged up on him and cornered him. You arrived just in time, seeing as how one of them was just about to attack Michikatsu when he was off guard and distracted by the other 2.

`` Breath of moon, first form: dark moon, evening palace. ``

You swung your katana in the direction of the demon's neck, being only able to sever halfway through before it dodged and managed to land an attack onto your teacher's abdomen, ripping his uniform and leaving bloody claw marks on his chest. The male gritted his teeth in slight pain, but not before he got rid of the other 2 demons in one single blow, leaving you truly astonished at his power level.

Although you could not stay distracted for long in view of the fact that the demon you tried to kill now had its attention on you, healing its neck at a visibly slow pace.

`` You got in the way, so now you'll take his place of death! ``

`` I think otherwise!, `` you shouted in return, using the second form of moon breathing, pearl flower moon-gazing that successfully sliced the demon's body into multiple pieces, including his head. It fell onto the ground and started the process of withering. With that, you ran to Michikatsu who covered the scars on his chest with his hand, sheathing his blade into his saya with the other. You kneeled down, ripping off a piece of your uniform and using that to stop the bleeding instead.

`` As a pillar I should deal with this mysel- ``

`` Stop acting all high and mighty. You are clearly injured so just let me help you. ``

Your stern tone made Michikatsu stop instantly, going silent instead and moving his hand out the way so you could tend to his needs. The fabric you ripped off only did so much, so helping the raven haired male stand up slowly, you drape his arm over your shoulder and escort him to your house, which was surprisingly not that far from where your mission just was.

Entering your home, you immediately set Michikatsu onto your futon, grabbing his hand and placing it onto his chest whilst still keeping that serious gaze in your eyes. The whole ordeal left him in utter shock that he was now in your home and in your care. He was never really one to speak his mind, so whenever he had a strong emotion of some sort it always showed on his face.

`` Keep that on your scars while I prepare everything I need to clean them. You're going to have to remove your uniform top for this. ``

Your words left him in even bigger shock, so much so that he was frozen for a good few seconds until he seemingly began slipping his haori off and unbuttoning the shirt of his uniform. He removed it with ease, now being bare enough for you to clean his wounds. Before Michikatsu, you never would have had the courage to speak up to him the way you did, but now with him being injured since you were too insolent to not kill the demon right away, you felt like you had to take responsibility.

Silently, you moved over to the male who sat bare before you, moving his hand out of your way so you could wipe away any blood that seeped anywhere else onto his body and in between the grooves of his abs. Your hand brushed against his skin ever so slightly, causing him to tense up in response.

`` Sorry if I hurt you in advance, `` you said, your voice cutting through the silence. He merely hummed in response, watching you work as he leaned back to get a better view. Michikatsu himself was appalled at how good you were at treating wounds, allowing you to actually do something he would never let anyone else do. But, over the course of your training, he had taken a liking to you. 

`` Have you done this before? ``

Both of your gazes met at a close proximity before you tore yours away in slight embarrassment, continuing the process of cleaning his scars. 

`` I have, yes. Why do you ask? ``

`` You seem to be rather skilled, that's all. ``

You finally finished cleaning his scars, setting down the wet cloth you used to do so, grabbing the bandages you had prepared and began wrapping them around his upper body, covering the scars effectively thus completing your task. Your skin had made contact so much that you were not able to discern when your face slowly began to heat up each time it did, but Michikatsu on the other hand had a pretty good view of your concentrated yet flustered expression.

You shifted to get up from your sitting position, only to feel a hand grab onto your wrist and pull you back down. You turn your head in disbelief, only to see that your noses were inches away from each other at the chain of events.

`` Thank you, [Y/N]. I mean it. ``

`` Well- you're welcome sensei… ``

Your bashful expression could not be hidden this time, and neither could Michikatsu's. The ends of his ears turned a bright red, thus letting you go at the realization of this because he was all too aware of his own emotions.

Hurriedly, you put your cleaning supplies away, moving so fast that you nearly tripped yourself. You could not help how you felt in that moment. Your emotions were all over the place and the only reason was because of him. Deep down you thought that yes he was attractive but his attitude was a bother. Even then, you still suppressed those feelings.

But not tonight.

`` Be careful, you might hurt yourself. There is no rush. ``

`` I apologize.. I am not used to having guests, my teacher being one no less. ``

He then suddenly patted the space beside him, signaling for you to sit down which you followed obediently, planting your hands in your lap and keeping keeping gaze low so as to not make eye contact. 

`` Will you look at me? You seem to be heating up by the passing second. ``

`` It could just be your inagination..- ``

A finger was brought to your chin, tilting it to the side and upwards to examine your face at a better angle, although the tip of your noses brushed against each other at the close proximity. You had to admit, with the moon light shining through your window and the way the luminosity shone on Michikatsu's features, it made him look ten times more attractive than he already did. 

`` Are you falling in love? I have a feeling you are. ``

You were ultimately taken aback by his sudden boldness even though he has mentioned that expressing how he feels just was not his thing. Your eyes widened ever so slightly while his expression stayed the same. Eyes partially lidded, mouth parted as his gaze glanced from your own irises to your lips. Your lips quivered to say something until you moved forward.

`` What if I say yes? What will you do about it. ``

`` Personally, I believe actions speak louder than words so.. ``

Just like that, you felt Michikatsu's lips press against your own yet pull away just as quickly, staring into your eyes once again until this time you moved forward, pressing your softer ones against his. The eagerness you felt in that moment showed with how you kept contact much longer than he previously did, but there were no complaints from neither of you. 

A large hand moved to the small of your back, hesitantly pulling you in closer contact with his bare chest until yours was leaning into his. Pulling away at the close contact, the redness at the end of his ears spread to his cheeks just barely, and this time you visibly saw an expression other than the one he usually sports.

`` So I take that as a yes? ``

`` It was most definitely a yes Michikatsu. ``

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[may-fanfic]

In A Minute 

summary: natasha wasn’t the same since the blip and after 5 years, she finally found a sense of hope, only for it all to come crashing down for you when Natasha doesn’t return like she’s supposed to 

warnings: death, angst 

rating: 18+

word count : 2,473

a/n: just watched endgame again and im grieving so i wrote this enjoy the angst 

masterlist 

((feel free to send in any request you may have))

--------

Natasha watched closely as you moved things around her office, throwing away things that you deemed useless which was nearly everything in the messy office. she had been in such a rut and you knew it couldn’t be good. you knew Natasha had been close to everyone on that team and she had felt like pieces of her went missing.

“you don’t have to do that,” she stated from her seat, her eyes growing watery. it has been nearly five years since the blip and you knew if Natasha kept up this way, she wouldn’t be useful, like thor and you couldn’t lose nat too.

you dropped the mess of papers in the bin before making your way over to the girl who stared hopelessly at you. you noticed the bags under her eyes and her chapped lips. she was wearing the same sweats from the last time you saw her.

“natty, I need you to be at your best.” Natasha looked like she lost some weight and you wondered when she had her last meal. she shrugged lightly, her lips quivering as she did so. you moved to kneel in front of the avenger placing your hands on her thighs, resting your chin against her knee.

“I miss you nat.” you knew that you saw her nearly every day but you missed the person she used to be, before Thanos and everything. she was always so carefree and happy and now it seemed that the smallest thing could tick her off. your comment made her eyes flow freely as her shaky hands came to rest softly against your cheeks.

you leaned against her warm hands causing her thumbs to brush against your cheekbones. “Just please take a break for me, baby,” you begged her, your own eyes turning watery and when she nodded, you leaned up catching her lips in a soft kiss.

it had been a while and Natasha forgot how much she missed it. you pulled away too fast for her liking but she figured she’d save the kissing for later. you had continuously promised her that you and her would figure it out, in due time and maybe you had been right to tell her to worry less.

------

Natasha had moved through the compound, drying her damp hair with a small towel before she stopped at the kitchen, watching quietly as you moved through the area, setting the plated food on the table and it dawned on her all at once that, yeah, she lost a lot of her loved ones but you were still here and she hadn’t been appreciating that enough. she knew she’d completely lose it without you. you turned to catch her warm gaze and the tiny smile that had formed on her lips.

"come here,” she muttered setting down her towel and opening up her arms. you were quick to move into her embrace, resting your face in the crook of her neck as her arms found your waist, reeling you impossibly closer as you hook your arms around her shoulders, letting a soft breath go when her arms tightened around your waist.

"I miss this." she purred out, her hands rubbing up and down your spine with ease. as much as she didn't want to think about everything going on, she couldn't help it. she nuzzled her face into the nape of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent. it made her feel safe, feeling you so near made her feel whole and all she wanted was to soak up this moment as much as she could because it was perfect. everything about you was perfect.

"me too." you breathed out, your eyes falling closed, taking in the feeling of her hands over your back. this was the Natasha you missed, the one who was always so careful and affectionate with you.

------

when ant-man came along, rumbling about time travel, it gave Natasha a sense of hope. finally, for the first time in five years, she felt like they had a chance to turn all this around and you wanted to believe it for her sake because she seemed so happy, so you went along with the man's theory. you knew Natasha just liked to feel useless, she hated just sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

the night before the mission, Natasha could hardly sleep as she gazed over your soft expressions. she knew that there was always a risk when it came to the things they did but she hoped everything worked out perfectly. she just wanted everything back to normal.

she reached her hand over to gently caress your cheek. your eyebrows knitted together, letting out a soft sigh in your sleep and she couldn't help but grin at you. she thought about the chance that something would happen to you throughout all this, she knew she wouldn't be with you and the fact that she wouldn't be able to protect made her feel uneasy.

she couldn't lie and say she had no fears when it came to what was to come but she knew it would work out exactly how it was meant to and with that sobering thought, she drifted off to sleep.

-----

your hand was tighten entangled with hers after you both had been suited up, you had a moment with just each other. Natasha liked the comfortable silence but she also had so much to say to you, she just didn't know how to say it so she was glad when you spoke up first. "I love you," you whispered out, turning your attention over to the girl who looked down at you with a gentle smile. "I just wanted to say that in case-"

"I love you too," she uttered out quickly, her smile growing when she noticed the way your cheeks burned a bright pink. "everything's gonna be okay, love." she reassured, her fingers caressing gently at your knuckles. "it's only gonna be a minute." she reminded you with a smile and for a second you felt at ease, simply looking up at the woman whom you loved dearly.

"longest minute ever," you whispered gaining a soft laugh from her as she turned her body to embrace you completely. you rested your head against her chest when she pulled you into her. her hand came up to hold your head in place while the other wrapped securely around your waist. she brushed a soft kiss to your hairline, holding you as close as possible.

"Alright girls, let's go."  clint tapped on Natasha's shoulder and she reluctantly let you go, offering you a sweet smile as she took your hand and walked you up the platform. you couldn't hear steve's speech over the sound of your heartbeat, it was louder than ever. you knew he was finished when Natasha squeezed your hand softly to get your attention.  her smile was wide, she seemed so excited and ready to take on whatever would come in her way. "see you in a minute, baby." you smiled back at her when she brought your knuckles up to her lips to press a soft kiss against them. just a minute, you reminded yourself when she let your hand go.

you wish you knew before that would be the last time you'd see Natasha because then you could tell yourself to not let her go, you'd go back in time to kill ant-man before he could even give them the idea but that wasn't the case and you had to live with the repercussions of it all.

-----

your mission with thor and rocket went pretty smoothly, for the most part, you let rocket take the lead and when thor was under control, it worked out perfect. you got the stone and headed back in no time and you were happy for thor who got the closure he needed. he seemed unstoppable at that moment.

Natasha's mission was mind-boggling, she and clint sat around for moments, trying to figure out a way for the both of them to come out of this alive but there wasn't any way around this, Natasha knew what she had to do. her mind was made up as she thought of you, your smile, your voice, everything.

she knew clint had a family and there was no way she'd leave them without their dad but the thought of leaving you pained her. she knew how broken up you'd be because she promised she'd come back for you and now she wouldn't be. she hoped you could understand it one day. with shaky hands, Natasha pulled out a necklace that she swore around her neck, smiling down at the ring that she was determined to give to you one day. you'd always asked her about the random ring that hung from her neck and she'd always tell you that she just found it one day. she didn't want to tell you that it was for you, it'd ruin the surprise.

she always saw herself growing old with you and now that didn't seem possible. she wrapped her hand around the ring completely bringing it up to her lips to press a gentle kiss to it as if it was you at that moment, she wished it was. "whatever it takes." she spoke softly as she shot up from the rock she sat on. clint turned to her with tearful eyes whispering something, she couldn't listen to him right now.

"listen, clint-" she cut him off, reaching for his hand and dropping the necklace into his hand before balling it up for him. "tell her I love her okay?" tears fell past her eyes but the wind was knocked out of her when clint flipped her on her back, they fought for a moment but ultimately, she won as she dove off the cliff, stopping Clint from his demise.

there was a second of regret when clint cried out for her to hold on but then she imagined all the stress she felt for the past 5 years and she knew if she hadn't done this, her life would be full of regret. "it's okay." she smiled up at the man, tears in her own eyes. "it'll be okay." he cried even harder but before she could regret it more, she kicked herself off using the cliff and fell.

when clint opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by water, his tears clouded his vision as he opened his hand along with the soul stone,  was the necklace. he wasn't thrilled about having to see you.

----- everyone cheered when they were returned to the platform, the smiles on their lips had you grinning before your eyes locked with clint's tired, tearful ones and then you noticed the empty space beside him.

"Clint." you tried but your voice shook so much when he met your eyes. "where's natty?" he didn't have to say anything for you to know that she wouldn't be coming back. your eyes filled with tears as he began apologizing to you. everyone else was too quiet and it made your cries echoed in the room.

"no... no... she was supposed to come back! where is she, clint? what did you do?" you slammed your hands against his chest when he made his way over to you. you hated him so much right now. deep down, you knew it wasn't his fault but you'd blame just about anyone right now.

"where is she?" you cried harder when he forced you into a hug, trying your hardest to break free of his hold but he was strong and after a moment, you stopped fighting.  you couldn't stop your cries as the thought of never seeing the love of your life again replayed in your head. none of this made any sense, she was just here and now she was gone forever. "I'm so sorry." he cried out with you, rubbing softly at your back. when you weren’t strong enough to stand anymore, clint tugged you down on the floor with him, hugging you tightly into his embrace but nothing could ever be better than Natasha's.

she was the only one you wanted to see when you came back, she was the only one that didn't come back.  your cries shook you as you tried to rack your head around it all. why couldn't she just come back? there wasn’t anything anyone could say to ever make you feel better. you just wanted to see her again and if you couldn't get that, you'd never be happy. everything was suddenly ripped away from you, you needed her.

------

you felt solemn as you sat in the church, your eyes drifted over to the empty coffin then it was the big picture that was placed beside it. there she was in all her glory, you'd do anything to have her back. tears flowed freely from your eyes as you snapped your gaze back to your hands. the funeral ended an hour ago but you didn't have the energy to move.

you couldn't do anything, what was life without Natasha? you were so wrapped up in your thought that you hardly noticed the body that sat beside you until his hand hovered over yours for a moment. "she wanted me to give you this." he spoke softly and when his hand left, the necklace laid in your hands. you stared blankly down at the familiar ring that hung from it, feeling the fresh tears stream from your eyes. "you know, she loved you." he whispered, his lips quivering as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"I'd never seen her so in love before you, she was crazy about you." you let out a small laugh through your cries as you glanced up from the ring over to clint. he offered a sad smile, his free hand coming up to brush away your tears. "she'd always talk about marrying you." he whispered, nudging his head in the direction of your hands almost to explain the gift he handed you.

"I wish she was here to tell me that," you whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder. you would've married Natasha in a heartbeat had you gotten the chance. "I know..." he spoke softly, his eyes trained on the picture of her in the front of the church. "she's a hero," he uttered, trying his best to comfort you.  "she brought my family back... I just wish there was something I could do to repay her." you nodded, your eyes moving back to the perfect diamond ring, you could almost feel her on it.

you knew Natasha died a hero, she died doing what she was meant to do. it was hard to imagine your life without her but you knew in some way, she'd always be here.

[idy-ll-ique]

Apprentice.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

Warning: Forced kissing (?) idk how to put it. Almost one non-consensual kiss.

Summary: Doctor Strange, World's Greatest Sorcerer, is in love with his apprentice. Unfortunately, when it comes to love, he's a dumbass.

Author's Note: Hey guys I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long! My college started, my classes are going on in full force and I haven't written anything readable in so long ugghhhh hope you guys enjoy this (Except for Loki, Spider-Man, Bonky and Steeb, the other characters' fics don't do that well 😳 but I'ma post this nonetheless)

---

Stephen POV:

I sighed as I watched Y/N sitting on the floor talking and joking around with the Cloak of Levitation. "Skedaddle, skedoodle..." "Y/N—" "Your dick is a noodle!" Levi made a happy noise and wrapped itself tightly around Y/N. She completely ignored me, laughing as the cloak hugged her.

Y/N was my apprentice. She also, coincidentally, happened to be the woman I was totally, hopelessly and obsessively in love with. "Y/N, if you're done, maybe you can come here and help me!" I yelled as cold-heartedly as possible, finally having enough. "Sorry, sir," she whispered.

Oh, the things she did to me when she called me 'sir'. Of course, Y/N was the best apprentice ever. She was the student every teacher dreamed of. Wait, that came out a bit creepy— She got up and quickly walked to me. Levi settled herself back on my shoulders. Y/N took a book in her hand and started reading.

I silently watched her as she focused on the book. Since I was so in love with her, my mind believed that maybe being cold to her would help me. I needed to get rid of distractions and Y/N... she was my biggest distraction. "Sir, I found it!" Y/N squealed, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Give that to me," I huffed, grabbing the book from her hand. "You may leave." Y/N nodded and got up, walking out of the library. I watched. The way her hips swayed when she walked, the way she only liked to wear skirts and sweaters all the time drove me crazy.

It was hard not to be in love with such a beautiful person.

Y/N POV:

"What's his problem," I grumbled as I picked my book off the stairs. I sat down on the fourth step and opened the book again. I was an apprentice to the one and only, Doctor Stephen Strange. I liked it at the New York Sanctum, that's where the both of us lived. I liked being an apprentice to the Sorcerer Supreme too, that is, if he treated me like a person.

He never talked politely to me. I was very damn sure that whatever it was, was my fault. I did something. So I started taking care more. I never messed up. It had been months since my last mistake. All of Strange's friends commented well about me. Wong and Mordo said I was the best apprentice there was. Even the Ancient One said I was good.

So what was Strange's problem? At least Levi liked me. She was the only one I could talk to freely, even though the cloak itself couldn't talk. As I quietly sat and read on the stairs, I heard a loud knocking on the door to the sanctum. Startled, I stood up. Before I could move, Strange was running down the stairs. "Don't move," he growled, stopping me as I followed him.

His hand collided hard with my chest and I was thrown back. I landed on the stairs on my butt. I groaned and scrambled back to my feet as Strange opened the door. Outside stood the two Norse Gods, Thor and Loki. My eyes widened.

I stood silently as the three of them chatted. A blush crept up my cheeks as I noticed that instead of focusing on what Strange was saying, Loki was eyeing me up.

I honestly didn't think I looked that great. Sure, I had a maintained figure and a thankfully unblemished face but no one would be into this. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and looked away, Loki's stare still burning holes through my body. I heard Strange sighing.

"Alright, follow me. Y/N, keep an eye on Loki. Make sure he doesn't touch anything," Stephen glared at me and went upstairs with Thor. I looked down. Why did Dr Strange hate me so much? As far as I remember, I had done nothing to him. "It's sad, how he treats you."

"What do you mean?" I looked up at Loki, confused. I grew extremely self conscious as Loki took a few steps towards me, smirking. "Judging by his tone and glare, he clearly despises you. Why do you still continue to be with him, dearest?" he crooned and I took a step back.

"It's— it's not what you think... I'm his apprentice, not his girlfriend," I whispered, uncomfortable. "An apprentice? How nice."

"Wh-What?"

I got incredibly scared when Loki smirked more and stepped closer to me. "That means you're available, aren't you? Unless..." I shook my head furiously. "I'm not dating," I said in a rush. Wait, why was I acting like that? I wasn't interested in him, not at all!

There was no denying he was handsome and intelligent, but I just didn't like him that way. "Good. I've always wanted a pretty princess like you." I audibly gulped as Loki stood an inch away from me. I was standing on the sixth step on the stairs while Loki stood on the fifth. Even still, he was taller than I was. He leaned down and breathed out.

My heart rate skyrocketed, what was he doing? Whatever it was, I didn't like it. I loved someone else. I was in love with my teacher, Stephen Strange. It hurt me everyday how much he hated me but I liked him a lot. As soon as Loki's lips were about to be placed on mine... "Loki, I told you not to touch anything!" Loki quickly pulled back and stepped down.

I continued standing where I was, my eyes closed as I breathed heavily. When I opened my eyes, I saw Strange glaring daggers at Loki. It looked as if he was about to kill Loki then and there. "Sir—" I started but he cut me off. "Ah-ah! Shut up, I'll deal with you later!" he growled.

"Yes, sir," I whispered, looking down. My eyes filled with tears, what was happening? When no one was looking, I wiped my tears.

Alas, I was wrong. Strange saw me wiping my tears and his heart finally shattered.

Stephen POV:

I could not believe the audacity of that terrible excuse for a demigod. How dare he try to kiss the love of my life right under my roof?! I was incredibly upset when I saw that Y/N wasn't pushing him away. I knew she had always been a shy person, but...

"Thor, take your brother and leave," I grunted, opening a portal. Thor was just looking around awkwardly as Loki smirked at me and I glared at him. "I'll not be forgetting about you, Y/N!" Loki purposely yelled as he stepped through the portal. I looked at Y/N as he said it and saw her flinching.

So she really didn't care about that man. My heart broke. Why was I treating her like this? Like a caged animal? Like a disappointing kid? Y/N was far from disappointing, she was excellent. When the portal closed, I looked at Y/N. "Care to explain?" I snapped, crossing my arms.

"It wasn't me, it was all him," she whispered, her voice breaking. She was trying not to break down. "What did he do?" I questioned. "He... he tried to kiss me. I didn't want to do it. I don't like him that way." Y/N was still looking at the ground, her book long forgotten on the stairs.

I picked it up. "I want you to look up when we talk!" Her head snapped up and her eyes widened. I was holding her book out to her. She extended a shaking hand and accepted the book. "Th-Thank you," she stuttered. I realised that her whole body was shaking. That's when it hit me, how difficult it was for her.

I treated her like scum, blinded by my own mind. She was doing her best to impress me yet I continued ignoring her. Today's incident must have been worse for her. I mean, being taken without consent... my mind cleared up.

I had to make it up to her.

"Come on, Y/N, let's continue with our research, shall we?" I asked her softly and she nodded, still avoiding my eyes. We walked to the library. After that, I treated her like the princess, the angel she was. I complimented her all the time, became friendlier with her.

She worked as diligently as ever. But now, there was happiness around her when she worked. And I, as always, loved watching her. I wanted to confess my feelings. By now, I didn't care about rejection. I just wanted to get the feelings out. "Sir?" Yet again, I snapped out of my thoughts.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I asked, smiling at her. "Have I got something on my face or are you lost in thoughts?" she chuckled, eyes shining with teasing affection. I admit, after seeing her break down and finally treating her nicely, Y/N and I grew closer. We talked outside work now and she had a lot of interesting things to tell me.

"You've got something on your face," I smiled, getting up. I sat in front of her on the floor; she loved sitting on floors for some reason. She said it was cold and she liked it. "What?" she frowned, touching her face. "Beauty," I whispered and she froze. She looked at me.

"Sir, I—"

"I'm just gonna say it, Y/N, I'm in love with you."

"Then why did you treat me like I was nothing?"

"Because I didn't want any distraction from my work. You were the biggest distraction ever, with a beauty like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought that maybe by treating you coldly the feelings would go away. But they grew. And now I realize, my work is actually the biggest distraction from you." She chuckled at my joke. I took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Please tell me you like me back, I won't be able to sleep at night," I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She grinned and tittered.

"Of course I do, I love you so much, sir," she whispered and I finally, after months of pining, pressed my lips to hers. She kissed back. My hands moved to her waist and I brought her on my lap, leaning against the wall behind me as we kissed passionately.

"Tell me you're mine, no one else's."

"Of course I'm yours, sir."

"Gah, you have no idea what that word does to me."

She found out that night.

---

A/N: Oop. Leave a like if you liked it lol

[lambden]

Here’s some belated Geraskier fic that I finally get to post, as last week’s flash fic challenge has wrapped up! This was originally published anonymously; kudos to those of you who guessed that I was the author. Head to the collection to see the picture prompt that inspired this, as well as view the other works. I've been having a great time participating in fandom events like this; I promise there's more on the way!!! (Read on AO3)

Up To Date

prompt: "You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed."

G, 2.3K words, modern AU, Geralt/Jaskier

It shouldn’t be this difficult to find inspiration. He never used to struggle like this in high school, finding his muse in everyone and everything. Even his mundane trip on the city bus to and from school would give Jaskier hundreds of ideas, for poems too personal to publish or lyrics too deep for his band to use. Back then he had thought he lacked discipline and experience, so the clear choice had been to take his interest in poetry one step further and go to university.

The problem, as he’s now discovering halfway through his second year, is that he maybe hates university. He loves it, of course; he loves the praise from his professors and peers, he loves learning about the history of literature and art. He even loves the academic rivalries that wax and wane every term, and the competitions that ignite a mean streak in him he didn’t know he had.

But his assignments are of worse quality than anything he’s ever written before, and try as he might, they aren’t getting any better. Putting words on the page just to meet a count is impossible for a poet, not when the space and thoughts and images are all supposed to be cohesive. Poems used to flow from him so freely he hadn’t been able to keep track and now his well of motivation has just about run dry.

That’s what led him here, for the third time this week. His creative dysfunction has forced him into the day-to-day habits of an elderly man who spends his days reading in public gardens. It hasn’t helped so far, but maybe this third time will be the charm. Jaskier finds his favorite place: right by the koi pond, next to a strange art installation with ivy crawling along it. He sits at the base of the giant question mark, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him.

“This better fucking work,” mutters Jaskier to himself and the koi, opening today’s book to a random poem. He refuses to let his mind wander at first, gluing his eyes to the page and reading with intense intent. The first poem he sees is about love.

Groaning, Jaskier flips the page. The next poem is also about love.

The third poem is about war, and Jaskier thinks that might be alright, until he realizes what this long-dead poet is trying to tell him, which is that war is also about love. Because it is, of course, but also of course it is. Jaskier scowls deeply and flips through the book to a random page, hoping to find something to spark inspiration that won’t just make him feel hopeless and single and hopelessly single.

Before Jaskier can get through the title, someone speaks to him, startling him so badly he jumps. “Are you Yennefer’s friend?”

Jaskier scrambles to catch the book by its cover and nearly drops it. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Sorry?”

The stranger audibly sighs, as if Jaskier has inconvenienced him terribly. With all the force of someone announcing their presence at their own death row, he grits out, “I’m here for a blind date she set up. With you.” Jaskier looks up at the man and sees him wearing a blank expression, pointing at the question mark in front of the bench. “By the thing.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, still looking at the man. It takes a second for the words to sink in because the stranger is perhaps the most handsome person Jaskier has ever seen. He could write a thousand poems and still fail to capture his beauty. He has golden eyes, for one, and a sharply chiseled face. Even grimacing like this, his jaw is set in the loveliest way, and his stern brow is framed by platinum white hair, half-tied up. He’s wearing a fairly gloomy outfit for a blind date, but maybe he told whoever Yennefer is that he would be dressed in black. Regardless, he’s making it work.

The gorgeous stranger is still waiting for an answer, scowl worsening as Jaskier tries to make his decision about how the fuck to handle this. Really, there’s no decision at all— he just impulsively takes the leap. All his best ideas come when he’s stumbling forward blind anyway. “Yes,” he finally says, jumping to his feet. “Yes, um, I’m sorry, you caught me off-guard. I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.” They’re of a similar height, but Geralt is so much wider. Jaskier wants to climb him like ivy on a question mark. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“It’s fine! I got here a while ago. You know, can’t be too early!” Jaskier has never been early for anything in his life. He sits down again and shoves his books into his bag as quickly as he can. Geralt shifts his weight back and forth between his feet before awkwardly sitting on the bench next to Jaskier, looking out at the garden. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he admits, which is true. His usual lies and schemes are much less chaotic.

Geralt doesn’t reply to that, leaving Jaskier to privately wonder about his dating life. He stares at the plants, giving the impression that he might be hideously nervous. Jaskier has no idea why someone like Geralt would be nervous about anything but it’s an awkward situation, to say the least. Right as Jaskier’s about to suggest they get out of here before Geralt’s real date shows up, the man asks, “What were you reading?”

“I was studying, sort of,” Jaskier says. “I’m a student.” Then abruptly he wonders how much Geralt knows about who he’s supposed to be, and he swallows, pulse racing.

Glancing over, Geralt’s yellow eyes meet his. There’s no obvious doubt there, just a curiosity. “What’s your major?”

“Poetry,” Jaskier grins as their conversation starts to pick up something resembling a rhythm. “What about you, are you in school?”

“No,” says Geralt, cutting his dreams of a normal date conversation short. “Are you any good? At writing poetry?”

What a weirdo. Jaskier’s heart thrums. “I’d like to think so!” This, at least, is something he knows how to talk about. Except, of course, it isn’t really the truth. “Well… recently, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut. Just waiting for the right burst of inspiration to come along.” Perhaps this blind date that he’s stolen will suffice, but he doesn’t say that. “This place is great for that, actually. I mean, it hasn’t worked yet, but I’m sure any day those fish will sing for me.”

Geralt blinks. Jaskier feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He tries a different tactic, crossing his ankles and asking politely, “Are you a reader? What kind of things do you enjoy?”

“Nonfiction,” Geralt answers, slightly stilted. His gaze drifts over to the plants once more. “Not biographies, more like… encyclopedias and field journals. I like field journals.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says, shrinking into himself. This is going terribly. “I’ll have to go bribe some scientists for their field journals, then.” The corner of Geralt’s lip twitches, and Jaskier’s stomach flips. Gorgeous and weird and maybe, although he’s trying his best to hide it behind seven layers of nerves, maybe a little amused by Jaskier. Jaskier is going to fuck him right here in the garden. “Do you take journals of your own for work?”

A rather roundabout way of asking ‘what the fuck is it that you do’ but somehow, it lands. “I’m a… researcher,” Geralt mumbles. How very vague. “But I don’t publish my findings very often.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Do you work… for a company?”

“No.”

“Right. So you’re just keeping all your findings to yourself for no good reason at all.”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like you’re a pretty terrible researcher, actually.”

Geralt’s eyes flash as he turns to glare at Jaskier. “What?”

“Well, if you don’t share what you’ve found with anyone—”

“My… colleagues—”

“Aha! So you have colleagues!” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s side. “You aren’t just holed up in some depressing storage unit with months and months of research just for you.”

Once more, Geralt half-smirks. Not even half— more like a one-fifth smirk. “Years,” he admits.

“Years…” Jaskier tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re perhaps a significant number of years older than me?”

“I had the same thought when I saw you sitting here,” Geralt mumbles.

Jaskier snorts. “Seems like something Yennefer should have warned us about, perhaps. I would ask you directly how old you are, but I’m fairly certain that the only response I will get is a very gruff no.”

“No,” says Geralt, nearly smiling.

Making a show of pouting, Jaskier folds his arms over his chest. “Is that your favorite word?”

“No.” Geralt breaks into laughter as he repeats himself, and his whole face lights up with it. Jaskier laughs too, delighted by how joyous Geralt looks. He’s even more beautiful when he’s happy like this, and Jaskier wants very badly for this not to be their last date. “If I tell you my favorite word, you’re bound to judge me for it, as a poet.”

“As a poet, I swear not to mock you,” Jaskier raises his hand to cover his heart, barely restraining himself from grinning.

But before Geralt can share whatever it is, someone else approaches their bench. A second stranger— a woman about his height with short brown hair, wearing a pretty blouse. Jaskier notices her much more quickly than he’d noticed Geralt, and he makes the connection instantly. This can’t possibly end well.

“Oh, Yen wasn’t kidding,” says the stranger, eyeing Geralt. “You are very distinctive!”

Geralt stares back at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”

“I’m Renfri,” Geralt’s date introduces herself. Jaskier wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole, especially when she glances over at him. Her gaze slides back to Geralt, as does Jaskier’s, and yeah, he is very fucking distinctive with that white hair and those yellow eyes. Damn. “My friend Yennefer set us up for a blind date…?”

As Jaskier contemplates throwing himself into the koi pond, Geralt twists to stare at him. Jaskier can only imagine how mortified he must look right now; his face burns as both Renfri and Geralt look his way. Perhaps Renfri will figure it out before Geralt says anything; she looks like a smart woman.

But Geralt just gets up, dusting himself off and shaking his head. “No,” he tells Renfri, which would almost be funny if it weren’t the weirdest thing Jaskier has ever seen anyone do. Then Geralt leaves, turning to walk away from both of them, leaving Jaskier and Renfri alone together in the garden. Renfri frowns, watching him go with obvious increasing confusion. Jaskier also jumps to his feet, equally confused but determined not to lose sight of Geralt.

He chases the man— and it does feel like a chase, Geralt must be fucking speed-walking away— and finally tracks him down well outside the garden. Geralt is thundering down a set of stairs leading to a parking lot and he doesn’t stop at the sound of Jaskier careening towards him. Only when Jaskier desperately calls his name does he finally stop, slowing until he reaches the bottom landing and then standing there, still.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier calls down the stairs, breathless. He begins to descend them but Geralt doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, you’re fast! Shit. I’m sorry, Geralt.”

Without looking his way, Geralt complains, so quietly that Jaskier nearly misses it, “Yennefer is going to kill me.”

“I would have fucked off,” Jaskier says quickly, hurrying down the rest of the steps until he gets to the bottom. Geralt still doesn’t look at him so Jaskier slides none-too-gracefully into his space, demanding his attention. He’s hardly red in the face or anything, but he looks embarrassed. Jaskier crumbles. “I’m sorry. I— seriously, I don’t care, I would have fucked off. I should’ve left, I should’ve— You should go back there, she’s beautiful!”

Geralt’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t look away. “Why did you lie,” he demands, flat.

“Well,” Jaskier deflates. “Um. You’re beautiful.”

“Hmm.”

“I really am sorry,” he offers.

Geralt, still watching him closely, says, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier throws his hands in the air, breaking away from Geralt’s stare— in the greenhouse, surrounded by bright lights and open, manmade nature, it had been easy to sit under the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him. Down here, at the end of a staircase and the entrance to a dark garage, chest still heaving, it feels too intimate. He puts some distance between them, sighing. “You want me to go back there and explain the whole situation to poor Renfri?”

When Jaskier finally turns around again, Geralt’s gaze hasn’t left him. “I want you to come have dinner with me instead,” he says, slowly but purposefully.

“Oh,” breathes Jaskier. “That’s— well, if you want that.”

“I already made a reservation for two. My name’s on the list.” Geralt is fidgeting with the end of his sleeve at first but when he approaches Jaskier he drops it, striding forward without hesitating. “Table for Geralt and one young brunet friend of Yennefer’s.”

Jaskier chokes on his own surprised laugh. “I don’t actually know Yennefer,” he needlessly explains.

“She’s going to hate you,” says Geralt, half-smirking, and then he adds, “Well, she’ll hate both of us now.”

They get to the restaurant twenty minutes late, Geralt’s hair mussed up and lips a bitten red and Jaskier wearing his backpack and a shit-eating grin. The host sees them and immediately tells them their table has been cancelled, and they end up getting terrible two-dollar slices from a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. They eat on the way back to Geralt’s car and then he drives Jaskier back to campus, kissing him soundly in the door to his apartment until Priscilla comes home and yells at Jaskier to get a room. As they squabble Geralt apologizes, polite and nervous, and kisses Jaskier’s cheek and tells him it was nice to meet him.

Jaskier goes inside and spends the next thirteen hours writing the best poetry he will ever write.

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

It’s Just A Spark Ch. 7 - Maybe Definitely

Hiccup sighed and threw a glance at the clock, mindlessly clicking around in his opened document. 22:35.

He'd been trying to finish up his report for more than half an hour, which was significantly exheeding his usual set time of fifteen minutes.

"You're still here?" a voice behind him intoned and Hiccup turned around to see Snotlout enter the room and place his helmet on the desk next to his.

"Yeah," Hiccup mumbled, feeling the effect of his extra strong tea earlier wear off slowly but surely. "I wanted to finish today's report. Which I did. And then I thought, I still haven't written the report for yesterday."

"Woah, what's up with Mr Too-fast-for-deadlines?" his cousin asked, looking sincerely surprised. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he repeated, dragging a hand through his hair. "Just … busy."

"Ooh, right, your girlfriend."

Hiccup's head shot up, glaring. Snotlout shrugged.

"Gobber told me. Well, technically, your dad told me. But Gobber told him so basically it was him who told me."

"Doesn't anything regarding my personal life stay personal? And she's … she's not my girlfriend."

"You showed up to her workplace with lasagna you made specifically for her because it's her favourite food, Hiccup. That is such a boyfriend-thing to do. Though I guess it's very you. Most people wouldn't bother."

"How did you even-"

"Hey, don't blame me for being your cousin! Things get around, okay? My dad was out getting coffee, saw you, told your dad who told him that-"

"Alright, alright," Hiccup interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get it. Note to self, never tell Dad anything concerning Astrid again if I want it to stay between us."

Snotlout laughed and good-naturedly nudged his cousin's arm.

"Come on, Hic, I don't mean any harm. Neither does he, you know that. He's just excited for you."

Hiccup sighed. "I know."

"I'm too, by the way," Snotlout mumbled. "It's kind of really cool seeing you this happy."

The auburn-hair man stopped and finally smiled at his cousin. "Thanks, Snotlout."

Snotlout sniffed, trying to shake off his earlier sentiment. "Yeah, whatever. Just go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

Hiccup grinned and got up. "You sound just like Gobber."

"Shut up."

He laughed.

The doorbell was ringing, making Astrid jump. She rarely had any visitors at a time like this. Maybe it was just Ruff who had forgot her keys again, needing a place to crash.

She opened the door.

It wasn't Rachel.

Hiccup.

Hiccup, his forest-green eyes dark and his hair messy as if he'd run his hands through it countless of times.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped and took a step closer.

"Hiccup, what-"

She was silenced by his lips suddenly crashing down on hers. Astrid stumbled back, shock fading as his hands cupped her face, hers suddenly tangled in his hair, pulling him down to her.

They stumbled into her flat, her back hitting the wall of her hallway with a low 'Thud'.

All she felt was his calloused fingers on her skin, leaving invisible imprints, his lips - oh, God - almost desperately pressing to hers.

"What took you so long," she gasped into the kiss and fisted her hands into the material of his shirt, pulling him closer still.

His breath was hot against her skin. He smelled of toothpaste, making her smile against his lips. Hiccup pulled away, frowning shortly.

"I don't," he kissed her again, gently this time. "Know."

Her hands wrapped around his neck as he continued working his lips against hers, chasing sparks down her skin. He was pressing her against the wall, not an inch left between their bodies as she lightly pushed her tongue into his mouth. Hiccup groaned and let his hands wander to her waist. Ever so slowly he brushed her tongue against hers, making her knees weak.

"Hiccup," she gasped against his lips, tightening her grip around his shoulders -

Astrid opened her eyes, her racing heart the only sound in her dark bedroom.

Heat crawled up to her face as she realised what had happened.

"Oh, God," she groaned, hiding her burning face in her hands. "Oh my god …"

It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Hiccup wouldn't just barge in like that and start kissing her, he'd … he'd … oh, what did it matter what he'd do, when she was the one dreaming about it! Not only dream but also enjoy the idea of it …

"God, what is wrong with me?" she mumbled into the emptiness of her room, almost swearing she could have tasted the toothpaste from his mouth.

Alright. So it had been a couple of days since she'd last saw him, so what? So what that she couldn't walk past that café anymore without thinking about Hiccup drenched in sunlight? So what that he'd held her hand on the table and hadn't let go even as his friend had asked for their orders? So what that she hard trouble keeping him out of her mind and found herself craving his company? That didn't say anything.

Astrid sat in darkness and realised that there was no turning back now.

"…shit."

He'd been tired all day and now he was in bed and couldn't sleep. Typical.

Hiccup groaned and turned around to face the wall, careful as to not disturb Toothless who had curled up around his legs - well, leg and a half.

It had been days, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about their visit to the café.

Astrid had introduced herself to Fishlegs as his date - which was true, they were dating.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Snot's words were still ringing in his ears.

'That's a very boyfriend-thing to do.'

They were only dating.

He wanted to be more to her, still. He wanted to keep doing these things simply because it made her smile. He wanted to make her happy.

Hiccup closed his eyes, trying not to think about how he'd give up eating anything else than ice cream for his lunch breaks if it meant he got to see her laugh at him with cream on his chin.

Hiccup awoke by the sound of his phone ringing.

Groggily he reached for it and slurred, "'llo?"

"Hiccup?"

He immediately sobered up and sat up. "Astrid, hi, Astrid, hey … Astrid."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just, uh … just woke up."

He started fumbling for the bottle of water somewhere next to his bed.

Astrid gasped on the other line. "Go back to sleep! I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. Really. I should've gotten up anyway." He smiled.

"Oh, okay. Listen, I was just wondering if - you have time somewhen this week, maybe on Friday?"

It had been three days since he'd last seen her.

He didn't really miss her per se. It's just that he'd sometime like to have company, hers to be specific. He simply didn't like her absence at times. His heart jumped as he realised that this was quite literally the definition of missing someone.

He didn't even pretened to think about it and quickly said, "Yes! Friday. Friday's … yeah."

She chuckled and after a small pause softly said, "I've missed you."

His heart skipped a beat.

"You too," he rasped out. "It's weird to think it's only been a couple of days, huh."

She laughed lightly. "Yeah. I think I set a new record for not setting my stove on fire."

He hummed. "We should celebrate that on Friday."

He imagined her lean in and smirk. "Define 'celebrate'."

"You want the oxford-version or mine?"

Astrid laughed. "Come on."

"Alright, so, I was thinking you, me, non-frozen food …"

"You had me at 'celebrate'. We could cook together."

He grinned and peeled himself out of his covers. "Not sure if I'm willing to take that risk."

"Says the fireman with asthma," she retorted dryly and Hiccup laughed.

"On the other hand, I've missed Toothless too," she grinned audibly. "So I'm coming over."

Hiccup chuckled and quickly strapped his prosthesis back on.

"Okay, so same as last time? Or earlier, if you want."

He could hear her grin. "Someone seems to be keen on spending time with me."

The answer came easy to him in full sincerity as he softly replied, "I am."

She paused. Maybe she'd be blushing. God, she was endearing.

"I'll be earlier then."

Hiccup grinned and strode through his room towards the drawer. "Okay. Any ideas on what we'll make?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "How about something you like?"

'I like you,' he thought but kept his mouth shut, pulling out a fresh pair of socks and screwed his eyes shut at the thought.

"How about sushi?" he managed instead. "It's pretty easy once you get the hang of it and practically impossible to burn."

"Oh, yes! Sushi's great, let's do that. And, um, if you want we could get the ingredients together? You know, so there's no room for any misunderstandings."

Hiccup felt his face heat up. Going Grocery-shopping together. Another thing people who were "just" dating didn't usually do.

"Y-yeah," he croaked. "Let's. I'll, uh. See you on Friday, then."

"Great, see you!" Astrid grinned audibly. "Just don't get into any danger until then."

He chuckled. "I'll be careful. Bye."

She bid her goodbye and hung up, leaving a still slightly flustered Hiccup standing in silence, mismatching socks in his other hand.

He stared down at the screen where her contact was still opened.

He'd taken the picture of her during their second date. She was grinning freely at the camera, her eyes sparkling in the low light of his living room, her freckles looking like faint paint splatters on her fair skin.

His useless heard sped up at the memory.

Slowly he set the phone down, let the socks fall and slumped back onto his bed, fisting his hands in his hair.

She was magnetizing.

And he was utterly, hopelessly captivated by her.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

It's Gonna Be Me (Part 1)

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: A bit angsty. Not too much though

This starts off as basic as possible, but I swear it gets better soon lol...

Hope you like it!!!

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

You might been hurt, babe, that ain't no lie

You've seen them all come and go

I remember you told me, that it made you believe in no man, no cry

Maybe that's why

~~~~~~~~~

Peter Parker knew a lot about hopelessly waiting.

Years ago, he'd hopelessly waited to not be the helpless, lanky nerd of the school anymore. That's when the spider came.

Months after the blip, he'd waited for any luck with MJ. That's when the Europe trip happened.

It seemed that every time he'd hopelessly wait for something, he'd always come to find out that maybe the situation wasn't so hopeless after all.

Which was why this particular situation bothered him. Because this one really was hopeless.

It'd always start the same.

"[Y/N]- hey, what's wrong?," Peter asked, furrowing his eyebrows, though he already knew the answer. At this point, the entire school knew the answer.

It had actually lasted longer than Peter had expected. But what mattered now is that his best friend was at his doorstep and in tears.

"Timothy was cheating on me, Pete. H-he doesn't love me... I'm so stupid."

"C'mon, come in." He ushered her to the livingroom. They sat on the couch. "It's not your fault, [Y/N]. Don't blame yourself for his crap."

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. He hated to see her cry.

"Why do I always pick the bad ones?," she wept softly.

Peter pulled her into a tight hug, giving his friend the best comfort that he could give. He softly told her a rendition of what he said each time something like this would happen.

"[Y/N], listen. You are beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have someone as smart and as loyal and as funny as you -And Timothy? Screw him. He doesn't deserve you. What matters is that you have MJ, Ned- heck, even Aunt May..."

He let her go, looking away as a blush crept onto his face. "A-a-and me..." He looked back at her, with a boyish smirk on his face.

She smiled back softly. "Thanks Pete." At that, she went in for a hug. "You're the best friend a girl could ask for..."

They sat for a while. She cried on his shoulder. She ranted. He gave consoling words. She spent the night on his couch.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. In fact, her tears that night weren't even a drop in the bucket compared to others.

[Y/N] had always had bad luck with guys.

She'd had her heart broken more times than she could count.

And Peter was always right there by her side, waiting to console her. Every time.

Every. Damn. Time.

And frankly, he was sick of it.

"What's wrong, bud?," Ned asked the next day at school.

"Nothing," Peter mumbled, staring death glares into the lines on his desk.

"Let me guess..[Y/N] found out about Tim?"

Peter blew out a sigh. "Yeah."

"I feel bad for her," Ned said. "I mean, has she ever really had a relationship that's lasted longer than a month?"

Peter twisted his mouth in distress and scratched the back of his head. "Uh, I think maybe when she was with Hank... -yeah that one lasted a bit longer."

"What happened to that one anyway?"

Peter rolled his eyes, clenching his fists. "They were going good up until he stood her up for prom last year."

He thought back to what [Y/N] had cried that night.

'Why do I always pick the bad ones?'

He clenched his jaw. 'Yeah.. why do you?'

Ned's eyes went wide. "Wow. She's really got bad luck doesn't she?"

Peter went silent as he attempted to watch the smartboard in front of him and Ned immediately knew to be quiet. He knew he wouldn't be able to focus but it would still beat having this conversation.

Still, there was only one thought that was stuck in Peter's mind as he held his pencil so tight that he could feel it ready to snap.

'She wouldn't if she had me...'

-

"Okay guys, [Y/N]'s in the lunch line getting her food," MJ announced to the table that afternoon. "And we all know she just found out about Timothy so- you know, when she gets here..try not to be.. yourselves."

Ned nearly spat his food out. "What?!"

Peter swung his head around.

"Come on guys." MJ rolled her eyes. "You both- especially you Ned- you guys have a habit of making insensitive jokes and not realizing until it's too late."

She gave them the meanest death glare, but Peter wasn't having it. "Says you Miss. 'I Like It When People Are Sad'."

MJ scoffed. "Not my friends, weirdo."

"Shh! She's coming!," Ned whisper-shouted.

They watched as their friend [Y/N] walked up to the lunch table. But something was different from the last times.

She didn't look like she had been crying. She wore her regular clothes, not something that looked thrown together. Her mascara was perfect and not running at all. She looked like she hadn't been cheated on at all.

She looked good.

[Y/N] dropped her plate onto the table. "Okay, attention guys!"

"You feeling okay, [Y/N]?," Peter asked, concerned. "I know last night-"

"Last night is over, Pete," she said proudly. "And I am now here to announce that I am officially done with guys!" She stuck her chin up dramatically high.

Evidently, she had yelled that too loudly, because Flash, from another table, quickly yelled out," Yo, [Y/L/N]'s going lez!"

The majority of the lunchroom turned to her.

"What? No," she laughed back. "Not what I meant, Flash..."

He looked her up and down, biting his lip. "So does that mean...?"

"Okay shut up, dickhead," MJ yelled, standing up. "Back to your food, people. Nothing to see here!"

[Y/N] turned back towards the table and composed herself before speaking again. "Anyway, so yeah, I'm done with guys," she said with a big smile on her face.

MJ looked to [Y/N], Ned, Peter, and then back to [Y/N].

This was a problem. A big one. Because MJ knew that a simple fact. Peter liked [Y/N]. Anyone with a brain could figure that out.

"What do you mean?," Ned asked. "Does that mean Peter and I have to leave?"

[Y/N] laughed. "Haha! No, Ned. Of course not!" She lowered her chin a bit. "I'm just sick of getting hurt, ya know? There's only so much heartbreak a girl can take..." She sadly chuckled a little.

MJ furrowed her eyebrows. She looked to Peter, who held a lost expression on his face. "What do you think, Pete?"

Suddenly breaking out of his trance, he started to speak. "U-uh, um, maybe y-your going about this the wrong way, [Y-Y/N]?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I-I mean..." He looked away. "There are lots of great guys out there who w-would.. kill to have you, [Y/N]."

Obviously, [Y/N] didn't pick up what the young superhero was attempting to put down. She rolled her eyes. "Well, my stuttery friend, until those 'great' guys make themselves known, I'm done."

Peter shrunk into himself, looking anywhere but [Y/N]'s face. "Y-yeah..I guess."

MJ scoffed. Was this really going over [Y/N]'s head? Her and Peter didn't work out but she could still admit, he was a great guy that deserved a chance. That's why they stayed friends afterward. "Isn't this a little extreme, [Y/N]?"

"Not extreme at all," [Y/N] clucked her tongue. "Just necessary."

Suddenly and frantically, Peter stood and practically ran to the trash can to throw away his food and leave.

"What's his deal?," [Y/N] asked, popping some gum into her mouth.

"Seriously?" MJ's face was incredulous. "Learn to read a room, man..."

~~~~~~~~~

Every little thing I do never seems enough for you

You don't wanna lose it again

But I'm not like them

--------------------------------------- This one was a bit of a set-up, sooo... hope you enjoyed!!!

Tell me if you would like to be tagged!

[speedycubed]

love only left me alone.

summary: flynn has been in love with julie for some time now. she’s accepted that julie has a boyfriend. that is, until flynn sees something which leads to a confession.

notes: this was originally posted on ao3 as a twoshot, but i figured crossposting it couldn’t hurt. both parts are under the cut.

She was in love with her best friend. Of course she had known about her own feelings for what felt like forever, but that didn't mean that it didn't still sneak up on her at times.

Like whenever Flynn watched as Julie performed, her bandmates all getting lost in the music. Flynn's feelings stabbed her whenever she saw Julie and Luke sharing the mic. Anyone could see that the two were in love. But, anyone could also see the way Reggie stared at them with longing. It was unclear which one he was pining after, but it was obvious that he was in love with one of them.

She was fine just being the manager. She was fine just being the roadie. Even though she had longed to share a stage with Julie since they were just children. Every time she saw Julie and Luke being in love on the stage, she reminded herself that she was happy the her friend was happy. Julie was happy—her best friend was happy—and that’s all that mattered.

Well, that was all that mattered until she walked in on Luke and Reggie kissing.

“What the fuck!” she screeched, fighting with herself on whether to storm out of the studio or to punch Luke in the face. Flynn compromised with herself, deciding to just yell at Luke from the doorway. “What the hell, Luke! I thought you loved her. You don’t cheat on the people that you love! What an absolute asshole.” She crossed her arms, turning to stomp out, only to run into the girl she was hopelessly in love with.

“Flynn, what’s going on? I heard screaming,” Julie asked, looking around to see anything that could have set Flynn off. Her eyes landed on her boyfriend with Reggie’s arms around his neck. “Oh.” The two parted, Reggie ending up on the armrest while Luke was still on the seat.

Much to Flynn’s horror, Julie started to laugh.

“What are you laughing at—your boyfriend just cheated on you! Who knows—”

Julie cut her off with a simple shhh. “No he didn’t.”

“How is that not cheating? He was kissing someone else when he’s supposed to be dating you! That’s what cheating is.”

Julie walked over to the boys, sitting on the couch next to Luke, waving a hand to get Flynn to follow. Flynn sat next to her best friend, still glaring at Luke.

“Remember that day that we were struggling with labeling our sexualities because we each knew that we weren’t straight, but didn’t know exactly what we were?” At Flynn’s nod, Julie continued, “And do you remember the term polyamorous?” Flynn nodded again. Julie smiled, taking one of Luke’s hands into her own and putting the other of his in Reggie’s hand. “We are a polycule. I’m dating Luke,” she raised their clasped hands, “But Luke is also dating Reggie.” Luke raised the hand holding Reggie’s.

“This isn’t how we wanted anyone to find out,” he said, unhooking his hands from his partners’ so that he could stim more freely as he talked. “It’s just th-th-that I really like Julie, b-but I’ve also liked Reggie since th-the nineties. It didn't feel fair to date Julie without telling her that I had never shook off my feelings for one of my best friends.”

“That is when I told him about polyamory.”

“Luke asked me out after explaining the whole situation to me,” Reggie piped in, “And how could I say no to him? I’ve been in love since high school.”

Flynn just stared, shocked. Her mouth hung open until Julie put a finger to her chin to close it.

“Sorry guys,” she said once the shock wore off. “I’m happy for you guys. Glad you found something that works for you.” She omitted any hurt at not being invited in exchange for being extra happy for her friends. Just because Julie loved Luke enough to let him not limit himself didn’t mean that she would return her feelings.

Flynn plastered on a smile. “Well, I was only in here to get something,” she snatched the jacket she had left last rehearsal off the grand piano, “I’ll be off.” She saluted the polycule, exiting the studio. As soon as she was out the door, she heard something she didn’t know what to make of—soft, almost silent cries.

“Why can’t I just tell her that I like her?”

Flynn froze for a moment. That was Julie’s voice.

“You’ll tell her someday. You guys are meant for each other as much as you and I am.”

Flynn ran. She ran all the way back to her house, unsure what to feel about knowing that her best friend liked her back.

~~line break~~

It had been a week since Flynn had overheard Julie telling her boyfriends(? What was Reggie to Julie in this scenario?) that she loved her. Julie hadn’t brought it up, going about her days as normal. And since Julie didn’t bring it up, Flynn never brought it up. She didn’t want to come off as insensitive, so all she did was be quiet on the subject.

The only thing that changed was that Flynn noticed how Luke was much more touchy with Julie and Reggie than Alex. At first, Flynn had thought it was because the drummer couldn’t move during performances, but since being able to see the boys full time and learning about Julie’s relationship, Flynn saw that even when just hanging out, Luke was still less touchy with Alex. Before finding out, Flynn hadn’t even noticed.

A week later, and Flynn was still wondering about what Julie meant. The obvious was staring at her. Julie had a crush on some “her” and wanted to reveal that to this “her.” It all came to a head with a knock on Flynn’s door.

As the only one home and not expecting anyone, Flynn looked through the peephole, surprised to see Julie holding a bouquet of stock, forget-me-nots, white and purple lilacs, and a single violet.

“Hey Julie, what’s up?” she said as she opened the door, eyes flickering to the flowers every so often.

Julie bounced on her toes, almost looking scared to be at Flynn’s house. But that couldn’t be right—the two were best friends. They had known each other since they were little kids.

“Uh, hi Flynn,” Julie bit her lip. “These are for you,” she thrust the bouquet at Flynn. She took it, wondering what all the purple was about.

“Purple is the color in the middle of the bi flag,” Julie started. Flynn knit her eyebrows together, confused as to where this was going, “But it is also the color that a lot of romantic flowers come in.”

Romantic flowers? Was she saying…

Julie pointed to one of the lilacs. “These mean first love. The white ones represent youth.” She pointed to one of the stocks “These convey that you find the person you’re giving them to beautiful. And forget-me-nots,” she pointed, “mean true love and are a way to ask to not be forgotten, as their name suggests.” Finally, Julie plucked the violet out of the bouquet. “Violets were often mentioned in Sappho’s poetry. She’s widely known as the first woman loving woman. She’s even why lesbians are called lesbains.”

Julie put the flower back. “I know that this might be weird, but I didn’t know how else to say it. And please don’t feel pressured to say yes. I just didn’t know how much longer I could keep it in.”

Flynn put a hand on Julie’s shoulder, a silent plea to stop rambling. “Nothing could ever come between us, just say whatever it is that you’re trying to.”

“I’m in love with you!” Julie blurted out. Her hands flew to her mouth, as if she could shove the words back in.

Flynn set her bouquet down so she could open her arms.

“Hug?”

Julie fell into her friend’s arms, pulling Flynn as close as possible.

“I love you too, you know,” Flynn whispered, so soft that she didn’t know if Julie heard her. Years of loving Julie, she never knew when it changed from platonic to romantic, but somewhere along the line, Flynn went from loving Julie to being in love with Julie.

“I didn’t, but know I do.” They stayed in silence for a while, neither letting the other go. “Can I kiss you,” Julie whispered, almost scared.

Flynn hesitated, thinking of Julie’s boyfriend.

“Luke knows. He’s known.” Sometimes it was scary how Julie was so in tune with her best friend that they seemed to read each other’s minds.

“Then yes.”

There were no sparks like all of the romance novels had told her there would be, but Flynn knew that it was the perfect first kiss. All because it was with Julie. All because it was with the girl that she was in love with.

“Can I be your girlfriend?” Julie said after pulling away.

Flynn nodded, forehead pressed to Julie’s.

She kissed her girlfriend. “God,” Flynn said, smiling, “I love you so much.”

“Me too.”

[etlunainmorte]

Very brief mention of abuse and bullying. Read with caution. Thank you!

***

📷 Memories 📷

***

"I'll be home soon, Kyrie. I promise. Okay." Nero placed his cellphone back to his pocket just in time to see Nico's mysterious black - haired friend glancing at something outside the window of the trailer.

"See something you like?" The young Devil Hunter asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion at the way the man stared.

"She has been at it for almost an hour and a half,..." The man answered with a low voice.

"I told ya, don't mind what she does." Nico, who was fixing the broken camera at the back of the trailer where her messy workplace was situated, answered almost harshly. She gave a quick look at her friend, saw him still staring outside the window, and rolled her eyes in defeat. Then, with a slightly irritated look at Nero, she added, "See? He just won't listen!"

"What are you looking at, anyway?" Curious, Nero finally gave a glance outside the window to see what the man was staring at. And lo and behold, he saw Mary sitting at one of the old benches outside not far from where the trailer was parked, doing something really,... unusual. "Oh, this is something new. What's she doing?"

"I saw her taking out a sketchbook from that bag of hers. And she started,... scribbling." The man answered.

"Huh. Really?" Nero scoffed and collapsed at the chair opposite V. "Well, that's something new. At least she's doing something really productive for a change."

"Meaning?" It was V's turn to ask a question.

Ever since he arrived at the location, V couldn't help but feel that there really was something very odd about what was happening. At first, he thought that Nico was only exaggerating things to make him come out of hiding, hysterically saying stuff like Demons appeared here and there, did this and that, and that she needs his knowledge to get to the bottom of this. Now, years of extensive studies on Demonology has taught V that the evil creatures would not appear and wreak havoc on the surface unless they are ordered to do so by a higher, sort of high - ranking, Demon. Or if they are seeking something of utmost value. Regardless, when V arrived, he proved Nico's words to be the truth. Demons did appear here and there and did this and that.

However, he can't say that his knowledge about Demonology is enough to solve this mind - boggling issue about these creatures appearing out of nowhere.

And Mary's odd behavior, and most probably his guilt of wrecking the damn camera, didn't help with the situation, at all.

"You see," Nero began. " ... Mary was - "

"Hey,... " Nico interrupted all of a sudden. The two men both looked at her and saw her pointing at something right outside the window next to her. " ... that's Morrison!"

Morrison? Thought V as the Artisan went out to greet the new visitor,...

***

It's unmistakable. Marsha heard the girl crying. And she has never even heard or seen the child do so.

The tall and perfectly poised woman abandoned her knitting and sped towards the living room to see her niece trying to patch up what looked like wounds on her palms with bandages.

And not just any wound,...

"Mary?!" Marsha called. The little girl almost jumped in fear as she heard her name being called and tried to hide her hands behind her back.

And this only made Marsha even more suspicious.

The woman sighed, strode closer towards the girl, bent down and grabbed her niece's arms. "You don't hide things from me, young lady!"

"But, Marsha, it's nothing!" The girl hopelessly argued, for she knew she was losing. Marsha finds out about everything, and that was a fact.

But, the older lady was having none of Mary's arguments. Marsha pulled her niece's arms from behind her back, held out her little hands, and saw, in utter fright and disgust, the lashes and blood painting the girl's little palms.

And the sight infuriated Marsha to the bone.

The next morning, Mary found Marsha knitting again on her little space in the huge library.

"I'm going to school." Mary announced with a loud voice over the Doris Day song that was being played on a vintage record atop one of the antique tables next to the shelves to her left. It was Marsha's favorite song.

And to what Mary just said, the older lady looked up from her handiwork and only raised an eyebrow. Raising her wire - rimmed glasses above her pointed nose, she said, "Oh, you're not going to school today, young lady."

Mary furrowed her eyebrows in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because, I said so!" The woman answered, her facial expression as stoic as ever. "Now, do come here and keep me company."

The little girl, although doubtful of Marsha's decision to not drive her to school that one particular morning, obeyed, putting her bag on the floor next to the iron table and sat across her aunt. 

Looking at the many colorful yarns and several unfinished projects on the table, Mary asked, "How about tomorrow?"

"No." Marsha answered, her eyes never leaving her craft. Her answer remained the same for a week that Mary finally took up the courage to pick up one of the green yarns and a pair of darning needles from Marsha's knitting kit.

And this did not go unnoticed by Marsha, herself. Looking at Mary's freshly bandaged hands, and the needles she's holding, she nodded, and said, "Very well. I could teach you if you want. ONLY if you want."

Mary gave a sheepish smile and placed the yarn and the needles back to the basket before her. She, then, took out her sketchbook and some coloring materials from her bag and went on to finish that Venus art she's been working on for a week since Marsha forbade her to come to school.

It was not until another week when Mary finally found out that Marsha tried to press charges to the school and that awful teacher who gave her those wounds. Getting little to no justice after what happened, Marsha gave up and, instead, had Mary enrolled to a different school that was very far from that accursed place full of bullies, not to mention that devil Burns ( who only received penalties so light it's ridiculous, considering what he's done ) still on the loose and freely roaming about that campus.

It was also during that time when Mary almost memorized all of Doris Day's songs about love and heartbreak, and how not to question Marsha's decisions ever again.

***

" ... please, call me, Mary. I'm so worried about you - "

With furrowed eyebrows, Mary ended the voicemail from her aunt and made her way back to the trailer where she found, yet, another visitor sitting on a chair across that tall, black - haired man who stepped on Nico's camera.

Stuffing her cellphone back to her pocket, she saw the new visitor standing up and offering his hand to her.

"I'm Morrison." The man graciously introduced himself as he shook Mary's hands. "And you must be Mary Suermann! New accomplice of Nico?"

"Ah, yes, you might say that." Mary answered quietly as she took her hand from his, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel someone staring at her from behind her back. She carefully turned around without having to face V and stood next to the door, seeing that her companions were discussing something.

"So, let me get this straight," Morrison began as he settled back to his chair. " ... strange Demons began appearing randomly in some specific locations in this city? And not just any Demon, you say?"

"Yeah." Nero, who was sitting on the sofa next to V, answered. "Ahh, V, what did you say that Demon's name was, again?"

"Niddhogg." V answered, his low voice sending shivers down Mary's spine. She would never, ever, forget that voice, no. "But it wasn't particularly a Demon. It was a parasite that lives in an evil tree called the Qliphoth, which thrives on Human blood."

"And this Qliphoth tree," Morrison spoke. " ... are there any of those growing around here?"

"If there is,... then this city could very well be done for." V answered, successfully drawing all eyes on him in curiosity. "You see, this,... demonic tree,... grows quite,... let's just say,... rapidly. But, never mind that. The point is: there should be no Niddhogg if there is no,... Qliphoth,... to begin with."

"Niddhogg,... " Morrison mused as he rubbed his stubble. "I'm not gonna lie with you but, that is the first time I've heard of that thing. I don't even know what that looks like - "

"Exactly why Mary had to take pictures of it!" Nico added, emphasizing on the name like she was some kind of a criminal who committed such atrocious deeds. "Isn't that right, huh Mary?"

With a deep sigh, she took out her sketchbook from her bag, opened it, and handed it to Morrison, who gazed at it with such unmasked awe.

Not that the Demon illustrated in it was such a looker, no.

"Magnificent!" Morrison exclaimed. "Are you the one who drew this, Mary?"

With a little sheepish smile, she nodded, and answered, "Yeah."

Morrison looked up from the sketchbook, held it up for the others to see, and asked, "Is this the one?"

And to this, V's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It truly was an exact and very detailed drawing of the demonic parasite Niddhogg.

Who knew this girl had some kind of a hidden talent?

"Indeed." V answered, a bit of admiration getting past his monotonous voice, which Mary didn't miss.

Nico, who was leaning against her jukebox, took the sketchbook from Morrison's hands and stared at it with widened eyes full of wonder and disbelief. This made Mary smile a bit, and V, who was observing this entire scene, didn't miss the little gesture.

"Whoa. Ya really are an artist!" Nico exclaimed.

"Why?" Nero butted in. "Don't believe her?"

Even before Nico could fire up her own response, Morrison cleared his throat and said, "I want to take a picture of that illustration, if I may. I would show it to my associate in the Devil Hunting business and see if he could crack any sort of thing, anything, regarding this demonic parasite."

Seeing that Morrison's statement was directed at her, Mary nodded, giving her full consent. And as the man began taking photos of her Niddhogg art with his cellphone, Nero asked, "Where were you going, anyway?"

"To the office of the said associate in the Devil Hunting business."

"You mean, Dante?"

"Right you are." Morrison handed the sketchbook back to Mary and placed his cellphone back to his breast pocket. "I have some things to discuss with him. About a man who was found dead in his own house just this morning."

"What happened?" It was V's turn to ask a question.

"Reports say he died of cardiac arrest. Not that big of a deal, to be perfectly honest. Except that this man was linked to the disappearance of a few children in the last decade. There are no sufficient evidence to prove his crimes but, investigations are underway after they found some curious things in his home right after his body was taken."

"And those are?" V pried even further, and it was honestly making Mary a bit nervous.

"Some trinkets and clothes that belong to children. Apparently, they were hidden in a small compartment just behind his fridge. The authorities found the man's body, and some emptied bottles of water, right next to it."

"Maybe they belonged to his kids, or something?" Nero tried to explain.

"Yes, except that this man had no children, or relatives living close by. And the only people he knew were his colleagues in a school he was teaching at. Now, don't you worry about this thing. You have your own problems to deal with. But, just to be sure that my hunches are wrong, I will speak to Dante regarding this - "

"This man," All eyes, including V's, all turned to see Mary looking wide - eyed and horrified as she stood near the door. " ... who was he?"

"His name," Morrison began as he stood up and gathered his things on the table. " ... was Roger Burns. He was a teacher at - "

"I know." Mary heard Nico's little gasp at what she just revealed. "He was my teacher."

"Oh!" Morrison exclaimed and put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for the loss of your teacher - "

"Actually, I'm not in the least bit sorry. In fact, he - "

"He?" Morrison and the others waited as Mary held out her hands to show them something. But, then, something made her stop as she somewhat stared in disbelief at her own hands.

V, who stood just in time to see what Mary was looking at, saw nothing but her smooth - looking palms.

"Girl, what are you trying to say?" Nico, who was getting a bit impatient, questioned.

Mary looked up, smiled, and brought her hands down. "Nothing! Just,... nothing."

"Alright, then! I'll take my leave. I'll see you around." Morrison, who pretended to not be weirded out by what just happened, tipped his hat and finally left the trailer with more questions than answers.

"Are you alright?" Nero, who placed a hand on Mary's shoulder, kindly asked.

With a smile, she answered, "Never better."

However, V knew that was a lie. Mary was hiding something from them. It was very clear to him. But, what was it?

And why should Mary open up to them in the first place? They wouldn't believe her if she told them that the scar caused by her now dead teacher was all but mysteriously gone!

***

📷📷📷

***

[fallen029]

Open

"How did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Your scar."

Mirajane stared at Laxus with the same disappointment he'd stared at so many other women, in moments like this, just like this, where they were at their closest, their most intimate, and he began to have ideas and feelings and thoughts and desires for something more, something concrete, something real, but then they'd brush their finger over his most cliché part, the zigzag that laid across his eye, and question him about it. Ponder. Wonder. Ask. Blatantly. Because they thought they could. Because they were in a relationship, or at least something close, they were close and that meant that they could discuss the sorts of things that one discusses when they're close, but they weren't close.

Someone close to you, who felt so deeply for you, everything beneath the surface and in-between the crevices, would never ask something like that. Because they would know. Without ever lingering on it, ever questioning it, they would just know. Be well aware. Without knowing the truth, they would know better than to ask. Something so personal and tragic and...and…

And he thought they were different.

Because they were different.

She was different, than every other woman that thought that because they could bring him to his knees that he should just surrender every hidden part of himself. He was different, with her, than the closed off, distant and expectant, so expectant and rigid, man that he was with every other woman.

If she'd asked him, if she'd really asked him, straight up and honestly, about how he found himself with a lightning bolt scarring his flesh, he would tell her straight up. Not get huffy or defensive. Not give some bullshit, bogus lie about how he'd done it himself, or had it done, maybe, with the help of Freed and Bickslow, to make himself look cool. No. He'd have told her the truth. Not withdrawn or been ashamed. Been angry or defensive.

Mirajane was different to him, than every other woman before, and he loved her, he truly, honestly loved something, someone, for once, and it was so real and raw and it hadn't really been that long, but he'd never felt this way, not really, not even when he'd thought that this was the exact thing that he was feeling, all those times before, but this time was so different and real and special and she was it. He knew she was it.

Perhaps it was his own self-importance, the arrogance and swagger he had, to think that just because he felt this way, just because he'd fallen so hopelessly and madly in love, that without a doubt, of course, Mirajane had found herself feeling the same. That of course, to her, their summer romance while the S-Class jobs weren't rolling in and he was taking a break, while she was finding more time off work as Kinana desired more hours, wasn't going to bloom into something more, but rather die off, fade away, with the long days, like a fling should, like all summer flings should. Because oh, they were the same, of course they were the same, but at the same time, they were so different because he was in love, he knew he was in love, he could tell he was in love, truly in love, but she was not.

Was she?

The way she withdrew then, from him, as he traced a finger across the faded, old, but still prominent scar she had right beneath her left breast, long and crooked, but hidden typically from the world, even with her typical skimpiest of outfits or swimwear, it lay just so perfectly, but prominently, to Laxus, who spent so much of his time with his head buried there now. And he'd traced it before, both with the tips of his fingers and the point of his tongue, but now as he did it with the edge of his fingernail and spoke those words, so softly, that he'd so often heard spoken to him.

Mirajane shifted back from him, a certain look crossing over his previously content expression, and he had to wonder how he'd fucked it up, so quickly, so easily, so obviously, as the moment shattered and he fell away from her as well, both silent now with their own realizations about the other, spawning from a simple question.

Laxus would have told Mirajane anything he wanted. He thought that he did tell her everything she wanted. He'd opened up, in this short expanse of days where it felt much longer than the multitude of years they'd known one another, however sparingly, for the majority of their teenage years and all of their adulthood. He knew so much about her, learned so much about her, from this some odd thirty, sixty days, whatever it was, it didn't matter, all that mattered was how special they were, how important, those days, these days, but if this was fleeting, if she didn't feel that way, if she didn't hope the same as him, that the summer never ended, then…

Then…

"I'm sorry."

"Dragon-"

"No, I shouldn't have ask-"

"It's not that."

Mirajane found that she couldn't look at him. That she didn't want to. Then. He was getting out of bed then, following her silence, and she felt like she should do something, to stop this from happening, but at the same time, she wasn't the one who'd spurred it on.

Was she?

No.

No.

He'd done this, by questioning her, asking her that, and she hadn't mean to draw away, visibly recoil at his words, but it just took her back a bit, his question. In a way she wasn't expecting. It wasn't exactly something she was asked about frequently. If at all. Mira found most everyone had scars, in some way or another, especially given the line of work they were in. And considering so many of the men she did find interest in were also mages, working far more than she did in those days, most of their bodies were speckled and marred by an assortment, some even in awkward places.

But Laxus' was different. She'd give him that. If she knew his hangup about it, then she would surrender that nugget to him, yes, of course, because his was so prominent, so much a part of who he was, brought together his whole facial structure, really.

Plus, well, she knew Laxus fancied himself as different. From the rest of them. His pain and trauma, baggage and backstory were intricate to him in a way the rest of them didn't understand. Laxus lived for his pain and his anguish. The remembrance. He liked to pretend that it was in his past, where it belonged, like the rest of them were forced to do away with their own, but unlike the rest of them, Fairy Tail wasn't an escape, a gateway away from the tragic years that brought them as wayward youths to the guild's sanctuary. It was a constant reminder of all he'd gone through, the enigma that brought about so much strife to his family. Fairy Tail was the Dreyars, but also destroyed the Dreyars.

Even if everything had worked out, when she was young, in her village, she imagined she'd still have left eventually, would have had to, to get away from what it had meant, what she'd felt, all the scenery to remind her, constantly, of when she lost her parents, her childhood, and her freedom. She'd want to be somewhere new, carving a path, separate from the things that had drug her down, even if it wasn't to her absolute degradation, somewhere where she wasn't remind constantly of what she'd lost. Who she'd lost.

Mirajane loved Fairy Tail because all her early memories tied to it involved discovering her magic, battling it out with Erza, watching her younger brother and sister, both ravaged by the world, come out of their shells again, find friends again, discover happiness again.

Laxus' memories, as he'd told her before, in moments like this, where he felt his most open, consisted of all the people he'd known, not just his parents, but all of the people, the past members, who eitehr died out there, on jobs, or just went away, disappeared, gone of to live fulfilling lives separate from the only thing that he could ever imagine being; a Fairy Tail wizard.

A mage.

A fairy.

Laxus lived with his trauma, his past, shoved in his face every single time he walked through the wrought iron gates and into the hall, the one that had changed so many damn times, but still felt the same, no matter it's grown or shrinkage, as the air inside consisted of the exact same presence it always did, all the way back to when he was just a little kid.

The scar cut across his eye was much the same. Plain for everyone to see. But hidden in the fact that he'd never tell, he couldn't tell, anyone anything about it. Refused.

With the power of transformation magic, Mirajane could hide just about any blemish or marking on her body that she wished. And she didn't mostly, usually. It was a nominal amount of magic, it was almost second nature to her. She didn't know what it was not to hide away parts of herself. Not face them. Not force others to do the same.

But it was different. Overnight. Frequent, overnights, which she found herself dealing with then, with Laxus, as they'd lay in bed together, so openly and freely, and she warned him the first time, she let it all down, her magic and guard, but he only laughed and made some passing remark about how silly she was. Feminine. Girly. Womanly. Something like that. Equally dismissive. To be so concerned about appearance.

She laughed too, because it did sound silly, didn't it? All of it? To care about something like that? And it was so hot, that summer, the summer that they were together nearly every night, falling into his bed together, alone in his apartment instead of crammed and hammed up with her siblings back home, that Mira found it best not to wear anything, nothing at all if she could help it, and it felt so freeing for it to occur to the two of them, at the same time, the same thought, without a word spoken between them.

When the guise fell, when the ruse faded her flesh didn't look so pure and white, but nothing about the two of them ever was and Laxus seemed happy and content, in his own way, his unspoken way, for them to be like this together. Open. Unabashed.

Laxus didn't want the summer to end, but Mirajane did. She wanted it to shift to the colder months, where they had to cuddle up together and wait out the heat once more. He didn't want things to change, but she couldn't wait until they did, until they changed into something even more solid and real.

"Seriously, just drop it. I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay, Laxus. Really. I-"

"You don't have to tell me-"

"I know why you asked."

Of course she did.

Of course she did.

Because of all the random assortments of scars she had, from all the battles she'd fought, won and lost, this one was the oddest, wasn't it? All alone? In it's age? It looked far fresher, because it was, than any other she had. In a strange place. He was curious because he brushed against it so frequently, because she talked of her life so frequently, but never mentioned this not yet faded, not truly, still raised somewhat, rough patch of skin. Even without her magic, the others were all at least somewhat hard to notice, as they blended with age, but this one was different.

Why was everything about the two of them so different?

This was hidden because she chose to hide it, she was able to hide it, with or without her magic, and it was separate, from everything, and she knew he'd question it, eventually, he seemed to run his fingers, tongue, everything across it so frequently, and this was just a game of averages, between the two of them. Trying to out play the other. How much could be given up in exchange for silence on the rest?

He meant no disrespect, hadn't considered the possibility of such a negative reaction, but as he sat there then, on the edge of the bed, feet rooted in the floor, he wasn't pushing up, getting away, like he'd seemed to desire the second he realized the err in his delving. Instead, he just sat there, head turned just slightly in the darkness of his bedroom, staring over at her with something of interest, maybe, or perhaps just hopeful acceptance once more. Whether she told him the truth or not, expelled all of her secrets and thoughts and feelings and emotions regarding the scarred flesh no longer mattered; he just wanted her to pull him back down on the bed and banish any fears over misdeed.

But when she reached for him, to pull him back down, into the bed once more, it wasn't to rectify his mistake, but rather to sigh, deeply as they rested their foreheads against one another's, the silence different now, but still hinged on something.

"I just," Mira whispered softly as he bowed his head then, her lips brushing over his golden locks instead, "don't like to talk about it. Think about it."

"That's okay," Laxus assured her, burying his head into her, wishing he could go back to how he was before, when he wasn't absolutely terrified of the thought that she didn't want him, or wouldn't want him any longer, once the summer began its descent. "Really. We-"

"It was...recently, is all." She thread some fingers into his hair then, blinking some as she thought. "And not in...battle or training or anything, so I just..."

He wasn't ready again, so soon, but that was fine because that wasn't what she wanted and when she pushed him back, shoved him really, suddenly, so he was staring up at her, Laxus only blinked sleepily.

Reaching down, Mira traced a finger over the zagging line that scarred his face, made him look so mean, so evil, so much like her Satan Soul take over, but different, because he wore this every single day. Not as a mask, but as a part of himself.

They were so different.

His eyelid fluttered shut, instinctively, void of intention, while the other stayed wide open, watching as she applied pressure, just a bit, while gliding down the lightning bolt-esque marking over his eyes, feeling it, truly, for the first time.

"Who gave you yours?" she asked softly and he didn't even think about it, didn't reflect, just answered honestly.

"Ivan," he replied dryly, but honestly and Mirajane nodded her head slightly as she removed her finger from his cheek.

"I was dating a...jerk, a few months before you first asked me out." She shrugged some, glancing away from him then. "From another guild. It was...different, than how it is, with you and me. And we kind of… He just wasn't someone I should have been with. He had his own stuff going on-"

"Do I," Laxus asked her softly then, his voided gaze turning harder then, "know him?"

"No," she whispered, but she nodded her head, just a bit, and he glared. Then, sighing, she added, "It doesn't matter."

He wanted to argue, she could tell, but relented some as he remarked, "Why did he...cut you?"

It felt blunt, put like that, and Mirajane looked away as she remarked, "He didn't. Not really. We were...fighting, and his magic… It's stupid. His magic just caught me because I wasn't going to, you know, transform on him or anything. I just...and he…he underestimated me. Most men do."

Reaching out, he sat up some as he caught her chin, just slightly, in his palm, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were on even ground again. Finally.

"I don't," Laxus whispered to which she smiled, weakly, distantly, just really.

"I know," she agreed as he fell back then. "Dragon."

They were shifting again, together now, as she slowly fell back into bed as well, and they were together again, settling once more for the night. In the morning, she had to get down to the hall and he'd promised to train with the Thunder Legion, so they needed their sleep, they needed far more than they were typically allotted, but at the same time, in that moment, he didn't want it.

At all.

But she did.

At least somewhat.

"Why do things have to change?" he muttered as his eyes felt heavy and this was all just a dream, almost, kind of, it felt like, but Mia's lips felt warm against his cheek as well as her breath, reminding him that it was all real, all too real.

It felt like a weird thing to say, a very weird thing to say, honestly, but somehow, someway, because they really were connected, maybe, unspoken, but known, and Mirajane understood perfectly.

"Because if they don't," she answered with a yawn, falling back into her side of the bed then as he blinked at her some more, determination the only thing winning out against sleep in the battle to keep his eyes either open or closed, "then they can never get any better."

"Can't get any worse," he reminded, but she only shrugged.

"Sometimes," she told him simply, "it's worth the risk."

And after finding this to be true, following his question that brought about the entire interaction, it was hard for him to do anything other than agree.

[somberplaces]

😍 aaaa

😍 – a first kiss

living with yuna became the most unique time of jayce’s life. paying rent wasn’t an issue, but he thought it might be fun to have a roommate beside his inane younger brother. especially when his landlord suggested it as a way to cut costs personally by adding a new person onto the lease. he gave his landlord the thumbs up on finding a tenant. his only request was someone neat. jayce can still recall the day he rang his landlord, asking why he chose to move a girl in. his response was that she was quick a reliable. his eager attitude for a roommate quickly dissipated as he realized he would have to be more of a gentleman than ever before. 

“what if she’s like crazy hot or something?” his brother asked him the night before yuna made this place her home. “doubt it,” he said hopelessly as he sipped his beer. the next day left him absolutely stammered when he looked out the window to see the most petite, perfect girl unloading suitcases from a car. her hair was long and as smooth as silk. her eyes were beautiful and doe-like. jayce hurried to the door, helping her move all of her boxes inside of the empty bedroom. the rest was history.

almost two months had passed and they were your not-so-typical roommates. jayce is coming home before dark to fulfill promises to watch certain movies with yuna. they were sharing drinks and books. they teased each other when the sun rose and someone was feeling particularly cranky in the morning. usually jayce. unprompted, jayce would bring her home dinner. the blond marveled at their ability to coexist so peacefully. as time passed, his crush for her became feverish and blatant. he would tell her when she smelled pretty or would reach over her and grab whatever she was working for on the tip of her toes. they had gotten so cozy with one another jayce would make smug, flirtatious comments about her thighs in skirts and how they looked soft. yuna always brushed him off, reminded him that he was a silly boy, but he knew she liked it. he always saw it in her eyes or the way she’d trail into his room a few minutes later finding any excuse to talk. 

two nights in a row yuna crashed in his bed. she recently started spending a tremendous amount of time in his bedroom. “your bed is more comfortable than mine,” she claimed every time before hopping up on his bed and using his tv. “yeah,” he knew it was only an excuse. the first night, she fell asleep watching one of her documentaries while jayce worked on a sudoku right next to her. he remained still on his side of the bed that night, not wanting to push things or make her uncomfortable. the next day, she treated him with more excitement than before. so when she fell asleep in his bed again, he slid his body next to hers, just letting the warmth from the proximity of their bodies heat up the bed. 

night three and yuna comes stumbling into his room a while after sharing a glass of wine in the kitchen. she propped herself onto his bed, peering over at a book he had in his lap. “never read it,” she says freely. “not really your type anyway,” he spares her. the tv played quietly in the background, an old movie was on. “what are you watching?” “something old, i’m not sure.” he closes the book and turns toward her. “someone’s awfully comfortable. i guess that didn’t take long.” he laughs at her. “i’ve told you, i just like your bed a lot.” jayce felt sure that wasn’t the only reason. “and that has nothing to do with the guy that sleeps in it?” he tries to see past her passive aggressive attitude. “i mean,” yuna stumbles, jayce cuts her off. “it’s okay,” he soothes her. “i like you too.” his smile is beaming as he leans toward her. his ego is swelling with pride. he’s still baffled they’ve made it this far. “i never said i like you, jayce.” “you didn’t have to,” he rolls his eyes. his hand trails past her thigh, grazing his thumb over the skin. this was uncharted territory for the both of them. her cheeks turn pink and he can see he’s making her nervous. he’s flattered. “i think you’re only alright. you kind of sleep all day,” she tries to reclaim the power. “you like it when you’re asleep with me.” jayce chuckles. yuna huffs, her gaze isn’t direct. jayce moves his hand over her cheek, touching her slowly. their noses are nearly touching. he would like to thank the alcohol for the boost of confidence in this moment. “tell me you don’t like me, yuna and i’ll stop.” he brushes his nose against hers. she is completely quiet. jayce waits a moment, but he can feel they both want this. “i-” yuna breathes out. “just say it and i’ll back off.” his voice is low and his eyes find hers. when he sees her pleading look, he learns all he needs to know. jayce finally leans forward, grabbing her face gently and presses his lips onto hers. finally it happened and he felt like he’s been waiting from the moment she started unpacking to do that. her touch is soft yet demanding, he gives her everything she wants. not daring to part lips once until they slid away into the darkness of the night. fumbling under the blankets and kissing until the sun rose.

[mrs-pissoff]

Your eyes (part 2)

Part 1 here

Pairing: Reader (she/her) x Thane Krios

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mass Effect or its characters.

A/N: This will be a long one. I’m just verbose and love a slower burn. I have no idea how long this story will end up being, but hopefully I can finish it before my muse dies. I can tell she’s getting tired already.

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She retreated to her room hastily after the encounter, and if she wasn't feeling sleepless before, now she was definitely sure she wasn't going to get even a minute of restful sleep. It was all so surreal and his words rang in her mind endlessly.

You intrigue me.

Sitting down onto her bed a heavy sight escaped her lips. She wanted to understand why Thane of all people would say something like this, and to her. Someone who was less than kind to him. He didn’t seem to be the kind of man who’d say such things easily. The thought of him messing with her did cross her mind, but he surely has much better things to do than to get back at her in such a juvenile manner.

The need to remember and analyze her interactions with the drell overwhelmed her. She must have missed something that led to this moment. Surely she has.

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The last time they spoke was a few weeks ago, when he got word of what his son was about to do. The mission only required Shepard and Thane in the end, plus the cooperation of Captain Bailey and C-Sec, but she was still around while they gathered information on Kolyat's target and the person who ordered the hit. She was patiently listening from the sidelines, waiting for the pair to finish talking to Mouse.

She knew very little of Thane and his life. She never bothered to ask. ‘Assassins are not very complicated’, she thought. Meet contact, acquire target, fulfill contract by murder. Easy enough for someone who has the stomach to kill just about anyone regardless of their moral standing. Apparently, Thane was one such man and somehow that didn't make him appear in a more favorable light at all. Of course she was missing many of the pieces here. For example she never knew he had a son until yesterday. Someone was forgiving enough to love a man who kills without distinction if he's told to do so. The world was truly strange.

In hindsight her words seem awfully skewed now. Shepard had told her a few things about him since then, not that she cared to know any of it previously. It may have been better not to learn those things, but it was probably an attempt at trying to diffuse the situation by making her understand Thane's point of view a bit more. Not that it needed diffusing in the first place, it would never deteriorate further. She was done with that conversation, and with him. He was part of the team, and as such had to be tolerated, but that was the extent to what she could do for him. Nevertheless, Shepard, ever the peacekeeper, was relentless and in the end she learned certain things about him. Like how he was raised by the hanar and trained as an assassin from a young age, and how this was pretty much all he knew of the world around him. Seemed like an awfully meaningless life to her, having others make all the decisions for you as if you lacked free will, and being used as a tool. According to Shepard, Thane even referred to himself as such. It's hard to believe that anyone would think of living such a life as great honor. Senseless, all of it. Willingly giving away children to be trained as assassins, stripping them of the opportunity of a healthy and happy childhood. A fate like that can lead to no fully functional adult and Thane is a prime example of that. Life scars us all in different ways.

She knows these things now, but back then, at that moment when she first snapped at him, she didn't. These major differences in their culture flew right by her head and she never bothered to look deeper into why exactly Thane would do the things he had done. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Just because she knows, doesn't mean she has to accept it as well. It's just easier to understand now. But that day? That day when he admitted to abandoning his own son, who was now about to ruin his own life, Thane just looked like a dying coward with a filthy conscience, ready to save face. A man hopelessly scrambling to lighten his soul before the end. She thought his reasons were selfish and wanted to let him know how much of a hypocrite he was, how he failed to calculate the consequences of his negligence which culminated in this unfortunate situation. For the first time since joining the Normandy crew, she abandoned her cautious and reserved manner and let her words flow freely without filter. Words that were meant to tear at him. And she didn’t even understand why.

Shepard had just told him it was not his fault, and like a saint, he said he had to hold himself accountable. That was the last push, she couldn't stay silent any longer.

"How hypocritical of you. Leaving your son behind only to return now. Must have been one long journey finding that backbone." Her voice was low but bitter. She didn't want passersby to notice the conversation, but she wanted him to hear every word. Of course she wouldn't support his son's decision, but it was clear to her now where it was coming from. They never mentioned the possible motive during the debriefing on the shuttle, for good reason it seems.

"He faces a dark path." That much was evident, she wasn't debating it.

"If only he had a good example to follow, huh?" She felt her mood sink further as she faced him, and her tone mirrored that clearly. It was dripping with venom. And Shepard of all people told him just a few seconds ago how it wasn't his fault. There was no one left who was more at fault than Thane. No one.

"I left to protect him. To make sure that he would never be pursued by the people who killed his mother." A sound argument at first glance, but severely flawed at the second. At least he seemed to think it was the right choice, as his answer held a hint of resistance.

"You leaving isn't the biggest and only problem. It's the fact you never returned until now." Her jaw was clenched now and her eyes fixed on the male. His gaze was distant, almost as if a thick mist was obscuring his view. Perhaps she caught him off guard but his silence only angered her more and not waiting for a reply, she continued.

"Has it ever occurred to you that your son would have a different idea of why you left? Have you even stopped to think how it must have felt to him to lose not only a mother, but a father as well? Have you put so little faith in him that you've never considered returning to explain everything to him? You were fine leaving him in the dark all these years, but now that he's doing the only thing he can to understand you better, you decide to return!" Her voice was louder by the end than she would've liked, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no need to draw too much attention to themselves. She wasn't even sure why she felt so affected, both Thane and his son were strangers to her. She couldn't even attach a face to the latter, as she's never met him. But here she was, getting worked up over something that wasn't even her concern.

She took one more breath and glanced at Shepard, half-expecting the Commander to step in and say something in Thane's favor like before. Instead she met Shepard's surprised eyes as they darted cautiously between Thane and her. There would be no fighting, no, Shepard didn't need to worry about that, but she would still bury Thane with her words. "It's almost as if the only reason you're here now is to clear your conscience."

"I wanted him to choose a different future, away from all the suffering I've caused. For him to live a better life than what I could have given him." His voice was almost too quiet to hear, his tone somber and remorseful. Her eyes met his once more.

"And so you decided to cause more suffering by leaving and never returning? So he could only guess why you left? Maybe even feel unwanted or responsible for it? You never gave him the chance to understand your reasons, you never asked him what he wanted and what would have made him happy. You weren't even there when he needed you the most! You hid like a gutless coward instead and would have died knowing that you were unworthy of being called a father!" There was little keeping her volume in check now as she hissed the last words, running out of breath as she finished.

The few concerned glances of the people around them made her snap out of her frenzy. Suddenly she felt more self-conscious than before. She glanced around uneasily before turning back to Thane one last time, careful not to be too loud this time.

"It may not be obvious to you, but it's certainly not rocket science either. Your son may have accidentally found the only way to successfully draw your attention to himself. Just think about how sad this is. Had he not decided to go through with this, you'd have never come here at all. It may not be his end goal to meet you, but I'm sure he hopes to gain an understanding of you at least. For his sake, I hope you can intervene in time and provide him solace. He deserved better."

There was nothing else she could or wanted to say. She felt drained of nearly all emotion, save for a drop of guilt. She didn't even know what she felt guilty for, it was certainly not for Thane. No. You reap what you sow, right? Right. She felt somewhat sorry for Shepard for having to witness this conversation, sure, but that wasn't it either. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd never shown so much of herself so publicly. A selfish reason, but who wants to make a fool of themselves in front of a crowd? Especially knowing how this whole issue had nothing to do with her. If only she managed to take her own advice and mind her business and stew about it alone, when no one was looking. She needed to leave. And right now. She looked up at Shepard, almost begging the Commander with her eyes to break the deafening silence and thankfully, Shepard delivered.

"Come on, we're wasting time. Let's go back to Bailey."

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

She spent the rest of the time sitting on a bench not too far from Bailey's office where Shepard and Thane conducted their impromptu interrogation. The waiting was killing her, sitting alone and overthinking her previous outburst wasn't proving very productive. She needed to sleep, or cry, or both. Anything to purge her system.

The pained expression of Thane also haunted her more than she'd like to admit. The man made many mistakes, and paid for most of them. Now it was a possibility that he'd lose the only thing left that he may have held dear to his heart. It really wasn't her place to lash out at him. Of course Shepard's coddling of him also rubbed her the wrong way, for more reasons than one. So, so selfish. The thought of ruining an innocent child's hopes and future still sent her fuming though. Why are children always the ones who have to suffer the most? It was never fair, never. They'd have to carry the burden, be molded by it and grow up with it. If they were lucky, they'd become healthy adults who'll know better than to inflict the same on their own children. If not, then regardless of the reason, they could be tempted to follow a bad example, like Kolyat.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw Shepard return, Thane and another drell, his son, being escorted behind her by Bailey and his men. She didn't even realize they moved on from the interrogation. Just how much time has passed?

Thane and Kolyat were led into a separate room, while Shepard and Bailey discussed whatever happened and may come next. She breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes met Shepard's. They were all alive and seemingly well at the very least.

Bailey and the Commander continued talking for what seemed like an agonizingly long time before Shepard joined her. She spoke before the Commander could.

"Reunited at last. Did it go well?"

"Better than expected. We arrived before Kolyat could fulfill the contract. Bailey offered to provide a room for the two of them to catch up and... sort things out. They've been in there for a while now, we'll leave once they're done."

She listened but was somehow still distracted by how easily Shepard could solve problems. Attempted assassination, finding a ship that was lost a decade ago and saving its surviving crew, infiltrating a known criminal's home to steal something, and the list goes on and on. It never ceased to amaze her how Shepard managed to succeed at nearly everything. No wonder people put so much hope into them. But the Hero of the Citadel was still just one soldier and no matter how solid someone is under fire, the pressure of defeating yet another great threat, possibly relating to the reapers, could break anyone regardless of strength, training or experience. It's hard to believe she was a skeptic first.

Time sure proved her wrong.

Realizing that she's been staring blankly out of her head without acknowledging what was said, she nodded. "That's good, they probably have a lot to talk about. And Thane must have a lot of explaining to do." She regretted saying that immediately, fearing that Shepard may misunderstand it. She didn't mean any harm with this statement, not this time at least.

Luckily, before any more could be said, Bailey waved the two of them over, signaling that the family reunion has just ended. They could get ready to leave now. At last.

A silent shuttle ride later they arrived back to the Normandy and departed the Citadel.

The day finally ended, and not a moment too soon.

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I contemplated posting this, I’m not very happy with it, but I don’t know how to rewrite it. Oh well :/

Also, I’m very passionate about parents fucking up their own children (my personal experience is probably coloring my perception on this topic) and it bothered me how we can’t really call Thane out on his shit. I wish we could.

[oliverwxod]

Whatever it takes (Part 8) - Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (and sometimes Bucky x reader)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Summary: Angels and Demons have been sworn enemies their whole lives, that’s just how it is. When Bucky decides to go against these unsaid rules, it brings a set of consequences into the lives of those who spend time with him. In Y/n’s case that consequence is an angel named Steve Rogers.

A/N: BECAUSE LINKS STILL DON’T WORK  (it’s ruining me and I have so many less readers now) YOU CAN CATCH UP ON THE PREVIOUS PARTS OF IT IN MY MASTERLIST IN MY BIO ( under Steve Rogers heading) Tag list is ope, thanks for reading xxxx

“Have you ever been in love?” Steve asked. The question had been on his mind recently, he didn’t think he would actually grow the balls to ask it directly to her face, he was shocked at the own words that fell from his mouth before he could stop them. 

Y/n stared back at him in shock, very taken aback by his question as it had come out of no where. 

“that’s a bit personal” she murmured quietly, studying his face intently. “and a bit cliche, but I don’t expect anything less from you” she shrugged, letting out a gentle laugh. 

“have you?” he asked again, shaking his head at himself for being insensitive. He couldn’t stop himself, he was too curious for his own good. “sorry -” he stumbled over his words, rambling “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s not my place to-”

“It’s fine” she said bursting out into laughter. Steve chuckled along with her. “I don’t think I have” she spoke “I stopped believing in it”

“so you did believe in it once?” he asked, pushing for a truthful answer. 

She shrugged in response “I guess I did once” 

“what changed?” he prompted. He really wanted to know if demons had the capability to love and if they ever did. He was curious about their minds, never understanding them and he wanted to know more.

“a lot of things” she spoke, Steve could tell she was being vague. But he had told her about the situation with Peggy, it was only fair for him to know about her now. 

“Like?” 

“why do you care?” she asked, defensive. Steve knew if he pushed it now it would not end well. 

“Just trying to understand you, that’s all” he spoke quietly. She met his eyes briefly before looking away, choosing to stare straight ahead at the wall of the dingy cafe they were sitting in to shield themselves from the bitter cold snow outside. 

Y/n started to fiddle with the now empty coffee cup in her hand. 

“I thought I was once.” she said “in love or whatever, but I think I accidentally mistook it for feeling comfortable, I don’t know how to describe it.” she said. 

“safe?” Steve offered. Y/n looked up at him when he spoke. 

“Yeah. That’s the word.” she agreed. 

“why wasn’t it love?” Steve asked.

“because love is mean’t to be a two way thing and if it only works one way than it isn’t love...” she replied, tapping her fingers on the table to keep herself busy, not wanting to think too deeply. 

“so you’re saying that you thought you loved someone, but they didn’t feel the same” he asked, slightly confused at how she wasn’t exactly being clear about it. 

“yeah, something like that” she shrugged. Steve knew she was closing herself off from him but he would be damned if he didn’t get to the bottom of it. 

“Did you ever tell this person?”

“no” she said bluntly, looking anywhere but at him. 

“How do you know that they didn’t love you back then?” he asked, frowning deeply, surely if you loved someone you would tell them right? That’s what Steve did, he always let people know he loved them, friends, family, he was always telling Peggy how much he loved her. 

“I just know- knew. Okay” she snapped. 

Steve stared at her unimpressed. 

“I didn’t mean to snap” she spoke “But can we please talk about something else, I didn’t come here to be bombarded by personal questions” 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re talking about it” Steve shrugged. 

“If I wanted to talk about it I would have gone to a therapist or something, but I don’t want to” she huffed, standing up and walking away from the table. 

Steve watched her go, frowning in thought. His eyes didn’t leave her frame once as she ordered another two coffees at the counter before making her way back over to the table, sitting opposite the Angel.

“It’s Bucky isn’t it?” Steve asked knowingly. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

Y/n glared at him harshly. What part of drop it did he not understand!

“Fine, if I tell you will you stop getting me to talk about it?” she asked, rolling her eyes. 

“yes” 

“okay, okay. So maybe I used to think I was hopelessly in love with Bucky. But- “ she spoke giving Steve a stern look “ I was much younger then, just a silly naive teenager who thought he was everything, and I thought he thought the same about me” she said. “but clearly not, that’s it. That’s all I have to say” 

“Why did you think that? You didn’t ever tell him” Steve said. 

“It was obvious” Y/n shrugged, acting like she was disinterested in the conversation.

“How come?”

“I thought I was the only one he shared a bed with at night, but it turned out he shared his bed with half the population of New York” she said, Steve could tell that these memories hurt her. He could see it in the way she was acting in front of him now. Putting on a hard front and distancing herself to pretend it didn’t matter, when in reality it really did. 

“and he still does that?” Steve asked, wondering if Bucky would ever grow out of that phase. Steve hoped he never would, because Y/n deserved so much more than him. 

“yep.” 

“But you still sleep with him?” Steve couldn’t get his head around it. 

“Yep” 

“Even though he sleeps with other people?” 

“god Steve, yes, what don’t you understand about that!” she spoke getting frustrated at him. 

“I just-  I don’t get it” he said shaking his head. 

“it’s not hard to understand-”

“It is. I can’t get my head round why he would do that, why he would go looking for other women when he has you” Steve spoke, he glanced up as they were interrupted. The waiter bringing over there new cups of coffee. 

“Thank you” Y/n spoke smiling politely up at the waiter who bid them a good day.

Steve met her stare, holding it. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, referring to his previous statement. 

“I mean, why would Bucky go looking for another women when he gets to have someone like you. You’re too good for him” Steve stated. “he’s treating you as if you aren’t enough and you are more than enough for him.”

Y/n didn’t know whether to be hurt at his statement or thank him. 

“I'm not too good for anyone Steve, I have just as many faults even more so than the average person” 

“you know what- sometimes I can’t believe you’re actually a demon. At the start it was obvious, I thought you were going to be one of those pretentious, trouble makers who would create absolute hell, but you’re nothing like that” he said laughing softly and smiling at him. 

“Thanks- I guess” she said, smiling brightly at him. “But I can still cause trouble” she said smirking dangerously at him. 

He couldn’t help but smile at her again. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you” he grinned.

“We should probably leave, it looks like they’re about to close soon” Y/n said, glancing outside and seeing how it had fallen dark, the street lights illuminating the snow that fell softly to the ground. 

“Good shout” Steve spoke, standing up to pull his coat on.

Y/n stared at how cute he looked bundled up. He had grown a beard the past few weeks and she hated to admit the fantasies she had over it. She would never admit the fact.

They left the cafe silently, walking out onto the street in tow. It was freezing cold and Y/n knew she was probably shaking, silently thankful when Steve linked one arm around hers, pulling her close to his side to shield her from the snow. 

“I don’t get how you hate rain, but you don’t mind the snow” Steve spoke. Y/n was slightly shocked that he remembered that. 

“I hate that it’s colder, but it’s a lot more beautiful than rain” she chuckled. “Plus there’s so much more you can do in snow”

“like what?” he asked, expecting a typical Y/n answer, but he was pleasantly surprised. 

“Build a snowman” 

Steve started laughing at her, he never expected someone like her to admit they liked to build a snowman. 

“Stop laughing” she spoke, annoyed at him, releasing her arm from his as she pouted. Steve was still to busy laughing to even realise she was no longed touching him. 

Instead he was met by a wet ball of snow hitting him in the face and taking him by surprise. It was Y/n’s time to laugh now. 

“oh, you better run” Steve spoke, glaring playfully at the laughing demon who started to run. But her smaller legs were no match for Steve as he ran after her, catching up within seconds, grabbing her by the waist and playfully tackling her to the ground. 

They landed in the snow, laughing their heads off. Y/n escaped from his tight grip, turning on the ground to face him. He did the same. 

“Does this mean you’re a snow angel now?” she asked, causing him to chuckle at the cheesiness of it. 

“however did you come up with that one doll” he spoke, fondness in his eyes as he watched her laugh freely. 

Y/n acted as if he hadn’t just called her ‘doll’. She had never been called that before and it made her feel happier than she had in a long time. 

“This feels so cliche” she spoke, still laying face to face to each other in the snow. Not caring about anyone passing by. 

“That’s because it is” he spoke, studying her face, eyes glancing down to her lips and back to her eyes. This was it, he thought. He was finally going to give in, he was finally going to go against who he should be. He was finally going to do what he had been wanting to do for a few weeks now. 

Y/n watched him lean in closer to her, staring at his lips, those soft pouty lips that she always found her self staring at. She watched as Steve closed his eyes, their lips about to meet, she could feel his breath over her face, tickling softly. 

She smirked and before his lips could meet hers she grab a handful of snow, hitting it directly into his face. 

Steve’s eyes flew open in shock, meeting her eyes as she fell onto her back crying with laughter. 

“Your - your- face” she spoke through the fits of giggles. 

Steve smirked to himself before pushing her further back into the snow, hovering over her. Y/n’s laughter died down all of a sudden her voice vulnerable as she spoke softly. 

“I told you I could still cause trouble” 

Steve’s hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing softly on the skin of her jaw line. 

“I should have known you would have pulled something like that” he smiled, thumb now moving across to trace over her lips, Y/n closed her eyes in anticipation, not being disappointed when he finally leaned in to kiss her. 

It was soft and sweet, and it was everything she had ever imagined kissing Steve would be like. It was electrifying. She didn’t know if that’s because it wasn’t meant to be or because she actually liked him. 

Steve laughed lightly when he pulled away, matching her smile until he got his own back, dropping a pile of snow onto her face and bursting into a fit of laughter. 

She let out a yelp of surprise before smirking back at him, grabbing handfuls upon handfuls of snow and chucking them at him, Steve doing the same until they were both soaked through to the bone, collapsing back into the snow out of breath. Y/n took the chance to lean over him, placing a small kiss on his lips before jumping up from the ground. 

“Come on, lets go angel boy, I’m officially freezing.”

Steve smiled to himself from where he lay on the ground, sitting up to look at her before he stood up to follow her. 

Across the street Bucky stood in the shadows behind a tree staring at the two of them, watching and glaring darkly at every interaction and move they made. He hated hearing Steve make Y/n laugh like that. Bucky hadn’t heard her laugh that loud or long in months. He had to stop watching when Steve leaned in to kiss her.

 It wasn’t Steve’s place to do something like that, not with something that Bucky claimed as his own. Y/n was his. She always would be, Bucky adored her and he wasn’t going to let some Angel come in to her life and think he could change her. It didn’t work like that. Life didn’t work like that in general. 

He didn’t want to admit he was worried about the future and the months to come, with the digging he had been doing into old books and ledgends about Demons having the possibility to change into Angels. He was convincing himself it was all a myth, that everything Tony said to him was wrong. 

But an Angel doesn’t lie, Tony has no motive for lying to him about it. Bucky kept reliving all the moments of destruction he had caused with Y/n in their lives. Shaking his head to knock some sense into himself. Of course she would never change, Y/n had an evil streak that Bucky knew would never leave. 

This Steve person... this Angel across the road from him with Y/n had no chance, not knowing what he had gotten himself into. Bucky knew Y/n was trouble and he knew Steve would realise it sooner or later.  

AN: Thank you for reading if you’re still here!! let me know what you think!! (I can’t reply bc this is a side blog, but I see them and thank you so much to all of you, you are my motivation)  xxx

Forever tags:

@dreambigbeawesome @hellosafie @linheliano @extreme-supernatural-lover @thisismysecrethappyplace @mannls @1elboomdemsechevarria @what-the-hell-is–a-hufflepuff @myrabbitholetoneverland @jbarnes87 @permanent-lines @alyssaj23 @piensa-bonito @maresmiley @soldierplum @jjsoccer11 @les-bio-lie @dewy-biitch @despelllestrange @kingdomcage @unlikelygalaxygiver @hiddles-rose @httpmcrvel @breezy1415 @artisticlales @imthegirlyourparentswarnedyouof @maladaptive-ninja-returns @xinyourdreamsx

Bucky Barnes tags: (it’s going to have a lot of Bucky x reader in but if you don’t wanna be tagged just message me xx)

@tranquility-or-chaos @analovesseb @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @australianhorrorstory @chloe-skywalker @bexboo616 @adamsbubblegumbitch

Whatever it takes tags:

@melimelbean @piensa-bonito @midnightmondaze @maladaptive-ninja-returns @delusionsofnostalgia @sectumsempra-beaches @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @rainbowkisses31 @black-sunday1412 @jcc04220 @albinotigerpython @tatertot1097 @hiken-no-stark @theshekinahb @hiddles-rose @enchantedreadersworld @fairytaleprincess8314 @tinyglamdramaqueen @jaebom @bit-of-a-timelord @spangled-starbucky @winterboo-bearloverhere @teenwolfbitches2 @kendrawr-kitkat @zigadaba-stitch @momma-loves-her-some-capnbucky @disagreetoagree @midnightmondaze @budlitebitch @rraise-a-glass-to-freedom @blondekel77 @vulpecula-minor @trashforfictionalpeople @maladaptive-ninja-returns @slytherinrising @slowly-gently @sad-me-space @inumorph @adamsbubblegumbitch @astronomicparker

[seashellsongs]

I have seen the sea, Theon Greyjoy

- a work of Game of Thrones fanfiction by seashellsongs on Tumblr

Title: I have seen the sea, Theon Greyjoy

Fandom: Game of Thrones 

Relationships: Sansa Stark / Theon Greyjoy

Notes: Yet another fluffy 8x02 “missing scene”, but I hope this is the kind of thing where the limit does not exist. At least for me it doesn’t. I just had to be part of this beautiful Theonsa community I never knew existed before this episode. :’) Forgive me guys. I had planned on publishing this on AO3 before the third ep comes out, but the waiting list screwed up my schedule (didn’t have an account before). So I’m simply putting it out here first! 

This is the very first time I’m writing fanfiction in English, which is not my native language, so bear that in mind, plz. I hope it reads the way I intended and the references are not too vague!

I have seen the sea, Theon Greyjoy

Frost gnawed at her fingertips hungrier than ever before and the black of night was a shade deeper than the last. Yet their brave little lanterns cut through the thick darkness. Born high or low or somewhere in the middle, they huddled close to one another and the fires all guarded by the walls of Winterfell.

They too were sitting close to each other, her and Theon. Their outlines fading into the darkness around them, it was hard to say where one ended and the other begun. Sansa contemplated her surroundings and tried to make out familiar shapes from the shadows.

"My home. Our home. I guess I should have really looked at it while we still had some daylight", she sighed. "I should have counted the windows and turrets while I had the chance. Was the kitchen door painted green or blue? It bothers me that I cannot say."

She was only a little hesitant to speak so freely. Theon was family, after all.

"The kitchen door was painted green", he assured. "Your father made me and Robb paint it once. We had just learned some exciting novel vocabulary from the stablehands and had to find somewhere to practice."

Sansa chuckled.

"Remember how you used to make us play brave knights and a princess in a plight with you?" he went on. "You were standing right over there, I think, waving you handkerchief."

Seeing him like that, brow raised and eyes glimmering with mirth, made her heart stumble. It was a feeling long forgotten.

"Naught but fairy tales and dreams in my head back then. Night after night I dreamt of a hero to take me away from here. The days of dreaming are long gone now. No more fairy tales."

She had been sure that if her faith was strong enough, all of her dreams would come true. With what followed, she had learnt to be more cautious when it came to her dreams.

"If the Gods' will us another dawn, I promise to show you all the wonders in those fairy tales of yours, Lady Sansa", Theon boasted with a voice echoing their childhood. The mock ceremonial face he pulled  brought her straight back to the age of nine. She bit her lip not to laugh. Their innocence was something she did not want to jeer at. What she wouldn't give to get it back? Wisdom beyond one's years meant knowing things one should not.

"Is that so? What exactly are you going to show me, Lord Greyjoy?" she asked, playfully shoving his arm beside her. It was mere quips and jests, play on words – yet painfully serious at the same time.

"I will show you the sea."

"I have seen the sea. It was not kind to me", she retorted.

The Narrow Sea had not been narrow at all, she had found. It had been nauseatingly vast instead, and as gray and restless as the young colt Robb had once had, trying to throw everyone off his back.

(On golden days of still and quiet though, the sea had been as blue and bright as Theon's eyes, now watching her relentlessly. Young Greyjoy would have laughed had he known she only liked the sea when others were hastily waiting for the breeze.)

"I'll show you the magnificent castles and the kings and queens behind their walls."

Sansa replied with a short merriless laughter.

"I have seen enough castles, thank you very much. And don't even get me started on queens."

"I'll show you the handsome princes of the faraway lands."

"I have seen a handsome prince, and there was no happy ending."

"I will show you the most glorious silks and dresses then."

"I have seen them as well. They've been ripped from my body and stained with my blood."

"I will show you the most fearless warriors in the known world."

She suddendly turned pale. The face she had studied for countless nights, to hopelessly try and read the sick mind behind it (for the devil you know is better than the the devil you don't), came back to her uninvited and unwelcome.

"I have seen him. I have seen my own fear mirrored in his eyes", she whispered. Her voice was wavering with terror, but she had sworn to stand tall against the memory of him, never again letting it weigh her down.

They fell silent for awhile, both trying to forget the unforgottable. Theon's hand stirred almost unwillingly, made a halt halfway and finally grabbed hers.  

"I told you, didn't I?" she said, hardening herself against any tears. "No more dreams. No fairy tales to be told."

"There's still one", Theon said quietly. His cheek reddened.

"The one about a pauper falling in love with a princess."

Sansa said nothing. Instead she bended over him, her face only a bout of boldness away from his.

"With a queen, you must mean", she muttered against his mouth. She pressed her lips on his then, sealing her one last dream with a kiss.

It was a gentle kiss, and a timid one, barely more than a breath. The first brushstroke, she hoped. It was enough to make the blue in Theon's eyes run like a spring river. And when he touched her, she felt the caress of the southwind after a long harsh winter.

[wistfulcynic]

CSJJ Day 8: The Key

Summary: They are strangers with benefits. Lovers who don’t know each other’s names. And then they meet. 

Rating: M (a hard M)

a/n: An angsty, smutty little story, perhaps not entirely in keeping with the ‘joy’ part of @csjanuaryjoy, but what can you do? I set out to write a light and frothy secret-relationships fic, but, well...  I think I used up all my fluff on the Secret Santa. Not even sorry. 

Read it on AO3

Tagging @resident-of-storybrooke, @teamhook, @jennjenn615, @deathbycaptainswan, @tiganasummertree, @kmomof4 and wish I could group-tag the whole of the CSJJ Discord, because having random crazy conversations with you lot has been the best part of 2019 thus far. 

The Key

He let himself in. With his key.

Because she, Emma Swan, the guarded, the cautious, the woman with walls around her heart so formidable that Fort Knox could benefit from her trade secrets, had given a key to her apartment to a man whose name she didn’t even know.

She told herself it was for the sake of convenience. It allowed her to await him in the bedroom clad in lacy lingerie, tiny scraps of fabric that wouldn’t be able to hold her in if she tried to move in them, scraps designed for no purpose other than to adorn her slender form before being torn from it by desperate fingers. Lingerie such as she was wearing now, reclined on her bed, waiting.

It allowed her to enjoy the look in his eyes when he appeared in the doorway, already unbuttoning his shirt, the hot, hungry look that still sent shivers skittering across her skin even though they had been fucking regularly for more than a year.

It allowed her to watch as he slowly undressed, his eyes fixed on her face while hers roamed his form, holding her breath as the smooth skin liberally adorned with dark hair was revealed, inch by torturous inch until finally his cock sprang forth, already hard and ready for her hands and her mouth and her cunt.

It allowed her to fist her hands into her sheets in anticipation, panting now as he crawled onto the bed, his blue eyes almost black and his breathing as ragged as her own, stroking his fingertips up the inside of her thigh and teasing the edge of the lace between her legs as his mouth trailed kisses up her neck.

This was what she told herself, and what she told him. What she wanted them both to believe.

The truth was that she had given him the key because she trusted him, this man she had picked up in a bar. She didn’t know his name or his job or his favourite colour, but she knew the way he touched her, reverently, as though she were something worth treasuring. She knew the earnest way he focused on her pleasure before taking his own, the way he listened to her sighs and remembered each moan, making every encounter better than the last. He didn’t know her name, but he knew every inch of her body. He knew precisely where and how to touch her to make her writhe and moan and scream, and she knew the same about him.

She knew that he would leave as soon as she asked, without protest, never pushing or trying to coax from her anything more than she was comfortable giving.

She knew also that he would stay, his eyes warm and his smile brightening the darkened bedroom when she twined her legs around his and buried her face in his neck, that he would hold her close and safe in his arms and whisper “Sleep, darling,” in her ear. She knew that the next morning he would ask her no questions but would make coffee while she made pancakes, that they would talk freely together about movies and music and books and travel and their theories on the meaning of life with not a word spoken about themselves, their work, their families, their names.

She knew that she knew him, the essence of him, his body and mind and soul, even without the details of his life. She knew that she loved him. And she knew, from the joy that he took in giving her pleasure, from the look in his eyes when he came deep inside her, from the light in his smile when he woke up in her arms, that he would never leave her. That he would keep coming back, keep treasuring her, holding her close, whispering endearments into her hair when he thought she was asleep.

As long as he never found out about her, about what a mess she was and how hopelessly broken life had left her, then she could keep him forever.

As long as he never learned her name.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

He was moving inside her, his lips on her neck, his cock stroking her deep, again and again over just that spot, the one he could always find. She was moving with him, thighs squeezing him tightly, denting the curve of his ass with her heels, their fingers intertwined above her head. She was moaning in his ear, disjointed syllables and broken words of encouragement as he panted curses into the curve of her shoulder. She felt tingling in the tips of her toes and the base of her spine, the pleasure sizzling across her skin so intense that the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand was barely an echo of it, drowned by the explosion of sensation that burst within her as she came, clenching around his cock and dragging him along with her into ecstasy, his groan of pleasure reverberating through her and intensifying hers.

They lay together, still gasping and entwined, as the sweat dried from their skin and they slowly became conscious of the buzzing phone, and of the fact that it had been buzzing for a solid five minutes.

“Are you going to get that?” he murmured against her collarbone.

“Mmmmm,” she said, and he chuckled, his warm breath ruffling the damp blonde wisps at her nape.

“You’ll have to let go of my hand,” she said.

“Apologies, love.” He released her hands and rolled off her, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her close against his chest as she put the phone to her ear and he fell into a doze.  

“‘lo?” she yawned into the phone.

“Emma? Is it too early, hon? You sound sleepy.”

“No, ’s fine.” Emma blinked, trying to focus, trying not to melt into the warm body behind her. “What’s up, Mary Margaret?”

“I’m just calling to remind you that you’re having dinner with us tonight.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Just to warn you, there’s a friend of David’s coming too.”

“Mary Margaret—”

“Now I know you hate setups, Emma, and I promise this isn’t one. Killian’s not really your type, and David actually thinks he might be seeing someone, just maybe not officially. 'On the down low', as the kids in my class say. I just wanted to ask you to please be nice. It wouldn’t hurt you to make a friend, and honestly Killian could use one too. He’s had a bit of a hard time recently. Just promise me you won’t freeze him out, or, you know, punch him if he smiles at you.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Only slightly. Remember Walsh.”

Emma sighed. “All right, all right, I’ll be nice. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Aaah, I knew it was too early for you! I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, sweetie, I’ll see you tonight!”

“‘Bye, Mary Margaret.”

She put the phone down on the nightstand and snuggled deeper into the man at her back, jostling him awake. He hummed, his arms tightening around her as he nuzzled her cheek. “Sleep, beautiful,” he murmured, the words slightly slurred.

“Sleep,” she agreed, and they drifted off together.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Emma arrived at Mary Margaret and David’s bearing a bottle of wine and a sense of resigned determination. Be nice, be nice, be nice, she reminded herself. Even if this was a setup —and she didn’t trust Mary Margaret not to lie to her about it being one— she needed to be nice. Needed not to let herself overreact to simple civility. Needed to remember that not every man in the world was out to use her. Sure, every one she’d ever dated had been, but still they couldn’t all be.

He wasn’t, her nameless lover. She felt a thrill at the thought of him, the memory of his hands on her skin just hours before. He would never hurt her. As long as she never let him know too much of her, he’d never have cause to leave.

Mary Margaret led her into the living room where David was chatting with a man. A tallish one, with dark hair who was standing in a very… familiar… loose-jointed way, one she’d only seen once before, and—

“No,” she gasped, and he turned, the blue eyes she’d last seen twinkling at her as she kissed him goodbye lighting up when he saw her, then as he registered the look on her face they clouded with fear.

“Emma, this is—”

“No!” she cried, interrupting Mary Margaret. “No, don’t tell him— no, no, no.”

Mary Margaret and David were staring at her in astonishment, Killian —because she now knew his name was Killian— in alarm. He held out his hand to her. “Love—” he began, and she stumbled backwards, shaking her head, trying to deny the awful truth of the situation, of the only good thing in her life being ripped away, just like everything else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.” She turned and ran for the door, ignoring the voices calling after her.  

She was almost away when she heard him, him alone, the frantic note in his beloved voice breaking her heart.

“Wait!” he cried “Wait!”

She hurried as best she could in her heels, but his long legs soon caught her up. He grabbed her arm, stopping her. She didn’t turn around.

“Won’t you even look at me?”

She did, and nearly broke at the brittle mix of hope and fear that she saw in his precious eyes.

“I—” he began, then stopped on a strained half-laugh. “I don’t know what to call you.”

“My name is Emma.”

“Emma.” Her name in his voice clawed at her heart and she wanted to scream and rage, wanted to fall into his arms and have him hold her close just once more. “I’m Killian.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking anxious. “Look, I know that this has sort of blown up all of our boundaries, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It— could even be a good one.”

“It’s the worst possible thing!”

“Why?”

She groped for the words to make him understand. “I can’t— I can’t be in a relationship. I’m too— people don’t—” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I can do sex,” she said. “But I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. I don’t know how to be that close to someone, how to let someone in. I’ll— I’ll just disappoint you, mess things up like I always do, and then you’ll leave.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“You would. They all do, once they get to know me. It’s best if we just—” she broke off as her throat closed up, refusing to let her speak the awful words. She swallowed, and forced them out. “It’s best if we just end it now.”

She risked a glance at him, and wished she hadn’t. His face was dead white, his eyes wide and desperate.

“Emma, I’ve known from the beginning that you have… reservations about intimacy. But darling, if you really think you can’t have a relationship, you’re very much mistaken. We have one, right now, you and I, one that is very, very important to me. You know me better than anyone ever has, even without knowing my name. And I know you, everything that I need to know to be sure that I want you in my life, in whatever capacity that you wish. We understand each other, love, we always have. Do you know how rare it is, this connection between us?”

“That makes it worse,” she whispered. “Things with you have always been so perfect, I can’t bear to ruin it.”

“You won’t, you couldn’t—”

“I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”

He gripped her arms tightly. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking on the word. “Please don’t do this, don’t end us. I love you.”

“No.” She shook her head, denying it, though she knew he spoke the truth. “No, you can’t.”

“And yet, I do. What’s more, you love me too.”

“I— I don’t,” she lied, convincing no one.  

“Then why did you give me a key to your apartment?”

“That was just for convenience—”

“It was because you trust me with your heart.” Anger edged his voice now. “Don’t lie to me Emma, and don’t lie to yourself.”

“I’m not—”

"You are! Would you really throw away our chance at happiness, throw away the happiness we already have, because things might not always be perfect?"

"You only think we're happy because you don't know me. If you did, you wouldn't want me anymore."

"I do know you. And there are no conceivable circumstances in which I wouldn't want you. Wanting you has all but consumed me from the moment we met. Look at me, darling." He put his hand under her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met. “I love you. I want you. We can be together, we can be happy, you just have to trust me with your head the way you already do with your heart. Tell me you don’t want that. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, I'll never trouble you again.”

“I— I—” She looked into his gorgeous eyes, seeing everything he felt for her within them. She did want those feelings, wanted him. So much. Too much to take them, too much to risk destroying them. “I can’t.” She tore her eyes away. “I can’t do this. It’s over. Don’t come back.” She wrenched herself from his grasp and fled.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

The envelope arrived through her mail slot two days later. It was brown, sturdy, with a small, heavy object within. She tore it open and upended it over her kitchen counter. A key fell out, bouncing on the counter with a clang that carried an ominous finality, far too loud for its small size.

Her apartment key.

She stared at it, shattering inside. With trembling fingers she reached out to touch it, astonished to find her hand and arm still whole and not crumbling into dust under the weight of her agony.

He’d returned her key.

Of course he had. When had he ever not done as she wished? She had told him not to come back. What use would he have for the key?

Slowly she picked it up, closing her fist around it, so tightly that the sharp edges broke her skin. She squeezed until she felt blood welling up from her palm and then she broke, the walls around her heart swept away by wave after wave of emotions, feelings she had repressed for years but never vanquished. Sobs wracked her body as she sank to the floor, scraping her throat as raw as her soul. She cried for the baby she’d been, abandoned and unloved, for the child shunted from house to house but never to a home, for the heartbroken teen who’d had her baby in jail and then given him up, hating herself for abandoning him as she’d been abandoned but knowing she couldn’t be a mother. She wept for the woman, who would rather break the heart of the man she loved than risk being happy with him.

All her life people had left her. Then she’d pushed away the only one who wanted to stay. The only one who wanted her.

The only one who loved her.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Emma pounded on the bright red door of her friends’ house, brushing tears from her cheeks as she did. It swung open to reveal David, his face harder and angrier than she’d ever seen it. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her.

“David, hi, I’m— I’m looking for… can you tell me how to find Killian?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asked. “So you can break his heart again?”

She had no answer to that.

“Killian’s had a rough couple of years,” said David. “He lost his brother and his girlfriend and his job, one after the other. He came here to heal, and for a time he did. He was happy with you, Emma, happier than I’d ever seen him. And now he’s a fucking shell of himself, worse than before. Honestly, I think he’s better off without you.”

He made to shut the door but Emma was quicker, blocking it with her shoulder and foot. “No!” She cried. “David, please, I’m so sorry. I was wrong to do that to him, wrong to end things between us. I want to fix it. Please. Please, help me make it right.”

David watched her wring her hands, saw the tears that dripped unheeded down her blotchy cheeks, and felt torn. He was certainly not unsympathetic to Emma's distress or her difficulties. Mary Margaret had told him about her past, not everything but enough that he could understand what drove her, what made her so afraid to trust. However, he had his own friend’s well-being to consider, and Killian’s despair over the past few days had left David distraught and terrified that his friend might be driven to do something rash and unforgivable. Killian had never been particularly rational when he was deeply wounded. As far as David was concerned, Killian had been through enough and had enough still to work through without having to deal with Emma’s crap as well. There was a new assistant librarian at the university, a pretty, friendly woman called Belle who had hit it off with Killian immediately. He’d be far better off with someone like her. Someone bright and cheerful who shared his interests and could maybe make him smile again. Someone who might actually be able to give him her heart.

“I’m sorry, Emma, but I can’t let you hurt him any more,” David said, gently but firmly pushing her away from the door and shutting it with a click.

Emma leaned her forehead against the icy cold wood and sobbed. “But I love him,” she choked out, then nearly fell on her face when the door opened again.

“Do you mean that?” asked David sharply.

She looked up, and hope sparked in her chest at his expression. “Yes, I mean it!” she cried.

“You truly love him?”

She nodded, willing him to believe her. “So much. More than anything.”

“And are you prepared to have an actual relationship with him, one where you use each other’s names and do more together than just fuck?”

Emma winced, but she supposed she deserved that. “I’m ready to try,” she said honestly. “It scares me to death and I’ll probably fuck everything up, but I love him enough to try.”

David’s eyes softened with the kindness and understanding she was accustomed to seeing in them, and she let out the breath she’d been holding in a relieved whoosh.

“I don’t think you’ll fuck everything up,” he said. “One or two things, sure, but that’s inevitable in relationships. He’ll fuck some things up as well, but you’ll work through them together.” He stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come in and warm up a bit, and I’ll write down his address for you.”

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Outside Killian’s office door Emma paused, breathing deeply and gathering her courage. This would have been difficult enough without her having to come to the damn university library to do it, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were any longer than necessary and David had said Killian would likely be working late.

(“He works at the university library?”

“Yep.” David smirked. “He’s the curator of the rare books department.”)

Emma was still struggling to process that the flirty, sexy, bone-meltingly gorgeous man who made the worst puns she’d ever heard and fucked her better than anyone else ever could was a librarian. Yet his name was on the door and the door was slightly ajar, enough for her to see him through the gap seated behind a large wooden desk. His hair was mussed, not in its habitually deliberate, sexy way, but in the manner of hair that had been gripped tightly in despairing fists and tossed for hours on a sleepless pillow. His eyes were shadowed, his face pale. He looked heartbroken.

He looked broken.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Killian,” she croaked, her voice breaking along with him, along with her own heart.

He looked up, anger and despair and resentment and hope and love all written plainly on his face. “Emma,” he whispered.

She took another, tentative step forward. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You were right. About everything. I do love you, and I believe that you love me. But I— I’m not easy to love, Killian. I’m too jagged, too hard, and I push people away… I’ll hurt you…”

He surged to his feet and around his desk, wrapping her tightly in his familiar embrace, sighing into her hair. “I’ll risk it,” he said hoarsely. “I’d risk anything for you.”

She sobbed, clinging to him, and his own tears dampened her cheek. “I love you so much, Emma,” he breathed. “I almost told you a million times, but I knew you wouldn’t welcome it.”

“I knew it anyway,” she said, “though I never let myself really acknowledge it. It’s in everything you do, and say, and how you touch me.”

His smile glowed as bright as sunshine, warming her to the depths of her soul. “I knew if anyone could hear what I wasn’t saying it would be you,” he said. “No one understands me like you do.”

“And no one has ever known me like you do,” she admitted. “Even without knowing my name.”

He chuckled. “Do you want to hear something funny?”

“Sure.” Anything that would keep him smiling like that, she wanted to hear it.

“I always called you Swan in my head,” he said, and she laughed. “From that very first night when you said no names.”

“How on earth did you come up with that?”

“From your pendant, of course," he said, brushing his fingertips across it. "And it just seemed to suit you: graceful and elegant and strong. And with a very sharp beak.”

She laughed again. “I think that’s stretching the metaphor a bit, but okay.”

He brushed the hair back from her face, cupping her chin and stroking her cheek with his thumb. “My beautiful Swan,” he said, kissing her gently. “Love of my life.”

She sighed against his lips, leaning into him to deepen the kiss, feeling her whole body sing as he held her close.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Killian,” she whispered when they broke apart. “I’m sorry it took me so long to accept how I felt about you.”

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” he replied. “We’re together now, truly together, with no secrets and no barriers between us. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Me too,” she admitted, tears springing to her eyes again. “I just never thought I could have it.”

“It’s yours now, my love, along with anything else you want that is in my power to give you.”

She kissed him again, deep and hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He growled deep in his throat, her favourite sound, and gripped her hips tightly, pulling them into his. He was just sliding his hands under her shirt when she pulled back, panting.

“I almost forgot,” she said. “I have something to give you.”

“You do?” He looked surprised, and delighted.

“Yeah.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small metal object.

He raised an eyebrow. “The key to your heart?”

“You know perfectly well it’s my apartment key, Killian.”

“That’s what I said, love.”

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️