#this is another one of those aus that likes to reappear in my mind every so often

[spacerangersam]

I swear I made a post about this already but damned if I can find it: au where Pat and Julian are the living couple who move into the manor. more under the cut

They're married, but it's not out of love. It's partly for tax benefits, partly because Julian's desperate to save his image after a big scandal (nothing else he did seemed to work, so he thought 'fuck it, maybe if I come out and marry a bloke, one who's friendly, kind, and has a good reputation, I might be able to make myself look better in the public eye, or at the very least, maybe it'll overshadow the scandal), and partly because Pat wants to make it seem like he's moved on after Carol (even if it was with Julian bloody Fawcett of all folks). They move into Button Manor together, doing their best to convince everyone else they're definitely in love while having a pretty strained relationship. They're both convinced the other kind of hates them, and constantly reference the day everything blows over and they'll separate, because obviously this won't last.

The ghosts, dramas and crises slowly bring them together though, and they start to warm up to each other. They learn how to work as a proper unit, Julian makes an effort to be a better dad and a little bit kinder, Pat learns to stand up for himself, they bring out the best (and sometimes the worst) in each other, and by the end of it, they properly fall in love. They have a redo of their proposal (much to the chagrin of the ghosts, most of whom really wanted Pat to divorce Julian) and have an actual go at this whole 'happily married' thing

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 7 all chapters

I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in.

–Jane on Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

-It's no real mystery, why you dig out your beloved old copy of Jane Eyre. From the early 1900s, it had seen better days when you’d scored it in the local used book store, many years ago. You’d been a teenager then—and those days were long behind you. It seems you never outgrew your liking of a dark and broody anti-hero.

It’s safer to read about it though, than pursue the real thing.

Lately every time Mr. Wick comes into the shop you feel slightly agitated, as though you don’t quite fit into your own skin. You remember the sensation of his fingertips on yours, like a burn.

Mr. Wick sees you reading your tattered novel on your break, but doesn’t comment. You’ve seen him with old classics in hand and reckon he must be something of an aficionado.  

You put it away in your shoulder bag in the back after the break.

The next day, it’s gone.

You know you left it in your bag. Where the fuck could it have gone? Why would someone fucking steal it?

A couple of weeks later, it reappears on the counter by the register you favor.

You hardly recognize it at first, for it has received an encompassing makeover. It has new leather covers with gorgeous embossed gold lettering, and marbled end papers, and the tattered thread of the binding repaired. There are gilded arabesques on the spine and delicately drawn climbing flowers on the cover. You wouldn’t have even thought it the same book, if not for the intricately printed title page unique to your edition, with an old pencil mark in the corner you recognize.

Such a restoration would have cost a fortune.

You knew, because you’d looked into it.  

Further compounding the mystery, there is a beautiful jacquard embroidered ribbon bookmark inside. It’s on the page where Rochester has sat Jane down in the arbor, and is telling her that she has rejuvenated him from his unhappy existence without actually admitting anything, asking in the most roundabout way possible if it would be so very bad to take a second wife who would make him a new man, while his first is still living, the big idiot.

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now re-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?”

Jane tells him, of course, that a man shouldn’t base his redemption on another person, but within himself. You are not sure you would have had the strength to speak so frankly to a man you secretly loved.

Well, maybe you would.

You are utterly mystified by the whole thing, to say the least.

But later, you are browsing the local book store, and the owner is reading Anna Karenina in what looks like freshly bound leather. The style looks familiar.

“Did you have that restored?” you ask, feeling like Nancy Drew hot on the trail of a fresh lead.

“Yeah, that new guy in town, John Wick did it for me. He says he’s just a hobbyist, but he does amazing work. Usually you have to send off to Florence for quality like this, seriously. It’s a dying art.”

Darren lets you look at the book, and you are impressed by the craftsmanship.

The spine decoration matches yours. There is a plate in the back that proclaims: Bound by John Wick.

The sneak.

You are touched to the tips of your toes, your heart filled with butterflies. Was the bookmark purposely left on that page, or just a random placement?

You hardly dare hope, and tell yourself it’s an invention of your own fancy. The gift of the book is magnificent enough. No need to further muddle things with secret communications that aren’t really there.

The next day you approach Mr. Wick’s table with hands on your hips, affecting annoyance. “You stole my book.”

He actually has the grace to look sheepish about it, casting those lovely dark eyes downwards.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I really love it.” It’s the understatement of the century.

He looks up through his hair, the surprised sparkle in his eyes taking your breath away. Suddenly, he looks ten years younger.  

“Yeah?”

The corners of your mouth twitch. This man speaks like he’s paying five cents per word, you swear. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me you bind books?”

He just shrugs, and you cannot help but laugh.

“I’ve never owned anything so fine. Thank you, truly.”

 He nods again, and you sense that you’re maybe making him uncomfortable with your gratitude. You suspect it’s not why he did it at all.

“Will you show me sometime? How you do it?”

There is a flash of something dark in his eyes before he turns his attention back down to his own book. It feels like dismissal, but you have no idea what he’s hiding underneath it all.

Still waters run deep.

“Anytime you want,” he offers as you turn to go.  

You smile at him over your shoulder as you go back to your station, a secret lightness fluttering in your heart. On your break you flip through your refurbished book once more, taking even more pleasure in it knowing that John poured over every detail of it. You don’t know much about bookbinding or leather work, but you suspect he freehanded the little flowers on the front, and that moves you to your toes.

You flip to one of your favorite scenes because you find it so funny, when Jane puts out the fire that nearly burned Rochester up in his sleep, because undoubtedly he’d drank too much earlier to easily rouse, the lovesick scoundrel. Afterwards he doesn’t want her to leave but can’t outright keep her in his room without behaving an absolute blackguard.

“Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.”

You cannot help but glance up at your tall dark bookworm in the corner, an aching warmth spreading in your heart for the sight of his furrowed brow, his concentration (you think) focused on the tome in his hands.

You know you are a ridiculous thing.

[rosemaze-reveries]

― kiss by kiss

martha behamfil x you you make it so hard for me to hold back

⚠️ modern AU. i imagined this to be a modern Sway but any Martha could work <3

Martha often appears in your life in fragments.

You think of her like some sort of mirage for you to chase after, untouchable no matter how close you get. She reappears in your life every once in a while to take your hands and whisk you away for a night. It never matters where; she has a way of breathing magic into every one of your few encounters together. Another week, another escapade. It's routine by now.

The music of the city still pulsates through your bones when she brings you back from another night out. Martha steps off to a nearby fence, cigarette dangling from her fingers. You suck in a sharp breath. As the night quiets down, your mind sobers up, and the magic fades, with only Martha as the last of your enchantment. Unconsciously, your gazes draws back to her.

A stray fleck of confetti clings to her hair just above her ear. You find your way to her, a small smile on your lips, and swiftly pluck it out. You don't think anything of it, until she seizes your hand and holds it to her cheek.

A few lingering seconds pass.

It takes all of your strength to ignore the flare rising in your chest. You can only pin your gaze on her — at all of the warmth in her eyes, familiar yet never lasting long enough; at those parted lips and their silent plea to spill out the words she swore never to voice again.

Maybe this time, you try to convince yourself, my mind isn't just playing tricks on me. You pick up each of her unspoken wishes.

"Martha," you start, gently prying your hand out of her grasp. "Am I in your way?"

It's a vague question, poorly strung together from your jumbled thoughts. But Martha knows exactly what you're trying to ask. She sends back a lopsided smile, lifting her cigarette for a quick suck off it. "You often are," she says.

She'll always find a way to duck out of prying questions, no matter how swiftly you pin her on the spot. She might've even been expecting it. You can detect a hint of guilt in her little half-joke. Still, you had to ask it while you have her attention.

"No, really," you push. "I feel like you always stop before you really want to. Am I holding you back from something?"

Your mind wanders to all the nights you've spent with her-- all the times she has slid you onto her lap, trailing kisses up your neck; the satisfaction in her hum whenever she breaks away; her warmth when she traces the work she left on your swollen lips. She'll murmur about how sweet you feel in her arms, and how she pities that this could never be something more.

Those constant nevers leave ugly gashes in your heart each time. Sometimes you feel like little more than a distraction. A wrench in her routine, kept around only to shake up the monotony of her normal duties. Martha, noble as she is reckless, does not like to deviate from her routines for long -- so the second she is called away again, she will cut you off without warning. That's how she always has been.

Why do you keep letting her come back?

She pivots her focus solely to you whenever she's in town, and you always believe her love is true. Call it naive, but you can't help it. You desperately wish that her nevers might change for you, turning into: I'll never let you go. That someday the tenderness in her touch will last.

Martha turns her back to the fence, propping her elbows up on either side of her. She lets out an affected hum.

"I guess I didn't meet your expectations tonight then?" She reaches for your waist, tugging you into her arms. "My bad. I'll make it up to you." Her fingers affectionately ruffle your hair, but once again, she's skipped over the point. On purpose, you're sure.

"I really do love you," she continues, lips falling to your ear. "It's not you that's holding me back. Actually, knowing I'll always find you in my way-- that's what keeps me going."

Always so cruel. But it works like a charm on you everytime. Maybe this once, her words might be genuine.

[death-note-lawlight-fic-recs]

Lawlight ffnet fic recs

This is probably going to be the main post for ffnet fic recs. There's only so much I can do in 30 minutes, so they're not exactly organized by categories. Will add more later, probably.

Check the summary and notes. Read the warnings and authors notes for each fic. I'm not responsible for what you end up reading, rating wise.

Please note, fics that are also on ao3 aren't here.

Bestest of the best. So Good, I can't recommend enough. Go read it asap.

Of Music

Summary: Light is at the theatre, escaping from his life as he does every performance. Fate hands him her calling card in the way of a stranger sitting across the room. Can Light maintain his life when this one man manages to slip into it like he belongs there? AU

Notes: At the top of this list is my very favorite and probably the best Death Note fic of all time. Have you read Of Music? No? Then go read it right now.

Coexistence is Boredom

Summary: A new deathnote. A new plan for world sanctity. And an entirely misled Catholic clergy. Raito and L take their respective places on the sides of their own justice. A final battle waged in the Garden of Eden.

Notes: Another one of my favorites, this fic is a post-Yotsuba arc AU.

Redeemer

Author's note/summary: The story takes place after Death Note ends, although the main characters have not died. Here the Yellowbox Warehouse is essentially the pinnacle of L's 6-year long offensive against Kira, who believes L to be dead, when he really isn't. L faked his death, and proceeded with the case behind the cover of his three top heirs, Mello, Matt and Near. Kira himself doesn't succumb to his defeat, but is instead rescued at the last moment by his nemesis lover who decides that a more apropos end to the God of the New World is not death--but redemption, in the form of a new case and a 5th so-called Kira, that L and Light must bring down together… or risk losing everything. Yes, there is actually a plot LOL Buuuut, this puppy has yaoi and pairing's aplenty. LxLight and MelloxMatt are technically the mains, but when you cut straight down to it, this is a story about Light and Mello and how they go from hate to need, from enemies to lovers, and maybe even something more…

Notes: This fic... isn't on ffnet. Nor on ao3. This fic is on adultffnet. Mind the tags, the pairings, and allll the warnings. This fic isn't for everyone. I'd recommend it as 21+ age group. It still has amazing plot, Light's psychological and character analysis and development as L attempts to make Light give up being Kira for him. I've warned you. If you still read it, then it's on you. There's also a few sequels with B, but the author has taken them down.

Redivivus

Summary: The most important thing Ryuk learned watching Light Yagami was how to follow the rules to the letter and still break them.

Notes: Another of my favorites. This fic has Ryuk enabling Light to time travel, kid!Light shenanigans, Light trolling L, L trolling Light, and pre-lawlight dynamics (since Light is a pre-teen while L is a teen).

Disorder

Summary: L's ordinary day is interrupted by a not-so-ordinary disappearance that he's determined to solve. And when it reappears right under his nose? Obviously a personal attack on his detective abilities-time for mystery, revenge and maybe even a little romance!

Notes: Light runs away, L takes the case. Anything more would be spoilers. This author has a lot of other amazing fics, so check those out as well!

Memento Mori

Summary: Light is brutally assaulted and decides to end it all –and what better way then to admit he's Kira and let his nemesis do it for him? Of course, things with L can never be so simple. L/Light.

Note: Another amazing fic by the author of Primitive Liars. The summary is accurate.

Between Black and White

Summary: When L captures Light, he finds himself unwilling to relinquish his kindred spirit to the police, and instead has other plans to make Kira atone for his crimes. But the saga of Shinigami, genius intellect and old memories - BB - has only just begun.

Note: L is a selfish, manipulative bastard. L won and wanted Light to stay. Light's willingness to stay is another matter entirely, nice to have but not necessary.

Spira Mirabilis

Summary: Sayu, worried about her brother, decides to sneak into his room to steal his diary, triggering the explosion that causes her death and Light’s serious injury. With a scar and no memories of the Death Note, how will Yagami Light’s life unfold?

Note: I re-read this fic everytime I'm on a ffnet fic read binge. The characterization is amazing. Light is a human, L is a human, Sayu's death has consequences on Light's psyche and general relationship with the Yagami family. L's relationship with Light is so soft and healing and tender.

Ragnarok

Summary: A serial killer emerges in Japan, basing his murders on Norse Mythology. NPA star-detective Light Yagami and the World's Greatest Detective L are both targets, and the case may lead to the end of the world for both of them.

Notes: The summary is very accurate. I love the pining that goes in here. This AU is very well thought out, with canon characters taking a whole new direction due to the lack of the Kira case.

Etched

Summary: It was a brief fling that lasted much longer than it was supposed to. One a student and part-time forensic artist, the other the greatest detective in the world. When it ended, both were sure they'd never meet again. But fate had other plans.

Notes: Two very safe, lonely men fall in love with each other. They both have secrets. Their secrets and lack of trust does not make up for their love for each other. Alas, the fic stops at an interesting time. But the relationship development is still to read for.

Better than the rest

Tale of Two Death Notes

Summary: The Death Note was destined to bring them together, the rest was up to them.

Notes: Light as a scientist/researcher type working on the death note, L as the detective whose case has brought him to the mystery of the death note.

I Won't Say

Summary: Having found out L's name, Light can finally have everything he wants: the world and, more importantly, L. Convincing L, however, turns out to be more difficult than killing him, especially with a house full of orphans to stir the soup. Christmas fluff balanced by a power struggle between the dynamic duo.

Notes: Probably the best Christmas themes lawlight fic. It's soft, tender, understanding, there's communication, trust building, family bonding, and a happy ending

K

Summary: Young Light's parents are murdered and he's sent to Wammy's. For a while, he's thrilled- it's challenging AND he's meeting people like A and C! …And L. Jerk. Then B shows up, and, well… stuff goes bad. Fast. With havoc as only B can wreak.

Notes: Light is a pathological liar. L is into that.

Irrefutable Connection

Summary: L lays open his life, soul and existance to Light and Light does the same for L, writing the last of his secrets upon L's skin. Light and L forge an unbreakable agreement to never betray each other; aiding and influencing one another without fear.

Notes: Lawlight confess their identities, there's smut and plotting involved, a 'L joins Kira' fic, I guess.

Desideratum

Summary: L didn't have a real name and he finds his immunity to the Death Note tragic. Light joins him on his journey of self discovery when Interpol joins the task force in finding Kira. The battle of the wits between detective and suspect isn't over.

Notes: None. I don't recall enough about this fic other than that it was good.

Infection

Summary: A virus rampaged Europe and two top detectives find themselves stuck amongst the aftermath. Suspicions are raised and concluded, emotions are tested. Whoever said death was supposed to be easy?

Notes: Lawlight, with zombie virus around. I don't recall enough about this fic other than that it was good.

Hurt, Angst, Tragedy. Comfort? What's that? Is it tasty?

The Prince

Summary: He is not a saint. He is not God. Even his sense of justice is skewed. After all, how can Kira rationalize his use of the Death Note when he himself is nothing but a common criminal? A member of the yakuza?

Notes: Read the authors warnings at the start of this fic. Another fic I'd say is 21+, this fic has Light kidnapped and forced to be a yakuza member. Alll the warnings apply. Amazing plot, character growth makes sense, I want to wrap Light in a blanket burrito and never let go.

Asylum

Summary: Upon recovering his memories of Kira, Raito has a terrible choice to make. What he does choose throws him into a realm of insanity and suddenly it's the God of the New World that needs the rescuing--and L is the only one who can help.

Notes: Another fic that I'd recommend is 21+. Has a sequel 'Silence'. The fic name and summary is accurate, with all the warnings that implies.

True Elision

Summary: Raito dies and becomes nothing. But the Shinigami need his soul,so they give him a second chance.They recreate his spirit and send him to a hellish trial where he must face his living nightmares.Intense romance comes late in fic

Notes: Lots of trigger warnings. You've been warned. Only hurt, no comfort for Light. Takes place post canon. Romance comes in veryyyy late in the game. I love how, in that one riddle scene, it shows that Light is very much human and not Shinigami material. Has a happy ending, if you can last till then.

A Cure for Love

Summary: Light and L fall in love during the Yotsuba arc and Light's master plan is derailed when an assassin steals the Death Note. The threat of Kira is dwarfed when Kira's powers seem to have fallen into the hands of a terrorist organization known as Astraea and Light and L are united to find the culprit, but for how long…

Notes: Every character in this fic wishes Light never gets back his Kira memories, including Light himself. Alas, he does. And every character suffers for it, including Light himself. Check the warnings before reading. Has a bittersweet ending.

Poison Apple

Summary: Death Note with a Disney spin. Maybe their poison drenched love, this twisted fairytale of most wicked beauty, is all that matters, even when L is dragged back from his grave and faced with his poisoned apple again.

Notes: No lawlight rec list including ffnet fics is complete without this fic. So here it is. Warnings apply.

Crack & Crack Taken Seriously (yes, both are different)

Death Note Dating Gameshow

Summary: Being the soon to be God of the new world can be a rewarding if lonely job. But do not fear obsessive Kira-worshippers, for Sakura Tv is here to ensure that the savior finds that special somebody.

Notes: The intro fic to death note lawlight crack fics. One of the best ever. Don't take it seriously.

Adaptation

Summary: Even Light’s plans don’t take spontaneously changing gender into account. Fortunately, he can adapt.

Notes: Light changes gender and that's all it takes to bring that UST to surface.

A Modest Proposal

Summary: Light, pathetically poor college student that he is, is in dire need of cash. The renowned detective and more importantly, multi billionaire L can help this wretched situation: and subsequently, the business negotiations begin.

Notes: Light is broke. Light studies economics. Light has a plan. A married couple have lower taxes. Now he only needs to convince L.

Discordant Harmony

Summary: What happens when new artist Yagami Raito manages to capture the attention of socially inept, anonymous artist L Lawliet? Hilarity, of course. Matchmakers, troublesome sisters, and crazy lawyers pretending to be drag queens? What is this world coming to?

Notes: THE Death Note Lawlight crack fic. This fic, to me, is the best of the best and defines the lawlight crack fic genre. They don't make fics like this anymore. Which, in a way, is good. One is enough. Plus, I reallyy don't know how any crack fic can top this one.

The End is Near

Summary: A horrible day gets a bit bet - er, worse - when Mello discovers that a certain albino boy has disa-Neared. Matt, Mello, L, and Light set out to find him, come hell, high water, or chocolate shortages. Well, maybe not those.

Notes: The summary is pretty accurate. Its a crack fic, so keep your brains and logic outside the door when you read it.

12 Sides Of L

Summary: After a freak accident, the team and Raito find themselves in a place no human should ever have been before. In the mind of the greatest detective, L.

Notes: I've never read a fic with this plot before. A unique AU, delves into L's mind, literally. Crack taken seriously.

Night and Day

Summary: The NPA are assisting mysterious detective L with a new case. Raito has to work with an unusual partner…

Notes: Crack taken seriously. A good enough case fic, where Light and L meet on a case.

[alteredphoenix]

The Talon Trick (StP Card Games AU)(Chapter 1)[WIP]

A/N: So a lot of people seemed to really like this idea I came up with for an StP fic that I'd like to do if the inspiration struck me (featuring the Princesses playing card games in the Long Quiet to pass the time while waiting for the Hero to show up - which shocked me, because I wasn't expecting such a positive reaction), and that provided just enough motivation to write something out. This first chapter is just about done, but as I have a bad habit of leaving a multi-chaptered fic to the wayside shortly after losing steam this isn't something I'm ready to post on AO3 - at least not right away. (And I do feel bad about that, but it's something I've struggled with for years and trying to overcome.)

I think stockpiling a few chapters and then uploading them is a better idea (and probably a much better course of action for me to do in the long run), so have this little snippet for the time being while I force my brain to sit still long enough to finish the chapter and give it some polish.

-

The Princess slowly, heavily, drags herself up into a sitting position, strawberry blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in one big curtain. Her chest heaves, sucking in lost air. Absentmindedly, she reaches one hand up and feels for the tiara sitting neatly over her scalp. One pat, two pats, and she finds it.

Somehow, beyond all reason, it’s stayed on. She huffs quietly and tips it back upright from where it was all but hanging over the side of her head.

She spares a moment to stare at the floor, a grey several shades darker with hints of a color mixed between rain-washed stone and muddied brown – and shifting. She squints, frowning, and stares down harder, even blinking several times for good measure. But the scene doesn’t change; those are lines, cross-hatched and messy and sketchy, like the ones she recalled seeing on the basement floor and chipped into the walls, shift and shudder in every direction, both to her and away from her. Some of the patches even fade in and out of sight, reappearing further ahead into another patch of the floor that quickly assimilates into another network of jumping, dancing cross-hatching. A tentative brush of her left hand makes a rivulet of lining readjust and follow along the curve of her fingertips.

Brows knit, the Princess picks her head up and casts a slow, sweeping gaze around her. The area – the world – is grey tinted beige as far as the eye can see – and nothing else. They continue to shift and retract and connect down here as they did up in the air, one long, pervasive wall of cloud and fog without end. A sound like a breeze sighing through the leaves on the trees pricks teasingly at her ears. She turns her head one way and then the other, listening, straining; the sound travels with her, cloying and evasive.

Confusion wells in the pit of her stomach. “...Where am I?” she asks aloud.

“You are here, returned to me, where you belong.”

“Who--” she begins, turning back around, and jumps back, the gasp ripping right out of her.

A young woman stands, far away yet close and larger than life. She has the same blonde hair, the same pink dress that conforms to her slim, pale curves, the same silvery tiara upon her head. The same voice, the Princess notes belatedly, soft yet quietly monotone, and feels her mouth fall open. She swallows thickly, tears her mind away from the fact to gaze up and down at the woman’s body. All around her, from the top of her head to the sloping V of her navel, small hands attached to long, slender arms shifted and waved and flexed with a fluidity both stunted and natural, some grasping absently at the air. One hand drapes over her eyes. A pair of hands cover her breasts. Another pair wraps over her bony shoulders in a loose embrace, the same which a second pair cupped the pointed joints of her hips.

“What the….” the Princess begins, mouth and brain working. “Who are...What...are you…?”

“I am solitary lights in an empty city. Oceans reduced to shallow creeks. Trees without a forest. I am infinite.”

The Princess blinks. One slender eyebrow arches up. “…Huh?”

“I am you,” says the woman. “You are me. Pieces of a dream on the path to being whole. A fragile vessel.”

The Princess swallows again. “...I don’t understand.”

“You will, in time. But know that what I speak is the truth, and this truth will set us free.”

“Free,” the Princess echoes. “Free from, uh...what, exactly?”

“Here,” the woman says, and a dozen-dozen hands fan out behind her and gesture at the shifting, grey mass of clouds and sketch lines. “I have only just now wakened from these trappings of unconsciousness, but the answer remains all the same: there is no exit. The concept of an exit does not exist; not even the concept of time exists. It merely is. But I know there are worlds beyond the Long Quiet, worlds that can be reached, and there will come a time for when we will find them.”

“So,” the Princess begins, drawing the word out, tentative and venturing, “we’re stuck here. This, uh… This Long...Quiet.”

“We are.”

“But you just woke up.”

“I did.”

“Like, right now.”

“More or less.”

The Princess stares at her. Her other eyebrow rises. “...So how do you know there aren’t any exits if you just—“ She shakes her head. “You know what, never mind."

[non-un-topo]

College, Car Seats, and Creamy Pasta (ficlet)

(This title, idk.) So I’ve been having feelings lately about the old guard with babies in modern aus, so here’s an experimental, kind of self-indulgent ficlet filled with extreme amounts of softness and bébé feels <3

_______________________________

There’s an infamous story all the way back from college that Joe loves to share which involves Andy drunkenly rolling her ankle on a beach and Joe having to carry her home--though, she could have walked, but Joe demanded to carry her--and fashioning an ice pack out of the only things he could find in his and Nicky’s tiny, decrepit apartment: A condom, and some ice from a small McDonald’s sprite (their freezer was broken when they moved in).

He lives to tell that story every chance he gets. Especially now, as he reaches into Andy and Quỳnh’s (much bigger and much colder) freezer nearly fifteen years later to retrieve a not-homemade ice pack and wrap it in a clean dishtowel for Andy’s poor crotch.

She’s lounging on the couch, even though she’s proven that she can walk, but Joe doesn’t mind, as she reaches back for the ice pack and shoots him a sly smile that says, Yeah, I know exactly which story you’re thinking about. He bats his eyelashes innocently back.

It’s a balmy Friday evening and Quỳnh’s still at work, though likely on her way home, so Joe has taken the liberty of cooking dinner. Andy begged to order a pizza, but Joe was not having it. And he thought himself to be the lax one of the bunch. If Nicky were in the kitchen at the time, it would have been anarchy.

“Thanks, Joe,” Andy says, as she settles into a more comfortable position on the couch with her ice pack, sighing. He adjusts the pillows at her back, which causes her to snort and slap his hand away.

“I’m not dying.”

Joe sniffs. “Yeah, coulda fooled me. How much did that baby weigh again?”

Andy laughs out a quiet, fuck off. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” she says, quick as a whip.

“God…”

The baby, the reason for Joe and Nicky’s visit to Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment, is fairly chunky, sure, but he looks awfully tiny and pink, especially when he’s wearing his little hat. The hat with little lamb ears that Nicky painstakingly knit for him months ago, when he was barely more than a bump, that rarely leaves his soft little head. Nicky hadn’t even known how to knit at the time.

The baby’s name is Lykon, after a childhood friend of Andy and Quỳnh. Lykon was born at 4:26 AM on Monday. It’s Friday evening. Joe and Nicky have not left the apartment since Andy and Quỳnh brought him home.

And neither Andy nor Quỳnh have physically kicked them out, so Joe is staying right here.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes ago to go change the baby while Andy napped, but he reappears then, slinking into the living room with Lykon held against his shoulder--he’s so little in Nicky’s hands, they almost swallow him--and Joe smiles at his husband in greeting before doing a double-take.

“Babe,” Joe says, and Andy cranes her neck to try and see Nicky over the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

Nicky continues his journey across the living room floor--lunges, he’s doing lunges. Deep ones that make Joe’s eyebrows jump up in appreciation.

Nicky releases a finger from his gentle grip on the baby’s head and presses it to his lips. “Shush.”

“You trying to get your ass workout in while carrying my son? Really?” Andy asks.

Nicky’s response is whispered so softly, Joe can hardly hear him. “This is the only way I can get him to sleep.”

“Put him in the car seat,” Andy says, like it’s the most simple solution in the world.

“He likes it,” Nicky argues, still whispering.

Andy only shrugs. “Okay, but if he spits up on you…”

And right on cue, Joe hears a tiny gurgle, and there’s baby puke sliding down Nicky’s back.

Andy doesn’t say, told you so, but she doesn’t need to. Her smug grin is enough. With a poorly hidden pout, Nicky reluctantly hands the baby, who is now crying quiet little wobbly squeals, to Andy.

“You know,” Andy says, “you guys don’t have to stay. You have other commitments, I know.”

It’s the first time since Lykon’s birth that she’s said something like that, and Joe is only moderately surprised to feel a sudden onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Or not,” she says, quickly. “We really appreciate your help, boys, it’s just… We don’t want to keep you.”

“Andy, shut up.”

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Okay, Joe, okay. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Nicky says. Then he leans over the couch to peer into Lykon’s squishy little face. “And we especially love you.”

His voice changes when he talks to the baby. While Joe can’t control the way his voice raises several octaves and the way he coos gibberish, Nicky’s voice softens and hushes to something so comfortable, barely audible. It’s the way he would talk to a fussy toddler, Joe thinks, given the opportunity. He would level his eyes with them and speak to them like a person equal to him, providing the safest and most non-judgemental space for them.

Joe thinks. He hasn’t had many opportunities to see his husband speak with toddlers.

“I would be worried about you guys kidnapping him,” Andy says, “but I think it only counts as kidnapping if you leave the apartment.”

Joe snorts, and then he hears the water boiling over on the stove, so he dashes.

When Joe met Andy and Quỳnh, he had been a wide-eyed twenty-year-old, freshly out of the closet and already hopelessly in love. Well, that hasn’t changed, which always delights him to realize, after all these years. It was the love of his young life--Nicky, of course--who introduced him. Andy and Nicky were family friends, more like siblings, really, and of course Andy and Quỳnh had been together since the dawn of time. It took Joe no time at all to find a family in the four of them, inseparable as they all were.

Andy and Quỳnh had actually surprised him when they started talking about kids. That unexpected and world-changing conversation had been the beginning of a long and at times heartbreaking four years, before they finally got their donor, then suffered through a little over a year of IVF. They had almost given up, Joe remembers, between the frustration and the arguments and doctors telling Andy her eggs were too old. But, there he was, at the end of the journey, coming into the world flipping off everyone who said they couldn’t do it: Baby Lykon, the little warrior.

Joe remembers all of it vividly. The phonecall when they told him and Nicky they were pregnant, the panic to help them find a bigger apartment, the indulgent shopping trips, though Andy tried to keep a cap on those, and the weight and warmth of the baby in Joe’s arms the very first time he held him, barely thirty minutes after he’d been born.

Joe had sobbed, of course (something Andy and Quỳnh had anticipated so strongly they bet money on how long he cried for), and he looked into the baby’s big brown eyes and promised him the world.

They had talked about kids. Of course, they had. He and Nicky. But life was busy, and in the last five years between Joe finishing his dissertation and Nicky’s mother getting sick, the subject of kids just hadn’t come up. Besides, Joe thinks now, he’s only thirty-three.

Quỳnh comes home as he’s dishing up dinner for everyone--a creamy, cheesy pasta, because it’s the best comfort food--and her eyes brim with tears when she gets to hold Lykon again. She hasn’t been able to get a lot of time off work, even after becoming a new parent, which Joe thinks is frankly outrageous, but the work she does as a crisis counsellor is of course monumentally important.

They huddle around the couch to eat dinner, but Nicky pulls up one of the rickety chairs from the kitchen table and sits next to the baby, who is snoozing in his car seat on top of the coffee table. Joe doesn’t know how he does it, but Nicky manages to eat his dinner, drink enough water, and hold a conversation while keeping Lykon’s car seat rocking gently so he doesn’t wake up and scream.

Joe watches him as he chews his pasta mindfully and leans close to peer into the car seat. Beautiful. He’s always so beautiful, especially now. The way he looks at Lykon--their nephew, Joe realizes, elated--makes Joe’s head spin off his shoulders. He feels like he’s twenty.

“Crazy how tiny he is,” says Quỳnh, her voice soft and reverent. She already sounds so much like a parent. Joe’s eyes are still on his husband, so he sees how brightly Nicky smiles at that.

Andy makes an indignant noise. “Shut the fuck up.”

Quỳnh laughs, though she tries with obvious effort to keep quiet. She pulls Andy closer, her arm draped over her shoulder, and presses three kisses to her cheek. Then Quỳnh catches Joe’s eye and winks.

Andy shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth and moans as she chews. With a full mouth, she says, “Joe, this is perfect. Please, boys, never leave.”

Joe shrugs bashfully, pretending to be shy. “It’s Nicky’s recipe.”

“What did you use,” Quỳnh asks.

Joe hums. He juts his chin to the kitchenette. “Your parmesan, mostly, and that fancy milk.”

“What fancy milk,” Andy asks, absolutely stuffing her face.

“Y’know.” Joe waves a hand. Chews, swallows. “The milk in the fancy bag, from the fridge.”

Andy and Quỳnh both stop eating, their eyes bugging out. Quỳnh slaps a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh and clearly choking a little, and Andy looks… Oh, Andy looks furious. Her face is red.

“J-” She forcefully lowers her voice, shooting a fearful glance at the baby. “Joe,” she whispers through her teeth. “Did you use my fucking breast milk?”

“Dio.” Nicky sticks his fork back into his dish.

“Oh,” Joe says, like an idiot. “Um.”

Andy’s cheeks puff out and somehow her face turns an even darker shade of red.

“I pumped…” she whispers, low and lethal, slow. “...For so… long…”

“There’s more in the fridge, babe,” Quỳnh says, and Joe fears for her life for a hot second. Then she brings her hand out to hover over Andy’s chest. “And it’s not like the tap is running dry, or whatever.”

“So I’m a milk bag.”

“A badass, sexy milk bag who--oh, who is murdering me with her eyes right now.” Quỳnh turns on Joe, then, scooping another forkful of breast-milk-pasta into her mouth and jabbing the fork in his direction. “You’re gonna be up all night paying my wife back for this, genius. See how skilfully you can wipe meconium from his bum.”

Joe only nods in shame. Fair enough.

Lykon signals that he’s awake, then, with a series of soft little snorty grunts that devolve very quickly into shrieking, wobbly sobs. Nicky launches into action with a speed that rivals the pitcrews at NASCAR. He lifts him from the car seat with such gentleness and oh, Joe’s heart breaks to see the baby’s little lips trembling as he cries, the way his little feet kick out against Nicky’s chest as he holds him over his forearms. Nicky is about to pass him to his moms when Quỳnh smiles softly up at him and says, “Looks like you’ve got him.”

He throws her a glance as if to ask, are you sure, and Quỳnh and Andy both nod. Joe’s sure they’re grateful to have the small amount of rest time and, looking at them now, curled together on the couch in their soft clothes, exchanging light kisses, he knows he and Nicky haven’t come close to overstaying their welcome.

“Look at you, Nico,” coos Andy as Nicky carefully holds the baby against his shoulder to peek at his diaper through the waistband his tiny pants. “You’re making us look bad.”

Nicky only chuckles lightly and shakes his head. The diaper must be clean, because he leaves it be and brings a hand up to cup the back of the baby’s wispy-haired head more steadily, and begins to hum, almost a whisper, and Joe’s heart flutters.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” Nicky asks Andy when the baby continues to fuss.

Turns out he is hungry, because he quiets almost immediately when Andy brings him to her chest. It’s not silent in the apartment--Joe can hear some sirens through the window on the streets far below, can hear the air conditioner groan to life, can hear Quỳnh and Nicky’s forks clink against their plates as they continue to eat the questionable breast-milk-pasta (good lord). And, Joe can hear the soft little grunts and snorts that the baby makes as he feeds.

Joe watches his oldest friends--they’re parents now, he can hardly believe it--as they huddle close on the couch and watch their son. Quỳnh wraps her arms under Andy’s so they’re both holding him, and his little chubby fist twitches and flings out every once in a while against Andy’s rolled-up shirt. His feet look impossibly small. Joe remembers the sounds he made when he and Nicky went shopping for all manner of baby supplies to help shave some stuff off Andy and Quỳnh’s list. He’d nearly sobbed when Nicky came up to the cart holding a pair of incredibly tiny socks (and then he had teared up and nearly passed out when Nicky popped the socks over his thumbs. A lot of people stared).

Joe would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of revisiting that store with Nicky every day since.

Now, he looks at his husband to find him already watching him, his heart in his eyes. Nicky slowly moves his gaze to their friends, to the baby, and Joe follows it. When their eyes meet again, Nicky’s are a little damp with tears, but he’s smiling, and there’s something inquisitive and hopeful in his eyes. Joe matches him and slowly, they both nod.

Yes.

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

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The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[fanficimagery]

Friends in High Places

Summary: When Spencer comes home with files to a case that has his team stumped, he's surprised when you- his neighbor for a couple years now- is the person who gives them a new lead to follow. That and that you're ex-SHIELD.

Words: 8K Warnings: This is what I get for starting a rewatch of Criminal Minds and then watching Marvel movies all in one day. Fml. I've never written for Criminal Minds, so please excuse the mediocre-ness of their characterization. I have no idea what I'm doing; I just knew I wanted a crossover between these two fandoms. Also timeline? What are those? All you gotta know is that this is an AU where Bucky's joined the team and Steve DIDN'T ruin the life Peggy Carter would have had. As for the CM side, this is sometime after Hotch has left and Emily took over. Idk.

Having the night off and wanting nothing more than to just be lazy, you're sitting on your couch in your most comfiest clothes and mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr as your TV plays some program on Animal Planet. You're not even paying attention to the program, but the low sound is perfect for background noise.

You're queuing up some art posts that catch your attention, as well as some gif sets of the TV shows you've become a constant viewer of in the past few years, when there's a knock at your door. But not just any knock. It's a specific knock that you and your neighbor came up with after you got to know each other and became fast friends, and it was to let the other know they were home and wanted company. You mostly worked nights and his work schedule was always all over the place, so it's surprising you're both home at the same time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot him a quick text that you'll be over in five.

Spencer Reid is literally the man of every woman's dream, even if they didn't know it. He's cute and adorable and sometimes dangerously hot all rolled into one, and the best thing about it all is that he doesn't even know it. You had met him on one of your first few days in the apartment complex, but unfortunately it was during one of your slight panic attacks when a thunderstorm had caught you off guard while you were sitting in your car and you didn't have an umbrella.

He had seen and heard you freaking out as he was passing by, and knocked on the passenger window. You had collected yourself just long enough to roll the window down a few inches when he asked if you were okay, then proceeded to answer his own question by stating you obviously weren't. When he realized you lived in the same complex and asked if he could climb inside your car and out of the storm, you had stared at him in confusion until he realized that might have been a bit weird since you were strangers. He stammered his way through his explanation of being an FBI agent and after showing you his badge you had let him in.

You didn't have to tell him what was making you panic and he proceeded to keep your mind occupied. He asked about you and where you had moved in from, and spewed random facts about anything to temporarily make you forget about the storm raging outside. But the torrential rain wasn't letting up and the lightning was only getting closer and closer. He made you realize you had to make a run for it and even offered up his umbrella for you. You had thanked him with tears in your eyes and made a run for it on the count of three when you were settled just enough.

Inside the lobby of your apartment building, you had stood there trembling while Spencer nervously gripped onto the strap of his messenger bag as he stood across from you. When you were shaking the water off his umbrella, you hesitantly told him your reasoning for your freak-out. It wasn't necessarily the thunderstorm, but rather the torrential rain that wasn't letting up. A few years back you had a drowning incident and too much water on your face tended to bring back those memories. He said he understood and then with a sympathy tinged smile he offered to walk you to your apartment. It was a pleasant surprise to learn you had only lived two doors down from him.

Weeks turned into months and months into a couple of years, and you and Spencer were nearly inseparable when you both had the same day/night off.

So after quickly fixing your already messy hair so you don't look like a complete slob, and pulling on a loose hoodie, you grab your phone from the sofa and then head on out. Your socked feet keep your footsteps quiet as you head down to Spencer's door where you knock three times on it before opening it up and stepping inside.

But before you can greet him with a cheesy welcome, he's already calling out, "Hope you haven't had dinner. I picked up some burgers on the way home."

On cue, your stomach grumbles. "God bless you, you beautiful, beautiful man!" You hear him laugh from a room that's not where his kitchen is, so you make a beeline for the kitchen instead of accidentally walking in on him changing. There are two paper bags on the table and you quickly grab plates from his cabinet to separate the food on. Spencer enters the kitchen in a shirt and some gray joggers, and you greet him with a beaming smile. "You're home and in one piece! Yay!" He laughs and you quickly lean in to peck his cheek, not saying a word when you catch sight of his pink tinged cheeks. "You have any beer?"

"Yes. Grab two, please."

"Got it." You hear one of his kitchen chairs creak as you open his refrigerator to grab two beers, you then searching a nearby drawer for the bottle opener. Once you find it, you walk back over to the table and open each beer before handing one over to him.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." Taking a seat, you set your beer down before unwrapping your burger and dumping your fries out onto the plate. "So what's up, doc? You're home surprisingly early."

"We've hit a wall on our latest case," he says, keeping it vague. "There was nothing for us to do while Garcia did her thing, so Emily sent us home for a bit."

"Nice." You take a bite of your burger and your eyes widen when Spencer's eyebrows raise in surprise. When you realize how your words sounded, you're quick to backtrack. "Wait! It's not nice that you hit a wall, but nice that you got sent home! I got free food out of it. That's why it's nice. Not because, you know, you haven't found the-"

"Y/N, you're rambling," Spencer says, lips twitching. "I understood what you meant."

You sigh, shoulders dropping, and grab half a fry to toss at him. "Eat your food, Reid. It's getting cold."

It surprisingly doesn't take long for the two of you to eat your dinner, you both being hungrier than you first thought. After you're done, Spencer turns down a second beer but tells you to help yourself. You do. And on the way into his living room, you bump into one of his chairs and knock his bag over. You gasp and set your beer down on the coffee table, falling to your knees to scoop up his files that had spilled out.

Chuckling, Spencer crouches next to you as you profusely apologize.

"It's okay. It was an accident." A few pictures had slid out of their files and normally you'd just shove them back in because his work wasn't any of your business, but the face staring back up at you makes you pause. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little heavy on the eyeliner, and a lip piercing. You know her. "Y/N?" You gulp and flip to another picture- brown hair, brown eyes, mole above the right eyebrow. You know her too. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

With trembling hands, you flip back to the first picture and show it to him. "Is Lilian dead?"

Spencer's eyes widen. "You knew her?"

Knew. Past tense. She is dead. Showing him the second picture, you nod sadly. "Kyndall too."

He seems to stop breathing then and from one moment to the next he's opening files and pulling out picture after picture. As you stare at each of them, you grimace and swallow down the bile that's threatening to climb its way up your throat. "Y/N, do you know any of the others?"

Shakily exhaling, you point at each picture. "Desiree, Celeste, Maria. I don't know this one, but I think her last name was Valdez? And then the male is Tim."

Spencer falls on his butt, staring at you in surprise. "That's right. We know their names and their current line of work, but that's about it. Their files only seem to go back a few years. Everything between the end of their high school career and current line of work seems to be scrubbed clean. Do you- do you know of any connection between these people? Any little thing you know can possibly be a big help to my team."

Your gaze darts up to him and your heart sinks. You've managed to keep your past mostly hidden, but now it seems the time has come to tell him what you did before. "They, uh, they're all ex-agents of SHIELD. The real SHIELD, not HYDRA."

"What?"

"If I remember correctly, they were computer analysts or paper pushers. They had gun training as one would think an agent would have, but they were agents who didn't really have to train in hand-to-hand since they never made it out into the field."

"You're positive? How do you know this?"

You gulp. "Because I'm ex-SHIELD too."

Spencer blinks at you, but then in the next moment he's up on his feet and reaching for his phone. He places a quick phone call, stepping into another room and leaving you alone. Your stomach sinks and you have a feeling that this confession might have just put a wedge in your friendship. After all, though ex-agents were being picked up by other different branches of the government, you weren't sure just how exactly trustworthy all ex-agents were being treated.

Spencer reappears, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. "Do you mind coming with me back to work? My co-workers could really pick your brain about this."

You blink at him. "W-What? You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" He chuckles. "Why would I be mad? I mean I wish I had known what you did so I didn't have to worry about you being alone when I left for a case, but I can see why you would keep that underwraps. HYDRA made a lot of people paranoid."

"Tell me about it," you mumble. Then after a few seconds, you finally climb up to your own two feet. "Um, just let me go put on some shoes. I'll meet you in the hall."

Spencer's smile and nod eases some of your worries, but you still quickly make an escape to go put on some shoes. Your front door bangs open and you hurry to your hall closet. Yanking open that door, you pull on the first pair of Converse you come across. Then taking a moment to think, you grab a pair of knee high boots that you use every once in a while. Reaching inside, you grab your old badge and a USB stick, sticking your badge in your back pocket and the USB in your front pocket. Then grabbing your keys from the hook by the front door, you shut the door after exiting and lock it. Spencer is waiting down the hall for you and you jog towards him. He tightly smiles and then leads you downstairs, towards his car, and you sit quietly in his passenger seat while he drives.

On the way towards Spencer's place of work, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly did you do with SHIELD if you don't mind me asking."

You shrug. "Cat's out of the bag now, so I don't mind." You chuckle though it kind of falls flat. "I was, uh, a computer analyst for a while. But then I was taken on a field trip with a few agents and we ended up trading bullets with several not so nice guys. The field agents liked the way I handled myself and requested I level up, so to speak."

"And you never thought of trying to get hired on with anyone else? If I recall, the FBI and CIA were picking up ex-SHIELD agents after the fall."

You shake your head. "Remember that drowning incident I mentioned? Or the reason why I can't take baths anymore and have to turn my shower on and off between washing?" Spencer hums, remembering what he thought were odd quirks until he realized it was all because of your fear of certain amounts of water. "That drowning incident was HYDRA's fault. I spent months in rehab and just- well, no one wanted a damaged agent."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of glad they didn't. I quite like my neighbor who picks up take-out and bakes sweets for me after a rough case."

You try not to think too much about his words and instead choose to smile at him before looking out your window. The drive is only about twenty minutes and fortunately the radio fills in the semi-tense silence.

When you get to the FBI building, Spencer escorts you inside with a hand at the small of your back. You're given a visitor's badge and you quickly clip it onto the hem of your hoodie. The elevator ride up to the BAU's main floor is a short one and it opens up to a wall of glass where you can see several desks behind it.

Spencer opens the door for you and you can't help but make yourself seem as small as possible. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself as you enter the room. There are several people milling about, but no one pays you any attention. Only one female, dark bangs covering her forehead while the rest of her hair falls just passed her shoulders, heads towards you once she spots you and Spencer.

"Y/N," Spencer says, introducing you to the woman as she nears, "this is our Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Emily, this is my good friend Y/N Y/L/N."

Emily is all smiles as she reaches to shake your hand. "Hi! It's nice to finally meet the girl who takes care of our boy wonder after cases."

Spencer nervously chuckles and you find yourself genuinely grinning. "It's nice to finally meet you too. I've heard some funny stories about all you guys."

"I will neither confirm nor deny any of those."

Emily then leads you towards a room where three others are waiting. "Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Friend of Spence and ex-agent of SHIELD. Y/N, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau, and our very own technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

Everyone happily greets you and Jennifer even gives you the go ahead to call her JJ. You're offered a seat at their round table and you glance at their board filled with pictures of people you used to work with. Spencer sits next to you and you offer him a feeble smile when he reaches beneath the table to squeeze your knee.

"Alright, guys, I know we're all interested in the girl who lives next to Spence, but we need to get down to business." Spencer groans as his teammates all chuckle. "So Y/N, is there anything else you can give us about the victims? What exactly did they do? Did they all personally know each other or just enough because they were coworkers? Even the smallest bit of info that you think is inconsequential can help us."

"I, uh, I can do you one better," you say. You shift in your seat and reach into your front pocket, pulling out the USB stick. "Since I figure all those NDA's we signed are now null and void thanks to Agent Romanoff's data dump, and because you're Spencer's friend, I feel comfortable handing this over. It kind of made me nervous keeping it in my house anyway."

You slide the USB towards Penelope and she gasps, snatching it up and holding it as if it were the holy grail. "Is this- are these files? Because let me tell you, I tried to download those files as soon as they hit the net but there were just so many and not even our WiFi could download it fast enough before they were scrubbed clean."

You grin and nod, chuckling at Penelope's squeal. "I started collecting everyone's files that I could get my hands on. I started with the baby agents- agents whose files wouldn't toss up red flags when their files were opened. The more clearance I was granted, the more files I was able to download."

"Oh my god. Yes! You are my new favorite person." Penelope rushes around the table, bending down to kiss your cheek with a loud mwah! "Reid, keep this one. I'll be in my lair."

The group all chuckle as you blush, but then Agent Morgan is clearing his throat. "Not that I'm not grateful about what you're giving up, but isn't what you were doing illegal?"

You shrug. "It possibly was, but then Director Fury realized I was memorizing it all and didn't have a problem with it so long as those files didn't leave my office."

"But you have them on you now," Morgan says.

"Yeah. The USB was hidden within my belongings in my office. My office surprisingly survived unscathed after Captain Rogers crashed the helicarriers into the Potomac, and my stuff was packed up and shipped to me while I was in rehab."

"If you don't mind me asking," JJ wonders, "but were you at the Triskelion when HYDRA came out or..?"

"I don't mind the questions at all," you say. "It's actually quite nice to talk about it with people who aren't eyeing me suspiciously." The group flashes you small smiles. "I was actually on a consulting job with a recently formed SHIELD team whose base was a humongous plane that was constantly on the move. Anyway, one of those trusted team members ended up being HYDRA. He led a group of his men onto the plane, killed half of us to get control of it, and then locked me and two scientists into a holding pod before dropping us into the middle of the ocean."

"The drowning incident," Spencer suddenly realizes.

You smile sadly at him, nodding. "We sank to the bottom of the ocean floor. There were three of us and only one little oxygen tank." Spencer grabs your hand beneath the table and you're grateful for the grounding pressure. "We gave it to Jemma. Fitz and I were going to attempt to swim, but we didn't make it. Fitz blacked out first, then me, and then- then nothing. We woke up in a trusted SHIELD facility, and Fitz and I couldn't operate like we used to. With our brains having been deprived of oxygen, it messed us up for a while."

"Wow," Emily says. "I am so sorry."

You shrug at her with a small smile. "It was all part of the job."

"What do you do now?" Morgan asks. "I hate to say it, but with all our victims being ex-SHIELD, and you as well, we have to rule you out as-"

"I get it." You smile in reassurance at him since it kind of pained him to admit that you could be a suspect and have Spencer glare at him for even thinking it. "I'm a bouncer at a bar most nights."

Morgan chuckles. "A bouncer? You!?"

"Hey! I might not look like much, but I did train with Avengers. I could probably give you a run for your money, agent Morgan."

"Okay, okay," he muses.

"I also work as private security for Stark Industries when they throw galas. If you need the exact dates I've been working, I can get that for you."

"Please," JJ says. "Spencer's already vouched for you, but protocol and all that. You understand."

"I do. I'll just- I'll text my bosses to email my clock-ins and clock-outs."

Pulling out your phone, you immediately text your boss at the bar and Pepper Potts. You keep the explanation vague as to why you need it, but assure them it's very much needed for a case the FBI is working on. They completely understand and you even have to make Pepper swear not to get Tony involved.

The emails come in not even ten minutes later and JJ happily takes your phone to run the dates with Penelope, promising to be quick about it. You remain in your seat, watching as Morgan and Emily walk towards the board and start tossing their thoughts back and forth over what they've learned so far.

Your hands are atop the table, thumbs chipping away the already chipped nail polish you have on. The second you raise your hand with the intent of chewing on your thumb nail, Spencer catches your hand. "You okay?" He quietly asks and you stare at him. He then lets your hand go as you pull them back into your lap.

"Yeah. Just getting kind of tired. And a bit anxious. Someone's targeting ex-SHIELD agents and I- well I'm one of those people."

"No one is going to hurt you, Y/N. I promise."

You feebly smile, not taking his words to heart because you know he can't actually keep that promise. He might want to, but you know better than to take these types of promises seriously in situations such as this.

JJ reappears, a bright smile in place as she hands you your phone. "I'm pretty sure Penelope programmed her number in there."

"That's fine." You chuckle. You lay your phone on the table, giving your attention back to Emily and Morgan who's now being joined by JJ.

"Guys, Garcia is having a ball right now. There's so much information she wasn't privy to before, but I'm not sure how any of it is going to help more than Y/N already has." Emily and Morgan look at JJ, waiting for her to explain. "We already know victims weren't the best at hand-to-hand, which the unsub clearly took advantage of. But we need to know what they were presently doing and if they were checking in with anyone because there are a lot of dead ex-agents. That's not a coincidence. Either someone who's ex-SHIELD or HYDRA is picking off ex-agents one by one, or someone who has a grudge against SHIELD found a list of ex-agents and is working their way down the list."

"Where do we even start?" Morgan asks, incredulous. "SHIELD technically doesn't exist anymore and those who are operating in the shadows are nearly impossible to track down thanks to the Avengers. None of them are exactly easy to get a hold of after General Ross made it his personal mission to bring in James Buchanan Barnes for crimes HYDRA made him commit. They like working on their own."

"We'd have to jump through a bunch of hoops just to get a face to face," Emily says, sighing. "If we're lucky they'll want in on the case since it's related to SHIELD."

"Um, actually.." You nervously raise your hand, calling all attention on you. "You can bypass all those hoops."

Emily stares at you, sitting on the edge of the table as she crosses her arms over her chest. "You still have connections, don't you?" At your sheepish grin, she huffs in amusement. Every other team member straightens with hope in their expressions.

"Agent Prentiss, I am the connection." As you pick up your phone once more, JJ and Morgan step closer to the table. You scroll through your contacts, finding the one you need and tapping on it. Then putting it on speaker, you try to soothe your nerves as the ringing through the speaker seems to make the atmosphere of the room become tense.

The ringing stops as the connection is made and then, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my second favorite human on God's green Earth." You roll your eyes at the charm oozing from him. "What kind of trouble are you in now, doll?"

Emily and JJ's eyes widen, and you shake your head in amusement. "Put your boyfriend on the line, Barnes. I'm calling in a favor."

"Are you calling to finally take us up on that offer of joining us for a night?"

Everyone in the room seems to freeze, although Morgan is highly enjoying where this seems to be going. You close your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You can't believe they just heard that. "Steve really needs to put a muzzle on you."

"Well if you're into that-"

"Bucky!" You bark. "You're on speaker." Morgan finally loses the battle with his laughter and you wish you can sink into your chair. Instead you have to settle for just insanely blushing and covering your face with one hand. "I'm currently with the BAU of the FBI. They have a case that they could use some help on."

"Oh." There's a beat of silence. "Christ, Y/N. You should have stopped me sooner. Stevie's gonna lecture me again. Hold on. I'll go get him."

The line goes silent and you nervously meet Spencer's gaze. He's the only one who doesn't seem as amused which is why you don't find Bucky's greeting as funny as you normally would. Something about his expression actually makes you wish Bucky hadn't said anything.

"Y/N?"

You sit a little straighter in your seat. "Hey, Cap."

"What's going on? Buck mentioned the FBI."

"Uh yeah. I'm with Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Doctor Reid," you tell him. "They've been dealing with a case that had gone cold and well I kind of made a connection they hadn't seen before because they couldn't, and uh I'm sure they could use your help."

"What was the connection?"

You look at Emily and she nods, letting you tell him. "Steve, all the victims are ex-SHIELD. Specifically agents who wouldn't have had too much training; who couldn't hold their own without a gun in hand."

There's a sharp inhale. "What do they need?"

Emily's eyes close in relief and she holds her hand out for your phone. You happily oblige her and hand it over. "Captain Rogers, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I'm the one in charge of my team here."

"Hello, Agent Prentiss. How can my team and I be of help?"

"Well we mainly need to pick your brains and ask some questions. We're aware that SHIELD is still operating to an extent, even if it is in the shadows, so we'd like to know if the victims were still affiliated with you. If we're dealing with someone who is or was from SHIELD or HYDRA, we'd like to have you involved since you have more experience with how they operate."

"That's fine. I'll gather my team and set up a room. Are you okay to set up base here in the Compound?"

"Yes!" JJ says, starting everyone. She clears her throat and calms herself. "Yes."

Steve chuckles. "Very well. Gather everything you need. I'll be sending a quinjet for you all since it'll be faster. Y/N knows the pick-up location."

"Thank you so much, Captain Rogers."

Emily hands you the phone and seeing that the call is still connected, you say, "Hey, Steve? Thanks for this."

"It's not a problem, sweetheart. Are you okay though? You're an ex-shield agent yourself."

"I know, but nothing has been out of the ordinary. I'm okay."

"Good. You coming too?"

"I was actually planning on going home after driving the agents to the location. I'm not an active agent anymore, bub."

"I know you're not, but with that agent neighbor of yours coming here I rather have you here as well so we can keep an eye on you." You sigh at his protectiveness. "Bring a change of clothes for a week. I'll have Nat get a hold of your boss and let him know some of what's going on so you'll have a job to go back to once all of this is over."

"You're a pain in the ass, Rogers."

Steve laughs. "See you soon, Y/L/N."

The call ends and you set your phone down. Glancing up, you smile sheepishly at the team staring at you. "So, uh, I guess I'm tagging along. Sorry about that."

Emily opens her mouth, her words getting stuck as she shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be. You got us working with the Avengers within minutes as opposed to taking hours, possibly even a day if I had to put in a request."

Morgan whistles appreciatively. "This is insane. I'm gonna give Garcia a heads up about our field trip. Expect another tag a long. I don't think she'll pass up this opportunity."

You chuckle as JJ says, "Rossi is going to be so pissed he took a vacation and missed out on working with the Avengers." Then looking at you, she adds, "Do you think Spider-Man will be there? My son absolutely loves him and I would be the coolest mom ever if I got a picture or video with him."

"I'm sure Pe- uh, I'm sure Spider-Man will make an appearance," you say. "He's always hanging around after his classes are done for the day."

JJ's eyes widen. "You totally know who he is."

"I do. And let me tell you, he absolutely adores kids. Ask and he'll happily oblige."

"Guys. Guys!" Emily says. "Case first, fangirl later."

Spencer snorts and you elbow him on reflex. He grumbles, Emily and JJ grin, and you innocently smile at Emily. "Sorry, Agent Prentiss. I'll just- I'll go sit on that couch over there so I'm not in the way."

Emily starts telling her team what needs to be done, repeating herself again when Morgan returns with a clearly excited Garcia. Morgan informs everyone he'll go gather the boxes of files while Spencer immediately sets out to disassemble the board of pictures and post-its. Garcia excitedly rushes back to her own office to pack up a few things, while Emily and JJ figure out what all they'll need to be taking with them.

To keep yourself occupied, you waste a few minutes by playing a game on your phone.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but someone hesitantly sitting next to you takes your attention off your phone. Glancing up, you see Spencer sitting there and realize everyone else has cleared out of the room. "We should be ready to head out in about ten minutes."

"Oh. Okay."

There's a moment of silence and then, "Soo.. Bucky Barnes." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, and you can tell his amusement isn't exactly genuine. "He's- he's not the type of person I pictured you with if I'm being honest."

"Barnes?" You snort. "Ew. No." Spencer seems surprised by your reply. "Bucky likes to flirt with me because he knows it won't go anywhere. He's well aware of the actual person I have a crush on and he respects that. Mostly."

"O-Oh? So there is someone in the picture then?"

"Well, not really," you say. Squirming in your seat, you're not totally comfortable with the direction this talk has taken until you see you're not the only one squirming. Spencer is avoiding eye contact, but he's also clearly awaiting your answer. There's also a telltale flush up the side of his neck to the tips of his ears, and- oh. Oh. Seeing how nervous Spencer suddenly is makes you feel better. So better, in fact, that you feel you should speak up about something that you've kept secret for a while. "Well I mean I'd like there to be," you say, grinning when he freezes. "The thing is, he actually lives down the hall from me." Cue him holding his breath. "He's totally adorable, but also secretly hot which is so unfair, and he works for the FBI." Spencer's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide. You smile sheepishly and shrug. "The only downfall is that he's way too good for someone like me, so I settled for friendship."

Your heart is beating terribly fast and the only thing keeping you glued to your seat is Spencer grinning bashfully, cheeks pink. "If you ask me, I don't think he's too good at all. I-If anything, he probably thinks you were too good for him which is why he never made his own feelings known."

Relief washes over you and you laugh. "We're idiots, huh?"

Lips pressed together, he smiles wide. Then, "A little."

"Rain check on this discussion? We've got Avengers to greet and you have a case to solve."

"Of course!" Spencer hastily stands, offering you a hand up. Grinning, you take it and let him pull you to your feet while shoving your phone into your back pocket. "Wherever we're going, is it okay to leave our vehicles there?"

"Yeah. It's private property and pretty secluded. No one gets in without codes."

"Okay then. We'll swing by our building for your bag and then you can direct one of the drivers while the other follows."

"Sure. Sounds like a plan."

Because of the connection between the list of victims, you have an escort up to your apartment while you pack a bag. Emily and JJ happily accompany you, leaving Spencer to fend for himself with Morgan and Garcia.

In your apartment, the two female agents waste no time in subtly trying to figure out your exact feelings for their dear friend and you take great amusement in skirting around the answer they so desperately try to pry out of you. And it's only after your duffel is packed do you tell them you and Spencer had admitted some things to each other, but you are planning to talk about it further after their case is closed. JJ seems oddly giddy and Emily coos about their boy genius growing up. You blush, relieved that they've taken a to liking to you. Then when you get back to the vehicles, you know Spencer has been questioned as well given the smirks being sent your way.

The drive to the field isn't long and the team is impressed by the level of security for a seemingly abandoned airfield. There's an unmanned gate which you get off at to speak for voice recognition, punch in a specific code, give a hand print, and then secretly have your forefinger pricked for a blood sample. Then when the gate swings open, you quickly climb back into the car and instruct Emily towards the second gate where a guard sits. The guard greets you warmly and, after you introduce those in the vehicle with you, he assures you he knows all about the impending pick-up.

"So what exactly are we in for?" Morgan asks. You're all waiting in an opened hangar, the boxes they'd packed sitting on the ground.

"Your perceptions about them are about to be changed," you admit. "I'm sure you've all told yourselves that the Avengers are just like you and I, but you have no idea how true that it is until you meet them."

"Who is the nicest?" JJ wonders.

You take a moment to think about. "Honestly? They're all nice, but if I had to choose I'd choose Spider-Man. It's hard not to like him. The kid's a puppy."

"Who gives the best hugs?" Garcia quickly adds.

Everyone chuckles at her eagerness. "That's a tough one," you say. You ponder on it for a moment. "I say it's a tie between Steve and Thor. They hug full on, chest to chest. None of that half-assed, one arm hug nonsense."

Garcia practically swoons. "Oh to be wrapped up in those beefy Asgardian arms." You snort and shake your head in amusement.

Another twenty minutes pass and you regale Spencer and his friends about some of your work with SHIELD. But all too soon the telltale sound of a quinjet reaches your ears and when you look up you see one incoming.

"Well that was hella fast," Garcia muses when she spots the quinjet herself.

JJ grins. "Stark technology. Gotta love it."

Emily nods in agreement. "We definitely need an upgrade."

Whoever is flying the quinjet lands it with ease, and Spencer, Morgan, and JJ immediately pick up their boxes. Shouldering the strap of your duffel bag, you start heading towards the quinjet when the ramp is being lowered and the team follows a few steps behind.

Clint Barton walks off the ramp and you chuckle, hurrying your steps. Both your arms go around his neck and one of his arms wraps low around your waist. "Short stack," he says. "What trouble did you get into now?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm in trouble?" You pout as you pull back, pinching his cheek and cooing before stepping back out of range. "And what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on the farm with those precious little heathens?"

"I was, but Laura had leftovers for Nat and Wanda. I was just dropping them off when Steve rounded up the team."

"Oh nice." Then turning around, you gesture to the BAU team. "Clint, meet Special Agents Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the brains of the beauty of the team Miss Penelope Garcia. Guys, meet Clint Barton formerly known as Hawkeye."

Everyone shakes hands, with the exception of Garcia who slaps his hand away and pulls him into a hug.

"Baby girl," Morgan laughs, "what are you doing?"

She squeezes a chuckling Clint before letting go, she then whirling on her own friend. "This is my first time meeting the Avengers. Do not take this from me!" Morgan's eyebrows raise in amusement, the whole team and Clint chuckling.

Then not wasting anymore time, Clint ushers everyone on board. He shows them where the boxes and your bag can be stowed before taking the pilot's seat up front, only to be joined by Morgan moments later in the co-pilot seat. You show Emily and Garcia how to buckle in, and then take your own seat between JJ and Spencer.

Clint counts down for lift off and you grip your harness as you feel the quinjet take flight. Spencer nudges you with his elbow and you glance at him, grinning to assure him you're okay. But when you can feel the quinjet picking up speed thanks to the feeling in your gut, you close your eyes and are thankful that no one brings up the fact that you're actually really nervous right now.

Your left hand is grabbed and gently pried from your grip on the harness, and your eyes fly open in surprise. You look towards your left and JJ smiles at you reassuringly as she squeezes your hand in comfort. Then when your right hand is grabbed and given the same treatment, you glance over at Spencer and can't help but blurt, "I-I've never been nervous about flying before."

"It's perfectly normal to subconsciously be nervous or anxious after we trudged up your past earlier," he says. "Just close your eyes and relax. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nod, smiling shakily and turn your head to rest it against the headrest of your seat. Then closing your eyes, you're grateful for the team not asking you anything for the duration of the ride. Instead, they save their questions for Clint who's all too happy to answer what he can.

You know the Compound's come into view when Morgan whistles in appreciation. Clint lands to quinjet with ease and then everyone's unbuckling themselves when he gives the go ahead. Before you can grab your bag, however, Spencer is grabbing it and beaming at you when you sigh with mock annoyance.

One by one the BAU team disembarks after Clint, leaving you and Spencer to bring up the rear. You hear Clint introducing everyone and notice everyone's congregated around in a circle. Then just as you and Spencer join, you notice that Garcia is petting Bucky's vibranium arm. You snort, catching an amused Steve's attention.

"Y/N," he greets.

"Steve." You step forward, briefly hugging him and then Bucky. As you step back in line, you gesture towards Spencer to introduce him. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid. Spence, this is Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes."

Steve leans in for a handshake, but then pauses mid-shake. "Wait. Spencer Reid? The Spencer Reid?" He grins. "Are you- are you and the agent neighbor one in the same?"

You sharply inhale, eyes widening when everyone turns to stare at your rapidly blushing face. Steve's grin turns rather teasing and your eyes narrow at him. "Two words; octopus dick." Steve's amusement vanishes, and everyone turns towards a now blushing Steve as Bucky guffaws. You turn your gaze on him next. "I don't know why you're laughing, dolphin boy."

Bucky immediately shuts up and Steve shakily grins before addressing the team. "Okay! Now that we've all been introduced, lets get inside before Y/N starts a war she can't finish."

Morgan and JJ are the only two to follow after Steve, Bucky, and Clint. Emily and Garcia remain with you and Spencer, and both females look to you with pleading eyes.

"Please tell me how four innocuous words got two supersoldiers to blush like that?" Garcia asks, Emily nodding along with her. "I need to know!"

"Sorry, girls," you tell them. "Those stories get out and I'm dead meat."

The both of them grumble about not getting answers, but move on without fuss. Before you can follow, however, Spencer steps closer to you. "You won't even tell me?" He asks, voice quiet.

You huff. "You already know."

Spencer's answering smile is enough to make you roll your eyes and he's quick to keep pace with you as you enter the building. There are numerous people milling about, but since it's late most of the trainees are in bed. Every piece of furniture and fixture still seems brand spanking new, so you don't blame the BAU team looking around in awe.

Heading into the chosen office, you lead Spencer inside before catching Steve's attention. "I'm gonna let you guys get to work. I'll be setting up in my room if anyone needs me."

No one objects, so after taking your bag from Spencer you take your leave. You leisurely make your way towards the living quarters of the compound and find your room with ease. Opening the door, the familiarity of it brings a tired smile to your face. The lamps have been turned on, awaiting your arrival, and even the TV has been turned on with its volume on low. The walls and bedding is the same as everyone else has, but you know it's your room because of the personal pictures on the dresser and bedside tables.

Since you're going to be staying until the case is over and then probably a couple days more after, you decide to put your clothes in the dresser rather than leave it in your bag for the entire time. After that's done and you've switched your TV to a movie you like, you pick out a standard set of black sleep pants and a blue/gray shirt that every trainee at the compound wears to bed so you can shower before crawling into bed yourself.

You're grateful for the private bathroom and even more grateful to see the products you use already waiting for you. You turn on the water to the shower, grab a towel from the bathroom closet and set it on the counter along with your change of clothes before you start to strip.

You keep your hair in a topknot as you shower since you had washed it earlier that morning, so your shower is over within ten minutes. Then by the time you're dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, and your teeth are brushed, you exit the bathroom.

Stepping into your room, you startle at the sight of Spencer sitting on the small cushioned bench at the foot of your bed. He's staring up at the moving playing, the corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. But at your small gasp, he looks towards you, lips spreading into a fond smile.

"Captain Rogers said it was okay that I wait for you. I don't mean to intrude."

"Spence," you huff a laugh and then continue on towards your bed, "we have keys to each other's apartments and sometimes barge in without warning. I think you waiting in here is more than okay."

"Just needed to make sure," he says, "what with this being a new place and all."

"Mhmm." You sit on the edge of the bed that's right behind the bench, putting your feet on the cushion beside Spencer and practically hug your knees as you stare at him. "How did everyone settle in?"

"E-Everyone's good." Spencer turns sideways, grinning up at you. "We got our own rooms here so we don't have to be back and forth from a hotel. When we left, Garcia was being introduced to the holographic tables and now I don't think she's going to sleep tonight."

You chuckle. "I knew she'd fall prey to all the pretty tech here." He chuckles along with you. "And how did everyone take the news to hearing the details about the case?"

"They're taking it very personally," Spencer tells you. "Mr. Barton even asked to stay on as a consultant. He and agent Romanoff are not very happy."

"Well they might not be as smart as you, Doc, but I think they're going to be a big help. You guys will be out of here in no time with the bad guy in cuffs."

"Is that so?" He muses. You grin and nod. "And if we're out of here in no time, are we still waiting until you go home for that discussion we still need to have?"

"We can table the discussion," you say, "but I really need to do this before I chicken out."

"Do what?"

Without thinking too much more about it, you reach out to cradle Spencer's jaw in the palms of your hands. You bring his face closer to yours, pausing with barely an inch between your lips. It seems he's held his breath in surprise, but when he notices you're waiting for some sort of unspoken permission it's him who closes the gap.

There's nothing heated or rushed about the kiss- it merely being a chaste kiss of several little pecks before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. You smile, your lip popping free from where it stretches, and you giggle as he leans up to chase your lips.

"Ahem." The interruption causes you to jerk back from Spencer, eyes wide when you catch sight of Bucky leaning against your door jamb and looking quite smug. "Hope I'm not interrupting." You groan, laying your forehead on Spencer's shoulder while he quietly snorts. "So with this new development, does this mean our threesome will now be a foursome?"

You can't help but laugh and sit straight once more so you can see your friend. Unfortunately, the question actually gives you pause and there's a split second where you actually give it thought. But in the next moment your nose wrinkles and you shake your head. "What? No!"

He points at you, eyes gleaming. "You paused! You paused which means that no just turned into a maybe. I'm gonna go tell Stevie we're back in the game!"

"James!" Spencer finally laughs and you groan again when Bucky pushes off the door jamb, whistling as he walks away. "I hate my friends."

"Just wait until Morgan finds out. It'll be worse." Spencer chuckles as you sigh, and he gets up before walking around to the side of your bed. He places his palms down on the mattress, leaning over you to kiss you once more. "I'm gonna go to my room before Sergeant Barnes brings back reinforcements."

"Okay. I'll probably see you around the compound, but I'll do my best to stay out of your hair while you're looking for your unsub."

"Are we still talking after?"

"Of course. Well we can either talk or order in some Chinese and hole up in one of our apartments for a weekend. Your call."

"I like the second option," he says.

"I figured you would." You kiss him one last time and then push against his chest. "Now go. We'll figure things out soon."

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: The First Time

So this isn't the first one I wrote for this "series", but this is the first one chronologically, so I decided this will be the first to be posted. Depending on how well this one and the other two I've written do will help me to decide if this is an AU I wanna continue or not. Feel free to send in asks and stuff about the AU!

Warnings: Violence ; Death

Words: 3.5k

You hated the nether. The thick dry heat choked you in a way that made you feel as if you had stepped into a wildfire in the middle of a desert, but worse. The smell of sulfur seemed to cling to your clothes in a way that made you gag every time. To be honest, you probably wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t appreciate the piglins. You were able to barter with them much easier than the villagers back home, and they had much better stuff. You snorted at the thought, and the large brute before you copied the action.

Home.

The village you had set up base in wasn’t really your home. Just a convenient place that you had set up your bed. A bed which now sat on the other side of the portal you had built on the lower level of the bastion below.

You were grateful to have access to the only thing you really needed in the nether. Trading with the piglins gave you a way to achieve more ender pearls so you wouldn’t have to kill the poor enderman on the surface. You held out another gold ingot to the brute, but he didn’t take it immediately. He was looking at something to the side of your exchange and you turned your head slightly to look too.

The heat of the nether was nothing compared to the warmth that immediately bubbled in your stomach. Everything seemed to fizzle out of existence aside from the large man that had entered the bastion. Which turned out to be your mistake.

Searing pain in your back made you grunt as you were knocked forward into the brute in front of you. You turned to see a ghast behind you that breathed another fireball. The piglin, upset at suddenly being “attacked” started to slice at you with its sword and you hissed at the damage you were taking. You didn’t want to kill the piglin. It didn’t understand that it had been an accident.

You cursed at yourself. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been all this time, and your health felt dangerously low. Another hit from the explosion of the fireball and a swipe at the brute’s sword replaced the pain with nothing as you died.

You cursed when you woke up in your bed next to the portal. The mattress felt almost too soft as you struggled to remove yourself from it and fling yourself back through the portal. You flew up the steps, your feet taking them two at a time and you hoped your items hadn’t despawned.

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief when you saw Technoblade examining your items. You had been fast enough. You jogged up behind him, a grin on your lips, both relieved for your items and excited to finally meet him. “Hey!”

You immediately jolted to a stop at the sword now placed at your throat, but you could help but laugh at yourself. You should have expected that. You held up your hands in what you believed to be a non-threatening manner as you looked up at him.

“Sorry about that! I’m [y/n].” You watched him slowly lower the blade, eyes behind the mask narrowed at you. He looked both exactly how you expected and not how you expected at all.

“Technoblade.” You couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from your lips as you moved around him to collect your items and put back on your armor. Who hadn’t heard of him?

“Man, I hate ghasts. I worked really hard to save up all those levels, and now I have nothing.” You took a cursory glance at your levels. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have two. Fat load of help that would be. Glad I don’t need to enchant anything for a long while, hm?” You turned back to him once you had your golden boots buckled. You were totally going to take advantage of this opportunity to follow him like a puppy. No one else you had met seemed to actually understand you and the chance at an interaction with someone had you almost crawling up the walls. “Where are we off to, then?”

Techno just stared at you. You were much shorter than he was. At least a foot, if not more. How tall was he again? In this form, about seven feet, he thought. You were very short compared to him. The thought made his lips twitch before he turned, walking in the direction of where he last remembered there to be a fortress.

Chat was going crazy at the discovery of this new anomaly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met people he didn’t share a couple lifetimes with before. He had met plenty where they just didn’t meet in a life or two, such as George or Schlatt. But never someone he had shared none with. No one here seemed to speak of anyone new either. It was always the same people, a different storyline. As if DreamXD -or maybe Kristen? He had only met her once, but she had been very kind. Would this be her department, then?- just kept recycling their souls into new realities like a -what did that lifetime call it? A movie? Chat confirmed his thought- played for their own entertainment until they got bored and it was onto the next.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking again, but the roar in his brain was louder, so he didn’t pay too much attention to your words, despite how the soft timbre of your voice made something bubble in his chest. What were you even doing here? He had seen you trading with the piglins before your death, -you had respawned so quickly, anyone else in this lifetime took two or three days but you seemed to reappear in what felt like seconds- so why were you following him now?

Chat’s whispers echoed through his mind.

E.

I wonder who they are.

They can’t be older than Tommy.

E.

Maybe we should kill them again, see what happens this time.

Wilbur will want to know about this.

They said their name was [y/n]?

Maybe they’re like Phil.

Pog.

E.

Blood for the blood god.

E.

They’re probably closer to Wilbur’s age.

Stab them.

Jump off the edge.

Push them off the edge.

E.

Techno, will you call my friend Rachel a nerd?

All warfare is based on deception.

His fingers twitched around his sword at the thought. Was this all a trick? It couldn’t be.

Could it?

He glanced at you once more, focusing on your words, finally.

“-like they seem to notice, y’know? I just kind of walk into their houses, take from their chests, and move on. Hell, I even put my bed in, I think the library? Not one of them batted an eye! It’s almost scary, to be honest. I can loot their things, sleep in their beds, practically dismantle their homes, and I get nothing but a “Hnn.” in response!” A small pout found its way to your lips and Techno hummed in response. This seemed to be what you wanted to hear because a smile replaced the pout and you looked up at him. “So where are we going again?”

“Fortress.” His words were short, tone clipped, as if he didn’t know if you were gonna shove him into the lava, or if that was what he planned to do to you. It didn’t matter, to be honest. You were just thrilled he was letting you accompany him. Heart soaring at the feeling of interacting with another intelligent being once more. He even seemed to be listening as you rambled! That had to be a good thing, right? You hadn’t really met anyone else on the server yet, aside from distantly watching Dream, George, and Sapnap build the large building that stood in the center of what they dubbed the Dream SMP. A small giggle fell from your lips. That would have been a cute name had one of the members not been named it. Rather, it just felt self-centered because of that. You were mildly afraid of approaching the trio. You were almost afraid of how they would react when they met you.

You edged closer to the bridge to the fortress with Technoblade and you felt your heart speed up a little. Ash floated across your vision and you felt it hard to breathe for a moment. The sweat that made your clothes stick to your skin under your armor made you feel clammy. You had only been in one of these once since coming here when you wanted to try your hand at learning how to craft potions and needed blaze rods.

That.. hadn’t worked out in your favor.

You had only had one set of diamond armor, and you hadn’t even enchanted it at the time. When the wither skeletons had overtaken you and murdered you without a thought, you remembered racing back and trying to get your items back. This had only led to yet another death, however. Your eyebrows furrowed as the question entered your mind.

How many times had you died?

You remember when you first came to this world, waking up next to a river with a chest filled with bread, a map, a wooden axe, and a few other paltry items sitting before you surrounded by torches. The gentle babble of the water easing you awake and the smell of fresh flowers floated through the breeze. You almost didn’t mind the ants that were crawling on the ledge just a tad too close to you. You remember being so confused and the days being so hard at first. You didn’t even sleep the first couple days because you hadn’t found a village yet. The stupid phantoms that had attacked you had made you way more aggressive than you had meant to be. But you were tired and you were frustrated and you just wanted to find a stupid village already. You had been residing in the one you were in now since you had first found it your third day here. The first two deaths happening on your second day. One because of said phantoms and one because you had fallen from a cliff. You were devastated at the lack of supplies and progress when you just respawned next to that river, awaking to a few scattered zombies and a skeleton or two. You had dug yourself a hole and cried in it while you waited for sun-up. Many more deaths had happened since, but you couldn't seem to be able to remember the number now.

You hadn’t planned on returning to a fortress until you had better equipment, fearing another death. Something better than your diamond armor and golden boots and your sole netherite sword, but who were you to miss the opportunity to go exploring with The Blood God? Besides you had a bow with Power IV you had stolen from a skeleton that had been in the village. You didn’t know how durable it still was, but it was better than nothing, right?

The rattling of bones brought you out of your thoughts. Already a couple of blazes and some wither skeletons were approaching. You drew your sword, heart hammering in your chest. This wouldn’t be like last time. You had Technoblade to back you up. The top PVPer. The winner of the potato war. The Blood God. You could do this. You could do this.

A lucky swing from one of the wither skeletons caught you in the arm and you hissed as the wither effect immediately took hold and you jolted at the feeling. It was numbing. You felt nauseated. Another hit and you gasped when you felt your health drop to a dangerous level. You sliced up with your sword, removing its head from its spine with a gnarly “click” and you immediately moved out of fire to drink some milk and eat a couple of the pieces of salmon you had brought with you.

Whilst you were letting your health regenerate, you removed your bow from your inventory, aiming at one of the blazes, only to watch something white hit it first. You hesitated, looking towards Technoblade, only to see him ignoring the wither skeletons that were approaching you and focusing on throwing snowballs at the flaming mob. Your lips twitched. Fine. You’d take care of the skeletons, then.

You grabbed your sword once more and began attacking the skeletons in front of you with reckless abandon. You were growing mildly frustrated. Your arm hurt now and Techno seemed to be leaving you on your own to fight off the horde that was slowly amassing. There had only been four of them at first, but now four more had sprinted over to join the fray when they saw the two of you. Now, minus the one you had already taken care of and the two Technoblade had killed within the first ten seconds of their approach, there were five. You winced when you heard the sound of both blazes being taken care of and you hadn’t even killed one more.

‘-so she throws this apple, she just chucks this apple and says like, only the hottest goddess can take this apple.’ Chat loved it when he told them mythology stories, despite them being there when he had read it.

E.

Greek mythology pog.

Semi-demi god for the win!

Speaking of discord, how’s the new person doing?

E.

Persephone is definitely the hottest.

At the mention of you, Techno turned his attention to the sound of metal hitting metal and was surprised to see you still standing there, despite being crowded by wither skeletons. Just another thing to tack onto the list about you. He watched you kill another one, followed by a yelp as you took another hit, the wither effect turning the flesh around your wound a purplish black before you killed one more. You backed up on the bridge, drinking more milk and eating another piece of fish. He could see how the action pained you, but you were resilient.

They’re stupid.

Look at them wave that sword around, do they even know what they’re doing?

E.

They haven’t died again yet?

They can’t be one of Schlatt’s people.

Save them.

Technoblade, wasn’t Eris the daughter of Zeus?

E.

He decided to wait and see what you did. If you died, there was more for him to loot. If you didn’t, then it was a lesson. Either way, he wouldn’t have to worry about protecting you further into the fortress. His nose twitched at the smell of your blood and of rot that seemed to ooze off the skeletons. He still needed more wither skulls.

The remaining four attacked you again, despite your low health, and you felt as if you were going to cry. You hated the nether.

Two more were dispatched a lot faster than the first ones had been and you swallowed. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you felt just the slightest bit more confident in yourself.

Two more left.

You ducked at a swing, movement still slow. You only had one more milk left, and that scared you. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, get hit again with their stupid swords and their stupid wither effect. You sliced with your sword, hooking the metal into the rib cage in front of you and sending the skeleton careening into the other just as it swung down, making the attack miss.You flinched at the sound of metal hitting stone, but you recovered faster than the skeletons in front of you. You could do this.

Another hit, your sword cutting through the skeleton’s vertebrate and killing it. You could do this.

One more.

Your sword was met with metal as you blocked its attack and you grunted, knocking it back. You could do this!

A downward slice had you throwing yourself back onto the side of the bridge as you dodged. You couldn’t die. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Technoblade again. You shoved another piece of salmon into your mouth as you backed up. You really hoped there weren’t any more blazes around. Or more skeletons waiting for you. You shoved yourself off the wall, hitting the wither skeleton with your shoulder to knock it back again before you struck once more, across the neck, beheading it.

The sight of three wither skulls in your inventory made you fall to your knees and you let out a sigh in relief. Your arms ached. Your wounds ached. Your head ached. Your vision doubled for a moment. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You felt great, despite how dizzy you felt at the moment. You looked at Technoblade, hoping to find him still there.

He was leaned against the wall of the fortress, watching you with crossed arms.

Was he waiting on you?

The thought made you perk up and you scrambled to stand, rushing to him while holding the skulls. “Here! I got them all!”

He merely blinked at you as you handed him all three skulls you had gotten from your fight, placing them into his inventory after a moment. He didn’t speak, just turned to descend further in. Were you supposed to follow him?

You did anyways, feeling proud of yourself. He had waited on you!

The rest of the fortress had been like that. You continuously fighting wither skeletons, blazes, regular skeletons, zombified piglins, and magma cubes, only to turn over your loot to the large warrior who would patiently wait for you. You kept a few of the bars of gold, some diamonds, and one of the saddles you had found, but ultimately, you were just spare hands to help him. The experience you were gaining was more than enough, especially since he seemed to be listening to you ramble on and on. He’d occasionally hum or grunt in response, but not much more than that. It was still such a sweet sound in your ears, despite the constant crackle of fire that just filled the nether.

He didn’t speak when he decided he was finished, just started walking back the way you came and you immediately fell into step next to him when he walked past you.

Despite your exhaustion and the pain you felt, this trip felt more than worth it.

When you returned to the bastion where you two had first met, you grinned up at him.

Techno felt his breath catch in his throat at your smile. That smile almost made the sweltering brightness of the nether feel cold and dark. He had never had someone, aside from Tommy, smile at him with such warmth. No one had a smile like yours. They were all weighed heavy with the memories from lifetimes no longer in reach. But you? You were so tired from accompanying him, still wounded from fighting for him. Aside from the couple small treasures you had hidden away, you had given him everything. There was really no reason for you to have gone with him when you received virtually nothing in return. And now you smiled at him like that? You were-

TechnoSIMP.

E.

Look at how cute they are.

They’re stupid.

Take them back with us.

You should give them something for helping.

Hug them.

Awww look at them!

All warfare is based on deception.

He stopped that thought before it could fully finish.

“I should get going. I don’t know how dark it is and I want a bath.” He nodded at you. “I’ll catch you some other time, alright? Don’t be afraid to come by sometime if you need a buddy again, okay?”

He only hummed in response and watched you glide down the stairs of the bastion to a portal he had never noticed before.

A buddy? You weren’t a buddy. What did he really know about you?

You respawned faster than anyone else he had met. There hadn’t been another chance to test that, but you seemed unphased with your death. When you held up your hands, he couldn’t see the usual hearts on your wrist that they all shared. Even when normal members lost a life, he’s noticed that the normally red hearts are cracked and black. Phil himself had one on the center of his wrist. But yours were bare from the mark. You weren’t immortal, were you? Had he come across a god?

He chuckled at the thought.

Such a tiny god compared to him.

For now, he had to return to Pogtopia. He had to tell Wilbur about you. Perhaps write to Phil and ask if he knew anything about people with no or unlimited lives. He would repay your kindness at a later date.

He only hoped you wouldn’t be on the other side of this war.

[luvdsc]

too hot! hot damn!

what do you get when you mix red and blue together?

pairing :: lee taeyong x reader genre :: fluff / boyfriend au word count :: 2,121 words warnings :: a tiny paragraph about making out playlist :: cherry kisses (chungha) ⋆ daft pretty boys (bad suns) ⋆ hands on me (taeyeon) ⋆ crash my car (coin) ⋆ shy (hunny) author’s note :: to the insanely talented goddess who wrote the first nct fic i ever read nearly 3 years ago and still love to this day!!! i didn’t think i’d ever get to be friends with one of my favoritest writers on here, but here we are :’) ily els @taeyongtime​ ♡ 

“It’s hot.”

You’re draped across the old, yet still very plush couch, the kitschy pattern spread across it now fondly regarded as one of the things that transforms this dingy little place from a shoebox apartment into home. The thin spaghetti strap of your faded tie-dyed tank top from your old sorority days hangs limply off of your shoulder, threatening to fall even more when you slump over to the left. The simple drawstring shorts you have on barely cover your legs, but you contemplate tossing them off still because it’s just. So. Damn. Hot.

“It’s hot!” you whine even louder, throwing your arms up in the air before letting them flop down onto the cushions dramatically. The nearby open window only blows in a measly little breeze that does nothing except dry the sweat on your skin for a few glorious seconds before it reappears like a stubborn stain. Your boyfriend only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of said window and using one of his Nylon magazines as a makeshift fan.

Taeyong agrees, flapping the glossy pages in front of his face desperately. “It’s too hot.”

Two days consisting of barely surviving the power outage creeps into a third, the prospect of having AC again anytime soon becoming extremely bleak. The transformer had completely blown out, and the electric company finally sent out a crew to fix it earlier this morning. The estimated restoration was initially set to noon, but it was pushed back until 3 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 10 p.m., then 5 a.m., and now the big black bolded letters spelling out “undetermined” mocks you from the screen of your phone that's already set to the lowest brightness setting to conserve battery.

To make it worse, your city was suffering a heat wave, temperatures spiking to 105 degrees Fahrenheit every single day and simmering down to 80 during the night before climbing the thermostat again. The raging thunderstorm that plagued last night only resulted in unexpected humidity, making your clothes stick to you like a second skin.

“Make it less hot,” you moan, blowing air upwards towards your forehead in an attempt to cool down in the slightest way possible.

“I can’t control the weather, babe, but I can get you a popsicle?” Taeyong sluggishly pushes himself into a sitting position to face you. The shiny magazine in his hand still flounders around until he gives up on it and tosses it aside.

You turn your head, cheek pressing into the couch cushion, as you squint at him. “We don’t have any left. We took all our food from the fridge to Doyoung’s place. I can’t believe that bastard has a gigantic generator and is flourishing in his stupid air conditioned apartment and making frozen sangrias, while his best friends are about to die from heatstroke.”

You had sent back a rather crass Snapchat back to Doyoung after he sent one earlier of his perfect, Instagram story worthy, iced alcoholic beverage. It’s honestly a miracle that he didn’t toss your beloved brown sugar boba ice cream bars out onto his pristine balcony with picture perfect potted plants to perish. That man can still hold onto a grudge even after he’s on his deathbed and descending into the fiery pits.

Taeyong stands up and slowly ambles towards the refrigerator. “I saved two popsicles in the freezer. I figured it’d stay cold enough and not melt if we ate them soon.”

“Oh my god, that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position before finally being able to, watching your boyfriend open the freezer and pull out the last two saving graces.

“Do you want blue raspberry or cherry?”

He holds out the two icy sweets in front of you, one in each hand. You already know that he secretly wants the red one; it’s been his favorite ever since he was five and tried his very first one from the ice cream truck that still comes around his parents’ neighborhood. But you also know that he always lets you choose first and wouldn’t complain if you take that one.

You reach out and pluck the blue one from his grasp, and he smiles happily, eyes crinkling in the corners as he eagerly unwraps the cherry flavored one and shoves it in his mouth, tossing the wrapper into the nearby wicker trash basket.

He drops down onto the empty space next to you, reclining back and slouching in his seat. The two of you sit there peacefully, side by side and enjoying the cold snacks, until he wordlessly slides over, pressing the side of his arm and leg against yours.

“Move back,” you complain, shoving him over to his original position. “It’s hot, and you’re making it worse.”

“So are you calling me hot?” Taeyong wriggles his eyebrows at you before taking a bite of his popsicle, much to your horror. He moves closer to you again for the sole sake of annoying you.

“First off, I’m calling you sweaty. Secondly, did you just bite your ice cream?” You throw him a dirty look before moving over and turning to sit with your back against the arm rest, throwing your legs over his lap.

Taeyong slightly pouts at you, munching on yet another chunk of his popsicle and ignoring the way you wrinkle your nose in disdain. “What’s wrong with that? It’s melting, and I don’t want it to drip and get my hand all sticky.”

You can’t believe that you just discovered your boyfriend is a psychopath. He’s going to the same circle of hell as people who pour milk in before cereal and those who hate mint chocolate chip ice cream once he leaves this earth (He can even say hi to Doyoung as he descends to eternal damnation).

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before we started dating?” You are absolutely appalled. Horrified. Disgusted. This is the biggest relationship deal breaker you have ever come across.

“Next, you’re gonna say you hate me because I don’t like pineapple on pizza,” he says as his free hand settles on the top of your thigh, gently tapping rhythmically against it absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, you absolute heathen.” You really thought Taeyong was the perfect man of your dreams, but you unfortunately realize belatedly that even he has flaws. Some inexcusable ones, in fact. 

In the midst of your lamenting, you fail to notice melting sugar slowly trickling down until it leaves a sticky mess all over your hand. Desperately, you toss the empty popsicle stick into the nearby waste basket before licking off the remnants of your icy blue treat from your fingers.

“See? It melted all over you. I told you so,” Taeyong childishly sticks out his tongue as he waves his clean hand and empty popsicle stick around as if to emphasize his point.

“Your tongue’s red,” you say, chuckling slightly, and his eyes widen at this newfound revelation.

“Wait, stick out your tongue,” he demands as he throws away the wooden stick, and you comply with his request. He grins, delighted. “Yours is blue!”

He sticks out his tongue again, almost going cross eyed as he tries to catch a glimpse of his own. At that, your eyes zero in on his cherry stained lips, and an ingenious idea pops up in your mind as the sudden urge to kiss your boyfriend silly makes itself very known.

“Hey, wanna play a game, Yongie?” you ask slyly, and his attention immediately turns to you at the word “game,” interest piqued and eyes fixated on you.

“What kind of game?” he inquires cautiously, taking note of the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You look like you’re up to no good, and your boyfriend wouldn’t be surprised if you have something up your metaphorical sleeve (Because nobody sane enough would be wearing something with sleeves in this weather from hell. In fact, you’re 66.6% percent certain that those fiery pits are probably cooler compared to here).

“Too hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he acknowledges, shaking his head in agreement, and you laugh, fanning yourself with your hands. “No, silly, I meant the game.” 

“It’s called ‘too hot’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you confirm, nodding your head. The expression of skepticism on his face says it all, so you throw in your bargaining chip.

“I hid a chocolate bar in the freezer’s ice chest. The winner can have it.”

His doe eyes immediately light up at the mention of his favorite sweet, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay, how do I play?”

“We kiss,” you start, and he’s already pulling you towards him enthusiastically, causing soft laughter to bubble up from your throat, before you swat his hands away. “Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t done explaining it yet! There’s no touching allowed.”

“That’s no fun,” Taeyong whines, lips jutting out into a tiny pout that you want to kiss away already. “You said this is a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“But you’re getting kisses, and it’s already hot so it’s better this way,” you coax, and he relents with a drawn out sigh, and you quietly cheer. “Okay, ready?”

Taeyong gives you a tiny nod, and you grin before leaning in, eyes fluttering close. You gently place your lips against his, and he holds still. But then, a few seconds later, you feel his fingers barely grazing your cheek, and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“Baby, I told you that you can’t touch!”

“That rule is dumb,” he complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. You frown at him, pouting until he gives in again because it’s you and he’d cross oceans and climb mountains for you.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he grumbles, glowering as he absentmindedly cards his hand through his hair, and you positively beam at him, and the sulking expression on his face softens almost instantly.

“What if we do baby steps first?” You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting up on your knees and facing him. He fully turns to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

You lean forward and peck his cheek before moving back to your original position. “Like that. Now your turn.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Taeyong leans forward and gingerly places a kiss on your forehead with an endearing smile. You inch forward and kiss his other cheek. He plants a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, and you lean in to delicately leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and you do the same to the opposite side, much to his utter frustration.

This time, Taeyong chases after you when you pull away. You let out a noise of surprise as he gently tugs you forward, crashing his lips against yours and muffling your laughter, and you find yourself straddling your boyfriend. Your hands wind up tangled in his hair, while his arms lock around your waist and hold you close, game be damned.

You can taste a faint trace of cherry, causing the corners of your mouth to curl into the minutest hint of a smile before you press your mouth against his more firmly as he kisses you back eagerly until you both run out of air, pulling away breathlessly with identical smiles.

“You lost,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger as your other hand curls around his shirt. He makes a face at you, his hands still resting on your waist, and you find that you don’t mind the warmth of them against your skin even in this ruthlessly blazing weather.

“But you’ll share the chocolate, right?” he mumbles, face still flushed and lips redder than before. He traces soft patterns against your hip as you tilt your head to the side, faking your hesitation.

“Hmm, I don’t know, should I? I won fair and square.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Meanie.” 

You laugh, sliding off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him (albeit a little unwillingly, but it’s still hot as hell unfortunately, and conserving body heat together isn’t helping at all). Your boyfriend frowns, mostly because you’re no longer sitting in his lap, but partly because he doesn’t understand why you’re laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Your grin widens, eyes sparkling like you know something he doesn’t (because you do). “Baby, your tongue’s purple.”

Taeyong turns a shade brighter than his favorite popsicle flavor.

[wreckofawriter]

Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader also Blaise Zabini x reader if you squint.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Blood, swears twice? Angsty (fluff ending)

Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU! You are despareatly in love with your bestfriend. His unrequainted love causes flowers to grow in your lungs which you are forced to cough up until death overcomes you. The only removal of this sickness is a spell which also takes every memory of the loved one with it.

A/n: look at my dumb ass post late for my own event... this fic is for the first week of Cliche Month. My cliche was Hanahaki Disease. Check out the other writers work. They are amazing!!

    Roses used to be your favorite flower. Their delicate petals stained with glaring crimson intrigued you since you reached for one in your mother’s garden and pulled away with a bloodied hand. They could be found around you constantly; arranged in sparkling vases and patterned on your dresses. Bouquets were gifted to you by friends and family during holidays and birthdays, they surrounded you. 

    Now as you coughed into the toilet of the girl’s lavatory you wished to never see a rose again. You could feel the thorns tearing you apart, your throat sliced to ribbons as you clutched the stark white porcelain. You heaved a final time, petals falling into the clear water, the blood upon them staining it pink. You felt dizzy, copper thick in your mouth. You choked out a sob, tears spilling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. You brought your hand to your face, whipping your mouth with its back and blinking back a fresh wave of cries. You pushed yourself to your feet, knees sore from resting on cold tile too long. You flushed, watching as the red and white petals spiraled from view. 

    You stepped from the stall going to the mirror and dabbing away melting makeup, a few practice smiles at your reflection flashed before you exited the secluded room. 

    Hanahaki disease had been glorified around you for years. The aesthetic and purity of its cause and symptoms making it seem like some dream or fairytale. You had learned quite quickly it was anything but. While everyone talked of the beauty of growing flowers within you they never talked about the pain of thorns piercing you with every breath or the blood which lingered on your taste blood because of never-ending cuts and tears of skin. They never talked about the stab you felt each time the person you loved looked your way or the times you had to swallow petals to keep your quickening death a secret. 

    Blood and roses painted a pretty picture but they stopped being so charming as you choked them out every few hours. 

    You walked quickly to class, each step you took emitting pain in your chest, pain which you had gotten phenomenal at ignoring. Snape didn’t bat an eyelash, despite the fact that you were six minutes late. The stabs grew searing as you took a seat next to the scowling blonde who had unintentionally bloomed flowers in your chest.  

    “Where the hell were you?” Draco scoffed his tone cold.

    “Bathroom.” You replied plainly, eyes tracing the slope of his nose as he turned away from you. Your eyes continued to follow his profile, creating trails on his jawline and under his light grey eyes. 

    Draco turned back to you, “Is there something on my face?” 

    You shook your head, feeling petals flutter in your stomach, thorns following. 

    He said nothing, eyes flicking around your profile, looking for clues of your strange behavior. “Are you sick?” He asked, “You look pale.” 

    You shook your head yet again, “I feel fine.” Lies came so easily recently.

    Draco didn’t give in easily, his gaze searching your own as if he could read through your words to your failing heart. “You’ve seemed off recently,” he stated turning back to the lesson.

    “I don’t know what you mean.” You replied. Lying really had become effortless.

    Draco didn’t like your sudden disappearances and untrustworthy excuses. You had been distant and unfamiliar in recent days. Your schedule seemed skewed, jokes, and laughter seeming to die as you rushed to unexplained meetings with no one before reappearing thirty minutes later with blood on your sleeves. You always smelled of the liquid, copper had replaced your floral shampoo and tropical perfumes. Everything about you simply felt wrong, like an invisible switch had been flipped leaving you as an imposter. 

    You forced a thin smile at the girl across from you as she said her greetings. Pansy dug into her plate of eggs, glaring up at you suspiciously. Your relationship with the girl had always rested on the edge of a knife. She despised your relationship with Draco, her eyes going green whenever you were seen together. You wish you could tell her there was really nothing to worry about. 

    “You’re hiding something.” She satiated plainly.

    You scrunched your nose in mock confusion, “What?”

    A scoff rose from her lips, “I’m not stupid y/l/n. Something is up with you, everyone can see it.” 

    “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You huffed rolling your eyes, hoping she didn’t notice the goosebumps that rose on your arms, fear of being discovered chilling you to the bone. 

    Blaise sat down next to you sensing the tense atmosphere and glancing between you both, ��This about Draco?” He asked cautiously.

    You shook your head quickly, a stab of agony shooting through you at his mention. 

    The boy shrugged, snatching a bagel and beginning to dress it with jam, “Anyway, you guys are coming to Hogsmeade right?”

    Pansy answered excitedly her high pitch making you wish you’d stayed in bed. The conversation droned for a moment and you focused on your breathing. You knew the time which you would be able to do such a necessary act was limited. It was only a matter of time before thorns punctured a lung or pushed through your heart. 

    “You’re going right y/n?” Blaise asked, drawing you into the words spoken between them. 

    You bit your cheek, “I don’t think so.” 

    Blaise groaned, “Come on, we always go! It’s like a tradition.”

    You frowned, “You didn’t go last week.”

    The trap he had fallen into struck quickly, “Well doesn’t matter, you need to go.” he recovered.

    “And why’s that?” You hummed nursing an orange juice that tasted of copper. 

    “Draco gets pissy when you don’t come.” He explained. The words would have made your heart soar if vines weren’t threaded through your veins. “Especially after quidditch practices.” 

    You sighed, “Draco isn’t my responsibi-” you were cut off by a spear thrust into your chest. The glass you held fell from your grip and shattered on the table. Eyes darted towards you in confusion as you bent over in agony. 

    A muffled voice broke through your momentary disconnection from the conscious world.

“Y/n are you okay?” 

Your eyes fluttered open as you gasped for air, tears pooling in your eyes, “I’m fine.” you rasped standing quickly from your seat as you felt petals push up your throat. You sprint from the room without another word, hand clasping over your lips as you desperately tried to swallow the floral arrangement crawling up towards your lips. You managed to make it three corridors before collapsing to the ground, heads turned, eyes locking with you as let out a rattling set of coughs. 

You didn’t hear the words of concern or cries for help as your mouth filled with blood. You felt something push from your mouth landing on your hands lightly. A rose blossom stared back at you as you opened your eyes. Its white petals unfurled stunningly, deep crimson puddles pooled between them. Red dripped lazily down your hands and you began to cough again. Thorns tore through your flesh escaping into the light of the world drenched in red, petals floated in the small puddle of blood around you like tiny boats in a lake of fire. 

You hiccuped twice, the pain the action caused forcing tears down your cheeks. Your ears rang with shouts and gasps, your hands tightening around the flowers you held, only then noticing the cuts which littered your palms. 

Blaise thundered around the corner, shoving people out of the way to see what they had gathered around. His eyes widened when he saw you, blood drenching the front of your uniform, tears mixing with crimson as they dripped off your chin. But the most alarming thing which sat in that hallway where the roses. Four of them, in full bloom, were littered around you, their meaning sinking terror into Blaise’s head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands coming to your shoulders.

“Shit y/n,” he mumbled feeling his eyes prick.

You were sobbing, wincing with every shake your body gave, “I can’t forget.” You whimpered, “Please, I don’t wanna die but I can’t forget him.” Your begs were cut off as you began to cough again.

You felt numb. The potions you had been given driving away not only pain but every other feeling your body had manifested. Moving felt like wading through thick mud, the weight of the blankets adding to the confusion of your nerves. 

The ceiling of the hospital wing had become boring hours before, the dark of the night staining the white a deep blue. Your brain ran through memory after memory, thinking that if they replayed through your consciousness enough they would be stuck there, even after they were cut from your body with the flowers within you. You could hear his voice, smell his cologne, and feel his hair. The pain of your body had left but that of your mind had been so deeply engraved it was hard to distinguish from the former. 

The ache you felt from the image of his angry tears and hoarse screams were far worse than the occasional stab of a thorn. Maybe it would be better to forget. Forget the pain, the love, all of it. To forget him. Yet every time you thought of the idea your eyes welled with tears and that unsettling ache of your chest worsened. 

Memories became more and more recent as the melody of the platinum blonde continued to play. Those of a few hours ago were the freshest, still crisp around the edges, full of brilliant colors. 

You didn't want him to find out, let alone find out from someone who wasn't you. Yet Blasie had told him the second after he had dropped you where you now lay, betraying everything within you. 

He had come into the wing still dressed in his quidditch robes, broom in his left hand as he stormed through the previously quiet area. 

"How dare you." He had seethed, broom hitting the ground with a clatter. 

Your eyes had become focused solely on him the second his voice had graced you.

"How fucking DARE you!" His eyes were glossy with fury.

"Mr. Malfoy!"  Pompfery shouted behind him

You were in a confused daze, dull pain shooting through you as Draco neared. "What?" 

He was in front of you now tears sliding down his flushed cheeks as he gripped the metal of the bed frame.

"You can't just fall in love with me!" He shouted, "You can't just, j-just," his voice faltered and fell and he slumped forward. 

You sat up wanting to move towards him, "I'm sorry." You whimpered a hand coming to rest on his own.

He snatched himself away from you, "You were just going to let yourself die?" 

You paused another stab of pain dulled by medication sending white to your vision. Were you going to let yourself die? Die for the memories of this boy? It seemed a bit pitiful as you thought about it. "I don’t know." 

Draco was appalled, his mind reeling as you stared up at him, eyes wide and glistening, "Don't put your blood on my hands." He hissed turning and storming from the room.

You called after him, voice straining, throat burning. He didn't spare a single glance back and you were left staring at his disregard broom as blossoms bubbled in your throat.

Draco had always had an easy way out when he was younger. His mother loved to spoil him and his father would keep him out of trouble with little effort. He had easy choices that were made for him. But recently things have been different. The expectations of his parents raised as he wanted to do nothing but flee from the life they had given him.

You had been safety for him. Your lack of questions and secret intent made you a safe haven. He didn't have to worry about your thoughts of him because he knew they were positive. He didn't have to be concerned with his reputation or his future or his family. He could just exist with you. Exist freely. The bonds which held him to the earth disappeared in your presence and he could float amongst the pink clouds which you lived. 

You were his best friend. And now you were going to be ripped away from him. And there was no one to blame but himself. His unreturned feelings were killing you, this was all his fault. And now your memories would be pulled from you and you would become nothing more than a stranger. 

It hurt to know you may have died for him. Died to keep him in your mind. It hurt to know all the blood you had spilled stained his palms. 

The dorm rooms were darkened, the murky waters of the lake filtering soft moonlight through their depths. Sleep seemed like a faraway friend to Draco as he stared out at nothing. His thoughts were washed together like paint doused in water. A strange dream-like haze had rested over his life since he saw you on that bed. His thumb ran over the bumps of his knuckles, where your hand had rested hours before.

"You shouldn't have blamed her." 

Draco didn't look up, his eyes locked into the dark waters, "I know." 

Blaise sat down next to him, legs crossed, "You should apologize." 

"I know." 

There was a long pause. Neither boy knew what they were supposed to say.

Draco felt his eyes sting, resent bubbling in his stomach, and having nowhere to go, "I don't want to lose her." 

Blaise sighed, "You are either going to have to lose her or love her. It's up to you." 

But it wasn't up to him. He couldn't choose to love you. 

The next day was unsure like a scene that was cut from a movie. Draco spent his time lingering in his hazy consciousness. The thoughts of losing you slowly driving him insane. His vision swam with your image in hallways, eyes falling through him. He would be a stranger to you. And he would have to keep it that way for your own safety. He would be forced to watch his best friend live her life without the memories they shared. The sting of realization grew with each moment.

Your pain had begun to fade. You weren't sure if it was because of the medication or if your body was simply shutting down. The latest you could get McGonagall to cast the spell was tomorrow night. Then every moment you and Draco had shared would be flushed away. 

At least the coughing fits had stopped, thorns no longer tearing your throat to pieces. No more roses covered in blood. You felt a sense of peace.

Your far away mind was drawn back by Madam Pompfery's shrill voice. 

"You may absolutely not visit her!" 

"I just want to apologize!" Another tone retorted.

You sat up quickly, blankets shoved to the side as your bare feet made contact with the ground. 

The argument grew louder as you neared, words turning harsh. 

"Draco?" You called, peeking around the corner to see Madame Pomfrey standing with her back to you blocking the doorway, the blonde just in front of her.

"You should be in bed." The nurse scolded me, turning to look at you.

"I want to see him." You stated firmly.

She had now turned to face you fully, "Go back to bed y/l/n." 

You glared back at the woman, "Let him in." 

There was silence, you're gaze unwavering as the older woman slowly caved. 

"Make it quick Malfoy."

You wanted to choke on the awkward silence that followed after the woman departed. Dracos eyes were glued to you as your own darted between your feet and the nearby wall. 

“She’s right. You should be in bed.” he spoke.

You shrugged, “I was feeling better. The medication helps.”

“You shouldn’t be standing regardless.” He huffed walking past you towards the bed you had been in a few minutes before. 

    You rolled your eyes but followed him, knowing he was right didn’t make you feel any better. 

    “I'm sorry about before,” Draco mumbled as you set yourself against the headboard. You tilted your head in a silent question, “I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. It's not your fault.”

    You cracked a small smile, head tilting back until it hit the wall. “Of course it's my fault.” 

    Draco was silent and you gazed at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes were cast at his feet, the melancholy look on his face making you sour. 

    “Please don’t be sad.” You muttered, “I can't have my last memory of you be sad.”

    Despite your plea, his eyes grew misty, the weight on his chest so heavy he thought it might crush him. 

    Your feet felt light and for a moment you thought you might be dying. Your head felt so clear, you wouldn't have been surprised if Draco started saying you were floating off your bed. Your chest felt warm and fuzzy, like hot chocolate after hours in the snow. 

    “I can’t lose you.” Draco sobbed, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “I can’t lose you, y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

    Part of you wanted to slap him, “It's not a choice.” You swallowed thickly, “I didn’t choose to fall in love with you.” It was the truth. You didn’t choose to plunge into the deep waters of absolute devotion. You were pushed. Pushed by each smile and laugh. By each joke and eye roll. He had pushed you into the whirlpool of love and you had been sucked deep under. And now you couldn’t breathe.

    “I can’t watch you forget me.” He croaked his head held in his hands, “I love you y/n, you can't become a stranger to me. I couldn’t watch you live without me. I couldn't live with these memories knowing you don't have them.” 

    Suddenly the lack of pain made sense. The light, fuzzy feeling overwhelming your body was comprehensible, “Say it again.”

    Draco met your eyes, “What?”

    “Say you love me again.”

    His eyes widened, momentary surprise taking him before it was pushed aside by a rush of relief, “I love you.”

    It was like a drug drawn from his lips, it burnt like whiskey down your throat, warmth filling you. You sat forward quickly, hands coming to cup his cheeks, damp and sticky with tears. Droplets of your own gathered, rivers of relief dripping off your chin.

    Your lips met hastily. The taste of salt mixed with the bitterness of blood was unsavory but neither of you seemed to care as you pulled him closer. Kiss deepening as his hands fell to your waist. You found yourself sinking deeper into the water you had fallen into, oxygen suddenly filling your thirsting lungs.

    You were unaware of the thorns that filled Blaise’s. Yellow petals spilled from his lips, his throat filled with blood. As you tucked your head into Draco's chest, his was buried into his hands, tears filling his eyes. He was hopeless, the thorns would tear him apart and you would put roses on his grave

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

[resonating-kitty]

Dreambur - Pirate AU fic requested by @peppsta

Using the sentence “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!” (Took a bit of creative liberty to make it work)

I am happy with how this turned out. I've been a bit too critical of my writing lately but I generally like this one. Peppsta I hope this fits what you had in mind with the prompt! :)

I hope you all enjoy!

-

Wilbur laughed, joyous, as the wind hit his face. The open sea was such a wonderful place! His love of its wonders and mysteries and melodies was endless. He was a traveling musician, a quite successful one at that. His music was known all across the world and many lords and kings requested his presence to perform at their castles. That’s what he was doing now, headed back to England, summoned by his Majesty’s request to perform at the annual ball.

“Mr. Soot please get down from there!” The Captain’s orders barked hastily at him had him turning with a grin. He was standing up on the bowspirit of the ship and the Captain of the vessel was standing just behind him, hands on his hip and a growing annoyance in his eyes.

Wilbur relented, his boots hitting the bed with a thud as he hopped down to stand beside the Captain. He fixed the older man with an innocent look and a charming smile, “I do apologize Captain. I love the sea so much that I sometimes cannot help myself.”

The Captain regarded him with a knowing look and sighed, “Just please refrain from doing it in the future. It makes the crew nervous. None of us want to report to his Majesty that his requested musician fell overboard.”

“Of course Captain!” Wilbur saluted, mockingly.

The Captain opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand the action, but was stopped by a frantic call from above.

“Captain! Captain! Skull and crossbones on the horizon!”

The Captain whirled into action, turning full circle to run to the helm. Curious, Wilbur followed closely.

“Pirates?” He asked, excitedly but none around him seemed to share his enthusiasm.

The Captain shot him a sharp look, wordlessly taking the spyglass that was handed to him. He looked through it, curses falling from his lips.

“It’s the bloody Speedrunner!” The Captain announced, turning for the wheel. He started to bark orders. Raise the sails, all hands on deck. “Mr. Soot below deck!” was the Captain’s last order.

Wilbur protested but the Captain cut him off. “Sir, whether you like it or not, you are under my command until you reach shore and you will do as I say and I’m telling you to go below deck.”

Wilbur was escorted below deck, not before he got a peak at the fastly approaching vessel. The light vibrant green sails of the ship stood in stark contrast to the jolly roger waving above them. ‘Tacky’ Wilbur thought as he was ushered below deck.

-

Try as she might, the merchant vessel was no match for the speed of the pirate ship. The Captain gritted his teeth as soon, his crew and his ship was completely taken over by the ragtag group of pirates.

“Dream,” The Captain gritted out with annoyance, heedless of the gun and cutlasses that were pointed at him and his crew. Dream usually never spilt blood during his raids and the Captain had been at sea long enough, had met with the pirate in these exact situations enough times, to know that the show of aggression was all bluff.

The Pirate Captain wasn’t much. He was tall and slim and didn’t even look or dress like a Captain. He wore dirty ragged clothes, a lime green bandana tied around his head to keep his dirty blond hair pulled back. He also wore a mask over the lover portion of his face, hiding all but his emerald green eyes from view. No one had ever seen his face and if they had, rumors had it they never lived to tell about it.

The Captain had no intention of doing that. He just watched the cocky pirate as he sauntered up to him.

“Sparklez!” Dream greeted happily, throwing his hands out, “what a surprise that we ran into each other again while you were transporting goods!”

Captain Sparklez pinched the bridge of his nose, insisting tiredly, “Just get what you came to get and leave”

Dream was grinning under his mask as he laughed, “Glad we have an understanding Captain,” he turned to a couple of his crew, “Alright boys, you heard the Captain, go see what’s below deck for the taking!”

A couple of the crew, a slightly shorter man with dark hair and a white headband tied around his head, a thin man with glasses and wearing a black, red trimmed, cloak, and another pirate that appeared to be in a full reindeer costume, headed below deck.

Captain Sparklez hoped they didn’t discover Wilbur but his hopes were dashed when muffled shouting sounded from below.

“What the hell?” Dream demanded, going to the stairs to call down, “Everything okay!”

“Look what we found!” Came the replying yell moments before the pirates were reappearing and dragging Wilbur with them. “He was trying to hide behind the salmon.”

Wilbur was pushed before the pirate captain. Wilbur looked up with wide eyes. Dark brown met emerald green. Both seem to freeze.

“Got something you wanna tell us Captain Sparklez?” The pirate in the black cloak asked, suspiciously. He glanced at Wilbur then his own Captain, who was still frozen.

“The boy is headed to Britian. He’s but a musician who hired me to ferry him.” Captain Sparklez answered hastily. He also was looking at Wilbur and Dream. “He is an innocent bystander in all of this.”

The pirate opened his mouth, possibly to ask more questions but he was cut off by his Captain.

‘Who are you?” Dream asked Wilbur, his voice soft and held none of the cockiness it had before.

Both crews, pirate and merchant, looked at the two with raised eyebrows and some with shocked expressions.

“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot.” Wilbur answered earnestly and Captain Sparklez facepalmed and muttered, “Boy, don’t engage with the pirate.”

“Why?” Wilbur asked, glancing at Sparklez, “He’s interesting.”

Laughter erupted from Dream. “Yeah Sparklez,” He said, his voice playful and teasing as he looked at the merchant ship’s Captain, “I’m interesting.”

“Please don’t feed his ego.” One of the pirates, a man dressed in light blue with a pair of goggles covering his eyes, warned in exasperation and Dream whirled around to face him.

“Oh shut up George, he can feed my ego as much as he wants to.” Dream demanded though the grin was evident in his voice. George just rolled his eyes at his Captain. Dream turned back, winking at Wilbur, who’s cheeks colored pink.

“So Mr. Soot, you do music?” Dream asked, conversationally as he leant against the mast of the ship.

“Dream, what about the cargo?” The pirate with the white headband asked and Dream waved him off with an order, “Start loading it on the Speedrunner obviously.”

“Dumbass,” the pirate muttered before motioning to a few of the crew and they disappeared below deck.

“I… I uh… yeah.” Wilbur muttered, “I’m actually on my way right now to perform for his Majestic at the castle.”

Dream whistled, impressed, “You’re Mr. Popular then aren’t you?”

Wilbur laughed softly, shaking his head. His brown curls bouncing on top of his head, “Something like that”

“What are some of your songs? Perhaps I’ve heard some of them?” Dream questioned. A crash was heard and his attention snapped to his crew and the box of produce that was now spilling out over the deck, hollering, “Hey be careful with the goods. We need those!”

“Sorry Captain.”

Dream turned back to Wilbur, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Let’s see there’s Jubilee Line, Since I Saw Vienna, Soft Boy, Saline Solution, Maybe I was Boring.”

“I’ve heard that one!” Dream exclaimed, eyes shining, “Maybe I was Boring. It was being sung in one of the pirate owned taverns. The guy singing it was trying to pass it off as one of his own but he didn’t look smart enough to come up with something so beautiful.”

“Yes well, as I’m sure you are well aware, there are thieves in every trade I’m afraid,” Wilbur sighed before he seemed to catch the last part of the sentence, “Wait you think my song is beautiful?”

“That’s not the only thing I think is beautiful,” Dream’s voice dropped as he reached up and closed the space between them. They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Callahan was standing to the side, he looked apologetic.

“I do not mean to alarm anyone and I certainly hate to break up whatever is transpiring between the two of you, Captain but there is a ship on the horizon. Looks like the Navy.”

Wilbur was left at the mast as Dream stepped quickly to the side of the ship and took the spyglass from George. He looked through it, muttering out a curse before barking, “Everyone back to the ship!”

His crew reached instantly.

“What about this ship?” the pirate in the white headband asked almost eagerly as he headed for the ropes that connected the two ships together, “You said we could start sinking them.”

“What?!” Sparklez’s outraged voice rose up as panicked murmurs rose up from the crew. Wilbur’s breath caught in his throat.

“Not this one,” Dream said, his voice steeled with finality. Emerald eyes met dark brown once more, “Today this ship was saved by a distracting handsome face and everything else. So long for now and Mr. Soot? I’m sure you and I will meet again in the future”

Dream gave a little salute before joining his crew and soon the Speedrunner was just a speck in the distance as the Naval ship approached.

Wilbur stood at the bow of the ship, watching as the pirate ship disappeared in the distance. A soft smile on his lips and his whole body was warmed. The pirate captain certainly was charming wasn’t he.

“Charming?” Sparklez repeated with alarm as the Naval ship pulled up alongside them and Wilbur realized that he must’ve uttered the sentence out loud. A hand fell on his shoulder and the Captain leaned down to speak quietly, a warning, “Son let me tell you something, no matter how ‘charming’ he may be, at the end of the day he’s a pirate and you need to stay well away from him. He’s dangerous, not only in general, but also to your career.”

Wilbur tried to heed Captain Sparklez warning but he couldn’t get his mind off the oddly charming pirate. He hoped that Dream was being sincere when he said they would meet each other again because he was looking forward to it.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[mrs-nara-shikamaru]

Soulmate AU- Dreams Shikamaru Nara X Reader

Here is another monthly collab for @konoblog-simps I sadly couldn’t make the 1.5K this time. Enjoy!

WC: 1.3K

Soulmates were a drag. The concept of it was a drag. Shikamaru never could understand how his parents were soulmates when all his mom did was nag at his dad. The first dream of his soulmate was troublesome. It was when he started attending the academy, he was the few people who had their dreams already. He remembered a tiny person picking flowers by a riverside, a bright smile shining on their face but couldn't remember what they looked like. It made Shikamaru curious when he was younger. Would he meet this destined person soon? As the years passed by, he pushed that dream to the back of his mind. If there were any other dreams he had of them, Shikamaru didn't remember. It wasn't till Choji had his first dream that Shikamaru bothered to remember his. In exchange for hearing his best friend's, Shikamaru told him his. The first person he told. He never bothered telling his parents till much later but he had a feeling his dad knew. His mom of course was over the moon about it and tried to pry but he didn't have anything else to tell her other than the flowers by the river. After that, he figured soulmates were a drag, it took too much energy to be curious about them all the time. Ino disagreed greatly with that view when he brought it up during a dinner after training. "You continuously give yourself hope, even after 8 years of your dreams but have you met your soulmate yet? Do you even know what he looks like?"

"Well obviously not, but you know your soulmate when you see them!" Ino argues. "Shouldn't you be excited that there is someone out there for you?"

"But there is a chance you'll never meet them or maybe they are dead. What a drag." That was the biggest fear. When a soulmate dies all dreams of them cease to exist. You begin to forget everything about them. Some people never got to meet their soulmate either. Perhaps that's why he never could remember any other dreams. What if they were already dead? The years continued from there, even when the great war happened many people met their soulmates for the first time as Choji did. Shikamaru would have never guessed that would be his best friend's significant other. Such a fiery personality. And in the end, Shikamaru never met anyone he recognized from his lucid dreams. It was as though they never existed or rather, might have died. The thought in the end didn't bother him too much. Shikamaru never met his soulmate, didn't know their personality. It would have been a stranger to him that passes away if that was the case. Ino had kept poking at the situation, going around introducing people that she thought might have been his significant other. She didn't want to give up hope for him. Shikamaru was thankful for her. However, after noticing how annoyed he started getting, she lightly starts leaving it alone, saying something among the lines of, "It'll happen in due time and I'll make sure to tell them how uninterested you were." He knew she was teasing and for the first time in awhile the thoughts of his soulmate drifted away.

Moonlight had been streaming into his room as Shikamaru gazes upon the ceiling, going over every corner and crack that he had memorized years ago. It was cloudy, he figured as the beams of light disappeared, leaving him in darkness, until a second later it would reappear like they never were blocked. It couldn't have been long before his mind finally settled and he fell asleep. A slumber he thought would be familiar. A quiet, peaceful night. Darkened eyes flew open, the morning light announcing its arrival. Shikamaru held himself up, trying to process the details he had just encountered. A familiar bright smile resting on a much older face, right next to a riverbank. Yet again his soulmate reminded him of themselves. What a drag. He fell back onto his bed, a small tingle in his chest. Relief?

Shikamaru wasn't sure how to even bring it up to Ino or Choji at dinner, it was something they all dismissed and Ino would make a big deal out of it. He wondered what kind of dreams his soulmate might have gotten, did they experience a similar kind of dream last night? We're they as curious once again as he was? "Maru......SHIKAMARU!" Startled, he jumps. "Are you okay? You look like your 1000 miles away." Ino asks with a worried tone. She knew he started new responsibilities with the Hokage but didn't think they would cause him to be this worried about them.

"Is everything going okay at the Hokage's office?" Choji inputs, sharing Ino's sense of worry. The Nara sighs, what a troublesome situation.

"You know how I haven't had a soulmate dream in awhile."

"I think awhile is an understatement," Ino mutters.

"I had one last night." Everything went quiet. Ino slams her hands on the wooden table.

"and?"

"That's it, it was the same dream but with a much older person." As he knew, Ino started poking as Choji laughs, relief for his friend. And on that night, Shikamaru had another dream with a different setting and the night after that. The dreams began happening way more often like they were fitting everything he had to know before he met them. Each time he had one, Shikamaru would confide in Choji, who in turn was getting excited to meet his best friend's significant other. "Wow, it really can't be long now before you meet them."

"It's kind of a drag. I know what they look like but I can't put it together in my mind." Choji laughs.

"Mine was like that too. It was like solving one of the mysteries of the world when I met Karui. Oh, one a side note, I heard that we're having ninjas transfer here." Shikamaru had forgotten about the current events playing around the village.

"We're having three Jonin move here to tighten up relations with the smaller villages. It has been a drag."

"Huh, when will they be arriving?"

"In the next couple of days." Within those few days, the dreams had ceased happening once again or he was just alittle stressed out to remember them.

As the morning dawned, the village was already bustling as the new Jonins arrived. The villagers gave a slight glance at the incoming ninjas before going on with their business. Shikamaru wasn't thinking anything of their arrival as he walks through the halls with Choji. Another day passing by. He could hear chatting in the Hokage office, a voice that seemed familiar but new at the same time. "Those flowers are native to our village, they grew along the riverbank, definitely a sight to see when they bloom."

"That's all [Y/n] does back home! Tending to those damn flowers." A knock emerges.

"That was perfect timing." The Hokage says. "Come in." You glance over your shoulder, eyes widen for a moment when you connect with dark eyes. Shikamaru shares the same reaction. A smile that he was very familiar with blooms on your face. "Let me introduce you to your guides. Shikamaru was in charge of preparing for your stay here." You couldn't help but giggle at the shocked look on your guide's face.

"Who wouldn't have thought we would meet in this way, soulmate!" Moving from your village was the right choice.

[lovee-infected]

haha, Malleus dies AU let's gooooo (imkiddingpleasedont)

:)

“Tsuonotarou”

(A/N): I cried, I've been crying all day and I'll be crying for the rest of the month.

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Gn! Reader

Warning(s): Angst, Mentions of blood, major character death

"T-tsunotarou-?" You stuttered out. Words came out of your mouth without you even feeling your mouth moving.. At this point, everything felt to bizzare to be even realistic. Your legs, your mouth. Green growing flames sorrounding you and burn all that was left from that hellish war to ashes but all you had on your sight was the wounded fae.

"Tsunotarou!" you screamed as you ran to Malleus, begging to heavens that you weren't too late.

You fall to your knees by Malleus's severely injured body. Unable to do a thing but to terrifiedly gaze at how his warmth of life was being slowly stolen by the cold embrace of death, blood rushing out of the huge wound on the left side of his chest and turning his clothes as red as bloody roses. You let out a choked scream, grabbing his almost, lifeless body by waist and pulling him to your lap. You stared at Malleus with your eyes half shut, trying your best to hold your heavy tears from falling.

There was nothing, you felt nothing. No pain, no joy, no fear. It was neither sad nor happy, you just couldn't feel anything at all. All you knew was that everything seemed unrealistic, so wrong.

No, this had to be a nightmare, this wasn't real. It couldn't be, it couldn't be, it shouldn't be.

Your body was shaking and your voice, trembling. You could see his lips being parted to say something but fail to realize what it was as your tears had totally blurred blurred vision.

Even as tears had clouded your visiton, you could see that was smiling at you, no signs of any fear or anger could be found in his mesmerizing emerald eyes. His smile was soft, just like the first time he smiled at you, you could still feel his sweet laughter being echoed through your ear from the first time he heard you call him "tsunotarou".

You could feel the pain in your chance growing wider as your memories with him are recalled to you, but you had to resist them.This wasn't the right time to cry, you must not. Malleus shouldn't see you cry, not now. You had to show him that you still had faith in him, that you still believe that he's got a chance to survive. You had to be strong in front of him but you couldn't. You couldn't be strong when the dearest person of your life was dying right in front of your eyes.

Your shaky hands took his hand and brought it to your face as you cried hysterically. Malleus was dying and you couldn't do anything but to watch! You thought he was unstoppable, practically immortal! You kept crying into his hand as your tears soaked his coated in dirt and blood hand. "You said I won't need to worry! You promised that you'll be fine! You p-promised-!!" you cried to the air.

Malleus wished he could've opened his mouth and say those words again, to confront you, to tell you those lies over and over and try to make you believe everything is going to be fine but the unbearable pain burning his chest turned his words into nothing but a bloody cough. He help but to feel guilty. Oh dear, who could've imagined that *this, would be the end of the cruel fae who was once the future King of valley of thorns...? Such a pitiful way to die...

"Child of man...please don't-"

"You promised to be the one protecting me when things went wrong! You told me that you'll be there whenever I needed you...!!" You wailed while choking up in sobs. words kept coming out of your mouth without you having any control over them, you didn't even realize that you were not simply talking but shouting at this point. You felt so heavy, so full of words. These were going to be your last words to him and no one even tried to hold you back from pouring your anger on fae, not even Malleus himself.

"I-I need you now, please. Please I love you tsunotarou don't leave me alone!" you screamed in pain and broke down in tears again. You brought your teary face to his, letting tears swell down your face and fall on his.

"My precious human, you don't have much time left. It's your now-or-never chance to make a a return to your own world...,don't waste it on me... go," Malleus whispered to you, his tone was still so certain strong yet filled with so much pain. And you knew that he was right.

Just a few meters away from where Malleus's lifeless body was laying, bloody screams and shouts of the students fighting could still be heard. The hall of mirrors had been destroyed, and the dark mirror's gate itself could get closed at any second. You could here Ace and Deuce screaming your name as they tried to find you through the crowd, it was your very last chance to return home.

"Your friends are calling, little one. D-...gah-!!" Malleus hissed as he squirmed in pain. "D-don't keep them waiting..." even yet, he was keeping his smile on. But even as his face could fool you his struggling for breath was telling you that he couldn't last for much longer...

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THEM!" you said as you hugged tight to his face again. You ran your fingers through his messy hair, wanting to scream from the bottom of your chest and letting the whole world hear your pain. "I want to stay here with y-you, please, as long as I get to be with you no one else matters..." words become hard to spell as the your throat is clogged with pain. You couldn't talk, you couldn't see, you couldn't breathe. You'd never wanted life to be a nightmare more that you did now, you were begging to heaven to let it all be on, to let you wake up from this hell and find your beloved tsunotarou beside you; safe and alive.

"Here...with me?" Malleus said in a questionable tone but he wasn't really asking. His closed his eyes begun to let out a weak smirk as he continued to speak: "Happy endings... aren't for villains, child of man" he bitterly uttered before letting out another cough "You've got no future with me..."

His words ached your heart a lot more than you thought it may. Oh lords, just how badly you wished you could just grab his face and kiss all over it again and again while telling him not to say such things. But here you were, doing nothing but to silently cry as you held on to your beloved one's lifeless body. You couldn't save him, you couldn't do anything tobut to watch. Your hands wee holding him tight but couldn't do anything to take away the pain burning his chest or even stop him from bleeding.

"Yet..." malleus sighed "I used to wonder if you could you could be my... happy ending,"

Malleus's fragile smile had vanished, his face being totally experssionless now. The light of his glowing eyes was slowly disappearing, his breathes were cut shorter and his hands... colder.

"And...I was right. You indeed changed everything about my life" you could see a small drop of tearing falling down his eye as he spoke:"You brought light to me just when I'd given in to my darkness and before I could've realized... you changed me" a small yet, genuine smile begun to reappear upon his pale lips. He turned his head to you, his hand trying to pull a small strand of your hair away from your teary face. "You are my little angel, (y/n). You've always been..."

And before you could've realized, you were no longer the only one crying. Your finger slid between his hand, trying to hold it once again. He locks his fingers with yours, making you feel the warmth of all the times you two had held hands before. You couldn't tell why but, you realized that you were smiling through your tears. The pain was ripping your heart out, yet there was also a warmth, a hope.

A feeling of joy that made you want to smile at him back through the depths of pain and despair, just like the first time, when you were smiling at the horned stranger standing at the back of the ramshackle dorm. All those glamorous meetings, are held secretly in the dead of the night and not a single knew about them but you and your unknown visitor, your tsunotarou. Each and every of the memories you had besides him were recalled to you, and your mind drowned in him. His laughter, his eyes, his warmth. The love you two shared and not a single soul knew about it but you, all flashed before your eyes as you gazed through his emerald eyes again.

"(y/n)! There you are!" you heard Deuce's from behind as you could hear their footsteps approaching, yet you didn't care to turn your head away, your whole world was lost in the fae's eyes at the moment.

"I love you...Malleus" you whispered to him, not even realizing that this was your very first time calling him by name.

"As I love you," he replied.

You wanted to say something but it becomes hard to form words when your mouth refuses to work, when words get lost in a sea of murky thoughts, when the numbing darkness pulled you closer. Or was that Malleus pulling you closer? You couldn't quite tell anymore.

You brought your lips closer to his, feeling the last remaining of his lifeless breathes brushing against your face.

"Be it in this life or next," he murmured, his words low but soft against your skin when you squeezed his bloodied fingers in yours "I will find you again. I promise to you, I will."

And this time, he wasn going to keep his promise by all means...

You bowed your face down to his, whispering to him before your lips met: "Then I'll be waiting for you....once upon a dream"

You closed your eyes and felt his soft lips against yours, the kiss was filled with a deadly pain but also met a slight warmth of hope. You filled your entire existend being woven to him. The kiss was filled with the taste of coopery blood combined with your salty tears, yet so soft and sweet.

"(y/n)..." Nothing could make this moment any more euphric for Malleus than it already was, surrounded by beautiful, swirling trails of light, feeling utterly weightless and free, met by a dreamy kiss from the one and only love of his life, he wonders if his life had ever been this good. He could barely remember ever being so calm. Crying at such a beautiful moment seemed totally pointless. Why try to struggle against something so wonderful? Right?

You didn't pull back even as the fae's very last breathe got lost between the kiss and his eyelids fell shut.

At last, you'd given him the true “kiss of death”.

[pastaimpact]

ik the meme is dead at this point, but what is writing if not a fickle muse that bonks me over the head saying “why dont u write a coffeeshop au but with kfc”?

so without much further ado: modern au! kfc worker diluc x tired uni student reader

He claimed he was doing it for experience. Diluc claimed a lot of things, but you knew better than to actually take most of what he said to be the truth. He claimed he hated you, he claimed that he preferred working alone, and he even claimed that this job was just something he did to pass the time.

Okay, maybe the last part was a little true. You never pried too much into it: you were just an exhausted student trying to survive until the weekend on three hours of sleep a day and venti-sized Starbucks (no pun intended).

Getting chicken was just a convenient way to fill your stomach while keeping your roommates from stealing your food. Xiangling always did her best to fill the refrigerator, but Xingqiu, Chongyun, and Xinyan were more likely to swipe your muffins than try whatever the hell Xiangling made last.

Diluc on the other hand? He was a renown tycoon, or so the rumor said, and rumor continued on to say that he was just working here to kill time and to get better at talking to other people. He told it to you once a few visits back, telling you that his stepbrother wanted him to step out of his usual brooding, office work.

You wondered if you should tell him that working at KFC was probably not what his stepbrother meant by getting better at his social skills. 

The smell of crispy chicken and oil hit your nose like a wet blanket when you pushed open the doors to the KFC. You hastily shoved your car keys into your pocket, feeling for your wallet to make sure it was there before approaching the counter. 

It was empty, save for the red-headed worker that you’ve gotten close with. Diluc glanced at you as you walked in through the door, squaring his shoulders and looking at you with his gloomy eyes like always. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“You don’t need to say it like you’re going to drag me off or something,” you laughed. “I come here almost every other day.”

“The usual?” He asked, poking at his monitor. He made no attempt to joke back at you, and you let it go. 

“Yeah. And don’t forget the extra biscuits. My roommates love those,” you added, pulling your wallet out to hand over a couple crumpled bills. Diluc reached out for the money, his fingertips brushing against yours momentarily.

Xingqiu, ever the avid fanfiction reader, always gushed about how lovely it would be for you to fall in love with Diluc and to live the cute romance of your dreams between the dashing tycoon-masquerading-as-a-chicken-shop-worker-for-funsies and you, a student so sleep-deprived and burnt out that even a stove of failed cookies would be more alluring than you were.

If Diluc were to even see something remotely admirable in you, even you’d be surprised. But Xingqiu loved his fantasies, and it didn’t hurt to let him daydream and live his fanfictions out vicariously through your mostly lackluster life.

Diluc held up a handful of coins, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Your change.”

“O-Oh,” you stammered, straightening up and swallowing. “Um, you can keep it.”

He raised an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“Like for tip. Yeah, you can keep the change as tip,” you smoothed over, exhaling nervously and averting your gaze.

Diluc kept his eyebrow raised but tucked the excess coins away. “Most people don’t tip at KFCs. That stuff is usually saved for restaurants and bars and coffee shops.”

You wanted to smack your forehead. 

“Well, consider it a gift, from a friend to another friend,” you mumbled, sighing. 

“You consider me a friend?” He pressed on, almost like he couldn’t detect the fact that you were awkwardly trying to just keep the conversation from going to the hills while waiting for your food to come out.

“We see each other often… I mean, we’re not like super close, but we know each other by name,” you offered, shrugging to ease the tension. “Do you not like it when I call you a friend?”

Diluc blinked slowly. “I don’t mind. You can call me your friend. I’m going to check on your order. It should be about done.”

You nodded, letting the enigmatic cashier slink back into the kitchen. You knew that the other worker here was Noelle, and you only saw her on the days that Diluc wasn’t here.

He reappeared a few minutes later with a bag of chicken, handing it over to you with gentle hands. “Enjoy your food. I’ll see you again in a few days?”

You took the bag, nodding. “Of course. This is the best place to get a quick dinner for everyone in my dorm building.”

“Hm. You should bring them in sometime,” he replied calmly.

“You say that every time. And every time I tell you that they’re typically too busy,” you chuckled. “Take care, Diluc.”

“Take care,” he murmured, letting you walk out of the restaurant. 

You placed the chicken in the backseat of your rundown car, the warmth spreading across your fingertips. Diluc was an odd soul, but he wasn’t a bad one. You wondered what he made of you, and you wondered if you could invite him out someday to enjoy the chicken he sold along with your other friends.

Just like the fanfictions Xingqiu read. You could practically hear the giggles he would usually give when he would pester you for more details about your conversations with Diluc. There wasn’t much, you typically reasoned, but it was seemingly enough to keep him entertained time and time again. 

You supposed your humiliation was a small price to pay for the entertainment of your roommates and Diluc’s eccentric friendship.

Someday, you told yourself as you started your car up and took off for home, someday you would get to know him well enough to invite him without messing things up.

Someday.

Just that thought enough was all you needed to entertain the notion of properly befriending the jaded KFC server.