#thrown the whole routine out the damn window

[monster-noises]

Making dinner as soon as I get home from work is definitely The Move in terms of like.. effective scheduling and getting my ass in bed at a reasonable hour

But hooooooo boy

By the time i get gome from work and spend the time and energy cooking dinner it's like 6pm

And my lunch is at like... 11am

So i really start to Flag as i'm plating things up there Hoo boy

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IV

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

That sentiment never left in the weeks of planning that followed.  

Every time someone asked about your ring, you told them it was being resized and that neither of you were pleased with the clarity of the gems.  Besides, you would say, you didn’t want to show it off before the wedding.

The wedding date was settled by a Segment (Omega, you were certain, for he was the closest to the actual Doctor in personality) unceremoniously dropping a calendar on your desk.  You closed your eyes, placed your finger somewhere and landed on a weekend towards the later half of the month.

Omega then had the gall to take a paperclip from your tiny dish that held them and twist one into a ring before he left without another word.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The timeline was short.  Six weeks.  Even your coworkers who dabbled in event planning for the annual ball and other celebrations balked at the small window of time.  A wedding of this magnitude required at least a year, someone said, and you wished their gaze hadn’t dropped to your lower half so blatantly.

When you weren’t working and trying to keep your eyes and ears about you to pass along information, you were trying to meet and correspond with vendors and come up with a vision of an event that, quite frankly, would suit neither of you if the matter of rank didn’t come into play.  It kept you so busy that you toyed with the idea of a kamera to save you time but even those in Snezhnaya were not slim nor inconspicuous. But they were expensive to maintain.  You couldn’t afford to add another item to your paper-thin personal budget.

You ran through your itinerary in your head again as you made your way down from the Palace and into town, thankful the weather was at least holding out a bit.  Post office, bank, and an appointment with a seamstress that wasn’t on Regrator’s list of preferred vendors.

All of the dresses you saw and tried were simply…too much.  Tried too hard.  Beautiful in their work but felt like another layer of paint rather than an organic addition to the whole affair.

As far as you knew, the Harbinger had a personal tailor in the Palace anyway and going off of the suggested list was bound to produce some results.  You were determined to find vendors who could use the support and might be overlooked otherwise.

Bad enough you had to go to Northland; you didn’t need wedding vendors working against you either.

The post office was packed, as usual, and you eagerly handed over the last remnants of your copied ledgers and notes.  They might as well have been burning holes in your cloak pocket all morning.  Your room and your office was now free of damning evidence.  Privacy was almost non-existent now and it would vanish entirely soon enough.  If you wrote to your parents more frequently, you could still keep up the habit established and not raise suspicion.

A break in a usual routine would be seen as unusual, you reminded yourself.

Amid the other envelopes was a thicker one, your reluctant communication to your parents about the change of circumstance.  They deserved to know and understand that it changed nothing (if they were different people, you would not have told them at all).  Traveling to the city was out of the question for them between the cost and your father’s health, let alone the added layer of your boss being thrown into that mix.

Lord Dottore’s proposal and your agreement already put you in a spotlight you never wanted to be in.  You didn’t need Pantalone knowing exactly how bad of a position your parents’ bankruptcy had put them, and you, in.  

Funny how you feared the Second Harbinger far less despite his gruesome acts, you mused after you thanked the clerk and made your way to Northland’s prominent facade.  At least he wouldn’t care one way or the other so long as nothing interfered with his work.  He never made it personal.

Until now, in a way.

Your cheek strung for a brief moment as your skin remembered the cold metal of your letter opener.  The closest thing to a kiss you two shared.

Northland’s home branch was a source of tourism as much as it was an actual bank.  Vaulted ceilings soared high overhead and marble pillars provided support that, for the briefest moments, made the building feel as much of a chapel as it was a bank.  The guided tours helped.

Compared to the latest branch in Liyue Harbor, it was surprisingly austere in its plainness.  Pantalone’s office suite and several of the other rooms outside of the lobby of tellers were far more opulent; much like its owner, the bank presented one image to the public and another to its closest confidants.  The coffered ceilings casted shadows as intricate as the dealings on the floor below.

You waited in line, as everyone did.  Most of the staff knew you, at least by loose association, and you were under no impression that anything was ever truly hidden.

Your family situation wasn’t the secret you needed to keep, after all.  As far away as you tried to keep it, part of you knew that your boss was likely aware you sent most of your pay home.  That you worked at the Palace as a sacrifice for the poor choices of others.  And that he was likely at fault, although you doubted he would ever claim as such.

The source of the money was a different story, of course.

A bridge to cross another day.

As you filled out the respective slips for deposit and withdrawal, the clerk’s head snapped up out of your peripheral vision with an audible gasp.

“My lady, why didn’t you say you would be accompanied by your fiancé, the Lord Harbinger?” She whispered, a tinge of fear tainting her words.  “We would have prepared a private office for you both to take care of your business.”

“I—”

Out of the corner of your eye to your left, you caught a tall figure with hair the color of a spring morning sky and a shining earring that gave off its own glow.  The white cloak with its black fur collar filled in the gaps.  Around you, it felt as if the very air around you had been sucked out.  Chattering had all but ceased and you heard the shuffle of people changing their posture, dedicating their attention to the notion that a Harbinger was among them.

Would you ever get used to that?  Likely not.  When it was just the two of you, things were different; it was you and him meeting blow for verbal blow.  You did your best to keep your composure and just as you were about to politely smile and tell the clerk that you handled affairs separately, a voice to your left interjected.

“Such accommodations won’t be necessary.  We are not staying long enough to require them,” Lord Dottore remarked, not even turning his head in your direction.

Your face felt hot as you thanked the clerk for their assistance and handed over the account slips.  A presence lingered at your side and you didn’t have to look to see that it was Dottore; he had already finished whatever his errand was but for him to leave would look bizarre, you rationalized.  You tried to ignore the biting thought that he was sticking around to ensure you didn’t bumble your way through the transaction now that the cat was out of the bag.

“Just a deposit then, My Lady?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, as usual.  Will the funds be accessible later today?”

“Immediately, ma’am.  The account holder should have no issue.”

If you timed it right, the morning post would arrive in time for your mother to reach the bank and take care of other affairs before the end of the day.  Bills were already paid.  But groceries and medicine were constant necessities and your parents couldn’t stockpile like they used to.

Next to you, Lord Dottore seemed to prickle with a question that he knew wasn’t appropriate.  Hearing his fiancé was giving money away when she was, supposedly, so good at it herself, was a variable never discussed.

A lot of things weren’t discussed though.  This might as well have been an elopement save for the actual, well, act of running away.

Once everything was finished, Dottore escorted you out of the bank, extending his elbow in silent regard.  Right.  Anything else would be too informal.  You tried your best not to look uncomfortable with his proximity or at the looks and whispers from staff and client alike as you looped your hand underneath to hold the crook of his arm.

“Not an outcome I anticipated but one I will take advantage of nonetheless,” Dottore muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.  “I need to borrow your hand.”

You looked up at him, face contorted in confusion.  The proposal was unusual enough on its own.  Did he mean your actual hand, and if so, attached or detached?  Was your life now going to be filled with bizarre requests?  

“What?” you hissed, baffled.

Several heads turned as you walked through the snowy street.  The tilt of his head told you he was glaring at you for drawing such attention.

“You need a ring, do you not, my dear?  I might be the best scholar in several centuries but even I am aware that ring sizes are best left to proper measurement devices.”

Oh.  Of course.  Your ring.

“I thought you were busy for the next several weeks, sir,” you emphasized your correction more for those who might overhear than the man you were speaking with.  “Unless you are, in fact, not the Doctor?”

“As if I would leave such a personal matter to a segment.”

He spat the words, insulted.  Whether by the insinuation he’d doled out the task or your seeming inability to tell him apart from his counterparts, you couldn’t quite tell.

You could tell them apart.  Lord Dottore knew that.  

But he also knew how important it would be to make this appear right.

Lord Dottore didn’t wait for you to reply and continued.  “It will not take long and then you can be on your way.  Where else are you off to, anyway?”

“I have an appointment with a seamstress.  Plenty of well-known vendors extended their offerings but they were…” you gestured with your free hand, finding yourself at a loss for words other than, “rather unremarkable.”

The chuckle that wrenched from his lips made your blood run cold and your heart jump.

“You’re certainly playing your part, Accountant,” he teased.

Of course you were.  What did he expect, to marry you in your uniform?  You bit your tongue for a second to think on your words.

“As I said when last we spoke, I don’t wish to misrepresent you.  That goes for your rank as well as who you are, or at least the image you project.  But everything I was presented with was just not right.”

You walked in silence for three steps before Lord Dottore said, “Elaborate.”

That was like asking you to explain why you balanced numbers the way you did or why you preferred to sleep on your right rather than your left side.  You just did.  

“They’re beautiful but they feel almost…like I’m competing with the Tsaritsa.  Like I’m just a doll to wear the dress rather than the dress being a reflection of…well, me.”

You cast a glance up at Lord Dottore as he gave a hum and found his head angled towards you in such a way that prevented you from seeing beneath his mask.  A part of you was curious, of course, about what he looked like.  You weren’t alone in that regard but it was never acted upon except by the young, giddy acolytes who had yet to find their place as a Fatuus, enamored with the prospect rather than the work.

Even as a spouse, you doubted you would be privy to his face.  Why would you be?  You were to be an equal on paper, nothing more.

“I trust your judgment, Accountant.  The ceremony is long and the reception is longer; it would be better to have something that you feel comfortable in.  I don’t rightly care, as you well know, but expectations must be met for this to be believable.”

Before you could speak again, you were led into a shop with glass counters and carefully placed lights.  The encased jewelry and the glass itself didn’t so much sparkle as glow and you were careful to tap out your boots so as to not soak the plush carpet.

Lord Dottore didn’t so much as shake out his cloak’s hem as he addressed the shopkeeper.  You tried to keep your expression neutral as you looked around, each case organized by the type of stone.  Everything in here had to be worth at least ten times your salary in total and it churned your stomach to even try to calculate that amount.  You tore your gaze away and returned to Dottore’s side.

Sizing was, in fact, just as quick as he said it would be.  The process was just a matter of using the jeweler's equivalent to a set of keys, each sizing ring marked with the appropriate measurement.  You tried on a few before settling on a number that was snug enough not to slip over your knuckle easily and came off with a bit of a struggle.

“There, matter settled,” Dottore murmured as the jeweler jotted down notes.

And you didn’t even lose a hand, you thought.  Yet.

If you were alone, you might have made the joke aloud.  

He was closer than you expected, his eyes seemingly glued to the case the entire time you went back and forth with the jeweler on the sizing.  He’d only chimed in once in the whole process, to take your hand and try the sizer himself, as if gauging the difficulty of getting the ring over your knuckle.  You tensed instantly before reminding yourself to relax.

You would need to get used to being in his presence and he would have to put your band on your finger publicly, after all.

Something in his face shifted and you got the distinct feeling you’d failed whatever he was trying to benchmark.  You’d been slipping.  First the bank, now this.  His finger traced the faint line across your cheek as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

“You should get going if you don’t want to be late, my dear.”

“Of course,” you replied, tilting your head and daring to lean ever so slightly into the gesture.

Two could play that game.

You thanked the jeweler for their time and left the shop, hoping the cold would stave off the burning sensation on your cheek.

The seamstress appointment was better, but only just.  At the mere mention of the timeline and the passing look between the shopkeeper and the assistant, you knew they connected the dots as to which upcoming wedding this was for.

“We would have come to you, my lady,” the seamstress said.

You could feel any sense of control over the situation slipping away to propriety again.

“Please, I’m not—”

“A Harbinger’s fiancé, and the Second’s at that, shouldn’t have to come down into town.  We would have gladly made the trip up to the Palace.”

Was it a faux part on your part or was it fear?  Her face was so hard to read.  Running any kind of business was difficult enough.  Harder still to contend with public courtesy and unwritten rules.  Fontaine had it worst of all, you recalled, but even here in Snezhnaya, rank and social standing ruled with a golden hand.

It only went so far, though, and that Pantalone didn’t work directly with the shop spoke volumes to you.  You overheard so many conversations when you were in the backroom, balancing the books and triple-checking the tax levies.  Those who respected your father’s time were the ones he was always willing to work with, no matter the situation.

“I want whoever I work with to be in the best environment for them.  You have everything here, after all; it makes far more sense for me to come to you,” you replied evenly.

Hopefully, in the event someone decided to speak and spread whatever they saw, you passed as humble and self-aware.

After all, that was the point.

You eventually found yourself swaddled in lace and tulle, watching as the two craftspeople worked together to find the perfect color and the perfect patterns.  A very soft silvery-blue, rather than a strict white, laid a shimmering foundation upon which the lace and tulle were overlaid; the bodice and sleeves would be lace and the pattern would fade until the hem and the train.  It was difficult to visualize at first until you looked at another dress, already made, and they described the changes in volume and cut with a sketch that made you wish you did have a kamera after all.  

What beauty, wasted on the likes of Il Dottore, you thought as you looked in the mirror and watched as the material reflected light as though it were water.  Such a moment would make any ordinary bride happy but you had never felt more alone in the entire endeavor thus far.

Neither truly balked at the six week time frame when you began discussing deadlines and cost.  Instead, you were reassured that you would have a dress that would keep the rest of the nation talking for years to come.  A grandiose exaggeration, spoken with all the levity one might read a law, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

When you stepped out into the cold again, you were greeted by a familiar mask and cloak; Lord Dottore was standing outside like a large menacing hound, waiting for you.

He said nothing and began to walk away as you pulled your cloak tighter around you to seal away your warmth.  It took you a moment to realize he was walking in the direction of the Palace.

“If you’re finished, my lord, it would be more expedient to take a carriage back,” you advised.  “The snow makes for poor footfalls and the sky might open any minute again.”

Dottore turned his head to gaze over his shoulder at you, his mouth thin.  In turn, you raised your eyebrows, expectant.  It was the same look you gave him when you needed an explanation during an audit.

“I walked down from the Palace,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and the biggest inconvenience to admit.

“So did I.  But the people have seen us together and it would not be fitting for us to be seen trekking back up to the Palace.  We don’t have to be a wholly united front but even you know that the optics of that, in addition to my empty finger, don’t bode well.  Don’t want to be accused of not caring, do you?”

Dottore clicked his tongue as a puff of hot breath streamed from his nose and for a moment, he looked every bit like an angry dragon as he turned and flagged down a nearby coach.  You didn’t miss the smug smirk and sardonic bite when he said, “After you,” and helped you into the closed carriage.  

Silence dominated the ride out of town and back up the hill the Palace sat on.  Your feet ached and now that you were sitting down, you realized how much the day had taken out of you for errands that, normally, wouldn’t have bothered you.  Granted, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was well into the afternoon, which didn’t exactly help.  You went through your mental checklist of things to be done as you gazed out the coach window; your thoughts were interrupted by a tap of your shoe from the man across from you.  He withdrew his leg, as much as he could within the confines of the space and extended his hand, which held a tiny box.

Your eyes flicked from the box to his hidden face just once, finding his expression unreadable as always, before you took it from him.

Perched within were two rings of gold so brilliant it looked almost pink, woven into a vine pattern.  The first ring held a sizeable light blue stone so clear it looked as if it could have been carved from ice, flanked by a smaller stone on either side that appeared more purple than blue, iridescent in the way it refracted light.  The setting was dotted with tiny blue stones of the same color and clarity as the centerpiece, resulting in a diamond-shaped cluster.  Beneath it, the accompanying wedding band mimicked the setting, woven vines housing tiny ice droplets, the shape lining up with the other ring exactly so the two nested together.

The sensation from earlier in the dress shop came flooding back.  Such craftsmanship and time went into making such a beautiful piece.  On their own, the rings were stunning, but there was thought in this choice; it matched many of the motifs the man himself used and was known for and it would act as a reminder whenever she wore it.

Something tugged at your stomach before you reminded yourself that this was all for a show, that it didn’t matter.  You blinked away tears faster than they could form.  No.  He didn’t deserve such a thing from you.

But you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been in that shop looking for something capable of such impact.

“It should keep Pantalone quiet.  Not that anything will ever silence that man’s prattling, especially if he knew how many arms I had to twist to find something suitable.”

Briefly, you recalled the rings on Lord Pantalone’s fingers and how often they were swapped out, save the globus cruciger.  It was not uncommon to hear him remark about the clarity of a stone or the difficulty in obtaining it; the bragging point was often the price and you always refrained from retching every time you heard a figure higher than the last.

You removed your gloves and slipped on the first ring.  It fit perfectly; not that you expected anything less.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, handing him back the box with the wedding band.  “I wasn’t expecting anything quite so…”

“As we’ve agreed, Accountant, this needs to be well beyond believable,” Dottore replied, tucking the box away in his cloak.  “It would have been easy to give you any ring and have this be passable on the surface.  No one questions a diamond ring in high social circles, only how big the diamond is, after all.  However, we have the added thread of plausibility and both of us are aware Regrator scrutinizes everything.  Aquamarine and tanzanite, with reinforced rose gold, in the event one should ask.”

When you’d managed to bring yourself to make the trip down to his workshops, you didn’t expect much from that conversation other than at least a piece of jewelry that would stop all of the lingering stares and whispers.  He’d thrown your expectations out the window.

That was quintessentially him, though, wasn’t it?  To take something and run with it, to push an idea well beyond the expectations and thoughts of others.

Lord Dottore knew it, too, for he adjusted his posture ever so slightly.  Just like he did when he knew you had no other recourse but to give in to his budget requests.

“I’ve held up my end as requested, Accountant.  But I find myself curious: what were you doing at Northland?”

A question you knew he’d been dying to ask ever since he overheard the transaction at the bank.  And you were no longer in a position to deny him the answer, not when he’d not only fulfilled your request but did so well beyond the expectations you held.

Bastard.

He didn’t need to know much, you reasoned.  And you were in no position to not answer.  Defensiveness here would raise too many alarm bells.  

“I…send money to my parents back home.  Most of my pay goes to them to cover bills and expenses.  My father no longer works; my mother spreads herself too thin caring for him and trying to earn a pittance when she can,” you replied.

The words almost choked you to admit them outloud.  No one else, not even your coworkers, knew; Lord Pantalone probably did, at least to some extent.  But it seemed like an unspoken responsibility shouldered by those within the administration spheres and on the field.  The way food was shared during lunch after an admission of missing a meal or the crowd-funding of a night out to raise spirits seemed so contrary to what you expected.  You had chipped in all for the sake of appearances only to be given the same respect in kind.  It wasn’t foreign to you, per se, but after the bankruptcy, it was difficult to find those willing to help your family when all they saw was negligence and bad decisions.

It was nothing to be ashamed about.

To clear the air, you continued.

“They’ve asked for nothing more and I fully intend to only use my wages for such things.”

Lord Dottore tilted his head before he looked away, his gaze seemingly set on the landscaping passing by.  The answer bored him, clearly, as you expected it to.

“I care little for what you do beyond your role but be sure not to neglect yourself for the sake of others.”

Icy rain fell in sheets, pelting the ground in soft plinks as you arrived back at the Palace.  You parted ways without another word and you wished the metal on your finger was as cold as the rain and the man who gave it to you.

Her visit to Haeresys was quite unexpected, to say the least.  Not many people ventured down into the bowels of the Palace unless they absolutely had to.  But for her to not would otherwise lend itself poorly, wouldn’t it?

After all, she was never afraid to speak her mind before.  More than once she has left my ego bruised and my pride singed when she laid out points I’d pushed aside in previous considerations.  Said points were not neglected but rather only issues if they were encountered; when she provided context, more often than not, there was little option but to compromise.  When all is said and done, she too considers the bigger picture, just from a different angle.  No two artists paint the same image even when given the same set of references.  It is one of the few areas of the human experience that is, perhaps, at least intriguing.

Sohreh, for all her fawning, was similar.  At least the Accountant did not blush every time she laid eyes on me.

Such things were what drove my desire to create the prostheses, after all.

The pageantry of all of this…utterly ridiculous.  All of this for the sake of a bet, a gamble; a ladder for Pantalone to get off of my back at the cost of time I will never regain.

How do others pursue this for the sake of emotion?  This is truly joyous for some?  Or is it social convention that dictates one must go this route, to celebrate so widely when so few truly know those exchanging nuptials?

Does one even need emotion, that worthless thing of love, to make these arrangements work?

The historical argument would hold that no, emotion doesn’t matter.  Without that, perhaps something stronger still is erected to replace fleeting desire and heart palpitations and whimsical dreams.  This farce can be plausible without such trivial things.

And Regrator will be proved wrong, as all others before him have been.

Even if it means playing by the convention he expects us to follow.

Us.

Strange to use that in reference to…an existence outside of my own.

Other than her late night gallivanting to demand a ring, I have seen little of her.  Omega has dutifully managed what needed my input and that has allowed me to prioritize.  

The Tsaritsa has already insisted on sending me away and offered up a choice of properties to boot.  A lack of a honeymoon would be forgivable given my position and I would rather stay here and focus on what must be done.  Too much progress has already been made.  But I am in no position to deny Her Majesty’s will and I must also consider the Accountant’s position.  She was already questioned about a ring; I would never hear the end of it from Regrator and it would put her in an even worse position, surely, if we didn’t at least leave the Palace.

Annoying.  Worrying about another’s quality of life.  Their actions.  The impact they’ll have.

I had not expected running into her at the bank, of all places, although I cannot place why.  After all, she’s an accountant and financial assistant.  At the very least, she would be running an errand for work, if not for herself.  That was a normal occurrence for most people.

She’d avoided eye contact with me.  Even looked annoyed when the clerk mentioned transaction details, perhaps under the assumption I would be aware of them.

Not helped by her surprise when I provided my reasoning for needing her company.  What did she think, that I would be severing her body?  I am aware of the fear about me that spreads rumors like a plague but she should give me a little more credit than that.  After all, short of the reports given to the Tsaritsa, the Accountant is one of the few who at least can put a value to the work I do.  

Worse still, she looked stiff and uncomfortable during the ring sizing.  The jeweler is one of Regrator’s contacts but to work with anyone else would result in another earful I didn’t want to hear.  Anything detrimental would make its way back to the banker in no time.  But what better way to prove solidarity than throw it right in Regrator’s face?  Acting distant would do us no credit.

I had specifically chosen her for the bite she could give back and in public settings, she was proving to be less reliable than I hypothesized.  

How would she react to public affection, gestures that few would think twice about?  Her skin was still cold from outside when I leaned in.  She hid the dark circles beneath her eyes well enough and by now, the cut on her cheek had healed, leaving behind only a thin line noticeable in the right light.  The scent of parchment and ink clung to her, mingled with whatever floral scent her soap was infused with.

Disgusting.  How could anyone ever find the smell of flowers pleasant?

And then she had the gall to tilt her head and look up at me through her lashes.  A lesser individual might have bought such behavior.

Not me.

She left for her dress appointment and the nagging thought of my own attire came to mind.  Omega was seeing to that.  White with tails, blue and gold accents, all the while bearing the feathery mantle I’ve grown quite fond of.  Why not have a bit of a dramatic flair, after all, if I must go through with all of this?

I should have left the ring to Omega, in hindsight.  He would have come to the same conclusion I did.  All the colors before me were nothing more than structural compounds of specific minerals and a mix of circumstances.  No stone was special when it was broken down into its most basic components.

The deep reds and brilliant rubies were, to the jeweler’s credit, remarkable enough for what they were.  If this were different, perhaps these would have been suitable…

But she has never seen my eyes.  And she likely never will.

Diamonds would be appropriate, if nothing else.  

Rare, resilient.  

Cliche.  

Aquamarine, however…would be a reflection of her homeland, among other things.  Symbolically, it was impossible to go wrong or be misinterpreted.

But the stones nearby, iridescent purple ranging in various shades, were far more unique.  I’d encountered such stones before, in the depths of the desert when taking apart Deshret’s Primal Constructs to reinforce my boots and weaponry during my exile.  Deshret had failed in his attempt to save the people; his legacy meant little to me.

Two colors, then.

The jeweler was quick to accommodate, finding a matching band in no time, but it paled in comparison to the main ring when the stones were properly set.  I had little doubt he would hesitate to inform Pantalone the moment I left.  Paying extra would do little but delay the information anyway.

I found the notion of a band for myself wasteful.  I’d never wear the thing.  It would only get in the way.

But the Accountant was dedicated to portraying the image needed…

Platinum would, at least, survive.

The Accountant finished her appointment not long after I’d tucked both boxes in my pocket and found the shop she’d mentioned.  It was impossible to see the back of the shop from the windows in front, even if I had been curious about her plans and wanted to know.

Which I didn’t.

I just wanted to be done with this entire affair so I could focus on other things.  Usually, I enjoy the process of the experiment; ever since the words left my mouth weeks ago, however…

Perhaps she was feeling something similar.  The look on her face when she stepped out of the shop was not unlike the one from when she first began working in the Palace, when she’d had no choice but to summon me in place of the Segments.  Her smile was strained, her eyes looking at him but clearly elsewhere.

And yet she still managed to dig her heels in about a carriage, of all things.

She’d walked down herself–she wasn’t the type to take an easy route or method anywhere.  The cold was, despite my Delusion, still bitter and dry for me and yet I didn’t think twice about taking the trip on-foot.  Few bothered me and I could go at my own pace.

I should have left her behind.  Why had I gone to the shop to wait for her, anyway?

Other than her protest for a carriage, she was quiet.  Not that I minded.  But her earlier behavior continued to nag, like an irritating fabric in cloying heat.  Was she like the rest after all?

When she took the box and opened it, her pragmatism won out.  It unsettled me that she did not, as most might, gush over the rings, but it sickened me all the more to wish she did.

What use was her praise?

None of this mattered.

The thanks from her lips were genuine enough but something in her face was harder to pin down.  Her eyes were a little watery though and the flush of her cheeks was not just from the brisk wind outside.  I’ll take what reactions I can get out of her…I need to document something, after all.

She kept her main ring and returned the box with the other band inside.  The red leather was still warm when I tucked it away again.

I couldn’t help myself, however, as the moment from the bank came to mind again.  Perhaps she would be pliable, now that I’d played along?  What was the worst that could happen?

Right.  Most still have a family.  Living for centuries desensitizes you to all of those notions.  

Sending money back home is not uncommon, especially among the lower ranks and the administrative branches.  She cared for others.  Not a sentiment I can understand.  

But I do know what it means to rise to every occasion, to come from nothing and fight for every scrap along the way.  As unconventional as it had been, the Akademiya saw to it that I would, in one way or another, find what I wanted out of life.

Her earnestness is unsettling.  Hard work pays off but only when you have something to prove.  At least she knows her boundaries, I suppose.  That should make it all the quicker to find them myself, see how they might break…

That this is nothing more than transactional should make that all the easier.

I left the carriage as soon as the horses pulled to a stop.  She’d managed to shake the doubts instilled in me with nothing more than a few words and a conviction that ran deeper than the icecaps not far from the Palace.  

She was the right choice for this little experiment after all.

[agaypanic]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! Could you write a girl next door kind of thing with Reese? Like reader moves in next door to the Wilkersons and initially they don’t get along but eventually he asks her out 🤭🤭

Being Reese's New Neighbor Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: warning for underage drinking at the end

***

Reese almost immediately got on your nerves

While moving in, you saw him staring at you through his family’s window

But then again, you were a new neighbor, and his whole family was also watching the moving process

You didn’t think too much of that

It was a different moment that started your irritation

“Oh my god!” You screeched, jumping away from your window. The sound of breaking glass startled you out of the little organizing groove you were in, and you grew both scared and pissed as you realized that the broken glass was from your window.

You picked up the baseball that had rolled on the ground towards you, no doubt the cause of the incident. You looked out your window to see a boy your age, your neighbor, and probably the one who threw the ball. He moved an already broken piece of the fence that divided your properties to the side to get to your side.

“Hey.” He said, now at your window. You gripped the ball tight, angry about his nonchalance. “That’s my ball.”

“I figured.” You did your best not to sneer. You reached out the window to drop the baseball in his hand, quickly pulling back without cutting yourself on the broken glass.

“I’m Reese, by the way.”

“Y/n.”

He seemed like he was about to say something more, but you wouldn’t know because you shut your curtains and walked away, trying to figure out how to tell your parents that the house already had damages.

Despite trying to avoid him, you ended up having to spend a lot of time with Reese

You both walked to school

You shared a few classes together 

It felt like hell

“Hey, wait up!” You heard Reese yell behind you, and you immediately wanted to break into a sprint. More often than not, Reese would walk to school with you, much to your dismay. The two of you seemed to have a bit of a habit of sleeping in, so occasionally, you’d rush out of your houses at the same time and speedwalk to school. “Y/n, come on!”

“It’s not my fault you’re slow!” You shout back, staying at your brisk pace as you hear his thundering footsteps behind you.

“Oh, shut up!” He said when he finally caught up to you. You gave him a quick glance and snorted at how much of a mess he was. 

“You look like you just rolled out of bed.” It was true. Reese didn’t have time to gel up his hair today, so it was messy and had strands sticking out in every direction. His clothes looked like he had just thrown them on, not bothering to straighten anything out. And his backpack was zipped open, loose pieces of paper threatening to fly out.

“I feel like it.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair to try and make it look more neat. “Did we have any homework today?”

“We have homework every day, Reese.”

“Damn it! Can I copy off of you? Just this once?”

“No way, Reese.” You say, rolling your eyes. “And it’s not just ‘this once.’ You copy me like every other day.”

Having to hang out with Reese all the time makes you eventually warm up to each other

You start coming over to his house every now and then to help him with homework

You tell him it’s so he’ll stop copying your work, but that’s only half true

When you leave the house and forget to grab something for breakfast or lunch, Reese miraculously has some food for you in that mess of a bag of his

He says it’s because your complaints about being hungry annoy him, but that’s only half true

“Okay, now carry the two.” You instruct, watching Reese work on a math problem. You had slowly fallen into a routine of coming over to the Wilkerson’s to study and such. Malcolm was very grateful for you, because now that you would come over, Lois wouldn’t force him to help tutor his brother. “Good job, Reese.”

“Thanks.” He said, ears heating up a bit at the small praise. “Can we take a break now?”

“Yeah, sure.” You laughed at the slight whine in his voice, but you were glad to pause the study session. The two of you had been working for about an hour now, and your eyes needed a rest.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit. Then, feeling the familiar empty feeling in your stomach, you groaned. 

“What?” Reese asked, eyes snapping over to you.

“I’m so hungry.”

Reese rolled his eyes and grabbed his backpack. Wordlessly, he dug around for a bit before pulling out a sandwich and a small bag of chips and placing them on the desk in front of you. You grinned and opened the bag of chips. Instead of saying thanks, you offered him a chip. And instead of saying you’re welcome, he took it.

One night, the two of you were at a house party

The two of you had snuck out together

Looking at the time and seeing how late it was, a slightly drunk Reese stumbled around the house to find you

He found you in the kitchen, carefully pouring yourself another drink

You jolted at the sudden feeling of a hand gently clutching your arm but soon smiled brightly when you saw Reese beside you.

“Hey, Reese!” You squealed. It was safe to say that you were a bit tipsy. He smiled at your excitement before remembering why he was trying to find you in the first place. 

“Y/n, I think it’s time to go.” He almost had to yell over the music. But you heard him.

“Boo!” You pouted, bringing your newly filled cup to your lips. But Reese covered the top with his hand and took it out of your grasp, setting it on the counter. “Hey!”

“I’ll make it up to you later. Now come on.” 

Reese dragged you out of the house, and soon you were walking home together. You shivered a bit as a gust of wind hit you. Noticing, Reese let go of your hand to shrug off his jacket and put it over your shoulders.

“But then you’ll be cold.” You half-heartedly protested, wrapping the jacket tighter around you.

“I’m fine.” Reese shrugged.

You don’t know what came over you, but you grabbed Reese’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. He looked slightly surprised at the action, but didn’t protest it.

Sooner than you hoped, you reached your houses. The two of you snuck along the fence dividing the properties and got to your window.

“Hey, Y/n?” Reese asked in a whisper as he helped open your bedroom window. “Do you maybe wanna, like, go out?”

You turned to him, confused.

“We are out.”

Even though he was trying to be quiet, Reese couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, I mean like a date.” You perked up at the word, surprised expression soon turning happy.

“Oh my gosh, I’d love to!” Your response was a bit too loud, so Reese shushed you. You giggled and spoke again in a whisper. “I’d love to.”

With dopey, drunk smiles on both of your faces, Reese helped you climb through your window and into your room. He was about to go through the broken fence and into his yard when you quietly called out his name.

“Your jacket.” You said, suddenly remembering that you were wearing the piece of clothing. You started to take it off when Reese stopped you.

“No, no, it’s fine.” He stared at you, eyes a little glassy. “It looks good on you.”

You suddenly yanked him by the collar of his shirt to bring him close enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Reese.”

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank @theogirlovermattheogirl

[scarlettriot]

❄️ Warmth in the Winter ❄️

• Pairing: Bakugo & Ro (@greatexplosiongoddynamight)

• Warnings: SMUT | Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI. Aged Up Characters ((late 20s)). Drinking. So much fluff.

• Contains: Again, an abundance of fluff. Oral (F Receiving). Bakugo is kinda a nerd, and we love him for it. Nicknames Used: Babe, Baby.

• A/N: This fic is a part of my Winter Writing Event, specially written for @/greatexplosiongoddynamight! Thank you so very much for partaking in the event, Ro! I really hope you love your Holi-Date with Kat. The event will remain open until the last week of January. Just follow the link if you'd like a date of your own.

• Word Count: 1,600ish

Snow had been falling steadily all night, and it wasn’t supposed to let up anytime soon. The weather forecast told you as much the night before, so you and Katsuki decided to lay low for the day, the whole weekend actually since he managed to get it off. And when you woke up in the morning, you couldn’t have been happier with that decision! 

A fresh blanket of white covered everything you could see from your bedroom window. Rooftops, cars, mailboxes, and trees, it all looked so pretty but so very cold. You just much rather admire it from inside your nice, warm home.

One of Katsuki’s large hoodies was thrown over the back of the chair in your room, and you wasted no time slipping it on. The sleeves fell far past your fingertips, but you didn’t care one bit. 

He was standing at the stove when you walked out of the bedroom and headed right for the kitchen. You wrapped your arms around him, fingers dipping under the hem of his own thick sweater and settling over his abdomen as he hissed louder than the sizzling breakfast he was making.

"Damn it, woman,"

He pulled your hand out but then brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently as you chuckled. His hand closed over yours, keeping you close in these quiet morning hours. It felt wonderful having you pressed against him like this, your face nestled between his shoulder blades until he needed you to move so he could plate the food. 

A plethora of your favorites were all laid out. It wasn’t often that he got the day off, so he wanted to spoil you. And, like always, the food was absolutely delicious. You were convinced the man had never made a bad meal in his entire life. 

When your bellies were full, he told you he’d clean up if you wanted to curl up on the sofa, but you insisted on helping him clear the plates off the table. Drying them as soon as he finished washing them. It was a nice little routine the two of you had down. 

It was his turn to wrap his arms around once his hands were dry. Pressing his nose into the crook of your neck after brushing your wavy blue locks out of the way. “I got you a little surprise.” He mumbled and kissed your cheek. Out of the pocket of his sweats, he pulled a perfectly wrapped gift and set it in your hands. 

He’d spoiled you absolutely rotten with gifts on the holiday, and here you are, still getting more from him. “Are you serious!” You spun to face him. 

“Wouldn’t have dropped it in your hands if I wasn’t.” 

He kept his arms wound around you while you tore into the shimmery paper to reveal a set of brand-new controllers for your Nintendo Switch. “You’ve been complaining for weeks how the joystick has been sticking, and I ordered these when ya mentioned it, but they came in late. Holiday delays or some shit.” 

They were perfect, brand new, in your favorite colors. “Thank you, baby!” You stood on tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck, and a soft smile spread across his face. Gods, he’d never get enough of your hugs. “Does this mean you wanna game today?” He nodded his head. “Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing?” You know those were two of his favorite games for lazy days like today. 

“Animal Crossing,” He muttered and stooped so he could pick you up, bringing your legs around his waist and carrying you over to the sofa. “Got some winter fish I need to catch.” 

He sat you down on the sofa while plugging your switch into the TV and the new controllers for you into the adapter, handing it over while he broke out his own console. You grabbed blankets while he put everything together, and once he sat beside you, covered the both of you up and rested your legs over his lap. 

The hours slipped by, but the two of you barely realized, too busy laughing and cursing at your games while sipping on boozy drinks he made. This was the best way you could think to spend a wintery day off with Katsuki, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way either.

You visited each other’s island, and he made sure to help you rebuild any snowman he knocked down. And, of course, he went around and watered all your flowers.

But he put his switch down when he noticed the hour started getting later in the game. “Think it’s about time we get some food in us.” 

“Can I help!” You paused your game, too, and how could he say no when you looked at him with those big blue eyes. 

“‘Course, Ro, whatcha feelin’?” 

Together you searched in the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients. Neither of you wanted to make something that involved too much effort, but, Katsuki still wanted a nice dinner with you to top off this perfect day. 

You worked in sync, side by side getting all the prep work done in no time at all. He loved how well the two of you worked together. 

He took off the oven mitt once dinner was in the oven and set a timer on his phone while admiring the way you leaned against the opposite counter. So damn cute in his hoodie, your hair a little messy, with your stupid, perfect smile. There was a time many years ago he would’ve said it was the alcohol talking, making him feel this way about you, but not anymore. He was proudly able to admit now that he was just hopelessly in love with you to anyone who asked. 

Without a word, Katsuki walked right up to you and caged your body in against the counter, kissing you until the both of you were breathless. “Wha– what was that for?” 

“I just love you. Do I need a reason?” 

“Nope.” You muttered against his lips, pulling him right back to you. 

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so.” 

Your hands roamed under his sweater, and this time he groaned rather than hissed, eager to feel your touch elsewhere too. 

There was plenty of time until dinner would be ready, but he still wasn't willing to waste a second of it. Scooping you up in his arms again and taking you to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and crawled under them while your lips were busy sucking at his neck. You broke apart only long enough to yank the sweater over his head, and then his lips were back on yours. 

Soft but hungry, wanting more and more. Wanting whatever you'd let him have.

It didn’t take him long to pull off your hoodie too, or have you bare beneath him with the comforter over his back. He settled after putting your legs up on his shoulders so he could get comfortable. Using two fingers, he parted your folds and licked a stripe up your center before allowing himself to get lost in you. Festing like he intended on ruining the dinner the two of you were making. 

The more your fingers tugged on his roots, the more he sucked on your pretty clit. “Kat-suki!” You whined over and over, wiggling under him so much he was forced to hold you still. Pinning your hips right down to the mattress.

“What is it?” He asked with your arousal falling from his tongue like the sweetest honey. “If you want something, ya gotta tell me.” 

It took you several moments to answer since he couldn’t keep his tongue off you, but you finally managed to get the breathless words out. “Wanna cum, Kats, please–!” 

Gods, you sounded so pretty for him, he wanted to keep making you babble and beg for it, wanted to hear his name tumbling from your lips over and over again, but there was nothing like the way your voice hitched when he made you cum. 

His lips closed around your clit again, and two fingers pressed into your warm walls. Curling just the way you liked, and he knew the moment he had you right on the edge. “Come on, baby,” He urged, his words hot on your core until your release had your thighs squeezing around his head.  

He hummed, perfectly content, lapping up everything you gave him while his hands caressed your shaky legs. Katsuki gingerly set them back down on the bed but not before kissing each one tenderly and then crawled up the length of your body, kissing as he went until he reached your lips. “You know I love you, right?” 

Your smile was lopsided thanks to the post-orgasm haze, and damn, was he proud of it. “You could stand to mention it more.” 

He rolled those vermillion eyes at you, tickling your sides and rolling until he was on his back with you resting on his chest. “I love you, Ro.” He whispered, his lips featherlight against your forehead. 

You tilted your head up to kiss him properly. “I know, Katsuki. I love you, too.” Your hips shifted just the right way over his length, and he didn’t even try to stifle a groan. “Gonna lemme show you how much I love you?” 

He’d never been more tempted to let dinner be ruined, but he also didn’t wanna risk your home burning down... “After dinner. You can have your way with me after. Promise.” You did have the whole weekend together after all.

[spidertgirl]

Spider-Gwen and the Case of the Monday Blues

Part One- Monday Morning, So Forlorning

TW: This is just a little pre-Spider-Verse, ITSV Spider-Gwen transromance fic with Peter Parker (AFAB, before coming out). As the story takes through Gwen’s perspective, Patricia is dealt in prose as a woman. This is a plot point. Let me WRITE!!

This is also supposed to be cushy as shit so don’t take this too seriously. I literally finished writing it and immediately copy and pasted it here without any edits so its a bit rough. I just like posting.

Gwen hated Mondays.

Well, more than most. Sundays she tended to stay up all night, either catching up on schoolwork she missed catching criminals, or criminals she missed catching up on schoolwork.

Either way, loud blaring music kept her up far into the night. Last Night’s flavor was a local Hardcore band, mixed with some Beastie Boys, and a bit of Shoegaze.

Her ears were screaming bloody valentines like the worst hangover imaginable, and the wind rushing past them as she swung between skyscrapers did nothing to help. She had to stop and fall onto a nearby taxi just to get some relief.

Which was odd, she would have noticed if she had time to think. Her Sunday routine had long included ear-breaking decibels before and she thought nothing of it. A part wondered if she had just left her earphones in overnight, or taken a few too many hits, but the whole of her was somewhere else.

Something about this morning just drove her Spidey Sense wild. She barely felt it unless danger was right before her. Gwen looked everywhere- no danger. Well, a few dangers. She cautiously stopped a falling passerby, slowed a speeding car, tied a stranger's shoes, and a great deal more simple but thoughtful gestures. It did nothing to heal head, ear, or sense.

But her fears came and past, her school almost came and past before she realized it, and she was quickly distracted by another fear.

“Guess what day it is today?” Patricia asked. Gwen shook her head.

“No, I give up.”

“You didn’t even try! C’mon, one guess.”

“Mmm… the day Mr. Peterson is finally gonna commit to his alopecia and just go bald?” Her friend laughed, and gave her a light push on the shoulder.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I, there are only so many hats in the world that can cover up that sunk cost fallacy.”

“So you have no clue?”

“As clueless as Scooby Doo. Or Cher. Can I change my answer to Cher?”

“Honey, if you’re Cher I’ll get to be Tai.”

“Why Tai? Oh that rhymes!”

“Why Tai, why I always related to her untamable mass of curly hair, my Cheri.”

Gwen realized it was halfway through English and she still didn’t know what Patricia was talking about.

“I’m lost.”

“It’s not that hard Gwen, Mr. Morton is the subject of the sentence because-”

“No, what’s today?”

“One month.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Still nothing.”

“Babe, I love you but you really are clueless.”

“What’re you gonna do with me?”

“Maybe throw you out in a box like a cat. Or, I guess a Jar would be more fitting.”

“Wha- oh. Haha, very funny.” She thought for a moment.

“Do the cat’s really get thrown out with a box? I thought they found it. Like a hermit crab.”

“Of course, otherwise it’s just a cruel thing to do, throwing out a cat.”

“Yeah, but they have a bad habit of getting back in. We used to have-”

“This cat named Mary who used to sneak into your house and-”

“We could never quite throw out- what don’t you know about me?”

“Nothing, now think.”

Gwen could only think of Patty throwing her out the window in a glass cup.

Maybe the shock would get her feeling right. She didn’t know if it was sleep deprivation, embarrassment, or some secret third thing that was keeping her from focusing, but it was driving her insane.

She loved Patricia, and she really wanted to do right by her and their relationship. But she knew they had been dating for almost a year at this point, so ‘one month’ didn’t quite make sense. If only this damn fog would leave her head!

And that creepy feeling down her spine, if she could help it. It’s terribly unhelpful to have a spider sense that’s always turned on. Like radar at a metal concert- useless. Absolutely and positively useless.

She took a hit of the dog that bit her between classes, a smooth, poppier song. It almost did the thing, but a tug on her shoulder stopped her and took her headphones before she had the chance.

“What, you avoiding me now?”

“W- No, never! I’m just… kinda out of it.”

“I’m busting your literal and proverbial balls babe. Go to the nurse, see if she can help. And keep thinking!”

Gwen was gonna refuse- super healing and all- but remembered an especially bad hit to the side of her head that knocked her vision out for a few seconds. And apparently some memory too- not good. That’s concussion territory, she thought.

Or not, she didn’t have a super good grasp on medical sciences, but she watched enough scary news stories with her dad about sports medicine to know concussions are common and quick killers.

Still nothing on the date front though. She thought about everything she did a month ago, everything she said. Only the foggiest came through, the rest a mystery.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh… fell pretty hard and I think I might have a concussion. So… could you check it out?”

The nurse laughed.

“Sure, Bren- is that right?” the nurse eyed her up and down, with a wary eye.

“Gwen, ma’am.”

“Well, Gwen, why do you think you have a concussion?” she said, pulling out a small flashlight.

“Follow my finger.”

“I just feel sorta odd,” she said, eye clinging to finger for dear life.

“Headache?”

“Yeah.”

“Nausea?”

“A little.”

“Confusion?”

“A lot- I mean, huh?”

“Funny girl- loss of consciousness?”

“Uh, when I first… fell?”

“For how long?”

“Oh, a few seconds.” Barely two, by her guess. Not enough for her to lose her footing in the fight, but just enough to distract her, let them get the slightest upper hand.

It was a big job, with some fancy weapons. Not street level crime, this was something bigger. She kept one for questioning, but…

Wait, what happened to him? Gwen was half convinced she let him sit there forever while she went home in a fugue state, but that didn’t seem to likely.

“Ringing in the ears?”

“No, but they’re sensitive.”

“Blurry vision?”

“No? I mean, I wear contacts.”

“Blurrier vision?” Gwen squinted.

“No.”

“Ok, anything else? You can quit following my finger now.” Gwen didn’t realize she followed it right into her coat pocket.

“Oh, sorry. I feel… on edge, I guess.”

“On edge?”

“Yeah. Tingly, frightful.”

“Anxious?”

“Yeah, that’s the word! Anxious- more anxious.”

The nurse walked back to her computer.

“Ok, you probably have a concussion.”

“Shit- I mean-”

“It’s fine. Did you drive here?”

“No, I’m a freshman.”

“Good. Call your dad and have him take you to the hospital.”

“Cool- can I go outside to make the call?”

“No, I don’t think you should honestly be doing any extraneous physical activity.”

Gwen made her phone call in complete view of the nurse, much to her chagrin. The Nurse didn’t even make an effort to turn away- in fact, it seemed like she was watching the detail with great detail!

Gwen did not like this Nurse.

Gwen almost toppled over Patricia.

“Oh, watch where- oh hey. Did you just swing into me? Do you have a concussion?”

“No time to explain- I need makeup wipes.”

Patricia did not look happy.

“I’d actually kind of like to know my if my girlfriend’s got a concussion, actually.” Gwen was taken aback.

“I- shit, I’m sorry, I’m just really in a rush and I’m in a hurry-”

“Spider-Woman shit?”

“Life shit! I finally have life shit again- P, I just need you to start rummaging for your makeup wipes and I’ll explain.”

“Fine,” Patricia said, swinging her bag around and digging through it.

“I totally do have a concussion and I’m super sorry that I don’t remember what day it is but I just snuck out of the nurse’s bathroom to find you because my dad’s about to pick me up and she made me take the phonecall in front of her, and-”

“Here-”

“I thought that would take longer-” Gwen said, grabbing them, before Patricia holds them back.

“And?”

“And? Oh, I love you?”

“Sure, hon. Love you too.”

They both ran to the bathroom and started taking the make up off, four sinks running to hide their chat.

“So what actually is it?”

“It’s your one month transiversary, hun! Or, one month of being out at school.”

“Wait, really? Shit, I had no idea. Do you keep like a… handbook on me at home or something?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“No, I actually kinda would. That’s sorta weird.”

“More of a scrapbook?”

“That’s sorta cute- how do I look?”

“Ready for a Proud Boys rally. Well, drop the wig. And the skirt. And the thigh highs. And the-”

“I get it, I need to change. I’ll be back.”

“Can I watch?” Patty joked from outside the stall.

“I’ll have to charge you!” Gwen said, rummaging through her purse, past her Spiderwoman costume from her morning swing, and pulling out her slacks and sneakers.

“How long do you have?”

“I don’t know, probably a good ten, fifteen minutes. I used a youtube compilation called Ten Hours of People Shititng Farting And Groaning.”

“Weird and gross.”

“Even weirder thing is I had it saved.”

“Ew, gross.”

“Yeah, but pretty clever. Bet you're proud of your ol gir-” when Gwen opened the door, Patty was holding a small colorful parcel, wrapped with ribbon.

“I- is this a gift?”

“Yeah. I was gonna do blue and pink but I figured that’s a lil sus, so it’s red and blue. Basically the same thing. I had to cut up an american flag wrapping paper to make it, so the lace has a few holes that were once stars.”

“Aww, I love a little rebellious flag code violation! This is so sweet Pats, you didn’t have to. Can I open it in the hospital.”

“Oh, not… here?”

“Well it’s been ten minutes so far, and I need time to swing back and find the right window. And honestly I think I probably shouldn’t even swing. Besides, it'll cheer me up, I hate hotel rooms. Sorry, is that not fine?”

“Uh, no. No, it’s totally cool, babe, I get it. I don’t want you to be depressed if you’re there for a while. Call me if you’re there past six and I’ll visit you.”

“Ok- thank you, for everything. I really mean it. I… I don’t know. I owe you something. A lot, really babe. I’m sorry this Spider-Woman thing is such a problem.”

“I get it. Great Power means Great Responsibility.”

“That’s beautiful. Is that from one of your poems?”

“A comic book I read.”

“Figures. See you. Love you,” she added at the end and ran away.

She wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything at all. She always had a bad habit of never knowing when to keep her damn mouth shut, and Spider-Woman only galvanized her wit and ego to dramatic parts. She rarely felt like herself, save for when she was Gwen. When she was with Patty. When she was happy.

She wanted to say all these things, run back into her and find her… but it was probably too late. She’d call her, at least. That’s the least that she could do.

Finding the window was quicker and easier than the run- Gwen’s head just did not let up. She wondered why her supposedly super healing wasn’t helping any. But the door was locked. She stumbled through the window, and sat for a moment composing herself upon the toilet, letting her head settle in the dark room.

But when Gwen stood and walked to the door, where the phone was so perfectly placed…

“Shit, I could’ve sworn I put it there.”

The door creaked open. The Nurse and Gwen’s dad were standing there. Gwen’s dad was holding her phone.

“And you just did, young lady. What’s that- fifteen dollars now?”

“I hate your swear jar.”

“And your hate is expressed in gentle and thought out ways. Why did you leave the room? Actually, how did you even get down?”

“Why did you guys even open the door? I was on the toilet!”

“Usually I make it a habit to respond when my students with brain trauma stop responding and start groaning. Also I didn’t understand why you were so obsessed with selling me Raid Shadow Legends.”

Curse that Autoplay.

To be continued

Chapter Two coming soon!

A Stunning Preview of this Story’s Action Packed Finale!

“What’s that?” Gwen had almost gone to sleep before Patricia’s voice woke her up.

“What?”

“That… blinking red thing?”

“Pat, it’s a hospital, there are a lot of blinking red things.”

“Not really. It’s like, a laser. I mean not really, but it’s super bright. See look, there’s a dot there on the wall.”

Sure enough, Gwen stared on the darkness past her girlfriend… and there was the red light. Blinking. Unmoving.

Gwen was just as paralyzed. She looked to Patricia and Patricia looked back, more frightened.

“What is that

“I don’t know, but whatever it is Gwen… it’s coming from you.”

[alybur635]

do you think neji and naruto would have sleepovers just neji sleeping over at naruto's apartment. What do you think their nighttime routine would be.

Actually im not quite sure. If it would be allowed for neji he could technically just sneak out im assuming naruto would have a spare futon i think it's what it's called have no idea.

Hmmm... i can see neji maybe grocery shopping and making them dinner naruto only knows how to make cup ramen. And they just enjoy their meal together in peace maybe going into the balcony watching the stars. Not sure if they would do any activities before bed that tsukiyomi dream about konoha 12 and where neji is terrible at card games makes me laugh. He would get frustrated so don't i see them playing card games. Maybe reading not sure of naruto has book or reads at all. Or taking a nice stroll before the sun sets idk. Could see naruto chatting a little while their both laying down neji giving naruto a good night kiss.

Or whatever activity they were doing and naruto falls asleep i can see neji smiling fondly and tucking him in. Might sleep next to him feeling content. God the nejinaru brainrot is real im now converted for life.

1.Yes anon, I do very much think Neji would sneak off to Naruto's apartment for the night when he knows he can. I'm sure the night routine them can be something as short as Neji coming into the apartment and immediately crashing into bed with Naruto. Or even as much as Neji coming in early evening to have supper or settle down with Naruto over some hot tea (with caressing and some deep conversation + star gazing through the window thrown in) before finally settling into bed together. Naruto probably kept a spare futon for Neji during the earlier stages of their relationship before it evolved into Neji willingly climbing into the same bed as his sunshine bf (sometimes Naruto wraps his whole body around Neji and that's smth he had to get used to admittedly bc DAMN he probably got a decent grip).

2. If you're delusional like me anon, you can see nejinaru doing every single one of those activities together. Or stick em in almost any situation HAHA. Even the card games, I mean cmon it'd be COMICAL for Naruto to try playing a card game and watching in amusement bc he told his bf no byakugan so that man is just losing it a bit (I imagine they can get a little competitive with each other sometimes, as much as Neji wouldn't want to admit he's such). Also the two of them doing all those activities together,,,, again just, amazing. Very much things you could easily see the pair doing (Naruto makes them all enjoyable with some silliness, much to Neji's barely concealed delight).

3. "whatever activity they were doing and naruto falls asleep i can see neji smiling fondly and tucking him in. Might sleep next to him feeling content." I'm taking this and injecting this into my veins anon, ty. It's just so sweet n perfect,,,,,

[racingtowin]

The night before the meeting is miserable.

In theory, Mello knows he is supposed to be well rested for this. In theory, he knows the whole list of reasons on why sleep is important, enough to write a thesis. In practice, he is a nervous wreck, and angry about it.

After a sleepless night, Mello walks through his morning routine in a haze. The last hour before his alarm goes off goes at a snail's pace but he refuses to get up earlier, highly aware he is going to spend the whole morning pacing around his tiny flat if he was to leave the bed. After finally finishing with his morning routine (5 minutes faster than usual, a fact that is making him unreasonably irritable), Mello stands in front of his living room window with a cup of black coffee in his hands and stares at the road towards the direction L’s car will supposedly arrive from. He takes a way too big sip out of the coffee cup, the burning in his mouth almost a welcome distraction. Just to quadruple-check he has not forgotten anything, Mello runs through the inventory in his laptop bag in his head while biting his almost numb tongue.

—

The Kira case finished over three years ago, and for the whole time Roger gave him no information of whatever was going on with L despite Mello’s best efforts. No nominations for the next L, no nothing apart from a singular whole-orphanage victory message. While Near managed to be infuriatingly calm on the surface, there were moments where even the twerp showed some frustrations if you knew where to look. It was only after Mello moved out to London that he got a call from the old man Wammy.

‘If you were to accept, L requests your assistance on a case.’

As if Mello hadn’t been begging, pleading to be able to show his worth for his whole life, almost on the verge of giving up on ever being given the opportunity. The resentment and excitement both filled his head until he felt like he was going to pass out, but somehow he managed to agree to the offer and now…

A black Rolls Royce drives towards his apartment building, looking incredibly out of place amongst the building walls that have been graffiti’d and tagged several times over. Mello puts his coffee cup in the sink with shaking hands and glances at a mirror next to his front door. His hair is in a ponytail that he made damn sure looks smart enough, his black t-shirt doesn’t have any toothpaste stains. The leather jacket is thrown over his shoulder after Mello brushes off non-existent dust from his black jeans and grabs his laptop bag.

He runs down the stairs after locking the door, the sound of his boots echoing around the gloomy spiral staircase. Just before he gets outside he slows down, catches his breath for a second before leaving the building. Mello walks towards the car, lets the driver open the door for him with a nod (if he was to speak his voice would certainly crack) before sitting down on the most comfortable car seats he has ever sat on.

Next to him is a freak squatting on the seat with no shoes or socks on. Mello blinks. Stares. Blinks more.

@obfuscatingveil

[daughter-of-fire-and-dreams]

Practice

Day by day, night by night. The routine Rhua carried herself with around the soldiers in their respective cells was one very easy to grasp. It was almost a one sided relationship of 'You leave me be and I leave you be'. If there was one difference that she had to other residents, was that she didn't bother throwing snide remarks at any of them and instead choose silence. However, certain details about the Viera standing guard would pop out despite her reclusive and silent behavior in typical architechtus fashion despite clearly not belonging to Garlemald. 

 Morning, a mouthful of a strange blue liquid that was almost the exact same hue as ceruleum. 

 Late morning, a mouthful of what literally looked like cereal rations that were definitely worse than jail cell food just from the crunch and dust that would come out from managing to tear a piece of it out. 

 Midday, the fifth cup of coffee of the day. Work on grandpa's arm. 

Afternoon, more old records of music playing, filling the silence in the room. Occassionally, Rhua would actually pause and ask aloud inane things like "Should I change the transition to a B flat or a B minor?" But any silence or snark remarks thrown her way wouldn't even faze her, she'd carry on the one sided conversation as if she'd gotten the answer that she was seeking out. 

 Night, practice on a wooden block. 

Practice. Practice. Practice. Practice. 

 The medium block with haphazhardly traced lines that mimicked cords might as well have dents on them from all the constant press from fingers that were clearly not soft to the touch. But it was hard to tell when the damn rabbit was on at least three layers of cloth at all times. 

 Late night, doze slightly and fight sleep until passing out on the same spot.

 Anyone would question how Rhua managed to stay in a single place and barely move if at all in a whole day. She could have easily moved a cot inside the cells at this point, but she refused. She'd avoid sleep at all costs and then pass out in the early hours of the morning on the same table she'd been working on. 

 But then.... One day her ears perked up as she stared off in the direction of a nearby window. There was a melody playing outside, one of merry atmosphere and a time to cheer up and dance. Heh... Hope in the final days... 

 Though she remained quiet, something stirred in her upon hearing someone else beating her to the punch. Or was it just the excuse for her to let out the pent up anger and sorrow she'd been keeping to herself?Although her expression said nothing, the broken pencil on her right hand was more than a tell of what she truly felt. 

 From that point on, the daily routine would have a few variations. 

 Morning, a mouthful of blue liquid. Practice. 

 Late morning, the seventh cup of coffee. Practice. 

 Midday. Practice. 

 Afternoon. Practice. 

 Night. Practice. 

 Late night. Practice. 

 Practice. Practice. Practice. Practice. Practice. 

 Keep imagining the melody through the dented fake cords of this wooden block that was almost split in two by now. Keep those feelings alive so that they can be shared to people. Keep burning for the sake of burning and no one else's sake.

 By the time morning hit again, she was once more passed out facefirst on the table between cells, shivering after so long without her usual protective coat. No one had told her to come here and keep guard. Grandpa had definitely learned his lesson by now (no he didn't, but at least he wouldn't try something this stupid again). But still, she insisted on being here, not alone, but not with 'company' either. 

'You leave me be, I leave you be.' 

 One late afternoon, a Viera dressed in white furs quietly walked into the cells. A well timed pitter patter following her as she went to stand before Rhua, still passed out from exhaustion and overwork. Despite the atmosphere around the ex legion, she smiled quietly as she held a finger over her mouth, asking for the same of them. Without a word, she draped a thick blanket over Rhua's shoulders, making sure she would stay warm. Satisfied with her work, she then left an extra blanket before each cell before taking her leave once more.

[inknopewetrust]

homeland // exile 1

Summary: the discovery of the sun summoner changes everything.

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova (Darkling) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, Smut-ish, light language, jealousy (like seeping with jealousy), injuries, blood mention.

A/N: not necessarily canon, but spoilers for show... Also Alina would probably never say what she does. I just wanted to write a little series that's far too dramatic for my well-being. This will be multiple parts because I love angsty drama's and can't settle for one part. Check out my Masterlist for other works.

There were mornings where everything felt like a cruel joke.

For the past three weeks, you had woken up hours before dawn had even thought of breaking. The late hours of the evening sky darkening the room into an unimaginable void of black that even his summons couldn’t create it. But then the small light of the moon broke through the drawn curtains—their missed meeting allowing a break from the unending night.

In the moonlight, you felt alone, even if you weren’t. It was quiet. A silence overwhelming because the noise inside was never ending. The constant thoughts of her, of him, of everything changing daily, and the cracks in the pavement beginning to deepen. The darkness allowed for that to happen.

And then sometime between the moon descending from the top of the window to the floor, the sun replaced it ascending. It began in small lines, each early ray of sun filling in the fissures of the floor, a reflection on the adjacent wall, and then on the canopy of the bed. The black canopy, as blistering as night, had somehow been invaded by the sun. And every morning since her arrival, the sun traced the lines of stitching that was slowly unraveling due to hundreds of years of unrestored weathering.

The universe was screaming. The signs were everywhere except spoken word yet there was no major effort to make a change.

The sun would rise, you wouldn’t sleep, and the man next to you would awake to the same face he had for centuries—pretending everything is fine when it’s not. His pride and power was more important. It had grown more important. A tremendous mistake, yes, but power clouded judgement and power meant the world to him.

All it took was the discovery of the one who could summon the sun and world flipped on its axis.

Cruelty came in the forms of routine. Before her discovery, there was a consistent script of how all of Ravka functioned, how it saw you as a leader and how it saw him as a General but now there was hope. There was an undeniable shift in energy from the lowest slums of citizens to the King himself because there was a way out of the mess The Fold had created. But of course, none of them knew of his true intentions; the despotic mind of the one who could destroy them all kept everyone as a pawn.

Alina Starkov could give Aleksander what he wanted, not you. You knew too much. After all, what use was someone who could summon stars when the one who could capture the sun in her hands was far more powerful?

That is what the early morning sun reminded you of everyday. A constant reminder that the facade you both put on every day to play face when hundreds of years of history was thrown away because of some girl. A girl.

"Think any louder and you'll wake the whole damn palace." Aleksander's voice was deep with sleep as the sun began to wake him too.

The man was far more careless in his slumber. His hair disheveled, one hand above the silken pillow while the other rested below it, but never disoriented enough to not know what was going on around him. There were seconds where you debated to answer, tell him to fuck off or smother him with your own pillow, except you couldn't muster a word. It always seemed to end in that result. You weren't scared to tell him how it is, how you feel—but your fuse was growing short and you didn't want the palace to go up in flames because you couldn't control yourself.

Instead, you sat up facing away from him, feeling his eyes on your bare back as the sheets pooled around your body. Those eyes—as forsaken as his soul—were a trap. They consumed you and all of his worst qualities, ambushing any semblance of dignity you had left. So you couldn't look at him. Not now, not in a moment, not if you could help it. You rose out of bed, slipping on hand-sewn vestment before escaping his eyes in the washroom.

Inside the grand washroom was a vanity so ornately carved it was the epitome of perfection. The mirror was weathered and coarse but the chestnut was marbled with finite foibles that made the imperfect seem impeccable. The vanity was one of the last pieces of that was salvaged at the creation of The Fold. It had seen it all. The wood was engrained with the secrets of centuries. And the reflection it had seen everyday was once again staring back at it from the wide chase that had once been tucked underneath it. You, again, and the tired reflection of a Grisha that was slowly ticking to an explosion.

All the anger in the moment being taken out on your hair by the force of your hairbrush and soon your stony reflection wasn't the only one the mirror captured.

Aleksander stood like a downtrodden Adonis having been ignored by Aphrodite. His body covered by his black kefta, loose trousers covering himself now and his arms crossed defiantly over his broad chest. Rejected, scorned, as if he had no clue what was truly wrong.

"You'll break the brush with a grip like that."

"Any further observations of my being that you'd like to divulge?" His eyes narrowed, fighting your scorching gaze before you diverted it back to the materials in front of you. A small triumph for Aleksander because he took it as an invitation to approach.

"Why so short?"

Aleksander's hands enclosed themselves around your shoulders, gripping the finely covered skin so his warmth seeped through and onto you. There was the intoxication of his touch that was so difficult to ignore even with the growing contempt in your heart. Once more, you couldn't compute an answer. The man behind you swung one of his legs over the chase and then the other, sitting behind you and letting his hands move from your shoulders to your arms to your waist.

"Don't lie to me."

You watched his reflection cautiously in the mirror, his own eyes staring right back. The feel of his body flush against yours was enticing, causing the familiar reactions of the night before and the many nights before that one. Every shallow breath he took, you could feel. Each movement of his muscles dancing on your barely covered body. Aleksander knew what he was doing, he knew it too well.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked him as he lowered his face into your neck, his breath hot and beyond distracting.

"I suppose. Though I'd rather be here." The scoff that escaped your lips was unavoidable, but he passed it off and didn't say anything. He continued to let his lips trace your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he reached your ear. His eyes striking to look at yours in the mirror once more.

"Right here." Lie.

"With you." Lie.

"Under me." Not a lie.

"Unraveling by my touch, saying my name." Not a lie.

With each assertion, his hands traveled down, slowly undoing the tie of the robe. His hands blistering against the skin of your hips, moving inwards to your pulsating core. How you wished you never had this reaction to him or his touch.

"I have duties to attend to today." It was an excuse that he wasn't willing to acknowledge.

"So do I, but I make time for other, more important activities."

"Important." You muttered and were quickly reminded of everything that had changed over the last few weeks. Yet, the man behind you tried making you forget. He tried to keep you at bay and on his side.

"Yes, important." His teeth pulled on your ear lobe before releasing it with a light pop. One of his hands moved back upward, exposing your breasts in the reflection. Aleksander rested his forehead against your cheek, breathing in deeply as he pulled you taught against his body, feeling you where he wanted you.

He gripped one of your breasts with a rough hand as yours shot up to meet his. You didn't stop him; you weren't going to, and you would scold yourself later for not.

"Aleksander..." You warned with a shuttered breath.

"Let me show you how important you are." It was lies. It was all lies yet when you faltered and turned your head, lips meeting his in a searing, stormy kiss, you couldn't stop. The hand that had been on his moved to his face, holding it tightly as you allowed him to deepen the kiss.

Aleksander's other hand that had been grasping your thigh tightly moved your leg over his own, exposing you even more in the mirror. He broke the kiss and turned your face to look in the glass. You were flushed, he was hard against your back. It was lewd in the best of ways and intoxicating in the worst of them. But before he could get another word out or move his fingers further, a loud series of knocks sounded at the door in the bedroom.

Five seconds and the General's chamber staff would be in the room, so you moved your leg off his own and pulled your robe closed but Aleksander didn't remove his hands. They were obvious and indecent, but he kept them there–kept you there tightly against his body. There was no escaping the compromising position you found yourselves both in. A part of you thought Aleksander wanted them to find you like this—at his mercy. And when Genya's white coat caught your eye from the distance in the mirror, you knew that was the reason and your hatred came rumbling back.

It's always a game with him. Always.

Genya had opened the door and waltzed in with her staff and a newly sewn keft in a dress bag. She set the bag against a chair in the sitting room before moving to the bedchambers and seeing the bed undone, but empty. She took note and moved further into the room and to the washroom where she wished she hadn't. The girl let out a gasp of impropriety and turned away quickly in the doorway.

It didn't take a genius to know what was going on.

"I'm sorry, sir!" She called out to her General but his attention was elsewhere. Aleksander's eyes were on yours with a wicked glaze over them.

"Sir, I’ve brought word that the King needs your council immediately and I've brought the kefta you requested, ma'am."

“You may leave, Genya.” Aleksander almost strained to speak in an anger over being interrupted. The short fuse that had been building between you both ever evident.

Genya nodded curtly before leaving, sneaking one last glance for gossip. But she would never forget the image ingrained into her soul, it was a fear of her’s—walking into those same chambers and interrupting your coitus. On her way out of the various interconnected rooms, she ushered the others out and left the various daily items that were brought to the chambers.

Breakfast, tea, correspondence, and the kefta.

As soon as the door to the bedroom had been shut with a defining ‘click,’ you pushed out of his embrace and walked out of the bathroom fuming. Aleksander didn’t fight you; he didn’t even leave the washroom as he heard you shuffling around, dressing and then ultimately leaving the room.

He could feel the cracks too. Though, those cracks were self-inflicted.

You hadn’t bothered to break your fast before leaving the security of the palace and entering the training grounds. Even in the early hours of the morn, Grisha were up and active without a hesitation. They were more motivated than the soldiers at the front lines of The Fold, though, their motivation may be due to the arrival of Alina Starkov.

“Ms. L/n!" You heard your name called across the courtyard, red and blue colored kefta's coloring your vision until you saw Botkin in his black gi.

"Botkin." A curt greeting for the trainer as you observed the Grisha around you. Each in their pods of six or more, routine training became an essential part of their day. Although you observed them often, every now and again groups of eyes and whispers fell to your direction.

"How are we faring? Any problems since the last one?" Alina and Zoya's incident.

"None I can report." Botkin approached and offered to walk around the circle-shaped yard. Each group watching your movements like a hawk, though you were the predator to them, not the prey.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in yellow. New color?" Botkin motioned to the kefta you wore. Everyone had become so accustomed to seeing you in black that it was as if someone had come back and reincarnated themselves into your body and chose yellow.

"No, just wanted a change." He didn't ask any more questions about it.

"Has the girl come back?"

"Alina Starkov?" You nodded and Botkin shook his head.

"Not since the first day. I was told she would be here when we started but that was before dawn and she hasn't shown."

"So she believes she's special and doesn't need combat training?" Botkin couldn't truthfully answer so he didn't. You both continued your circling and a chatter interrupted it.

As if she was summoned by the mention of her name, Alina Starkov entered the yard flustered. Her hair was unbrushed from her slumber and her pant leg was half out and half in her boot. Alina had overslept and as soon as she saw the many Grisha looking at her, she swallowed her panic and put on her training face.

"I apologize. I overslept." Alina admitted to Botkin who was less than pleased.

"This is the only warning I am going to give you, Sun Summoner. Next time, you train alone and in the rain."

Alina nodded and looked behind the man that had approached her. You were standing, arms tucked into the pockets of your kefta watching the scene. Her interactions with you prior to the moment were sparse. She had spent most of her time with the General and never his second, but she heard of you. Alina wasn't one to dabble in gossip often, but the palace was often crawling with it. Nadia, Marie, and Genya were more than willing to tell her the secrets that filled the castle and she had heard a handful about you.

She knew this:

You were a Star Summoner. One of a kind and deadly in battle but unable to summon the kind of power a Shadow or Sun Summoner would. From Nadia, she had heard that you were an orphan who was recruited when Grisha testers discovered you. Marie disputed it and said that your situation was similar to Alina's, where you didn't know because you avoided being tested. Neither of them knew the truth and both were far from it, but none of them would know. Genya had told her about the relationship between General Kirigan and yourself, but it was something people whispered about, not talked about. It wasn't a secret but you both were far from willing to let something like that be the first thing people thought when you walked into a room...but it was and that was unavoidable.

Because Alina had been training Baghra consistently, she had time to ask questions. Their relationship had been fraught at first, but the old woman was slowly becoming more of a confidant with every passing day. Alina used that to her advantage to learn more about the people she concerned herself with but there were two people Baghra was persistent in adverting the conversation from: General Kirigan and you.

There was one thing Alina was sure of; Baghra disliked you. You, the second ranked official in Ravka's army, the one who could summon stars, and the one who (supposedly) shared a bed with the General.

"Ms. Starkov, why don't you show us what you can do?" The girl hadn't expected to ever speak to you, let alone to showcase her abilities in front of you. Alina glanced back at Botkin with her mouth agape.

"I-I don-"

"Not your abilities... this is combat training after all." Alina shut her mouth and nodded, no longer incredibly nervous at the request.

"I can't say my abilities have changed much from last time."

Alina moved to the center circle as she had weeks before upon her arrival. The other Grisha had haltered their own activities and surrounded her. Botkin reveled in the exhibition, offer up anyone for her to spar with. Alina chose a girl who looked younger than her and just as nervous. A wise choice indeed.

Alina and the girl spared lightly. No blood was drawn, and they both managed to show juvenile techniques that were laughable during instances. But you watched the Sun Summoner and her determination; she was focused, drawn into the battle with a stern peek. You saw the appeal, you did. But then that nagging irritability of her came back. Alina was strong, fresh, and young. She was everything you weren't and that stung deep.

The small cheers of the Grisha around you broke your stare on the girl. She was smiling widely at her opponent and helped her stand, kindness seeped from every inch of her. An honest, naivety of both girls was an attribute you had not seen in your Grisha soldiers for many, many years.

Before you could fully comprehend your potential actions, you stepped into the ring of Grisha's before Alina could escape it. She was the first to notice, going rigid with a fearful anticipation and watched. You moved along the cirlce with your hands still safely tucked away in your pockets.

"How is it that after all this time, a mapmaker, is the one we've being waiting for?" The chatter ceased and the only sounds that filled their ears were your voice and the soft sounds of the morning.

"I have to admit, Ms. Starkov, you are not the fighter I thought you'd be." Alina's heart sunk. She wanted to prove everyone wrong. She was important, she was good, and she was worthy of being here.

"That's why I was a mapmaker." Alina defended herself, rightfully so, but the lack of regard for authority (ma'am) and her being a subordinate didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

"So why did the universe give you the sun? What makes you so special to wield that kind of power?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know... you don't know. Neither do I."

All of their stares were cautious, more than willing to back away before something terrible happens. Many of these Grisha had gone through The Fold, some had seen battle elsewhere, and they knew what you could do––Alina didn't.

"Show me what you can do, Sun Summoner."

You had finally turned to face her. On the opposite end of the circle you stood expectantly for Alina to raise her hands and summon her abilities, except she did not move. You took your hands out of your pockets and held them out in front of you as a glowing, glittering ball of energy appeared before you. Alina had never seen anything like it. The stars were so different from her own and they were beautiful, like a trance.

"Show me, Ms. Starkov. How do you defend yourself with the sun?"

That was a threat.

Alina looked at her hands then back at you as the ball grew brighter and lighter. She stuck her own hands in front of her and tried to summon the sun but couldn't, her nerves were too high, her attention distracted. She had never faced another Grisha and their powers except for the General when he introduced her to the King.

"Defend yourself, Sun Summoner." You all but yelled at her as the manifestation of stars went flying out of your hands and toward Alina.

The other Grisha's spread out, making room for you both and leaving a large distance between the battle and themselves. Alina managed to throw up her hands and the force of her hands and sun blocked it, still she fell to the ground from impact.

"Three weeks and that is protection? It is like you do not even try."

Alina shuffled to her feet slowly and she could see that your eyes were enraged. The girl who had stolen everything but your life could barely defend herself after training with the only people who understood her power. To you, she was weak. Alina Starkov could spend her time fawning over Aleksander, playing house at a majestic palace, but she could not control her powers.

You materialized single balls of energy that you knew could burn deep. Alina was struggling to get to her feet, wood chips and rocks buried into her knees from the fall. Before she even had a chance to secure her stance, the light came barreling toward her again. This time it came in spurts of light that were easy for her to miss because she was focusing on one at a time. Some of them managed to snag her, burning a hole right through her blue kefta with a singe. She patted the spots and whined in brief pain before managing to summon the sun once more. She grew the ball of light before pushing it out in streams. But it was weak and faltered half way to you.

"Pathetic." You told her as she looked distraught over the energy's disintegration. What she could muster was gone and in front of everyone she was made out to be a fool for the second time. Alina Starkov was not a quitter, though. She was a fighter and for the second time, she was not going to be embarrassed by something she couldn't do.

"Do you have a problem with me, ma'am?" Alina called out to you and you quirked a brow at her. Observant was the girl.

"I think you're not serious about what you are. You have no idea the power you hold, how much of the world you've already changed."

"Is this about those who want to kill me? I know they exist and I can protect myself."

"It is more than you know."

Alina scoured her mind for another explanation. She knew of the enemies; she knew of the other Grisha who did not favor her, but she had barely interacted with you as it was. As she remembered before, Alina's time was spent within the confines of the palace, with Baghra, her few friends, or with General Kirigan... with him. Alina didn't want to believe that such a childish concept of jealousy would lead an accomplished woman to target her, but it was an answer she could easily fall behind. General Kirigan had spent many hours with her, mentoring her, being there for her when she needed someone and she felt something. He told her that she could call him Aleksander, his walls were falling around her and their relationship was changing by the day.

"I know what this is about." Alina held her head high as if she had discovered a new element. It was a triumph of her fast mind, her ability to use what she learned from the ones she could call friends to unveil a superior's secret.

"Enlighten me, Sun Summoner." You told her without an idea that she was about to expose you to your Grisha's.

"The General."

"The General..." You laughed at her, trying to throw her off your scent.

"Yes! You're jealous that he is devoted to my cause and his helping me." Alina boldly approached you, her voice becoming only loud enough for you to hear. And with her boldness she looked you dead in the eyes and said:

"You're jealous because he doesn't love you anymore."

There was a moment where you weren't sure what happened. Alina had spoken those words you never wanted to have spoken and then she was across the yard with blood pouring out of her nose and her ears ringing. Botkin was the first to run to her aid, followed by the Grisha that hadn't run away. You could see her barely bobbing her head up and down in reply to whatever Botkin was asking her and he called for someone to get a nurse.

You didn't mean it to go that far, but it did.

And he had seen it all from the entrance to the training yard.

It was his tight grip on your arm that you notice the world was still turning. Aleksander's eyes were ablaze with a fury you had seen a handful of times and you weren't sure what to even say to him. A part of you wanted to go and help Alina, apologize for losing it and almost killing her, but you couldn't move your feet. You could hear Aleksander practically screaming at you, though it fell onto deaf ears until your mind focused.

"-is the matter with you!?" You caught the sentence halfway done. You looked at his black eyes and shook your head.

"I-I didn't mean to. I don't know w-what happened-d." That was the truth. There was no lie detected but Aleksander's demeanor never changed. His grip tightened, bruising in terror before he could even gather any other words to say. He spoke low and practically spat in your face.

"If you lay another hand on her again, you are going to leave me with no choice."

He could have killed you there and it would have hurt less than that.

He wasn't willing to defend you. He wasn't willing to say that Alina stepped over the line, and it was all an accident. He watched you taunt her, anger her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to defend you as you had done for him nearly every year of his adult life.

Aleksander left you in the wind. There was no homeland anymore because you were alone, in exile, surrounded by people who now feared you.

Next chapter: Balancing

Tag List is CLOSED

[muffindaddystyles]

Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what’s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

[plus-size-reader]

The Truth

Michael Emerson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2148 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is a vampire changed by David, who decides to help Michael navigate the changes happening after he drank his blood. 

—————————————————————————————————

You shouldn’t have cared, you knew that.

This was just the kind of thing that happened.

New vampires had to be created somehow and as much as you hated that David’s only method of gaining members for his gang was lying and tricking them into an irreversible decision that would ruin their lives, it wasn’t really your place to argue.

After all, you all had to come into this lifestyle somehow and Michael technically made his own choice.

Not that knowing that made it right.

Just because Michael fell for the whole song and dance routine that the guys had done for him and drank from that damn bottle, that didn’t mean he deserved this. 

No one understood that better than you, having done it yourself.

You knew first hand how awful it could be to go through the transition on your own, and you couldn’t help but want to help Michael, the newest victim of David’s little game.

As far as you could tell Michael Emerson was a nice guy, although kind of moody and he didn’t deserve what had happened to him. 

The choice that he’d made had stopped his heart, and had mutated every cell in his body.

...and David didn’t even blink an eye.

As much as he claimed to care about you and the others, you doubted that he really did. It just wasn’t in his nature.

He only proved that to you over and over again.

David thought that he had some power over you, because he took you in, and made you what you were but that wasn’t the case anymore.

You wouldn’t let him do to Michael what he’d done to you.

Michael still had hope, because you were going to help him deal with the changes he was going through, whether he wanted it or not.

By this point, the transition had already begun to grab hold of him and if he wasn’t careful, he could do something that got all of you into some really hot water.

You just had to hope that you could get to him before that happened.

~

By the time you got to the Emerson house, you didn’t even bother to knock on the front door. It was much easier to just slip in through the entrance.

There was no telling what you could find on the other side of that door, and if you waited too long, it would only make it worse.

For the most part, it was quiet.

All of the lights were off and there was no one around to see you as you made your way up the stairs, trying your best to tune into wherever Michael was.

Thankfully, you could do that without having to do much at all.

Vampires sent out signals, sort of similar to how bats do, and if you were close enough to another undead being, you could get a read on them without even meaning to. Usually, it didn’t really come in handy like this.

Unless you wanted to know which of the boys was stumbling into the cave as dawn broke over Santa Carla.

It was almost as if you could identify one another by your brainwaves alone.

...but it never felt like this before.

Normally, the connection felt like a light buzzing in the back of your skull and it calmed down once you’d identified the source of the decay but this was something else entirely.

It felt like there was a transmitter, just pulsing and lighting up every part of your brain like never before. It was closer to a searing pain than a casual gnawing of your subconscious.

Right now, Michael was practically screaming for any help he could get to understand why he was feeling this way, only further proving to you that you’d made the right call in coming here.

You eventually found him lying in his bed, sunglasses on with his arm thrown haphazardly over his face to shield his eyes from the bit of midday sun currently streaming in through his window.

You were right.

The transition did come, slowly during the night and then all at once.

He was all vampire before he even realized what happened, and now, there was nothing he could do but cripple you with his chemo signals, apparently.

Though, maybe you should have just been thrilled you didn’t walk into a total bloodbath.

“Get up Michael” you groaned, holding tight to your temples as you tried to stop the shrieking in your head. If he didn’t get a handle on this, there was no way you were going to be able to help him.

You could hardly even keep your eyes open, let alone carry on a conversation with him.

The only thing you could assume was that since, technically, David had sired both you and Michael, the connection you shared with him was a little stronger than the one you shared with Marko, Dwayne, and Paul.

“What is happening to me?” he tried, doing his best to figure out everything at once.

Of course, he had no idea what this was or why you were even here but he was hardly in the mood to argue it right now.

Michael had woken up with a splitting headache and a pain in the back of his throat, like waking up at night in search of any water to dull the throbbing. However, the searing pain he was dealing with wouldn’t stop with any amount of water.

He knew that because he’d downed every ounce of it he could find, and he was still just as parched as ever, like the inside of his mouth was coated entirely in sandpaper.

The idea of the thirst Michael must have been dealing with made every cell in your body burn in remembrance.

All you remembered from your first day as a vampire was screaming and begging for an end. It hurt like nothing else in your life ever had, and you’d have done anything to make it stop.

“You drank vampire blood, pretty boy, and your heart stopped” you explained, crossing his room just enough to pull the blinds closed all the way.

He was such an amateur.

You were sure that it was a pretty difficult thing to hear, given the events of last night, but you weren’t about to sugar coat it for him. The sooner Michael accepted what he was, the easier this would be.

“What are you talking about?” he groaned, only getting up out of bed when you tossed a balled up t-shirt at him, tired of this whole thing. Thankfully, once he’d calmed down, the mind melting sound in your skull stopped.

You could actually think now.

You had a right to be a little exhausted with the whole situation even though you weren’t giving up on him. It was no wonder David had never been hands on with fledglings when they acted like this.

Michael would make one of the worst vampires you’d ever seen if he was going to be so whiny and temperamental all the time.

“You’re probably thirsty, more thirsty than you’ve ever been in your life and you can’t make it go away. What other reason would there be for something like that?” you prompted, sure that by this point, he was starving.

His entire body was not only dead but also convinced that he was dying all over again.

“Maybe I’m hung over” he supplemented, not even sure what you were going on about. Though, he had to admit that this didn’t feel like any hangover he’d ever experienced.

It felt like every system in his body was shutting down and starting up over and over again, like every cell in his body was on fire.

It was excruciating.

“I can prove it”

Your words came as little comfort to Michael, who was still doing everything in his power to figure out how this whole thing was even possible, but he didn’t fight you either. He just let you walk him into the bathroom.

There, you found everything that you’d been expecting to find. A toilet and a tub with a showerhead built into the wall. The real prize, however, was the mounted mirror on the wall.

A mirror that would help you prove everything you needed to, to Michael.

“Tell me what you see” you ordered, staying back just far enough so that he could do as you asked.

Michael was hesitant, at first, but approached the mirror all the same. He could still see himself, but it looked almost as if his reflection was foggy, falling in and out of sight.

“What-?” he started, turning around with every intention of finding you in the hall outside the door to instead find you at his side.

Somehow even more concerning than his flickering image in the mirror was yours, or the lack thereof. You had been standing right here, all this time, but no matter how many times Michael turned to and away from the mirror, the result remained.

You weren’t there.

Your likeness was completely absent from the mirror, in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.

In a way that wasn’t possible.

“It was that night in the cave, wasn’t it?” he asked, after staring at your reflection for a little while longer, trying to figure out how something like this was happening.

The only explanation was that you were telling the truth.

You had to be.

It wasn't exactly the easiest thing for him to accept. After all, if the proof wasn’t staring him in the face, Michael would have thought you were absolutely out of your mind. Though, to be fair even knowing that, he still did.

“I told you, you drank David’s blood” you repeated, wishing that he’d taken you and Star more seriously that night. Perhaps if he had, you two wouldn’t be in this mess now.

He really had no idea what he was getting himself into that night, and he should have assumed that something bad was going to happen, hanging around with those guys.

“So what now? What should I do?” he hummed, finally cooperating with you for once since you met.

The two of you were complete and total strangers, now bound to one another tighter than anyone else could be. If there was anyone else in the world who could help him figure this out, it was you.

...and thankfully, you weren’t about to turn your back on him.

You wouldn’t have come all this way just to leave him here all on his own.

“I can help you if you want” you offered, almost entirely sure that Michael was going to turn you down and try and figure this out on his own but thankfully, he only nodded.

He knew he didn’t have any other option.

“You need blood, without plasma, you’ll starve” you explained, pulling back the blinds just enough to see that even though you’d come at night, it was now midmorning and there was no way you were both going out in the daylight.

Perhaps you could handle it with your parasol, but Michael would have a much harder time.

Besides, it didn’t matter how long you’d been a creature of the night, the sun never got more pleasant and you weren’t really looking forward to a migraine today.

It would only make dealing with Michael that much more difficult.

You would just have to stay here until the sun went down and you could go back to the boardwalk.

“It will take some getting used to, but it's really not as bad as it sounds” you promised, weighing your options for a moment before you decided that there really wasn’t much of a choice on your end either.

He had to get something in his stomach before snacking on his baby brother started to sound like a good idea.

“Here, I keep this for emergencies but I can always get more” you decided, reaching into your bag and fishing out the tiny vial you kept there, just in case you needed it. Usually, you wouldn’t have done this, but you had to do something.

The last thing you wanted was to be trapped in this house with him when his family got here.

“Is this?-” he started, but you didn’t even bother to let him finish asking the question you could both see coming from a mile away.

“It’s David’s, just try not to think about it and drink,” you suggested, watching as the male in front of you did his very best to do as he was told, though the very idea of what it was sort of made him want to be sick.

Until, of course, he caught a whiff of what was in the vile and realized just how right you’d been this entire time.

He really was a vampire.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Can you give headcanons for Devil (Cuphead) and platonic child reader?

A/N: Breaking News: Local casino owner is accidentally summoned by a whole ass child, ends up becoming an adoptive father. More at 11.

This prompt ended up running away from me as I wrote it out, so apologies if it’s a little too lengthy!! Let me know if you’d like me to re-do it!!

The Devil with Child! Reader:

The Devil was not fond of children. They were simple creatures-- naïve and easily influenced. It had made them the perfect pawns. However, they were far more trouble than what they were worth. They were loud, annoying, and cried too frequently. Topped with his humiliating defeat to the Cup brothers, the demon wanted nothing to do with a brat.

So when he had stumbled across you, doe-eyed and unafraid of the towering demon you’d accidentally summoned, it felt like there was a cosmic being (mostly likely dear old dad) laughing at his predicament.

For the first few weeks, the demon did everything he could to ignore you, tossing you towards his imps or King Dice at any given chance he had. It didn’t matter how many sad, glassy-eyed stares you’d give him-- he wasn’t a damn babysitter.

And yet you still followed at his heels like a puppy, and squirmed your way into his daily routine:

If he had to sift through a mountain of paperwork for that day, you’d be situated in the corner of his office, idly doodling. If he had to sit through a business meeting, you patiently waited in his office. And when he returned, you greeted him with a grin before running up to grab his leg into a hug.

Despite his best efforts, the demon couldn’t get rid of you. And it wasn’t until that, one day, you had left a gift behind for him, that he had taken a moment to pause. It was a crudely drawn picture of the two of you. The words “my bestest friend” were scribbled beneath the black blob that was supposed to be him, and he felt a low pang ache in his chest.

The demon is conflicted about it for a while. While he’s no longer tossing you to the nearest henchman nearby, the Devil is still trying his best to ignore you. There is no way in hell that he’s getting attached to some-

That sentiment got thrown out the window the moment you tackled one of the Cup brothers, all because they tried to hurt him. And when you gained a black eye during the tussle, the Devil saw red-

Well, shit. Guess it’s too late for him at this point.

Afterward, the two of you are practically attached at the hip. Wherever the Devil goes, spectators would find you trotting along after him-- a pleased-as-punch smile on your youthful face. Be it meetings, up on the balcony chair over the main lobby, or in his throne room, you’re always by his side. And though the demon maintains a mask of indifference to the public, the way he occasionally reaches down to ruffle your hair is telling enough.

While the Devil is centuries old and undoubtedly is supposed to be the more responsible between the two of you, he’s far too lax. Not to mention the demon's a bit of a bad influence. Which, to be fair, he's the Devil. What were you expecting? He'll try to teach you how to gamble, encourage you to punch anyone who wronged you, and he even let you take a sip of his Scotch since you were curious.

Though he ended up howling in laughter as you hurriedly spat it back out. Yeah, he’s kind of a jerk like that-

He keeps a drawer in his office dedicated to the gifts you give him. Try as he may to maintain his uncaring bad-guy attitude, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t cry a little when you gave him a friendship bracelet you’d worked on all night.

-----------------------------(Bonus Drabble: “First Meeting”)----------------------------------------------

The Devil glared intently at the little whelp standing before him, his thin lips curling into a scowl. This is what had pulled him away from his work desk? The kid hardly looked old enough to know how to tie their damn shoelaces, let alone call him here of all places.

As the demon sized them up, the kid gently tilted their head as their nose wrinkled. They stared up at the massive beast in front of them, their eyes falling into a squint. Soon, they looked down towards their hands. The Devil followed their gaze and was met with an old, dusty tome that looked far too heavy for their tiny hands.

Their bottom lip jutted into a puzzled pout and in a small voice, the child gently mumbled. “You don’t look like a fairy…”

The Devil’s eye twitched.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Family Dinner

Summary: Natasha's families finally collide, whether she wants them to or not.

Word Count: 4895

A/N: So this is my first post, I’m hoping it’s alright. It’s a bit longer than I thought it would be, but anyway...

Enjoy :)

—————————————————

A year on the run, and it was finally over.

After breaching the Sokovia Accords, Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Sam had been fugitives from the law, never staying in one place long. Throughout the year the group had been covertly stopping threats, while the remaining Avengers; Tony, Rhodey, and Vision, worked to get them pardoned.

And at long last it had happened. The fugitive group had taken a risk, a large but necessary one, and blown their cover. Their hand had been forced, of course, by a rebellious group attempting to blow up the Pentagon, they’d almost succeeded, not even alerting the guards. However, the secret Avengers had been in the area to put a stop to it, even ensuring there were no casualties, and barely even injuries.

That was just the final point the former Team Iron Man needed to petition to the President and get him to overrule Ross’s manhunt. The Sokovia Accords were adjusted, and the whole team was given a pardon, Scott and Clint included.

Reunions were had, parties were thrown (of course), but eventually the compound settled back into it’s old routine. The only major change was Peter Parker, the teenager hanging out with the group whenever he wasn’t studying, dating, or swinging around New York. He was still around surprisingly often, and he quickly struck up a friendship with Wanda, the other youngest Avenger; although there wasn’t a member on the team that wasn’t fond of him.

A month after the pardon they were called out on a mission, and the whole team assembled once again.

“Nice to see you all again” Fury greeted, giving the mission briefing on the jet. One of the clauses of the pardon was putting the team back under Fury’s charge. It was a decision welcomed by everyone, except maybe Ross.

Natasha smiled, “you too boss”

Tony coughed quickly, “suck up”, he grinned at Natasha’s eye roll, glad the dynamic hadn’t changed at all.

“Where are we even going?”

“I was getting to that Parker”

“Oh, right, sorry... go on”

With a sigh, Fury turned back to the whole group, “we’ve had reports of a portal opening in Russia, where it leads to? we don’t know. But there’s soldiers coming out and they aren’t human.”

Peter gasped and Wanda giggled next to him, knowing the excitement that was coming, “Aliens!? That’s so cool. What kind?”

His words went mostly ignored by the adults, Tony Stark deciding to give the more sensible response with a sigh. Having Parker around made him feel old. “So it’s New York all over again. Shouldn’t we have heard about it?”

“If it’s an invasion then these aliens have no damn sense of direction. It’s a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. If it can avoid getting out of there, then great. It doesn’t need to make the news.”

Natasha hummed, “so you want us to fight them and then close the portal, do we know how?”

“We’ve got people working on closing it, your job is just to keep the aliens contained until we work it out.” Fury instructed, glancing briefly at the window to see the destination approaching, “Cap, I’ll let you give the orders now”, he dismissed himself and headed off back to the cockpit, closing the divider to block the team out.

“Well” Steve began, “I don’t know what it’ll be like when we get there, so the plan might change, but for now, Sam, Tony, Rhodey, and Vision go on round up duty, make sure they’re not getting too far from the main fight.”

Sam chuckled, glancing at his designated teammates, “Thank god I’m not the only flyer anymore, he used to make me do that all on my own.”

“Hey, I helped” Wanda frowned, earning a dismissive wave from the Falcon.

Steve ignored the duo, “Wanda, Peter, Nat; we’ll be fighting on the ground”

“We don’t have to kill them, right?” Peter asked meekly, drawing a confused look from the Captain

“What?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone”. Steve sighed, it sure made things harder, but then again, he didn’t want to force Peter to lose that innocence. He’d seen what the War had done to people, especially the ones Peter’s age.

“You can web them up, right? Stop them moving, maybe throw them back in the portal.”

Peter nodded, grinning at the team leader, “I can do that”

As the plane moved into descent, Fury called back "we're here".

The town was visible through the window, and when Fury said small, he meant it. There were a few shops and houses, but only one road through, the surrounding area completely bare and snow covered. The aliens were visible on the other side, they weren't the typical alien stereotype, but still humanoid shaped; greyish skin and the majority around 7 foot tall. All of them carried the same type of weapon, some high tech gun which seemed to fire similarly to Iron Man's repulsors.

Russian military was already fighting against them, their guns still managing to do some damage to the creatures. Plus some units had gone for a full on charge, attempting to take on the aliens hand to hand, which had caused confusion; the aliens risked friendly fire if they tried to shoot them.

"Let's get to work" Steve ordered, beginning the charge. He held his shield up to protect him and Natasha from any targeted hits, while Wanda also formed a shield to protect her and Peter. Meanwhile the others were able to fly out of the way of the blasts and pick off any stragglers.

"I hate this battlefield" Peter grumbled, "where am I supposed to swing?", as he spoke he webbed up an alien, using it as a hammer to swing around and throw, knocking out even more enemies and allowing the teen to web them up.

Wanda chuckled, "well you got a strike at least"

"Hey, we should play some Wii Bowling when we get back" Peter added, his mood instantly lifted at the thought

"Sure thing kid, but maybe focus?" Tony advised through the comms

It drew a whine from Peter, "I am focused" although with extraordinarily poor timing, as he was smacked in the back of the head by an alien blaster the moment after.

Natasha jumped up and knocked the creature out, knowing not to kill it in front of the boy, "sure you were" she teased, subtly checking he was okay as she helped him up.

"Thank you Ms. Spider". Natasha only smirked, shaking her head lightly at the nickname as she went back to shooting and punching her way through the mob.

"I miss Hawkeye man, I want my name buddy back too" Sam added, getting a laugh from the team.

"At least you have one, I don't even have a codename" Wanda huffed, remembering too late what would come next,

"Little Witch"

"Little Red"

"Mrs Vision"

"The Scary One"

All came at once, but Wanda frowned at the last comment, "I'm not the scary one, Nat is"

"Watch out Sam" Steve warned, giving the Falcon time to dive out of the way of a blast,

"Thanks Steve"

"It's true, spider mom is really scary"

"I thought I scared you?" Tony said in a fake sad tone, "was I not enough?"

"Well sure Mr Stark, when you took my suit, but you're like my dad, so you're not always scary"

Natasha huffed at the conversation, "This is an undeserved title" she complained, "I'm always nice to you all"

"You point with a knife" Steve reminded

"You threaten me on a daily basis" Tony added

"When I started dating Wanda you cornered me and threatened to make new weapons to kill me if I ever hurt her" Vision spoke

"Wait... what?" the aforementioned woman shot Natasha a glance, and got a shrug from the assassin on the shoulders of an alien.

"That threat still stands"

At that point Fury joined the conversation, "none of you hold a candle to Nat when it comes to striking fear. And I'd have it no other way. But we know how to close the portal so can we please wrap it up?"

"OK" Wanda spoke, "goodbye", and with a grimace and push of her hands, three quarters of the horde were sent tumbling back through the portal. Peter swung most of the rest through and the portal was shut, the flying Avengers taking care of any who were left over.

"You two couldn't have done that earlier?" Nat asked as she sat in the snow, green alien blood on her suit, face, and hair.

"Well they'd have just walked back out, and it's tiring" Wanda retaliated, a nod of affirmation following from Peter.

"Natasha?" The call of the assassin's name pulled the group's attention up, looking among the soldiers for the source of the Russian voice. But it was the former red-head (though her hair was still a short blonde bob) who perked up the most, as if she recognised the voice.

Soon a blonde-haired woman broke through the ranks of the soldiers, covered in alien goo and wearing a tactical suit similar to Natasha's, only white.

"Natasha!" she grinned, and ran over. After a brief flash of confusion, Natasha mimicked the smile and stood up, ignoring the confused faces of her teammates.

"What are you doing here Yelena?"

"Helping out"

The rest of the Avengers exchanged even more perplexed looks when their teammate pulled the other woman into a hug. Quickly it turned into shock when the Black Widow kicked the stranger's legs out from under her and pinned her down, grinning the whole time.

"Oh my-" Wanda gasped

"You can't win"

"I bet I can" the newcomer rolled, leaving Nat on the floor and the two women began to spar on the ground until Steve stepped in to break them up.

"Enough. Nat, do you want to explain who this is?"

"Oh. This is my sister, Yelena"

A lot of eyebrows raised at that, including Steve's, although he tried to keep his shock under control, Nat had never mentioned a sister.

"You don't talk about me?" Yelena frowned with a huff, glaring at Natasha

"I don't talk about them with you!"

"Yes you did. Many times"

"Only because you prompted me to many times. They never did!"

Yelena finally shifted to survey her sister's teammates, making them all shift uncomfortably under her gaze. "You never prompted her?"

"You shouldn't have to prompt to find out about family" Steve started, "for example..." he looked around, eyes settling on Peter for a second longer, "ok well none of us really have a family, but Sam has a sister" he covered. Peter relaxed, glad his identity wasn't given away. "And Clint..." he continued

"Clint didn't tell you about his family either" Natasha interrupted, "until he had to"

"Does he know about your sister?"

"Yes. He asked"

At that point, Fury approached, his work on closing the portal done, "Yelena" he greeted, "nice to see you again"

"Fury knows?!" Tony butted in, while Yelena greeted Fury back

"Of course I know Stark" Fury turned on him, his eyebrows raised, "when have I ever not known something"

"I tried to kill him once" Yelena nodded, perfectly serious

"Wait, really, why?" Natasha asked, no surprise in her voice. Yelena shrugged,

"I was bored"

Natasha shook her head, "Yelena" she scolded, as if she had just confessed to sneaking out, rather than attempted murder of the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Good thing your heart wasn't in it because you came damn close too. My offer of recruitment still stands"

"I work better alone"

"Exactly what your sister said and look at her now"

Yelena didn't comment, so Natasha filled the silence, "Do you need a ride?"

"I have nowhere to be"

"Come back with us then" Natasha offered, prompting Tony to add on,

"Yeah, we want to meet this mysterious sister"

There was silence as Yelena thought, shifting her head from side to side, "mum and dad get back tomorrow. So only one day." She conceded.

"Mom and dad as well?" Sam asked

"Didn't you say your parents were dead?" Steve frowned, "I definitely asked about that"

"Circumstances change" Natasha deadpanned, rolling her eyes and letting everyone trail her onto the jet before explaining in greater detail. "They're not biological. They just raised me and Yelena for a few years when we were kids. It was undercover work for a mission." She glanced quickly at Yelena before adding, "I still feel Yelena is a real sister to me though"

The younger widow smiled at the comment, before looking around, eyebrows raised, "You didn't think we were biological sisters, did you?"

"I mean... you could be" Rhodey stammered. Natasha stood up next to Yelena to allow comparison, the duo sporting matching raised eyebrows.

"We look nothing alike"

"Well..." Sam began, brave enough to argue with two widows, "you're both... Russian"

"Blonde" Steve added, more courageous now that Sam hadn't been killed.

"You're wearing the same outfit"

"Biologically speaking, the two of you do have many similarities" Vision calculated, ending just in time for Tony's 'short' to be heard.

"What?" the two turned on him,

"uh oh" Peter muttered, him, Sam, and Wanda retreating backwards.

Yelena pulled a knife out to point at Tony, before Natasha gently pushed the arm down, "Yelena no". The action then had to be repeated when Yelena's other arm came up, also wielding a knife.

"Well, you're both very scary when I call you short" Tony whimpered

"You deserve the scaring from time to time"

"So, tell us about your parents" Steve diverted before they could actually murder Stark, "are they spies too?"

The duo turned round in sync, releasing Tony from the corner they had trapped him in.

"Melina was the spy more than Alexei, he was a soldier. But they were both trained enough to go undercover for three years"

"How old were you?"

"I was 8 when it started, 11 by the end. I'd already been through the Red Room and afterwards I went through again. It was the only few years in my life when I felt free" Natasha said sadly, and Yelena frowned next to her.

"I was 3. They picked me specifically for it. And no-one ever told me it wasn't real"

"Sorry again" Natasha muttered, pulling Yelena into a hug. No further questions were asked until they returned to the compound.

Peter and Fury had to leave once they returned to the compound. The former to keep May company, the other for unspecified reasons.

"I'm going to make dinner tonight" Wanda decided, pulling Vision into the kitchen with her.

"I think we all know what they're doing" Tony joked, imitating kissing at Yelena's confused face.

She scowled, "gross"

Natasha laughed, "you haven't changed"

"It is gross" Yelena pouted

"What? You never had a boyfriend little Widow?" Tony teased, "or a girlfriend?"

"No. I'm aroace", at Steve's confused face she explained, "It means I don't like anyone like that. Romantically or sexually. I'm just not attracted."

"Oh ok"

"Not like your sister then, she flirts with any and every possible person. She even flirts on Steve's behalf occasionally" Natasha grinned at Tony's comment

"No, I'm aroace too. I just find it funny to flirt. People get all flustered"

"A shocking day of revelations all round for you today, huh Nat?"

"Yelena seems to bring it out. You should have visited sooner" Rhodey grinned

"God it would all come out if our parents were here" Yelena replied, before muttering, "Alexei never shuts up"

"Aww I want to meet them. Can we invite them?" Tony goaded

"Absolutely not" snapped Natasha, amusing Yelena

"Is a little sister embarrassing enough?" she mocked, a fake pout on her face, she then turned to the others in the room, leaning back into a relaxed pose. "Natasha used to have blue hair"

"Lena I swear to god" Natasha started, aiming to hit Yelena in the stomach, but it was caught by the younger woman, who was giggling.

"We need you to stick around" Tony wheezes, "what else do you know?"

"Nope. That's enough" Natasha shut down. At the same time, an alert sounded in the room.

"That's a breach in the perimeter" Tony furrowed his brows. "FRIDAY, can you show cameras?"

"Of course Mr Stark" the voice answered, projecting an image on the screen of an older brunette woman helping a bearded man in red uniform over the fence.

"You have got to be kidding me" Natasha groaned as her sister stifled a laugh.

"Are they threats? That isn't everyday wear" Steve spoke seriously

"If they wanted to break in, they wouldn't have been seen" Yelena advised,

"You know them?"

Yelena moved closer to the screen and pointed. "Melina". "Alexei".

"Oh"

They watched as Alexei took a step back before leaping the height of the fence. "That doesn't seem normal. Can you two do that and you didn't tell us?"

"No." Natasha and Yelena confirmed. The former continued, "it's long story with him"

Melina looked directly up at the camera and smiled, before leading the way towards the gate on the next fence. This one was taller, with barbed wire on top to prevent it being climbed, or jumped over by super soldiers.

"Yelena. Natasha" Alexei grinned into the camera.

"Yelena you didn't invite them did you?" Natasha accused

"No." Yelena scoffed, affronted, "why would I do that. I was having a nice week without them constantly flirting in front of me"

"Well then why are they here?"

"I don't know! They were meant to be in France until tomorrow, rescuing widows, maybe they finished early?"

"Girls. I know you're listening, let me and your mother in" Alexei continued

"Do we let them in?" Tony asked

"No.

"You have vodka, right?" Yelena muttered to her sister

"Bottom left cabinet in the kitchen"

"I could jump this fence if I wanted, you know I could, but I'm trying to be polite. Just let me and Melina in." The Red Guardian looked around, only then realising Melina wasn't with him

"Can he jump it?"

"No, he's just boasting" Natasha sighed.

"OK, just let me in at least. I don't know where your mother is", he took a step back from the camera, "Melina? Melina? Come back Melina"

"Will he just go away eventually?" Sam asked, when there was no response he looked around, and the four men realised that Natasha and Yelena had both left.

"Uhh, did anyone notice them leave?" A mumble of 'no's and shaken heads answered, followed by a scream in the kitchen.

"What happened?" Steve asked upon running in.

"I went to grab vodka. Those two were making out. Then all of a sudden she screams" Yelena explained, "I almost dropped my vodka" she added with a grumble, indicating the three large bottles in her hands.

"I didn't even hear you come in" Wanda retaliated, still looking shocked.

"I am quiet. But you were occupied mashing faces. Mash potatoes next time." Yelena advised with a nod and walked out, leaving six stunned Avengers.

"Caught smooching, huh?" Sam teased eventually, smirk on his face.

"Get out, dinner's almost done"

Sam and Tony shared a look and giggled as they followed Steve and Rhodey out.

"You've been caught doing far worse Stark, don't laugh"

"Oh I have of course, but I always let Rhodey laugh at me then, it's funny"

"It's true, he does" Rhodey confirmed. He looked up and stopped dead in his tracks. Tony, however, wasn't looking and bumped right into him.

"Oh. They're multiplying" he said when he finally looked up to see Melina, Nat, and Yelena gathered in the common room. Alexei now slumped next to the gate on the monitor.

"We are not letting him in" Natasha gritted out,

"He's your father, look at him" Melina said softly, pointing at the screen. "Hello Avengers" she greeted, waving as they came in

"Hi Nat's mom who I didn't know about until about an hour ago"

Melina simply nodded, not offended at all that she had never been mentioned. "I know he's a handful, but hell only get into trouble if we leave him out there"

"Steve is here. You really want him to meet Steve?" Nat said.

"Hmmm. You do make a good point"

"What's so wrong with him meeting Steve?" Rhodes asked. Three pairs of eyes measured him up, then resumed their conversation without acknowledging the interruption.

"What was that?" he whispered

"I don't know" Tony whispered back, not taking his eyes off of the women, "but the only thing scarier than Nat is her with her family"

"You've got that right" Sam added.

“Yelena, back me up here” Natasha pleaded at her sister,

“Family dinner isn’t fun. And I often want to punch him. But I also want to see him embarrass you in front of your Avenger friends” Yelena reasoned with a grin, proving Nat would have no support.

“Fine. But you aren’t staying, and someone please brief Steve” Nat relented, stalking off to open the gate and guide Alexei into the compound.

“Brief me on... what?”

“Alexei is Red Guardian. Russian Captain America. Only successful use of super soldier serum in Russia”

“What about the Winter Soldier?”

“He’s not Russian. Born in America, made in Germany, kept in Siberia”. Steve flinched at the description of his best friend, completely devoid of the personality.

“Alexei sees you as his nemesis and equal” Melina continued, tactfully changing the subject away, “just pretend you have heard of him. It will hurt his feelings otherwise”

“Uh... hi?” Wanda came out, carrying the bowl of Chili con carne, but paused at the sight of the newest Widow. Everyone in the room realised simultaneously that Wanda and Vision hadn’t been made aware of the situation regarding Natasha’s parents.

“This is Melina. Natasha’s mother” Tony pointed, earning a nod from the red-head, who continued to set the table for dinner.

“You are Wanda?” Melina asked hesitantly. Wanda gulped, nodding again, but Melina just grinned. “Natasha has told us about you, you are her favourite.

Wanda beamed, giggling at the hurt faces of her teammates, “it’s nice to meet you”

“You too”

After the interaction, Natasha walked in, tailed by her father, who seemed to be pestering her about the Avengers team.

“Captain America” he growled, narrowing his eyes when he first caught sight of Steve.

“The... Red Guardian”

“I told you he knows me Natasha” Alexei boasted, “we meet at last my old foe”

“I thought you already met him. Or was that made up?” Yelena said drily, standing next to Natasha. She handed her sister one of the vodka bottles and took a swig of her own.

“I think we should sit” Melina interrupted

“Good idea” Rhodey chimed in, stepping between Alexei and a confused Steve. The two super soldiers sat on opposing heads of the table. Sam sat on Steve’s right, with Vision, Wanda, and Nat. Tony was on the left. Rhodey sat between the billionaire and Yelena, in the hopes of avoiding a fight. Then Melina sat next to Yelena and Alexei

“Um, everyone can eat chili right?” Wanda asked hesitantly, “I didn’t really expect guests but there’s enough for everyone though”

“We all eat it” Melina answered maternally, tasting it, “it’s very good as well”

Wanda beamed at the praise, “Thank you”

Tony coughed, “so Nat, which Avenger here would you say is your favourite?”

Natasha turned her head slowly from Tony to Yelena, “what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. Ask her.” She pointed her thumb at Melina, and the table turned to the woman.

“I merely told her the same thing you told me” she defended, holding her hands up, “there is no need to be angry. It was the truth, wasn’t it?”

Natasha dropped her head into her hands, while Wanda scratched the top of her head, feeling she had been put in a slightly awkward position.

“You know you were Yelena’s favourite as well” Melina continued, unaware of the effect her words were having on her daughters.

“Were. Past tense” Yelena clarified.

Melina lowered her voice to a whisper, though still loud enough for everyone to hear, “she is currently a bit jealous... doesn’t like how Natasha sees you as a younger sister.”

“Oh my god” Yelena groaned. 

Natasha leaned over to her, “you brought this on yourself”. The youngest widow pursed her lips, pouring herself another vodka shot and clinked it against Nat’s own, before they downed it together.

“So who is it now?” Sam asked, getting a kick from Steve under the table. “Ow. It’s just that they’re all sharing and I’m curious.”

Yelena’s eyes flicked through everyone on the table before locking on Alexei’s, “don’t you dare-” he began

“Steve is very good”

“Yelena! No! Out of everyone? Who here looked after you the most?”

“Natasha”

He groaned and the sisters had another shot. “You know that’s not the answer I want. I raised you. But fine. It’s better than him at least.” Alexei glared.

“Now can we all calm down and enjoy Wanda’s cooking?” Melina interrupted

“Why are you dishing so much praise for Wanda?” Yelena asked with narrowed eyes, “are you trying to adopt her too or something?”

Natasha finished, “she’s already an adult, you can’t do that”

“Legally I never adopted you two either, only forged birth certificates. But I’m still your mother”. Natasha rolled her eyes at the comment, sinking down in her seat. “Natasha. Stop slouching.”

“Anyone else very concerned?” Sam leant in to whisper to Tony, Rhodey, Vision and Steve. The last man unable to take his eyes off of Alexei, who was continuing to stare him down. Wanda was too engrossed in the spy family discussion to be listening.

“Very much so” Tony agreed. Rhodey just nodded, his proximity to Yelena preventing him from saying anything.

“I’m worried the second I lower my gaze, he’s going to jump me” Steve voiced under his breath.

Vision took his turn to speak, at a regular volume, “you know, I don’t actually have to eat and I actually... uh, have other work that needs doing.”

“Vision don’t you dare” Sam whispered through gritted teeth, “don’t leave me exposed man, please”

“It was nice meeting you all” the synthezoid finished courteously, then phased through his chair and hurriedly left the room.

“Aaand he did it”

“Wow, we’ve scared the robot” Yelena murmured

“He’s a synthezoid” Wanda correced

“Same thing”

“No. It’s-”

“Yelena, don’t be mean” Natasha scolded. “I swear, every dinner.” She spoke mainly to her teammates, though her positioning stopped her from saying anything out of earshot of her family.

“We’re meant to be making a good impression for Natasha’s friends” Melina spoke, snapping her fingers at Yelena and Alexei. “Yelena. Natasha. Sit up, eat, pour us all some drink please.” The two girls did as asked, much to the team’s surprise. And Natasha poured shots of vodka for her family.

“Not the drink I was expecting” Steve sighed,

“you can’t argue they’re not Russian” Tony added with a laugh, grabbing a shot for himself.

“Alexei, stop staring. The Cold War is over and you two never even fought. That’s why you haven’t been the Red Guardian since 1992″ Melina continued

“That doesn’t make me any more sympathetic to America” he growled, “though of course that’s when I met you, and our girls”

Melina smirked at him, “and he is our girl’s friend. We raised her well enough to trust her friends”

“That we did, we raised them so well it’s almost a pity that we didn’t have our own”

“Are they flirting again? Is that flirting?” Yelena asked, “we’re all sterilised! How many times? You couldn’t have babies of your own anyway!”

“Not to mention you only raised us for three years. The Red Room did most of it.” Natasha added

“All I hear is perfect birth control” Alexei murmured to Melina, and Yelena retched, 

“Oh my god, I can’t take it”

“Please not at the dinner table” Yelena and Natasha complained.

Steve flushed and averted his eyes. Tony just wolf whistled, “maybe this would have been Wanda and Vision if you hadn’t interrupted” he teased, smirking at Yelena. The comment made Wanda blush and slam her head into the table.

“Wait what?” Natasha perked up, “did I miss this?”

“I walked in on your mentee sucking the face off of her metal boyfriend”

“Oh. Good for you Wanda. Sorry Yelena walked in.”

“Why are you apologising for me?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t”

“Because it’s gross!”

Natasha shrugged, “still rude to interrupt”

“I know you were born aroace. You knew even in Ohio” Yelena sighed, “but I think mine is a direct result of living with that” she pointed to where Melina and Alexei were smiling at each other, faces only a few centimetres apart.

“That’s-” Natasha called out as Yelena stormed off,

“I know that’s not how it works” Yelena shouted back.

“Where are you going?”

“Your room”

“I don’t want you there” Natasha yelled, jumping up to follow her sister. Steve, Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, and Sam were left in stunned silence.

“This was fun. I think it should be a weekly thing” Tony grinned at last.

In the distance, Natasha’s voice echoed, “Yelena, I’ll kill you!”

Steve glanced at the billionaire, “maybe rain check that”

- The End

[lepusrufus]

The valley of fear ch. 2

Local hopeless romantic flirts, is actually terrifying.

---

Living at the castle could be surprisingly tranquil in between the mysterious not so mysterious disappearance of someone or the occasional staff member that came into the common room with a bleeding cheek after a misstep that apparently warranted punishment from one of the daughters. It was a lot of walking on eggshells, sure, but the routine felt oddly homey otherwise. The maids being divided into three shifts, having weekends free more often than not, the meals taken in a room dedicated to the staff near the kitchens, it all felt a tad too mundane.

And then an all too human yet all too animalistic wail would come from outside, or a trail of blood had to be wiped from the marble floor, and you'd be thrown right back into the horrifying situation you found yourself in. Captured. Because that's what they really were. It didn't matter how many were there willingly or if there were staff members that looked so at ease and at home there, because Anita wasn't.

She was there as an over glorified prisoner and she'll be damned if she won't escape the golden cage she found herself trapped in, or die trying. Preferably the former.

The thought put a frown on her face as she wiped the cool glass of a window. Like all other windows, it was locked shut, and the thick heavy panels made it more likely to shatter her knuckles than the glass, were she to attempt anything. There was also the fact that beyond the glass was a deadly drop into jagged rocks, but oh well.

Faint buzzing reached her ears from down the corridor and Anita braced herself for what was to come. She knew it meant one of the daughters was near. Bela, if she was lucky, who so rarely was interested in the staff. The other two were a whole other ordeal.

No such luck though, as a familiar giggle came far too close for comfort when the swarm put itself back together in the shape of Daniela Dimitrescu. She grabbed her wrist and twisted her around until they locked eyes, a dangerous kind of cheerfulness lighting up her features.

"Hi sweet thing."

No such luck.

"Hello my lady," her reply came in what she hoped was an even tone, not wanting to stutter in front of her.

Daniela frowned for a moment before the cheer slipped back into her tone and she lifted Anita's chin with a finger.

"I remember you saying that you like a good mystery. Thought it would be a good idea to order the Sherlock Holmes collection for the library."

Was she trying to be an asshole? Purposefully getting something Anita would like but not be allowed to have here.

"In case you'd like to read them."

Was she trying to be nice?

"I'll be there, if you want to join me."

And there it was, the catch. Daniela was inviting her to the library for some god forsaken reason, and what was she to say, really. Was no even an option?

Daniela however didn't wait around, breaking apart into a swarm and disappearing in a buzzing cloud, leaving Anita to wonder if she had just hallucinated the entire interaction. There was no way she was trying to be nice and the possible further motives of wanting her in the library left her dreading the end of her shift.

It came soon, entirely too soon. Anita felt as if on autopilot when she entered the common room and made herself a cup of coffee in the adjacent kitchenette. She was alone there, save for a handful of maids chatting near the corridor that led to their bedrooms, so she didn't exactly waste energy on masking the grimace that twisted her features when she sank in one of the many chairs. Might as well prepare for some kind of gruesome death.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand came to rest on her shoulder, a few drops of coffee spilling on the low table in front of her.

"Calm down, it's me," Dalia chuckled while sitting in a chair on the opposite side, a mug of her own held in gloved fingers. "Thought I'd say hi, clearly not the best idea though."

Anita let out a short laugh that did close to nothing to brighten her grim expression. That didn't go unnoticed by the older woman, who leaned in close and dropped her voice to a quieter tone.

"What's gotten into you?"

The question was spoken kindly enough, but there was an undertone of something there too. Dalia was the overseer of all the maids, so perhaps making sure that they had their thoughts straight and wouldn't mess up their tasks was also part of the job.

"Lady Daniela," she began, the name spilling from her lips like jagged rocks. "She asked if I want to come to the library and I don't know what to do."

The older woman let out a long sigh that could mean anything but good news. She gently took Anita's hands in her own and gave them a squeeze.

"You're a nice girl, and I've been here for almost three decades," Dalia spoke with the kind or weariness that presumably comes with spending so much time in that castle. "Word of advice dear, if the ladies tell you something, assume it's an order until proven otherwise."

---

Should I knock? I should definitely knock. I never knocked before though cause nobody is even supposed to be here at this hour.

Just knock.

It took painfully long for the door to open, so long that Anita considered booking it down the hallway at least three times. When it did however, Daniela greeted her, a few flies buzzing around her and black lips parted in a smile that looked more beautiful on her face than it should have.

"You came," she excitedly said almost as if not coming was ever really a choice.

"Of course, my lady."

Her reply was met with a slight frown. "Daniela," the redhead corrected her.

"Daniela," she repeated, the name feeling so wrong on her lips. It did bring back the oddly beautiful smile though, so at least she was somewhat safe for now.

Anita felt herself being pulled by the wrist a tad too forcefully, a quiet click sounding behind her from the door and making her gulp. She didn't want to be alone with the redhead, but maybe going along with whatever she wanted would be better. That is to say, if her plans weren't draining her of all her blood then and there.

She decided to focus on other things instead, trying to make a dreadful situation just a little more pleasant because that's what she always did. Like how she noticed Daniela's face, now lacking any crimson stains, with expertly applied makeup, the dark eyeshadow stark against the warm golden of her eyes. She had unfairly long eyelashes, Anita noticed. She also noticed that Daniela was wearing a beautiful black dress, not an unusual attire, but enough to make her mildly self conscious of the bland uniform she was still donning.

Well, what else was she to wear, the torn jeans and hoodie she came in?

Daniela pulled her towards one of the couches that were tucked against the walls, cushions slightly out of place and a few books left opened or bookmarked around on the few tables. She had to wonder whether or not Daniela was aware of her strength when she spun Anita around and had her landing on the soft cushions of a sofa with a barely withheld yelp.

As promised, the handful of books that made up the collection were stacked on a small coffee table beside the couch, together with two wine glasses that Anita knew better than to touch. Daniela looked… oddly nervous. She still had her trademark smile and flirty expression that bordered on smug, but every so often she'd briefly look to the side, almost as if unsure on how to proceed. Almost as if not even she knew fully the rules that she was playing by. Which was anything but good news.

She seemed to make up her mind when she reached for the two glasses and bottle, pouring the dark red liquid in both and extending one to Anita, whose eyes widened when she stumbled on her words.

"I- I don't think-"

"It's just normal wine," Daniela cut her off with a laugh. Seeing her flustered and panicky was the peak of entertainment apparently.

The protest died in her throat and she gingerly took the glass from Daniela's hand, which, she now noticed, lacked the usual gloves all three sisters seemed to wear at all times. Her hands looked unfairly delicate, slender fingers ending in filed down nails painted black. If this were any other situation, Anita would gladly spend time with someone as gorgeous as this.

It wasn't though, and the threat of death was still looming omnipresent over her head when she carefully lifted the glass to her lips and took a few sips. She never quite cared much for wine, preferring the occasional sweet cocktail on a night out with friends when she was supposed to be studying, but she did notice that there was no coppery taste. That was reassuring at least.

Daniela finished her wine in the same manner one would down a shot of liquor, entirely too fast, before placing the glass on the floor at her feet and picking up a book that had been left open upside down. She leaned on Anita's shoulder, almost making her flinch and recoil away from the sudden touch, and settled down with her novel, apparently picking up from where she had left off.

There was no way Daniela called her there for some reading.

Was there?

A subtle glance towards what the redhead was reading revealed an unfamiliar title, but judging by that alone, it could definitely belong in the romance section she had seen during her first time venturing in the library. Did Daniela like romance? It certainly felt incredibly tone deaf for someone who regularly tortured people and lashed out at them to sit down on evenings with a sappy story to read. Though the incredibly cheesy scene she seemed utterly engrossed in would beg to differ.

Why did she call Anita there exactly?

With a metaphorical shake of her head, because actually physically shaking her head would have probably disturbed the other girl leaning on her shoulder and that was the last thing she wanted, she tentatively reached for the stack of books to her side. Her movements reminded her of dealing with some kind of beast in movies, slow and almost expecting to be torn apart any second, the difference being, Daniela was not some fictional movie monster. She picked the first book from the series and even opened it without having her hands chopped off, so that had to be a feat.

She was only a handful of pages in when her thoughts drifted away from the plot. Conan Doyle's books were quite familiar to her, having read all of them as a child. Ironically enough, they were also the beginning of what ended up in a slippery slope of her parents all but shoving a career as a lawyer down her throat. How would one get it through their heads that liking mysteries and wanting to spend your life studying laws, caught up in bureaucratic bullshit, were two completely different things? Maybe she would've made for a decent detective too, had the idea of being successful not been so forced upon her. Still, the series held a special place in her heart.

Daniela, stirring beside her, snapped her out of her musings, letting out an amused hum while looking down at her book. "You've been on the same page for five whole minutes," she pointed out bemused. "Am I distracting by any chance?" Her voice lowered slightly, in a manner that had no business being as seductive as it was, especially given her tendency to use that very same tone before slicing someone's throat.

"N-...no," she managed to mumble. Well, she was distracting, but not in the way she probably thought. At least for the most part.

"Shame."

At that, Anita could feel her cheeks get a few shades pinker, which she hoped went unnoticed -no such luck though-. Her mind kept tiptoeing around the question of why Daniela, the apparent romantic, wanted her specifically there, and she was starting to think it wasn't as simple as wanting to take a bite out of her neck. She almost would've preferred that. Much simpler and would have probably brought a much quicker death than whatever Daniela was going to drag her down into.

Cold fingers came to rest on her cheek and made her shiver, though whether it was due to their chill or something else was beyond her. Especially when Daniela slowly turned her head around and she saw the almost predatory look in those mismatched golden eyes.

"Aren't you just darling," Daniela almost whispered the words in such a tone that elicited both fear and some other emotion entirely that she refused to give a name to.

"I think you're in love with me."

[ginwalt]

Never Quite Free (Natasha x Reader)

Summary: Natasha grows concerned after you start ignoring her and decides to check on you.

!TW WARNINGS: Implied sexual assault, PTSD, and panic attacks! (lots of fluff near the end to make up for it i promise)

A/N: just a vent fic,,, as a treat. The song referenced in the fic is Never Quite Free by The Mountain Goats, in case you want to listen to it for context though you don't have to.

--

It's all good to learn that right outside your window There's only friendly fields and open roads And you'll sleep better when you think You've stepped back from the brink And found some peace inside yourself Laid down your heavy load It gets all right to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him you'll know

For the longest time, going out into the world was like maneuvering across a field of landmines. The bombs could be set off by nearly anything, from minute details that had latched themselves to the back of your mind to glaring reminders that were almost impossible to ignore. Anything and everything that reminded you of him had seeped its way into the cracks in your brain, leaving irreparable stains and water damage in its wake. From the smell of cedar and pine aftershave to the brassy sound of a jazz trumpet on a passing radio, these reminders were minuscule as thumbtacks, and yet they felt like railroad spikes being hammered into your chest and skull.

In the past, you would bury yourself in work or drink yourself nearly to death to escape his ever-present grasp on your mind. Your life had been filled with you shoveling meaningless noise into your routine in attempts to block out the alarm that always seemed a pin trigger away from sounding in your head. Then, you met Natasha. You learned that she knew over seven languages and almost exclusively cussed in Russian when she was pissed enough. You memorized her favorite shows and books and how she snored like a lawnmower when she laid on her left side- a fact she vehemently denied. Natasha Romanov was caring, smart, strong, and oh so protective.

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land It gets okay to praise the day Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath

These little bits of information filled your mind and heart with endearment and love, thoroughly pushing the smell of cedar aftershave and rot to the far back of your mind. And that was where he stayed for the longest time. For a whole two years, you filled your days with movie dates, forehead kisses, and late-night cuddles. She introduced you to her friends, Steve Rogers, Carol Danvers, Wanda Maximoff; you even befriended Tony Stark- though Natasha never explicitly refers to him as a friend. Everything was going so well for the first time since before you met him. But, like a cockroach, your past is not so easily killed.

But hear his breath come through his teeth,

Walk by faith Tell no one what you've seen

You were at a local coffee shop when you noticed him. He was sitting at the table adjacent to yours, scrolling through his laptop, briefcase at his side. When you beheld him, it was as if your muscles were turning to concrete slabs. They were dragging you down, below the faded wooden floorboards, below the concrete foundation, until you were choking on dirt and rocks. It took you nearly five minutes to realize it was not him. However, him or not, the damage was done. Because you had seen his well-kempt mustache and graying sideburns, had seen his eyes the color of a lethal tundra. You could have sworn you felt those eyes watch you as you rushed out of the café and into the crowded streets.

From that day on, he was back. He visited you in sleep and trailed you all throughout work—a hefty shadow. However, it was not until you were in bed with Natasha that it came to its tipping point.

Your fiancée, having noticed your peculiar attitude, had decided to surprise you with a night of candles and wine. Not wanting her to be more concerned than she already was, you played along. You forced yourself to reciprocate every kiss and caress despite the acid in your throat and the timpani in your chest. Eventually, Natasha swept you off your feet into a bridal style carry and led you into her bedroom. Gently setting you on the bed, she quickly straddled your hips. Leaning down, she cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a heated kiss. You swallowed down bile and half-heartedly opened your mouth to allow her tongue space to explore. She groaned and tore off her shirt as she pulled away from you.

"God, you're so sexy," she murmured, grinding her hips further against your abdomen. Natasha grabbed at your shirt, pulling it off your torso before chucking it across the room. You felt your throat tighten as your upper body was exposed to the elements. Your fiancée set about yanking off your sweatpants, murmuring bits of praise under her breath as she did so. Her gentle lithe hands seemed to grown more masculine and rough the longer they touched your bare skin. Her body morphed into the familiar form of a naked man. His sickeningly familiar graying mustache and coarse chest hair set flares of frigid panic through your body. He was here, he was here, hewasherehewashere.

Your body convulsed and kicked out at your assailant; flashes of his rough hands forcing your legs apart fueled the strength behind your attacks as you lunged to your feet. You shoved him off of you with a borderline unhinged snarl.

"Get the fuck away from me, Castor!" You screamed before hurriedly shoving on your clothes and sprinting out the door of the apartment. He was following you. You could hear his heavy footsteps thudding behind you. Your thighs burned from the sudden exercise, and the roaring in your ears drowned out your surroundings. You shoved your way into the elevator, nearly punching the first-floor button with your fist. Sweat dripped down the nape of your neck as you struggled to suck in breaths of air. Clutching your chest, you allowed your knees to collapse.

When the elevator slid open, you shot to your feet and ran through the lobby, out into the cool night. You clumsily pushed people aside, his voice clawing through your ear canal. You wildly waved down a taxi and slid into the back. Your voice was as flimsy as tissue paper as you gave the driver your address.

When you got home, you slid all three locks into place and snapped your curtains shut. You huddled under your blanket and slowly succumbed to a sleepless night.

--

Natasha was many things, but a worrier was not one of them. Why should she spend all her time fretting when she could just get up and solve the damn problem herself? However, after three days of complete radio silence on your end, she was sorely tempted to break into your apartment. That night, you had rushed out of her apartment as if the Devil himself had been at your heels. The look in your eyes had been that of a wounded animal. Natasha felt her stomach clench with anxiety as she stared down at her phone. 37 texts, 10 calls, 10 voicemails, and not a single message answered. You were always a punctual texter, which only made her worry worsen.

Natasha shoved her phone back in her back pocket and took a long sip of her coffee. What the hell could have caused you to run out of her apartment mid-sex? Not to mention, who the hell was Castor? Natasha finished off her coffee and set her red and black spider mug in the sink. The cup had been a 6-month anniversary gift, and she made sure to drink out of it every chance she got. After cleaning up the last of her breakfast, Natasha pulled out her phone once more and typed out another message.

Nat: darling I've tried giving you space but its been 3 days and I'm worried. I'm coming over.

Natasha moved to put the device away; however, after a second, she reconsidered it and unlocked it once more.

Nat: I love you <3

Pushing the phone into her pocket, she rushed out the door. When Natasha arrived at your apartment door, she immediately pulled out her phone once more. Nothing. She huffed a shaky breath and pulled out her copy of the apartment key. You had given it to her after you almost burnt down your apartment trying to cook for their date that night. She had to rush over to your apartment to clean up the damage done by the small grease fire and cook you both last-minute spaghetti.

She twisted the key in the lock and quietly pushed the door open. The apartment felt akin to a tomb. The curtains were drawn, and all the lights were off. Dirty dishes were piled up Tetris style in and around the sink, not to mention the empty takeout containers strewn throughout the living room and dining table. The TV was quietly playing It Chapter 2, yet you were nowhere in sight.

Worry continued to grip the assassin's chest as she called out, "Y/n, kotyonok are you here?" Being cautious of the numerous fast-food containers and clothing items thrown about, Natasha made her way towards your bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment before steeling her nerves and carefully knocking on your door. For a moment, she heard nothing, only the faint sound of Pennywise's voice coming from the living room. Then, just as she turned the knob to open the door, she heard whimpering. Her heart ramped up to a gallop as she quickly opened the door to your bedroom.

Natasha was certain she had seen war zone's tidier than this. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the bedroom, mattress, and wardrobe. Not to mention the numerous crumpled tissues and fallen picture frames. However, the state of your room was hardly her first concern because in the center of it all, huddled in shaking ball, was you. Painful sobs were rasping from your lips as you burrowed your face further into your knees. Your hair was tangled and greasy, and you were wearing one of Natasha's sweaters with a food-stained pair of boxer shorts.

The assassin felt sorely tempted to sprint across the rooms and scoop you into her arms. Instead, she went for the safer route, which was carefully wading through the mess over to your side of the bed. Tutting quietly, Natasha swallowed the urge to cry alongside you as she quietly cleared her throat. "Mon trésor, can you hear me?" she whispered, setting a hand next to your own, cautious not to make contact.

Instead of a relieved smile or a tired 'yes' like Natasha had expected, your entire body flinched away as if you had been punched. Your eyes snapped open as you scrambled across the bed, looking around hysterically. "Castor?" you called out, eyes wild with panic.

Natasha furrowed her brows and backed away from you. "Y/n it's me, Nat. I'm not here to hurt you; I just needed to see if you were okay."

Slowly, your eyes shone with recognition. Your body, however, remained as taught as before as you studied your fiancée carefully as if she was a trick or a mirage. Natasha felt her heart fracture slightly at the display of fear. "Nat?" Your voice was quiet and raspy; if she had not seen your mouth move, she would not have registered that you were speaking.

"Yes, kotyonok, it's me."

You furrowed your brows and brought your knees back up to your chest. "Wha-what're you doing here?" You asked, your voice slurred and shaky from the sobs racking your body.

Natasha carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, "I have been so worried about you. After you ran out on me a few days ago, I have been trying to check to see if you are okay."

Your face crumbled once more as you buried your face in your knees, "I-I'm," you hiccup, "Sorry, Nat."

Natasha tutted dotingly and slid back so that she sat beside you, still cautious not to touch. "Hey, hey, it's okay, darling. You're okay; just breathe for me. Can you do that, sweetie?"

You inhaled quick stuttering breathe, which quickly dissolved into hyperventilating. You clutched at your hair and squeezed your eyes shut.

Your fiancée watched with a heartbroken expression, "You're okay, you're okay, just keep trying. Can I touch you?" You nodded shakily as she pulled you onto her lap. Gently, she pulled your fists from your hair and replaced them with her own. She stroked your knotted locks and quietly cooed sweet nothings into your ear. She guided your fist to rest atop her chest as she whispered, "Copy my breathing okay, mon trésor?" Sucking in exaggerated breaths, she held her hand atop your own to keep it in place. After a few tries, your breathing eventually settled, and you let out a long whimpery sigh.

It's all good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone See the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head And look about, all the stars are coming out They shine like steel swords Wish me well where I go But when you see me you'll know

Natasha smiled and kissed the top of your head, "You're doing so well, my love. Nothings going to get you while I'm here, I promise."

You burrowed further into her lap and placed your head atop her chest, letting the sound of her steady heartbeat soothe you into a lull. The two of you sat there for what seemed like eons as you soaked in the feeling of safety and warmth. Natasha hummed quietly, placing chaste kisses on the crown of your head every once in a while.

Sucking in a breath, you spoke, "He was a family friend." Natasha's humming stopped as she looked down at you. "His name was Castor Davids, and my dad met him at work. He was nice at first, sort of like a goofy rich uncle. He would always buy me new toys and books. He would even take me out for ice cream. Even when I got into fights with my parents, I knew I could always talk to him when I was upset. But then..." you gulped, your voice breaking. Natasha continued stroking your hair. "But then one day, he was babysitting me while my parents were out at a baby shower. H-he..." Your words broke off into a sob, and your fiancée quickly shushed you.

"You're safe; you're here with me. No one can hurt you, I promise. Just relax, darling. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that you're safe now." Eventually, after a few more minutes of comforting words and protective hugs, the phantom hands that had been grasping at you for days disappeared.

You burrowed your head further into her chest and huffed, " 'm sorry I ran out on you the other night. I shoulda texted."

Natasha chuckled humorlessly, "Darling, that is the least of my worries. What I am worried about, however, is the last time you had an actual healthy dinner." You looked down at your lap sheepishly and shrugged. Natasha playfully pinched your side and untangled herself from your hold. You whined at the loss of contact and looked up at her accusingly. "I am going to make you a proper dinner, and we are going to sit down and watch stupid TV shows."

You huffed, "Can we watch House Hunters?"

Natasha sighed and nodded, "Fine, only because I love you, though." You grinned and slid out of bed. Your fiancée inspected you with a grimace, "First, we're going to take a shower."

--

TAG LIST:

@midnight-lestrange

[sunjaesol]

clandestine meetings and longing stares

juke secret dating au | title: illicit affairs // taylor swift | a middle of the night scribble

When twelve year old Julie Molina got a stern talk from her father that she wasn't allowed to date until college, the tween had no qualms with it. The only boy she's ever liked had been Sokka from Avatar and that was it. Real boys didn't interest her. 

Until she turned sixteen and caught sight of Luke Patterson. 

In the years between, she had small crushes here and there. Lance, Nick, Noah. None, however, competed with storm that erupted in her stomach each time Luke smiled at her - her heart in a constant frenzy. 

It was the beginning of junior year when he randomly sat next to her in music class and brought out all the bravado. It shouldn't have been cute. Julie should've rolled her eyes, dismissed his cute smirk, but she simply couldn't. The shimmering green of his eyes and the nice laugh was too alluring, too attractive. Soon enough, Julie was crushing on him hard. Which was fortunate, since he very much liked her as well, something he never hid from her. 

("Watch out, Julie," he joked during one of their first conversations. "The charm is gonna make you get a crush on me!") 

Luke kissed her two weeks after, chastely and secretly under the bleachers. Her infatuated mind forgot in that moment how she wasn't even allowed to look at a guy and eagerly kissed him back. It had been her first kiss and wow - what a perfect one at that. 

A beat later, she realised her mistake and told him about her dad's stupid rule. His face had crashed for all of ten seconds when a mischievous grin crawled on his lips (an expression that would get her into serious trouble one day) and said: "Why tell him?" 

Had it been any other boy, she would've shaken her head and regret kissing him. But this was Luke. She really liked Luke. The idea of not being with him, of not seeing where this could go, was a greater fear than her father's disappointment. In response, she snatched him back into a kiss he all too hungrily went along with. 

Rule #1: Don't date! Broken, busted, thrown out the window with a smile. 

It started off easy. At school, no one had to worry. She sat with him at lunch and let herself be coaxed under the bleachers and snuggled into his embrace at the end of the day. On the parking lot, she could pretend she was simply saying goodbye to her boyfriend and not going home to lie in her dad's face about why she was so overly chipper all of a sudden. 

(Luke made her so ridiculously happy it was unfair. Each time he surprised her with a hug, her feet lifted from the ground; each time they kissed, his thumbs grazed her cheeks like she was a precious gem; each time she came up with a clever lyric, he gave her the toothiest grin and called her all the cute nicknames he could think of. Boss, baby, babe, Lyric Queen.) 

God, she was complete mush for this boy. Sometimes she wondered if she was doing enough, not quite matching his overt display of affection, but she knew she must be doing something right if he never stopped smiling when she talked. That his eyes held a certain softness, timidness, reserved for her only. 

They outgrew school quickly. Both wanted to go on dates without raising suspicion, Luke wanted to come over and just be with her without causing havoc. 

"Why does the rule exist anyway?", he asked at the end of a cool December day. 

Julie toyed with the lapels of his red shacket. "It's dumb. I mean, I get it, but it's dumb." Sighing, she explained his reasoning. "He wants me to fully focus on school so that I can get into a good college. Once I secured that, then I'm allowed to have fun."

Luke frowned. "I- I guess I kind of get it."

Her eyes rolled teasingly. "You don't even want to go to college." 

"Correction: I wanna go to frat parties and have the college experience-" 

"Without the classes part," she deadpanned. His face fell flat, a giggle of her own following. 

His frown returned, a look she hated seeing. "You don't think he'll… I don't know, let go of that rule when he sees we're good?" His calloused hands slipped from her waist to softly cradle her face. Julie sighed, leaning into the touch. Resisting Luke and everything he did was hard. A smile twitched on his lips. "Would be pretty dope to come through the front door and kiss my girlfriend."

Her heart clenched at his confession. It would be amazing, but it sounded so unbelievable that it could easily be taken as a joke. Dad would go absolutely insane if she pulled something like that. Hey dad! Don't mind me as I jump into the arms of my boyfriend and he kisses me like a heartthrob from the movies! 

She should've known Luke would try something. His impulsivity was an admirable trait, she found, though the pebbles hitting her window past midnight have her such a fright that she cursed for a beat how one track minded he could be. Until she caught sight of him. Eyes twinkling in the moonlight, a wide smile, his casual stance. He pointed at her and she nodded, grabbing her phone to text him there was a ladder by the garage. 

Quiet like a ghost and quick like a fox, Luke snuck into her room, feet falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

Butterflies raged in her stomach. Her secret boyfriend was here, in her room, right now, with her father sleeping just down the hall. 

"What're you doing here?", she whispered, already breathless from having him near. 

His nose scrunched up. "Trying to be romantic. Should I have called you first?" 

She shook her head. "It's fine. Maybe next time. It's-" Her arms slung around his shoulders, heart hammering a mile a minute. Her pyjamas were nothing special, an oversized pullover and sweatshorts, but it felt oddly intimate to be so cozy together. His own faded t-shirt was from a zoo in Oregon and his sweatpants softer than any of the ones she owned. Julie almost asked to borrow them, if it wasn't for his lips to swallow the words with a warm kiss. 

Her fingers slipped into his hair. Yeah. This was better than talking. 

It soon became routine. Every other week, Luke would text her a moon emoji and then climb into her room around midnight. They'd kiss and cuddle, Luke often leaving by five am and then making a whole show at school as if he hadn't seen her. Julie thought it was cute. If she could, she'd return the favour and go to his place, but Luke assured her she did not want that and, consequently, her father would just know. Unfortunately, she didn't have Luke's agility like some parkour champ. 

"Trust me, Jules, I don't mind," he told her at lunch while stealing a cherry tomato. "I like sneaking in."

Alex shot him a look. "You like feeling like the main character of a movie, that's what."

"You brainwashed me with romcoms, so it's your fault, dude,' Luke retorted, grinning when the blonde flipped him off. 

They got cocky though. Julie knew her dad would be gone during the day for a photography gig in Santa Monica, all the way on the other side of Los Angeles. It was the perfect excuse to get Luke over. Excited, Julie opened the front door for him with a flourish and did a silly courtesy. 

"Your first time using my door," she teased. "Must feel special."

His cocky nod made her roll her eyes. "Super special," he replied gravely, playing along. "She's been begging for me."

Her expression turned sour. "I haven't been begging for you." 

His smirk widened, tugging on a curl as he slipped past her. "Was I talking about you?" 

He didn't, but he did start making out with her the second they were in the safety of her bedroom, so she knew there wasn't much competition. 

That afternoon, they successfully avoided her dad's wrath and felt arrogantly confident about it. It made them daring. Pushing the limits, how far could they go, how blatant could they be before he knew? It was almost a game, the thrill part of the insane attraction she felt each time he snuck in. 

His strong arms were wrapped around her as she straddled his waist, kissing him. Every touch was languid and intentional, a searing passion that rippled her skin and left her mind empty. Kissing Luke always put her in a dreamy, blissful haze. Her fingers clawed at his shirt and he shrugged it off in one fluid motion, pulling her back in. His skin was warm, hers to explore. Julie grinned into the kiss. His fingers toyed with the hem of her top.  

"Julie?" 

They froze. Her dad. Other side of the door. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. As quietly as possible, the girl hoisted herself from his lap and motioned at her closet. 

"Julie?" The door handle began to shake. 

Her voice squeaked. "Just a second!" Luke tiptoes into her closet, Julie kicking his shirt under her bed as she ran to the door. Her flushed cheeks would be a dead giveaway had her father ever doubt her trust. Fortunately, Julie Molina was in the eyes of her family a perfect good girl. 

(The guy hiding in her closet would whisper something else in her ear.)

"Why is your door locked?" Dad frowned. "You never lock your door."

Julie shrugged, innocence leaking from her tone. "I can't have some privacy?" 

"Of course, Julie," he said, though his lips were pressed into a thin smile. This clearly wasn't the last time they'd talk about it. "I'm going to the store. Do you need something?" 

"No, thanks," she rushed. "Anything else?" 

"Uh, no. Don't lock yourself in, hm?" It was said as a joke, his brows lifted, but both she and her father knew he meant it. No more locking doors. Shit. 

When the front door fell shut and the car rumbled into the street, Luke reappeared with a careful smile. 

Julie sighed. "That… was close. Maybe we should stop hanging out right after school. I didn't even hear him coming up the stairs."

"Damn, Jules!” Peppering two kisses on her forehead, it did little to relief her stress. “Now that's an ego booster."

"I'm serious!" She huffed. "I hate this. I hate the rule and I hate that I'm making you put up with it."

"Hey, hey," he soothed. "It's shitty, yeah, but you're not making me do anything." Nodding at her lips, he added: "Your smile is already…" 

The smile bloomed on its own accord when he trailed off, edging closer. "What?" 

That little shake of his head almost made her kiss him, but she wanted to know what he was going to say, why his lips were parted in that wonderstruck expression. When nothing came, a curious hum rumbled in her throat as she placed her chin on his chest. 

He relented, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Your smile is already making me do dumb stuff.”

Oh, God. If he was going to continue saying things like that, she might actually fall in love with him. Back when Julie and Flynn were still obsessed with those relationship quizzes in magazines, she always claimed she’d like guys that weren’t so smooth with their words. She thought it meant they were players. But Luke never half-assed anything. 

Her head tilted, amused. “Do you always have words ready?”

“Zero words, Jules,” he quipped. “Ever.”

Yeah, she might actually love him. 

Public dates became a thing after that conversation. She simply couldn’t let him get away because of some rule, even if he claimed he wouldn’t. Eats & Beats was a cute, little café in the heart of Los Feliz with live music and amazing lattes; it was also their regular spot. They’d settle themselves into a booth, share a baked good (“If we’re trying the carrot cake now, we’re doing the pastel de nata next week.” “Deal.”) and talk for hours. Sometimes, when either was tinkering on a song, they’d work on it together.

One leg overlapped his, his fingers drawing pictures on her knee. The booth with the suede red couches and the scratching of a star in the wood was their safe haven.  

“Mh, no,” she swallowed the piece of muffin. “That’s such an ugly word, don’t use that.”

He grinned, shoulders nudging as a tease. “Drencher not doing it for you?”

A laugh bubbled up, kissing his cheek. “Just use ‘rain’, you dork!”

“Dork?”, he mocked, getting in her face. 

“Yeah.” Her nose brushed his. “Dork.” 

“You are a dork.”

“That’s the best you’ve got, Patterson?”

Luke smirked, eyes flicking across her frame. “Want me to show you my best, Molina?”

She pushed his face away, a blush creeping up her cheekbones. They haven’t done it yet, but whenever he got like this, she felt her entire skin heat up at the mere idea. A part of her wanted to take that step, but she felt bad doing it if her dad or tía didn’t know. Knowing that they wouldn’t support her for as long as the rule existed, made her settle with that heat for a little longer. Her leg slipped from his and turned back to his songbook. 

“So-”

“Julie?”

The couple looked up, once more paralysed as her dad’s familiar voice called her name. Why was he literally everywhere?! His tall figure stood in front of their booth, his hat shrouding the grimace on his face as his scrutinising eyes flitted between them. Oh, God. Did he know? Did he see? How much did he see? Did he see Luke checking her out? Mortification didn’t even come close to what she felt. 

“Dad!” Her pressed smile hopefully looked relaxed to him. Her dad had moments of obliviousness; she might be able to save this. “What- hi, I didn’t know you had a booking here.”

His suspicion didn’t waver. “Yeah, honey, for the Rodriguez’ - I told you last night. Was just getting, ah, coffee.” He nodded at Luke. “Who’s this?”

My boyfriend. The one I’m falling for. The boy I’ve been hiding for months. “This is Luke, he’s one of my classmates.” The way his arm tensed at the label made her ache, but she had to truck on. “We’re working on a song.”

If he didn’t believe her, she just hurt her boyfriend for no reason. It did the trick though. Her father’s face mellowed, noticing the scribbles in the tattered book. “You’re working on a song?”

“Yeah. It’s really getting along.” Her finger tapped against his thigh. “Right, Luke?”

He perked up, a cough following as he straightened his attitude. This really was not the way she wanted them to meet. “Uh, yeah.” His hand stuck out. “Hi, mister Molina.”

Dad shook it with a smile, fully relaxed now. “Ray. Nice to meet you.” The barista called out his name. “See you at home, Julie. Don’t stay out long, yeah?”

Her smile twitched and crashed the second he turned around, grabbed his coffee and closed the glass door. She groaned, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta be honest,” he whispered. “That hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Luke sighed. “I was okay being a secret before, but…”

She coaxed his jaw, needing him to look at her. “It’ll hurt more if I tell him and forces me to break up with you.”

For a moment, silence sunk onto the table, wedging itself like thick smoke between her and Luke. He seemed pensive, the green of his eyes peering. Suddenly, they lit up. “But wait, aren’t you getting your results? Early admission?”

She sagged in her seat, pouting. “If UCLA wants me.”

“They will,” he smiled. His arms wrapped around her. “Of course, they will. And if you get in, he can’t be mad that you’re dating me, right?”

Hope tinged her chest. She hasn’t considered that. She’s been so focused on Luke and trying to keep it hidden, that everything college-related went over her head. The letters and essays and interviews happened before she and Luke got serious, so with her being on that pink cloud ever since, school stress has been locked away. Why bother mulling over UCLA when she could be having fun with Luke? 

If she locked in UCLA… then Luke might be right. And if not UCLA, then she’d hear of USC and NYU next year. (If they were even still together by the time those letters got in the mail.) 

“You might’ve found the loophole,” she teased, hoping to lift the tension. And then she uttered out her biggest fear: “But if you haven’t… will you stay?”

His kiss answered her, soft and sweet and with a hint of blueberry muffin. A grin bloomed on her lips, burrowing her face in his shoulder. She felt it. That overflowing, unbridled adoration overwhelming her all at once. Julie loved him. It was April fourteenth and it only took her six months but Julie loved Luke. They stayed in the booth until they had to go home.

Her phone was mocking her. Luke and her were in her car, stagnant, as both stared at the white screen. Every few minutes, she refreshed it, yet no email came. Gah! Couldn’t colleges just send the email when they said they would? What was taking so long? Did that mean she didn’t get in? Was this a bad sign? It helped having Luke there, easing the rising stress that clenched her ribcage, but she wouldn’t be fully okay until that freaking email come through. 

As if sensing her thoughts, he drummed against the dashboard. “It’s gonna be cool. You look great in blue and gold, you gotta get in.”

She giggled, nerves lacing her tone. “Imagine if that’s how you got in. You’d get into USC then.”

“Are you saying I look hot in red?”, he teased. 

“You know you- oh my God!” She lurched for her phone as a new email pinged in, heartbeat stuttering in her ears. Frozen, her thumb hovered over the fated email. This would change everything - for better or for worse. She knew she should focus on the fact that it would determine where she’d go to college, but all she could think about was Luke, Luke, Luke. Was it selfish to care more about junior prom then UCLA? At this very moment, she thought it was completely justified. 

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it. You open it.”

His brows raised. “You sure?”

“Yeah-” She stuffed the phone in his hand and put her trembling ones on her lap. “-do it for me.”

Luke took a deep breath. Julie shut her eyes. Please. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please accept her. Please let her be with Luke.

Ten seconds passed. His voice gave nothing away. “Julie?”

“Just rip the band-aid off,” she choked out.   

A familiar, calloused hand softly grabbed hers. Her eyes cracked open. Luke had the biggest smile on his face and it made her heart pop out of her chest. She bit down on her lip, fighting off a grin. “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” he sang, reaching across the console to show her phone. You got accepted! blinked in bold, black letters. “You’re UCLA bound, baby!”

Euphoria burst out. Julie squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. She got in! She fucking got into college! A great one at that! Another Molina was going for gold! 

And it might even get her to date Luke without secrecy. God, she hoped this was enough. She wanted to do everything with him. All the time, the entire time. Flynn has called them clingy, but Julie just wanted to get rid of the anxiety of her dad finding out. To finally relax and be fully with him.

Her head tilted, bashful. “Is it crazy to say that I might be in love with you?”

He dropped her phone in the cupholder and peppered another kiss on her mouth. “No. That’s good.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, eyes glittering with adoration. “Cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too.”

She pecked his thumb, giddy. “Fuck it. Let’s tell my dad right now. About UCLA and you.”

He smiled. “You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Storming inside the house, the couple made a beeline to her dad’s office, his hand in hers. 

“Dad!”, she called out, door slamming open. Her startled father perked up in his seat, his wide eyes going from Julie to Luke right behind her. “I got into UCLA!”

Ray sprung up, cheering. “Mija-!”

“And I’m dating Luke!”, she yelled after. “And that’s okay, cause I got in, so you don’t have to worry about the rule anymore! So... ” She put her foot down, awkwardness creeping in her tone. “Yeah!”

Flabbergasted, dad faltered and let the cheers die in his throat. Luke came to stand next to her, squeezing her hand. Slowly, he nodded. “Ah… so that time in Eats & Beats-”

“A date,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry I went behind your back, papa, but I… really care about Luke. And we figured that if I got in, you’d stop enforcing the dating rule.”

His grap became even tighter. “I, uh, really care about her too,” Luke mustered. “Sorry that we kept it a secret.”

Ray sighed, propping his head in his hands and scrubbing the confusion away with his palms. The pair shot each other a look. He wasn’t mad, she deduced, so that was a good sign at least. Finally, dad moved again and gave her a tight hug. Her confidence grew, hugging him back and withholding a cry of victory. 

He pulled back, crossing his arms with a hint of amusement. “Well… the rule clearly didn’t work, but you seem happy and you- you did actually get in, right?”

She laughed, nodding, and showed the confirmation email. His smile grew. “Then I guess,” he trailed, “you’re allowed. To date. But no funny business!”

Julie quickly nodded, grabbing back onto Luke’s arm and jostling him in excitement. Luke bounced on his heels, trying to temper it but failing miserably. She thanked her dad, promised him they’d celebrate her acceptance later tonight and rushed back out with Luke. Dad yelled something about establishing new rules, but both gleefully ignored it. Once in her bedroom, he snatched her into a tight embrace, kissing her full on the lips. Julie whooped against his mouth and danced between his arms. This might be the best day of her life! Luke was her real real real boyfriend!

“You heard your dad, Jules,” he teased. “No funny business.”

She pouted, faux-peeved. “You won’t get to climb through my window again.”

“Won’t have to hide in cars anymore.”

“Won’t have to say you’re just my classmate.”

Luke dragged them onto her bed, laying side by side. “I can take you to junior prom.”

She kissed him with a giggle. “You’re taking me to prom?”

“Hell yeah, I am!”, he bellowed, drumming his fingers against her hips. “Let your dad take pictures of us and everything.”

She scrunched her nose. “Let’s maybe not push him just yet.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, humming in agreement. “You’re probably right.”

Luke did that her to junior prom, to homecoming, to senior prom, called her hot in blue and gold and vetoed no when she begged him for a bright, blue velour couch for their first apartment. When someone asked her father what it was like, seeing his daughter find the one at sixteen, he had to admit with embarrassment red on his cheeks that it all flew under his radar.

That it all started with sneaky bleacher kisses and a hopeful heart. 

@blush-and-books @ourstarscollided @sophiphi @bluefirewrites​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​