#yes i DID think of this au for very specific reasons ty for asking :)

[saltycryptid]

Ring Fighter AU Soap and Ghost!

[gxlds-doodles]

was thinking abt how much i miss the 2014-2015 era fnaf fandom and it's interpretations of the characters (oh vincent purple guy how i miss you.) so new au alert!! lil chibis of my vincent n phone guy <3 designs are very much inspired by the popular designs for them around that time (originally popularized/created by rebornica i believe - though these are completely separate from their au i am not associated with them in any way shape or form) 🎉✧ SUPER COOL EPIC LORE INFO UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!! ✧🎉

general lore ☆ basically a whole rewrite - not because i have issues with the story (i stopped paying full attention after sister location tbh) just for fun!! again very much based on me missing 2010s fnaf fandom that was PEAK to me ☆ i still tie in some pieces of the lore but for the most part. forget what u know abt fnaf this is a whole rewrite (ex. animatronics are sentient but not possessed by children - not possessed at all in fact!! except for perhaps a few exceptions but i'm working on it) ☆ these two have quite a lot of canon lore tie-ins but beyond these two it's different LOL ☆ set in or around 2014, timeline is a wip vincent dorian (formerly afton) ☆ italian on his dad's side, armenian on his mom's side ☆ william afton's only child, born while freddy's was open but doesn't remember it rlly - his father and henry emily were co-owners/business partners but split ways (aka william got fired bc henry found out what he did. why he didn't bring this to the cops i'm still working out) soon after he was born ☆ raised by william as a single father ☆ was forced to help his father kill since he was like 12 this guy's got TRAUMA. ☆ still deciding on why he's purple (boy why you ourple.) but ik that it's william's fault. idk if i wanna go the walking corpse route like with michael in canon yet ☆ cuts off his dad when he's 18 - moves out on his own, etc. ☆ still kills for reasons i am currently working on however he does NOTTTT kill children ☆ starts working at freddy's at 27 as a way to 'rebel' against his dad, even if he hasn't seen him in yeeears by this point ☆ night guard at first, eventual day shift guard and sometimes a technician when needed ☆ his hair is naturally still black - he dyes it purple bc he thinks it looks cool ☆ his red scrunchie matches the red of phone guy's head <3 scott emily ☆ THE DRAWING IS OF A VERY SPECIFIC POINT IN THE AU I HAVE YET TO FLESH OUT it's not the most reflective of his character overall ☆ puerto rican ☆ henry emily's only child - remembers a tiny bit about william, remembers being scared shitless of him ☆ gets caught in a fire set by william when he's 16. he barely makes it out alive ☆ henry makes him the phone head mask thing. it can *technically* be removed but it never is bc it keeps the scars that never quite fully healed from getting worse ☆ head somehow works like a real phone... don't ask i just thought the idea of him ringing when he feels strong emotions is rlly funny (henry makes sentient animatronics in this au he can do anything. everyone say ty plot device dad!!) ☆ has some sort of contacts made by his dad that allow him to see through the phone ☆ grew up with the restaurant, his dad managed the location he's currently at until passing the business and the manager position onto him when he was 25 and henry was ready to retire ☆ henry told scott the full truth about william shortly before retiring - including that he set the fire that he got caught in. it's made him pretty paranoid that he's coming for him or something's gonna happen to him, even if neither of them have heard from william since then and he's essentially off the grid ☆ always at the restaurant during opening hours but rarely ever seen bc he doesn't want to scare any of the kids with his phone head vincent & scott ☆ yes they're dating. everyone cheer!! early fandom purplephone was my SHITTTT i love them so much ugh they r everything 2 me ☆ ngl they remind me of poolverine (deadpool x wolverine). vincent is deadpool (VERY accurate.) and scott is wolverine (less accurate but their dynamic stands) ☆ scott finds vincent annoying at first but eventually warms up to him and now he loooooves him. he's still annoying but he loooooooooves him ☆ scott doesn't know vince is william's son at first since he changed his surname and looks completely different ☆ they're just rlly cute and deeply in love and got some angsty shit going on later but that'll be a surprise oooo

[princesseevee06]

Hi i have 3 questions plaguing me that you dont have to feel the need to answer at all!

What is momdori like as a floormaster?

Whats sous trauma surrounding her?

And most importantly...

IS THERE A WHOLESOME UWU BOY SOU AI?!!?!

thank you 💕

how naive of you to ask me questions about Sou Hiyori and expect me not to answer. /j

no but seriously i am happy to answer these questions ty!

1. Momdori takes a very similar role to Midori in that she’s the target for the….idk what do you call it. Murderer game? Basically they have to kill her. so in that sense the main “plot” of chapter 3 goes very similar in ytr. the differences come mostly in momdori’s personality. it always struck me that in the actual game when meeting midori sara says that he’s a little bit like sou (aka shin. the names get so confusing to me) but that there’s something distinctly different. in that same way i think there would be a lot of similar mannerisms between sou (the actual sou. real sou hiyori) and his mom, but she’s very much different in how she portrays herself and in how she views asunaro. momdori doesn’t have that same sort of childish “heeehee i want to see what makes people tick” characterization that midori has. Her work is very much more of a duty to her rather than something for entertainment. she views asunaro as something almost divine, and trusts that the organization knows what the correct path for her and all the candidates is. to her, asunaro comes before anything else (yes, even her family). it is an absolute.

2. …which brings us to the elephant in the room. god, where do i even start with these two? sou’s trauma surrounding his mom is less of a “specific incident” and more of like. a pervasive, continuous thing. i definitely don’t agree with the take that sou & momdori have a great relationship when she says things like this

i don’t think momdori was a loving mother. i think she would’ve treated sou in a sort of apathetic or “logical” manner, focusing on making him remain loyal to asunaro. because of that, i see her as controlling a lot of sou’s decisions in his childhood, deciding what he can and can’t do, teaching him to revere/fear asunaro and to treat others “below him” as means to an end. so, sou grows to see his mother’s treatment of him as normal (and even thinks that that’s what “love” is supposed to be!), and it definitely plays a huge part in his frankly shitty behavior towards others.

part of the reason why sou is so attached to shin in this au is because shin is basically his first real friend outside of asunaro. and it’s so bewildering to him that anyone would treat him with genuine friendship/affection that he is just utterly fascinated by this boy. unfortunately, despite his genuine care for him, sou ends up treating shin with a lot of the same behaviors that his mother did to him </3

3. ok sorry that was getting kind of sad i just. i love sou. but anyways NOOOOOOO THERES NO WHOLESOME SOU AI BUT THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE </3 a lot of the stuff on the fourth and fifth floors is still catered towards sou because he was originally intended to be the floormaster before he ditched asunaro and his mom had to take over. (basically imagine like being a kid and you piss off your mom real bad and she takes all your legos and says these are mine now) so there’s still a shin ai BUT i didn’t want to just leave it the exact same so i was like. yknow what. screw it. kanna ai. GREENBLINGS AI. BOTH OF THEM!!!! (no haha this isn’t because i regret killing off kanna immediately what do you mean haha-[shot])

they are very cute :) until they get Killed again. sorry

BUT YEAH ANYWAYs uaaaaaahH THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS I HOPE THIS EASES THE BRAINWORMS PLAGUING YOU!!!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

There’s a window in the den of their cottage, with a chair specifically for Pinecone placed beneath it. Like Shadow, she will be disappointed by the disappearance of most birds for the next several months. Unlike Shadow, she is unburdened by the knowledge of space and time. Nature’s many surprises are innate to her. 

There are some upsides, though, to surprises.

“Holy shit, Vio,” Shadow says, eyes locked on the window. “Something’s happening out there.” 

Vio looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Yeah, Shadow, it’s snow.” 

“Snow?’ Shadow asks, tossing off the blanket and leaving Vio’s lap. 

“Hey, wait—” 

---

1) Pinecone

2) snow!!!!

Mostly I guess I'd like to express my dear love for this particular installment of the cottage AU and would like to hear other thoughts you have about it

aww ty!! crazy that this was written almost a year ago. the funny thing is, i think this is one of my weakest-written pieces? some of the purple prose is just a little too flowery for my tastes. maybe half-baked is a better word

i wrote this fic on the first day it snowed last year :) i was super excited for it, and the forecast said it was likely, and it lined up perfectly. cottage au is very self-indulgent and soft, and i think i wrote a lot for it directly after reading the manga bc i was so bummed by its resolution. i wanted FLUFF! and this is a very fluffy piece overall. i did want to make sure there was an edge of something there, though, like an emotional journey for the characters--that's why shadow has his whole thing with darkness.

i have always loved writing and reading about nature's role in healing trauma. i've experienced it directly for a lot of my life. that's ultimately the closest i get to faith, i guess? this piece has those vibes for sure. shadow being someone from a different dimension and then an endless void, learning about nature from his nerd boyfriend and applying that wonder and knowledge to his own damage. i don't know, i've just always enjoyed feeling humbled by the enormity and resilience of the wild. even when really bad stuff happens it's nice to be like, "yeah those trees do not give a shit." that's a jokey way to put it, because this piece is already very earnest on its own.

with the pinecone comparison, i think there's some related rumination on the fact that animals can't really think or feel on the same levels as humans, and therefore can't suffer existentially or experience catharsis in the way we can. they can experience trauma and pain, and joy and wonder, but it's less cerebral. so yes maybe there are reasons for someone like shadow to be jealous of a cat who doesn't deal with complex existential dread, but he realizes in this piece that there is an upside to being able to conceive of nature's intricacies on more than an instinctive level.

snow is pretty :)

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 21}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Before Nesta even opened her eyes, she knew that she’d gotten some of the best sleep she’d had in months. She knew it was early, since Nyx hadn’t even woken them up for his morning bottle yet. Sighing comfortably, she settled deeper into her pillows, the weight of a heavy arm slung over her waist, pulling her in close.

With sudden clarity, she remembered the events of the night before. She remembered the damn kiss that had started it all. She remembered the orgasms Cassian had given her over and over. She remembered seeing something shining in his eyes that had nothing to do with lust or sex.

She was sure it was reflected in her own, but couldn’t work up the nerve to let herself think about what they’d done last night, what it may have implied. What lines they may have crossed.

And the fact that she really didn’t give a damn.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy, and as much as she tried to pretend it wasn’t thanks to the man sleeping soundly behind her, in her bed, she couldn’t lie to herself.

So she gently rolled over, careful not to wake him, and took in his sleeping face.

It was kind of funny.

Nesta had known Cassian for a while, for five years, and before that in passing, considering Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship. She had watched him age, had watched him grow from a young man into the man that had taken her the night before, but looking at him now…

There was an innocence about him when he slept.

He snored, quietly, completely unaware that she was awake, that she was watching him.

He was cute.

So, so cute.

If he awoke at that very moment and saw her watching him sleep, she would have surely been mortified, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she couldn’t look away.

Memories from the night before flashed through her mind, and it only made her that much happier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen asleep in a man’s arms, but with Cassian, she had fallen asleep peacefully, nearly instantly, and slept amazingly.

There was something about Cassian that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she knew that she liked it.

She dared to gently brush a kiss over his cheek, before carefully climbing out of bed, his heavy arm making that a much harder endeavor than she was expecting. But he slept on soundly, not even stirring as she slipped from beneath the sheets and hurried into her closet. She wasn’t embarrassed by her nakedness, not after everything that had happened last night, but she knew that if he caught her naked, they were likely to take far longer getting downstairs to start their morning.

Not that she would have minded, but she was pretty sure neglecting Nyx was not a good enough reason for sex.

No, she’d enjoy him again later, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed her last night, if he was willing. And she had no doubt that he would be.

Tying her robe around her waist, Nesta slipped from the closet into her room, glancing to make sure Cassian was still fast asleep. His snore confirmed he was.

Her chuckle was quiet as she entered the hall, sneaking down a few doors and opening Nyx’s. He was still asleep, as well, and with a smile, Nesta cracked his door and quietly padded down the stairs.

The kitchen was still a mess, his half-smashed cake on the counter and their clothes strewn around the room. Blushing, she picked them up one by one and tossed them into the laundry room, before making Nyx a bottle and starting on some scrambled eggs for his breakfast.

She could hardly focus. She was constantly thinking about the man upstairs, still sleeping soundly in her bed. Mixing a little cheese into the eggs, she stirred the eggs up in the pan before dumping them directly onto Nyx’s high chair tray.

Last time they’d slept together, Cassian had made her breakfast and then they’d both agreed it would never happen again. Regardless of the fact that it very much had happened again, Nesta didn’t like the sinking feeling she felt in her heart when she thought about having to agree to that once more.

Staring at the ingredients she’d pulled out of the fridge, Nesta sighed and braced her hands on the counter in front of her.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had feelings for Cassian anymore. At some point, he’d gone from being a pain in her ass to the favorite part of her day. And that terrified her.

Letting him continue to sleep, she crept upstairs and gently woke Nyx up before he could start screaming, and carried him down to the kitchen, his sleepy head resting on her shoulder. He rubbed his eyes as she put him in his high chair, handing him the bottle, and she started working on their breakfast.

The entire time he ate, Nyx watched Nesta curiously, as if he knew something was up.

Maybe it was just her paranoia. Then again, he was Feyre and Rhysand’s kid and they were always snooping into Cassian and Nesta’s business.

Feyre and Rhysand.

Nesta bet they were pretty damn proud of themselves at the moment.

She heard him moving around upstairs and her heart began to beat a little bit faster. This was it, the moment of truth.

She cursed, all the while Nyx kept watching her as he stuffed his mouth with scrambled eggs.

Making herself busy at the stove, she quickly dropped some bacon into the hot skillet, sizzling filling the kitchen. Within seconds, a few pieces of bread were in the toaster, and she was rummaging through the refrigerator for the blackberry jam she knew he preferred.

Nyx’s babbling announced his arrival, and she turned to find Cassian standing behind his high chair, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He picked up a small clump of eggs and popped it into his mouth, and Nyx angrily began talking at him, though the made up words were unintelligible.

“He doesn’t like to share,” she said, closing the fridge door with a hip.

Cassian grinned. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I worked up an appetite last night.”

Nesta’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded and walked toward her, slowly. Nesta remained still until he was standing just in front of her. “I have to confess that I was hoping you’d be there when I woke up this morning.”

Nesta stepped closer to him. “Breakfast and the baby called.”

Cassian scoffed and muttered, “Priorities.”

Nesta laughed quietly, but the sound was muffled by Cassian’s lips against hers.

It was almost instinct to lean into him, to smile against his lips. When she pulled back just a hair, his hazel eyes were bright. She whispered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he breathed, his mouth still so close to hers.

She blushed, even though she couldn’t figure out why and turned to the stove. “I…wasn’t sure what to expect this morning.”

Cassian hesitated. “What did you think I’d do?”

Nesta sighed, scratching her head. “I don’t know. I thought you might act like it never happened. Or, you’d say it was only a one time thing like last time.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Last time I didn’t sleep in your bed.”

“And that changes things?” Nesta asked, quietly.

“Last night changed things,” Cassian replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “At least, for me it did.”

“Me too,” Nesta replied, without any hesitation.

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Nesta, I-.”

“NANANANANANANANA!”

They both spun around, where Nyx was watching them with the most precious of pissed off expressions. His tray was empty, practically licked clean, and Nyx was not having it.

Cassian chuckled as he took a banana out of the fruit basket and peeled it before cutting it up into slices. “He’s awfully full of it this morning, isn’t he?”

“I think he knows,” she said, rolling her eyes as she flipped the bacon. “Not specifically what happened, but he knows something is…different between us.”

He paused his cutting and turned back to her, pausing with a hip resting on the counter. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she said, smiling. She cracked a few eggs into a bowl and mixed them up with some milk. “Definitely good different.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but when she turned he was grinning. “Really good different?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She turned back around. “But yes.”

“Good,” he breathed, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’ve you got going on today?”

“Work,” she said. “Seeing how the bar renovation is going. Looks like you’ll have to hire your replacement soon with how quickly everything is moving.”

Cassian groaned. “That’s the part I’m looking towards the least. I hate interviews. I hate being in them, I hate giving them, they’re awful.”

“But the sooner you give them, the sooner you leave that bar and come work at mine,” she crooned.

“Yours?” he repeated, offended.

Nesta snorted. “Ours.”

He and Kallias had both given their notice to the owner of the dive bar they worked in. He wasn’t thrilled, but he had always been a gruff bastard. He’d informed Cassian he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d hired not only his replacement, but Kal’s, as well.

“Speaking of,” he sighed, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got one scheduled for eleven-thirty. What time are you going to the restaurant?”

She poured the egg mixture into the skillet she’d cooked the crispy bacon in moments before and began laying the bacon on the toast she’d made. “Whenever,” she shrugged. “Helion is opening today. What time can Viviane be here?”

“Ten. I’m not working a shift today, so after the interview I can either come back here and give her the rest of the day off, or I can come to the restaurant.”

Nesta chewed slowly as she thought about it. “I wouldn’t mind if you came to the restaurant.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Cassian said, placing the cut-up banana in front of a cranky Nyx. “And you, little man, better be good for Viv today. Because you’re grumpy.”

In response, Nyx spit out the piece of banana he had put in his mouth and smushed up the rest on his tray.

After scarfing down the breakfast that Nesta had made, and making a show of thanking her for it, Cassian was cleaning up the kitchen then hurrying upstairs to shower. Nesta was left cleaning up a fussy, banana-covered Nyx.

“I don’t even think you wanted to eat the banana, kiddo,” she muttered, cleaning off his tray, before wiping him down with an ungodly amount of baby wipes. “I think it was just to play in.”

He had plenty to say about that, just nothing Nesta could understand.

A few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed Cassian came downstairs, where Nyx was playing on the living room floor. She was up the stairs a minute later, hurrying to take her own shower. After an hour, she returned, purse and keys in hand. “I’m going to go ahead and head to the restaurant. I’ll see you in a little while?”

He nodded and as she made for the door, Cassian stood, catching her by the elbow and tugging her back to him. She stumbled a step, but he crushed her to his chest and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, they were both grinning like fools. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She was backing towards the door, that smile looking like it was a permanent fixture on her face, before slipping out and leaving he and Nyx alone.

Who was watching him again, looking so much like Rhysand with that little eyebrow raised.

Cassian couldn’t help but snort and say, “This is your fault you know.”

A few hours later, right after Nyx had gone down for his mid- morning nap, Cassian heard a knock on the front door. Opening the door, Viviane rushed in. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, shaking her head.

Cass glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It’s barely ten-fifteen,” he chuckled. “No big deal, you’re fine.”

She nodded. “Sorry, just— It’s been a crazy morning.”

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked. Viv was usually steady, so sure of everything she did or said.

“Yeah,” she replied, waving off his question. “I’m fine. Ran into my ex at the coffee shop and— Ugh, ignore me. Don’t worry about it. Is Nyx down for his nap?”

“Yeah, he’s been out for about fifteen minutes. He had a pretty big breakfast, so I doubt he’ll be too hungry when he wakes up.” Cassian gnawed on his lip for a second debating on whether he should ask what was on his mind. After considering how well throwing caution to this wind has worked for him last night, he decided why the hell not. “Does that mean you’re single? Since you bumped into your ex?”

Viviane froze and blinked. “Yes, but I don’t date my employers—”

“No, no,” he quickly said, holding his hands out in placation. “It’s not me. It’s a friend of mine and I think you two might hit it off.”

Viviane raised a brow. “A friend, huh?”

“Guy I’ve worked with for years,” Cassian went on. “Great guy, in fact. You’ll enjoy yourself, guaranteed.”

“Guaranteed?” Viviane chuckled. “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Cassian grinned. “No, you can’t, and neither can he. Tomorrow night, you free?”

“I suppose I am, if my boss is giving me the night off,” she laughed.

“He is, and it’ll be great, we’ll all go out,” Cassian said. “You and Kal, and me and Nesta.”

“Kal,” she said, the shortened name rolling off her tongue. “Yeah, alright. That sounds fun.”

“Perfect,” Cassian said, patting her on the shoulder as he swept past her. “I’ve got to get going, but we should be home around five or so. Call if you need anything.”

Viviane chuckled. “You say that every time, and have I ever called?”

“It’s a habit!” he called, as he hurried out the door.

When he got to the bar, Kallias had everything under control, which meant Cassian was taking a table in the far corner, waiting for his interviewee to arrive.

Sadly, this wasn’t the interview to replace his own job. That was proving to be far more tedious than he was expecting. But an hour later, after shaking the young man’s hand, Cassian let out a sigh of relief as he left.

“And how’d that go?” Kallias asked, wiping down a few glasses that were drying atop the bar.

“Well, your position is officially filled,” he replied, sitting across from him at the bar. “So congratulations.”

“Cheers,” he chuckled, raising the empty glass towards Cassian. “When are we celebrating?”

“Tomorrow night, actually,” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kal snorted. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Cassian replied, shrugging. “We’re going out tomorrow night. You, me, Nesta, and Viviane.”

Kallias blinked. “The hot nanny?”

Cassian grinned. “Yeah.”

Kallias looked at Cassian suspiciously. “I thought you were kidding when you said you were setting us up.”

“Oh, I never kid about love,” Cassian said, winking.

Kallias raised a brow. “Love? Who the hell are you?”

Cassian filled his glass and took a gulp of beer. “Just meet us at Rita’s at eight tomorrow.”

Kallilas continued to stare at him for a long while. “You slept with her again, didn’t you?”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Tomorrow. Rita’s. Eight.”

And with that, he chugged his beer and left.

*

The next night, Cassian and Nesta dropped Nyx off at Elain’s before making their way to Rita’s.

“Our first date,” Cassian crooned, reaching his hand across the car to Nesta’s.

She took it fondly. “Our first date? After all we’ve been through, do we even qualify for a first date?”

“Why?” Cassian scoffed. “Just because we’ve been sleeping together and living with each other and raising a kid together?” He snorted. “Of course, we deserve a first date.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but did not protest.

Cassian had slept in her bed last night after another night of lovemaking. Even though it didn’t seem possible, it got better with each time. The more they got to know each other’s bodies, the more familiar with one another they became, the more they became one in intimacy, the more amazing it was.

“You look amazing tonight,” Cassian said, quietly. “In case I haven’t told you that yet tonight.”

He had.

Multiple times.

But, Nesta couldn’t blame him. She did look amazing in her navy blue dress and her blush heels. She looked over at Cassian, in his jeans and button down shirt.

Coincidentally, it wasn’t much different than what he had worn on their actual first date five years before. She chuckled, and he looked over at her, brow raised.

“This is actually our second date,” she said.

Cassian shook his head, amused, before looking back out the window as he turned into the parking lot. “Well, hopefully this date goes better than that one did.”

Nesta agreed.

As soon as Cassian opened Nesta’s door, they spotted Viviane pulling into the parking lot. They knew she was a pretty girl, but she usually showed up to work with a ponytail, jeans, and a t-shirt. Now, she had really dressed to impress.

Cassian whistled as she got out of her car and Vivane blushed as Nesta’ jabbed him in the ribs.

“You look beautiful,” Nesta told Vivane.

“Thanks,” she said, and Nesta could tell the nanny was a little nervous, a little uncomfortable.

“I see Kal’s truck,” Cassian said, gesturing for the women to follow. “I guess he’s already inside.”

Indeed he was and he’d already gotten a table for the four of them and was working on a pitcher of a beer.

“Hey, man,” Cassian greeted him as Kallias stood and shook his hand. “This is Nesta,” he said, placing a hand on her back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching for his hand as well. They shook hands and Kallias smiled.

“You, too,” he replied. “I guess I should call you boss now, huh?”

“No, no, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“And this,” Cassian interrupted, rolling his eyes at the two of them, “is Viviane.”

As if he somehow hadn’t noticed the blond beauty behind Cassian until this moment, Kallias looked up at her and blinked. He was about to make some sort of hot nanny joke when Kallias breathed, “Viv?”

She was looking at him with the same dumbfounded look Kallias had on his face. “Kallias… Hey.”

Cassian and Nesta looked between the two, then at each other, and after a moment, Nesta asked, “You two know each other?”

Kallias still looked like he was trying to figure out what planet he was on, so Viviane answered, “We were…childhood friends. But my family moved to Velaris when I started middle school.” She shook her head, but she had been looking at Kallias the whole time. “I had no idea you were in Velaris.”

He finally remembered to speak, though Cassian was beginning to wonder if he’d need to answer for him. “I came out here for college. Loved the city and decided to stay.”

“College?” Viviane repeated. “You’re telling me that you’ve been here since your freshman year, and you’ve never called?”

Kallias chuckled. “I didn’t even know you still lived here!”

“Hmm,” Viviane said, taking a seat across from him. “Well, what a small world, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Kallias repeated, “small world.”

Cassian took a seat by Kallias and Nesta sat across from them as they went a little bit more in depth into their long lost friendship. Apparently they had grown up in the same neighborhood and had always gone to the same elementary school. Kallias was a year older than Viviane, but when he went into the seventh grade and Viviane was going into sixth, her family moved to Velaris for her father’s work.

They had never talked again after that. Their friendship was nothing more than a simple, joyful memory.

Seeing them now, Nesta thought, she just knew the two of them had gotten into trouble when they were little. Between their jokes and sly looks at one another, and the obvious chemistry, they had surely been up to no good and gave both sets of parents a run for their money.

“I’m going to the bar,” Cassian announced, looking at Nesta. “Care to join?”

Nesta had a feeling that it was less about going to the bar and more about giving the newfound couple beside them a few minutes alone. She nodded, and took his hand as they walked toward the bar on the other side of the room.

“They’re cute together,” Nesta said, sitting on a barstool.

Cassian sat on the one next to her. “Oh, I know. You know, I’ve gotta say, I feel pretty damn accomplished right now. I definitely made this happen.”

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, even as she leaned into his embrace. She wanted nothing more than to poke fun at him, to mess with him about his unexpected matchmaking skills, but as she looked at the two happy people laughing at the table across the bar, she couldn’t help but wonder if that’s the gift that Rhysand and Feyre had tried to give them all those years ago.

Even now, Nesta’s chest tightened as she smiled, so thankful for her meddling, baby sister.

[lorei-writes]

White Mice

Mitsuhide x MC Fluff

Written for: Dice be Nice Event Request: Anonymous Roll: Mitsuhide + Gods AU + Reoccurring Nightmares

Aaah, I could afford to rest a little today, so I wrote this as a bedtime story for myself. Goodnight!  But, before I go... I can’t believe, 18/19 event stories were posted already :o When did this happen :o 

Content Warnings: none

Where was he? Why was he? Was there anybody else? He didn’t know, for he couldn’t have. His wanderings stretched, seemingly never ending, leading him nowhere past the desert of the inner space, time betraying him at each step. For years, Mitsuhide was in a state doubtful of even deserving the name of being. He was nothing. He was everything. He was everywhere, yet also couldn’t find himself. Eventually, his senses grew sharper, his eyes could see further, deeper – and, perhaps, it was then that he was in fact made himself, white little mouses beginning to appear everywhere.

To each their own, for all possess their domain – if they were brought to be long enough ago, that is. Some ancient, some recent, all gods could be divided, be it by their speciality or the realm of interest, the older beings having taken custody of all things most human. Love was the first to be assigned, only anger daring to attempt to dethrone it – and then there was hope, lust, curiosity, there was greed and generosity, feelings big and small alike. Noble, tainted, whichever it was, the gods were born to keep them under their patronage… Or perhaps they bore themselves out of the emotion, created and propelled by human belief alone. As for which truly was it, Mitsuhide never got to find out just regardless, the day he came into existence being rather uneventful to say the least. Bearing no recollection of who he was – whether he even was – before, he just strolled aimlessly, no guide nor tutor appearing in his path to lead him anywhere. Where was he? Why was he? Was there anybody else? He didn’t know, for he couldn’t have. His wanderings stretched, seemingly never ending, leading him nowhere past the desert of the inner space, time betraying him at each step. For years, Mitsuhide was in a state doubtful of even deserving the name of being. He was nothing. He was everything. He was everywhere, yet also couldn’t find himself. Eventually, his senses grew sharper, his eyes could see further, deeper – and, perhaps, it was then that he was in fact made himself, white little mouses beginning to appear everywhere.

At first, Mitsuhide was confused – what were the animals? Where were they going to, what were their paths? Curious and baffled, he traced their every step, a barely visible feeling of phantom paws leading him in places he never dared to reach by himself. He squinted, the space vibrating – he wanted to know more, to understand… Fearing his mind may be too little to properly comprehend them, he moved his hand. The first one, the second one, both of his feet, he even shook his head, bringing physicality into his realm. Mitsuhide turned himself tangible, eventually even donning a face, all for the sake of getting to the bottom of the mystery that filled the emptiness he felt for years.

The mice grew their trails, settling in places past his domain – and perhaps it could be said they prompted him to hatch, for that was what he did, breaking free of the prison that held him captive and entering into the wide world, one he still had to learn of. Much to his surprise, however, the little white creatures appeared not to obey by the standards binding their earthly cousins, instead speeding over the night sky and sneaking into human houses, one by one. Baffled, Mitsuhide caught a pair by their tails once, as to examine what could possibly his friend be feeding on – and thus, the god-protector, the god of nightmares, was announced.

Millennia passed, his grasp on the reality growing firmer, earning him the title of mind-reader among his kind. Feared and loved, Mitsuhide taught himself to weave dreams into threads, each night directing an army of rodents to aid those in need of urgent rest – and each day he made sure to line horrors with silver, to turn storms into the calm. He was the patron saint of the troubled, and yet… And yet, some things, even he could not reclaim.

Mitsuhide knew this woman for quite some time, his mice visiting her bedroom every day, seemingly to no avail. At first sure of his ability, he doubled the amount of his servants attending to her, fully convinced it would lead her dreams towards more pleasant ends… Albeit it never happened, not then, not in the following months, not when the rodents tripled and quadrupled, not even when he focused on her alone. Appearing to be the only such case in the entire world, Mitsuhide stepped off of his throne hidden in clouds. Donned in the white robes, he rode between the stars, the black velvet of the sky sighing quietly under the paws of his mice, the creatures then pulling his caravan. Wind swept his hair back, although gently, seemingly shied by the sun residing in his eyes – and there he was already, sitting at the very edge of her bed, a needle and a thread in his hands, slender fingers unravelling a string of silver from the spool sitting in his lap.

“Who are you?” Mitsuhide did not understand, his arms freezing. He gazed down at her face, the woman still being asleep. He touched her dreams again. “Who are you? Yes, yes, you, with the threa –” her voice was cut short by something, her mind rewiring itself.

He was the patron of the troubled – and she must have been one in need of his guidance, his mice being unable to put her nightmares to rest. As such, be it out of the sense of obligation or curiosity, his duty expanded once more, this time encompassing tending to her specifically. Her voice never quieting, they eventually began to converse, eating away at the tedious hours Mitsuhide spent on mending the holes littering the sleep she had. Hours grew to days, days turned into weeks – months, years… The nightmares ceased, yet he could not convince himself to stop his care.

That day it was her who waited for him, white underslip over her form. Her elbows propped against the railing of the balcony, she leaned onto her arms, inviting him to come closer with the nod of her head. “Have you ever stopped and just watched?” she hummed quietly, his shoulder brushing against hers. “There is little curiosity to darkness.” “Nonsense,” she laughed, her hand pointing somewhere into the night. Mitsuhide squinted his eyes. “The light is always present. Always.” Mitsuhide raised his eyebrows, a single sparkly spot emerging between the bushes, followed by another one and plenty more. Seemingly taken aback, he forgot of everything for a second, his world seemingly beginning at the feeling of her warmth to his left and ending at the plethora of miniscule bugs. A giggle left his lungs. “I think I have already found my light,” he noted, straightening his back. Slim fingers hooking below her chin, Mitsuhide guided her to look at him, golden eyes staring into hers with the intensity of the sun… And so, she hid her gaze, her lids closing as she stood on the very tips of her toes, her lips brushing against his in a faint kiss. “You silly, silly thing,” she sighed and returned to her place, shaking her head in mild disbelief.

Silence fell thick between them, her shoulders tensing up. Seemingly pressed to speak of the unspoken, of things eating at the border of her consciousness, she clenched her jaw, her tongue tying into a knot and refusing to let a single word out. Surprised, she looked up, Mitsuhide reaching to hold her hand. “I cannot understand, for I was not born like you…” he started hesitantly. “And yet… If I were to ask the god of death of it… Would you, one day, consider –” “Yes. The answer is ‘yes’,” she promised, her fingers curling around his.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @briars7 @mineko811 If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.8

masterlist (read parts 1-7 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no ma’am this was spawned in the pits of my hell brain

summary: y/n’s family takes on a particularly mysterious exchange student, draco malfoy. fyi: this is NOT a non magic AU--draco is still a wizard

warnings: swearing, college admissions (ew), vague mentions of a car accident

a/n: hey...ahahahaha yeah so when i disappeared from the writing scene i was actually sitting on this chapter because i wanted to finish the entire scene up until draco came back home, but i haven’t quite figured out how everything is going to work in the middle of this story bc we’re getting into the thick of it. things are only going to get more and more wild and while i have the ending already written (oopsies), there’s still a lot to cover between december and august. i promise you it’ll be worth it tho--thanks so much for waiting!

word count: 2.5k

no music recs because i wrote this in november and i don’t remember ANYTHING!

tags tags tags (message me if you’d like to be tagged!) @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan

Y/N froze as she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

In any other situation, she would have fibbed, the lies rolling off her tongue and falling into a neat pile.

But this wasn’t just any situation. 

“Drac--uh, Draco,” she began, rather lamely. She wondered if he could see what she had been doing and then immediately stopped that train of thought--of course he could, she was sitting there crouched with his letters all over the floor next to her.

Y/N had never seen him look so terrible--his eyes were saucers and his fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What’s up?” she asked. Maybe I got really lucky and he hasn’t noticed yet.

His mouth opened and closed a few times as he seemed to agonize over what to say. 

“Give me those letters back,” he finally said. “And come into my room. We need to talk.”

She scrambled to get everything back into the satchel--honestly, how had all those fit into such a tiny bag?--and tossed it into his hand. He refused to make eye contact and instead yanked her into his room, shutting the door before closing the blinds.

“Uh...what’s going o--”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “You know what you read.”

She withered under his gaze, all of a sudden trained on her with a heat that could melt through iron. 

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he said tying up the satchel and tossing it into a drawer. “You’re going to sit right there and tell me everything that you know. And no lying. I can always tell.”

Something about the weight of his words told her that the last part wasn’t hyperbole. “O--okay. Um, I know that you’re kind of strange, and I know that your family definitely isn’t into politics because unless you’ve changed your name I haven’t been able to find shit on your family...I know that you’re here for some kind of punishment, or at least that’s what the letter said, and that wherever you’re from believes in, uh, magic, or something…”

Y/N had never been so scared of Draco as she was right then. He stood looming over her, his eyes calculating and cold. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Uh--how did you--”

“Is there anything else you want to know? Ask now or forever hold your peace. I promise I’ll take care of this.”

Y/N blinked. “What? What do you mean take care…”

“Don’t...just don’t ask that right now.” Draco’s demeanor made a switch from intimidating to exhausted. His previous towering presence looked more mournful than anything. 

“Ok,” said Y/N, willing to take something else over nothing. “So...why are you here? Where are you actually from? What happened to your dad?”

Draco drew in a few slow breaths. “My family’s name is Malfoy. I never lied to you about that. We’re from England, like you think. But we’re not really from the same world as you.”

He looked at her, gauging her reaction. When nothing came, he continued. “I’m...magic, as you would probably say. Like, wizards and witches and shit. Like the stuff all of you here celebrate for Halloween. Just more real.”

“You’re off your rocker is what you are,” said Y/N. “Magic isn’t real.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Draco replied, his tone wearing down. “Not to you. It’s very real to me.”

“Were you in a cult or something because that’s absolute batshit cra--”

“Oh my fucking God can you just listen,” he said in one long-winded breath. “Thank you. Not that it matters that much if you actually believe me and I’m not allowed to show you any magic--they almost sent me back home for spelling my hair neat that one time in the car with you--but you should believe. Did you really think you were just sick after Homecoming? Like, did you think that was the common cold or something?”

“Well…” Y/N trailed off as realization dawned on her.

“I don’t know how you got into that store, but it was magic. Whatever object you picked up did something to you. You would’ve died from muggle care--the only possible treatment was extracting whatever magic had somehow gotten inside you.”

“So you were the person in my dream.”

“Yes. Anyways. So back in England, my family got wrapped up in some...dark business with a very evil wizard. I had to do some things that I’d rather not get into, and those things were serious offenses in the eyes of the Ministry--which is like your government. I was sent here as a punishment instead of something more severe.”

Y/N snorted. “Assuming all of this is true, why did you get sent to America? Normally exchange students see trips to the US as a kind of vacation...but I do understand the part of Ohio being used as a punishment.”

His face was void of amusement. 

“I wasn’t sent here because Ohio is boring,” he said. “I was sent here to be forced to assimilate into muggle society--”

“Muggle?”

“People who aren’t magic. Anyways, that was the punishment. Having to live with and associate with muggles, far enough away from home that I faced no threat of vigilantism and couldn’t escape.”

“Oh.” Y/N deflated into her seat as it all began to hit her. So that was why Draco was so disgusted with her. There was a reason why some gut feeling told her that he would never see her like....that.

“Anyways, for the less exciting part.” Draco turned to rifle around the jewelry box they’d kept in the guest room. “It’s crucial to the safety of my people that you don’t know about us. Muggles get scared, and sometimes they hurt us. They nearly wiped us out a few generations ago.” 

He turned around, wielding a small wooden cube that glimmered in the light. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I have to do this. If they know you know, they’ll send me away.”

“Do...what?” She stared up at him as he approached, holding the square out in his palms. “Draco, what’s going--”

“I told you I’d take care of it,” he said, his tone pleading. “I’m going to make you forget.”

~

Y/N eyes flickered open. It was chilly in her room--one look confirmed the fact that her window was wide open--but she had a thick blanket pulled over her. As she shed the last pulses of drowsiness, one thought bubbled to the surface: 

That fucker.

She sat up, threw the blankets off her bed, and started towards the guest room.

“Hey,” she said, yanking the door open and standing in front of a very surprised Draco. “Nice try. Are we actually gonna talk this through, or are you gonna put me to sleep again?” 

“Wha-”

“I remember everything, dipshit. Especially the part where you didn’t let me say my piece before you knocked me out.”

“I-”

“Try and steal my memories again and it’s on sight, Draco.” Y/N sucked in a deep breath and finally slumped down onto his bed. “You were saying?”

“How did you...er...you’re not supposed to remember me,” he said. “Do you have any magic blood in your family? Do you know?”

“Look around. If we had magic blood we wouldn’t be living in Ohio.”

“I’m not joking around.” He joined her and laid back. Y/N tried to not make a mental note of how a few strands of his hair brushed up against her cheek for a second. He smelled of peppermint and pine. “There’s no reason why that shouldn’t have worked. You definitely aren’t magic--I can feel it, no offense--and that Obliviation cube was explicitly created to work on muggles and wipe specific memories of magic.”

“I guess I’m just better.”

“Not funny. I’m definitely going to get sent to some random village in...I don’t know, Siberia for this. And your whole family will be obliviated. The whole point of me telling you was so I could get you to understand why I had to wipe your memory.”

“That’s horribly disrespectful, you know. Not even asking for my consent before doing such a thing? Try again.”

“I will,” he said, sitting up and grabbing the cube again. 

Y/N sprung up and scooted away. “Wait! Wait! That was a joke! Can’t we just talk this through? I’m a really good liar.”

“Lying doesn’t matter in front of the Ministry. They have their ways.”

“And what’s the Ministry going to do?” she asked. “Because, right now, it looks like I know about your secret and they’re not knocking down my door yet. Are they seriously going to break into my own home and perform some kind of lie detector test on me out of the blue? Are they really gonna cause a scene like that? No? I didn’t think so.”

Draco looked even paler than usual as he examined her from the other side of the bed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “I hope you’re grasping the severity of this. This isn't a fun little joke. This is the difference between my community living or dying.”

“I get that. But if I say I’m not going to tell anyone, then how is your community at risk?”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“Draco.” Her tone was strong enough to make him snap his head up and meet her eyes. “You saved my life. I’ve lived with you for almost 3 months. Trust me when I say I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Swear on my life.”

The silence was tangible between the two as he stood there staring.

“You have to trust me,” said Y/N. “Please.”

Draco met her eyes again, a type of helplessness written so deeply into the etches of his face that he nearly looked like a different person than the proud, posh British boy that was usually him. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She let out a sigh of relief as he put the cube back into the drawer. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, though,” he told her. “Once I figure out how to fix this, I won’t need to trust you anymore.”

“You’ve been trusting me with your life since the moment you got into a car with me for the first time. Do you have any idea how many teenagers crash on the freeway? I don’t get why this is so different.”

He scowled. “I think it’s very obviously different.”

“I can pull up the stats for you real quick if you want. Just so you can grasp the severity of the situation that you’re minimizing right now.”

“Damn it, Y/N, you don’t understand!” Draco slammed his hands on the dresser, the wood making a loud smack sound as it connected with his palms. She jumped. “All my life I’ve been...You just don’t understand.”

“You have no other option, Draco,” said Y/N. 

“I...I know.”

~

The next few weeks were profoundly uncomfortable. If it wasn’t just for the fact that there had been a burglar turned home invader turned...whatever on the loose, Y/N was now dealing with the fact that her world as she knew it was turning upside down.

Draco was magic. He was different, and while this at first had been difficult for Y/N to believe, she began to realize just how much sense it made. The way the most ordinary of daily objects confused him...his discomfort with using the internet...his distaste for all of the people he met…either he was raised under a legitimate rock or he was telling the truth....

And perhaps the most conclusive revelation regarded his stance on his feelings towards her. After that night at Sylvia’s, Y/N had begun to think that there might be something there, or at least that something there might’ve been possible.

Now she knew that it wasn’t. And she had to be okay with that.

Draco was for the most part normal apart from the fact that his wariness around her was obvious. She could feel him keeping a close eye on her in the halls when she spoke with her friends. Sometimes he’d even level a look in her direction, a clear demand written all over his face: Not a word. You promised.

Evening teas stopped entirely. Draco ate in his room for breakfast and seldom said anything on the rides to and from school, and, to be entirely honest, it helped. She could feel her hopeless crush become weaker as the month of November wore on. Her giddy excitement towards a possible love interest was directed to the nervous dwellings on her UChicago application. 

Results were out on December 3rd, and she was absolutely buzzing. Fuck weird blond boys that came into her life and told her of an entire mystical and magical world out there--the gothic, hallowed architecture of UChicago was waiting for her. 

“Honey, it’s almost 5!” 

“I know.”

Y/N sat, cross legged on her bed, as she looked at the email she’d received moments ago from UChicago. In 3 minutes, the portal would open up. And her fate would be decided.

“Don’t open it yet, your father and I are coming!” Mrs. Y/L/N yelled from the kitchen. 

She smiled--for once, her father had managed to take a night off of work to be there for her. The only person missing in their home was Draco, and she supposed that he didn’t count anymore. At least not in the classic way. 

5:00pm.

“Hold on, hold on.” Her father’s voice carried down the hall, paired with the sound of feet thumping up the stairs.

Her parents appeared in the doorway, rushing to her and peeking over her shoulder.

“Are you ready to open it?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Uh...yes.” Her stomach flipped as she pressed her mouse over the blue hyperlink, directing the screen to show a login page. She wasn’t quite sure what it would look like--perhaps her decision would be right there when she logged in--but despite her racing thoughts, she input her portal information, pressed enter, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Dead silence.

“Honey.”

Her mother’s voice was strife with...some kind of emotion, whatever it was. Y/N dared to pry her eyelids open just a pinch, giving her just enough vision to read out the clear “CONGRATULATIONS” spanning the entirety of her page.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!”

The euphoria that followed was indescribable. Her father’s arms, encircling her shoulders in a way he hadn’t done since she was a child, her mother’s professions of how proud she was...incredible.

The only thing sullying it was a Draco shaped figure looming in the doorway once the hysteria died down.

“What happened?”

“I got into UChicago!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. 

He simply stared at her, his gaze cool and uninterested. Y/N felt all the joy drain from her face. “I hate to butt in, but I have some news too. I’ll be traveling back home for the holidays.”

“Oh.” Irritation was written clear as day across Mrs. Y/L/N’s face. “When will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

final a/n: heyyyyyy everyone let me know what you thought. what do you guys think will happen next chapter? how do you think this is going to end overall? ik this is a draco x reader but do you guys think that draco still has a ways to go before he can have feelings for y/n? or does he already have them? im inch rested please lmk your thoughts

also my endless apologies to ohioans i did not mean to add the slander in there ik that plenty of you are lovely people <3 cancel me if you wish 

[usmsgutterson]

Page Eighty-Three- Kaz Brekker

Real (Page Eighty-Three series, part 3)

And thus, here we arrive at the end of the Page Eighty-Three series! I’ve been working on it almost a week now, and had the idea brewing in my brain for two weeks beforehand, so, considering the way that I’ve chosen to publish all the parts, it’s not gonna be a very emotional goodbye for you guys, but for me, oddly enough, it is?

Its the first fic I’ve done that’s been more than two parts, and I guess that adds to it? I don’t know! But, anyways, on with it!

Also, a gentle reminder, I only have Kaz being a little on the touchier side because this is a bit of an AU of sorts, and they’re around twenty four in this last part, which gave him time to work on his trauma more and get comfortable with touch!

Fic type- fluffy as fuck

Warnings- a very brief mention of the flashback in the first chapter (to be specific, nina says ‘stopped you from getting hatecrimed’) and a brief sexual innuendo

T H R E E Y E A R S L A T E R 

You knocked out after you’d killed your father, and went home completely unconscious on Inej’s boat, tucked onto a cot with Kaz at your side. Genya had decided to spend a little time around Ketterdam, get to know the ins and outs and provide intel for Nikolai when he asked for it, and Nina had decided that her home could be Ketterdam for four months of every year. 

Inej did her thing, catching and killing slavers all around the globe, but her visits to Ketterdam became more frequent after you’d gotten back. 

Jesper took your amplifier and made it a project for himself, removing the claw from the obsidian and instead using his fabrikator abilities to turn it into a bracelet that you wore on your right hand, made of gold, with the claw dulled out so that it didn’t poke you when you moved your wrist.

A year after you’d returned home, when yourself and Kaz had gone into his office one morning, book clutched in one of your hands, the other interlaced with Kaz’s fingers, you found a box sitting on his desk.

A note from Zoya was taped to the top of it. 

A top tier bitch deserves a top tier amplifier, it read. Bracelet. Wear it on your right wrist. It’ll go with the bear claw wrapped in gold.

You kept the note, reading it to yourself whenever you needed a laugh, giggling about it with Nina when she needed a laugh, too. 

All of those small moments ended up leading to a much bigger one, though. The day that Kaz proposed. 

It was a pretty simple proposal, but you loved it. 

--

“I had to get advice from Jes about this,” was how he started it, even before he’d gotten down onto one knee. “He proposed to Wylan in the fall, and I know that the Winter makes Ketterdam look absolutely stunning, and I know that you like the scenery, so, well, here we are.” 

You’d been walking around Ketterdam, the clicking of Kaz’s cane against the pavement a soothing sound for the both of you. 

You’d managed to make it near the outskirts of Ketterdam just by walking, as Kaz’s leg was being decent to him and he wanted to walk until you’d arrived at one of the more scenic spots. You indulged him for the sake of it, making sure you took breaks and that he got water when he was tired. 

It’d been snowing, and the sky had yet to darken beyond a light grey. You and Kaz both had snow in your hair, but to one another, it just added to handsomeness, so neither of you moved to brush the snow out of your hair or off your faces. 

“When we were seventeen,” he began, feeling for the box in his pocket. The one with a ring inside, cushioned by red, velvety fabric. “You read me a quote from the book I’d gotten you that day. You’ve memorized just about every poem in it since, and I happen to have done the same thing.” 

“The quote that you read to me was from The Sun and Her Flowers. It was on page eighty three,” he grinned at you, a fully fledged smile. Something he saved for you and you exclusively.

“I’m going to change the wording a bit, because it’s in the past tense, and we’re not past tense. The quote was ‘you were mine, and my life was full,’,” he said. “I’m changing it to ‘you are mine, and my life is full.’ Because thats how I feel.”

“Kaz?” You asked. “Do you have something planned?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he clutched the box.

“I suck at words, so, from Rupi Kaurs book Milk and Honey, I offer you this,” he carefully got down onto a knee, using his cane to keep him steady for a few quiet moments as you realized what was happening. 

“‘You are every hope and dream I’ve ever had, in human form.” He pulled out the ring, opening the box and holding it out to you. “That’s page forty nine, love.” 

“If you can’t think of an answer, please, just-- anything works,” if Jesper had told sixteen year old Kaz Brekker that he’d end up on his knees, begging you for a response to his proposal at just twenty two, he’d have called Jesper crazy.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “Yes, Kaz Brekker. If you’re asking me to marry you, it’s an immediate yes.” He used his cane to get himself up to standing again, slipping the ring onto your ring finger and accepting the hug that you pulled him into.

You were going to marry Kaz Brekker, the love of your life, and you couldn’t wait for it. 

--

The day seemed to come at you quickly, even though you’d not set the date until Winter of year that you turned twenty four. 

First, it was calling Nikolai and asking if you could cash in the reward for killing your father and doing him and the world a justice that they deserved, then it was finding suitable tuxedos and sending out invitations and planning a million different things at once. 

But, eventually, you, Jesper, Wylan, Genya, and Nina, were all on Inejs boat, headed toward the Little Palace.

Then, all of the sudden, you were in the last stretch of time before the wedding. Alina, Mal, Genya, Zoya, and Nina were talking as Genya tailored you, getting rid of some of the blemishes and fixing up little things about your face that you’d asked her to tailor until the end of the ceremony. 

“It’s weird,” Alina said, pressing a kiss to Mals cheek as she glanced at her own wedding ring. “I remember you as this fourteen year old boy who used to gawk at the attractive guys in the Second Army, the boy who resented his powers and swore at his father at any chance that he got, and now you’re and you’re completely different.”

“Different how?”

“Kaz Brekker,” Genya said, running her finger under one of your eyes gently, as to get rid of your eyebags. “He’s good for you.”

“And you don’t resent your powers anymore,” Zoya adds. “You don’t use them often, but you don’t resent them.” 

“You use them, don’t you, mate?” Mal quipped. “Or were my eyes tricking me when I went to wake you and Brekker up this morning, only to find you keeping light out of your room with a flick of your bloody wrist?” 

“I was tired,” you pouted. “Kaz and I both were!”

“Ah, newlyweds,” Nina joked.

“It’s not like that!” You shouted. “Zoya, help me out!”

“He’s able to kiss you now,” she said. “Like, with tongue and stuff. Theres no reason he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a fun little tumble with you here and there!”

“’Tongue, and stuff,’” Mal repeated. “Yes, Zoya, because, as a twenty six year old woman, that’s totally adult phrasing.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to describe it any better,” Nina quipped. Genya and Alina hummed their agreement as Genya moved to your hair, fluffing it and styling it so it that it looked nice as you adjusted the cuffs on your dress shirt. 

“Wheres my blazer?” You asked, grabbing your tie from Genyas lap, tying it as she evened out some of the color near your roots. 

“Closet,” Alina answered. “I’ll get it for you!” Mal checked his watch.

“We’ve got three minutes to get down there,” he said. “Lets make the most of Y/Ns remaining 180 seconds unmarried.” You laughed, rolling your eyes as Genya stood, helping you up after.

Nina shot Genya a glance, and she took the hint, ushering Alina, Mal and Zoya out of the room and passing Nina your blazer as she left. 

Nina helped you into your blazer, running her thumb along your cheek with a smile. 

“I never thought I’d see Kaz Brekker married,” she said. “But hey, I guess stopping you from getting hatecrimed had it’s benefits, didn’t it?” 

You laughed, shrugging.

“I think that we’ll rebuild some of the Slat,” you said. “Make the rooms bigger. Get plaques declaring whos room is whos.”

“A golden plaque with Nina Zenik emblazoned on it?”

“Bolted to your bedroom door, Neens.” 

“I love you, Morozova.” She said, trapping you into a tight hug.

“I love you back, Zenik.” You said. “Now, c’mon. I don’t think anyone would take too kindly to me being late for my own bloody wedding, would they?” 

--

The wedding was small, taking place close to the entrance of the Little Palace. There were no chairs to sit on, but the few guests you’d invited didn’t mind it whatsoever. 

The guest list was fairly small, considering your tight knit little family. Wylan was Kaz’s best man, Your best woman was Nina. The people standing in the small crowd were all familiar faces.

Wylans mother, Marya Hendriks, and Jespers father, Colm Fahey were the oldest there. Among them were Nikolai, Alina, Mal, Genya, Rotty and Specht, and the two members of the Dregs who’d originated the King of the Barrel nicknames. Their names were Terrowin and Kira, and when you caught their eyes, they were beaming at you both.

Jesper was officiating, and as you met his gaze, you remembered how he was practically bouncing off the walls the day that you’d asked him to officiate. 

“Okay, now that they’re both here, we can begin!” Jesper couldn’t hide his excitement.

“Mr. Brekker,” Jesper laughed through the words. He’d not called Kaz ‘Mr. Brekker’ unless he was doing so in a jokey context. You knew that, had it been anyone elses wedding, they’d probably have gotten angry at Jesper for giggling through the words, but for you and Kaz, it just added to an already perfect day. “Do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” he said. 

“Mr. Morozova,” Jesper glanced at you, and you met his gaze, having to stifle laughter when you realized just how wide his grin was. How happy he seemed. He looked like he was about to start bouncing off the walls and screaming with joy. “Do you take Kaz as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Hells yes,” you said, giggling slightly. For a moment, Kaz let his lips lift into a grin. You matched it with your own smile and took his hand into yours.

“You’ve prepared your own vows, so, Mr. Brekker, sir, you go first!” Kaz glanced at Jesper inquisitively, grin still on his face as he started talking and met your eye.

“I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you,” he said. “And when my heart says something, I’ve learned to listen to it. I love you with my entire heart and so much more, and I hate that I’m not good with words, because that’s all I can say. Nothing else accurately cultivates the feelings I’ve felt for you since that night, when you were broken and bruised underneath that saintsforsaken lamplight. I promise to love you every minute of every day, Brekker.” You’d agreed to change your last name to his. You’d be Y/N Brekker by the end of the night.

“Mr. Brekker,” Jesper said. “Since you’ll be married in a few minutes and I have to get used to that last name on you, you may say your vows!” 

“When I was fifteen, I was caught and beat broken by a group of eight eighteen year olds,” you began. “But you saved my ass before I was killed, and it seems as though our relationship has been a series of saves ever since. Kaz Brekker, with the ring I’m about to put on your finger, I’m promising that I’ll do that forever. Please, though, try to avoid getting yourself kidnapped too often, okay?” His chest shook in silent laughter as he nodded.

“The rings, gentlepeople?” Jesper asked, Nina passed you the ring you’d slip into Kaz’s finger, and Wylan passed Kaz the one he’d put onto yours.

“Put them on,” Jesper said. You and Kaz both glanced at him once more, meeting each others eye thereafter, grinning and shaking your heads. It’d become very clear to you that the twenty four year old who you’d recruited to officiate your wedding was damn near close to letting out an excited squeal. 

Kaz put the ring onto your ring finger and you did the same for him, waiting for Jespers next words as you took a half a step closer to Kaz. 

“Kiss, you idiots!” Jesper said. Kaz laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He’d kiss you like nothing else later in the evening, when the only thing to bug you was a lamp that you’d left on, but you both agreed that a forehead kiss would be as far as you’d go in front of others. Kisses, to Kaz, were personal, and you respected and loved that about him. 

“Saints, bless this fuckin’ union!” Jesper shouted. You glanced at Alina, who shot you a thumbs up and a nod as the party part of the wedding kicked off. 

Terrowin and Kira were the first people that you and Kaz talked to.

“Did you secure it?” He asked.

“The property?” Terrowin was a Zemeni boy, with skin dark as night and eyes as warm as the sun. 

“Or the trip?” Asked Kira, a girl from Shu Han with hair black as the feathers on a crow and blue eyes as cold as the Fjerdan ice. 

“The property, first and foremost,” he said. “Did you get it? Did you give it the name I asked you to?”

“Yes, and yes,” said Terrowin. “Beside The Silver Six is a bookstore called Page Eighty-Three. It’s scheduled to open in the fall.” Your eyes widened as you made the connection.

“Page eighty-three?” You asked, smirk on your lips. Kaz shrugged.

“And the request?”

“The line from the poem will be put on the wall behind the clerks counter,” Kira said. “Just as you requested.”

“And the trip?”

“Your boat for Novyi Zem leaves in two days, Boss,” Kira said. “Two bells in the afternoon. It’s directly routed to Coftons docks.” Kaz nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll see you when Page Eighty-Three opens.” 

“Damn right we will,” you said. Terrowin and Kira laughed as they walked away.

You glanced around the room, spotting Jesper and Wylan perched at a piano, playing the music that everyone was dancing to. Marya and Colm dancing close to them. Nina and Zoya dancing like idiots and laughing throughout. Mal and Inej making conversation and Genya and Alina heading your way.

“Congrats, you two,” Genya said. “Can I expect to see you both tanned and rested up when you get back from Novyi Zem?” 

“You’ll be in Ketterdam?” You asked. Genya nodded.

“For a couple of months, to make sure that your Jesper friend doesn’t colossally fuck things up while your friend Inej is doing her thing on the open ocean,” Alina said. “I’m there to visit for a bit, under the radar.” 

“Thank you, Alina,” he said. “Thank you both. For everything that you’ve done in these past years.” 

“No biggie, Brekker,” Alina said. “I don’t know you that well, but I see how happy you make Y/N, and he’s like a little brother. I care about his happiness.” 

“You two are absolutely bloody adorable,” Genya said. “Now, back to my question, will you be tan, or at the very least, well rested, upon your return?”

“Kaz is pale,” you said. “He’ll burn like a crisp. Me? I don’t really know. I guess it depends.” 

“We’ll be well rested,” Kaz said. “He’s a darkling. He can create shadow. I fully intend to use that to keep the sun out in the mornings.” 

“I won’t do whatever you ask of me!” You quipped.

“You had no issue with that last night,” he said, raising a teasing eyebrow. “Or this morning!”

“Mal was right!” Alina shouted, her and Genya bursting into giggles. “Damn it, I hate it when that happens!” You laughed.

You took another glance around you, spotting your friends.

No, wait. Scratch that.

Not your friends.

Your family. 

Your family was having a good time, eating, talking, dancing, laughing. They were enjoying themselves and congratulating you as you talked to Alina and Genya. 

Kaz had an arm around your waist, his cheek pressed against the side of your head as his other hand gently turned your wedding ring around on your finger. He was talking to people without arguing with them. He was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Your life was perfect.

Kaz was yours, you were his, and your life was full. 

--------

tags: @whateverfandom00 @a-c-lee @incorrectquotesconaisseur @the7seannas​ @teatimeforusreaders​ @hunnybunimdun​

[zi-i-think]

Request Prompt List

*Disclaimer* Some of these prompts are from Pinterest, some inspired by social media and tv/movies, and most of them are created by me. I have no problem with other creators using my list.

You can find my prompt list with the hashtag #zi prompt list

How to request:

In my asks

Tell me the universe and character (characters not included in this list are fine, but I do reserve the right to refuse to write for a character for any reason).

AU (optional)

Prompt (max of 3)

Any information about the reader (Gender, Hogwarts House, appearance, etc.) I will write the reader as y/n unless otherwise specified.

If you want any specific plot or event, just let me know. Whatever isn’t specified will be left to me and my creative freedom.

Characters

Harry Potter Series

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Ginny Weasley

Bill Weasley

Fleur Delacour

Remus Lupin

Serius Black

James Potter

Lily Evens

Regulus Black

Merlin BBC

Sir Leon

Morgana

Arthur

Genevieve

Merlin

Sir Gwaine

Sir Elyan

Marvel

Bucky Barnes/ Winter Soldier

Carol Danvers/ Captain Marvel

Thor

Natasha Romanoff/ Black Widow

Sam Wilson/ Falcon/ Captain America

Scott Lang/ Ant-Man

Steve Rogers/ Captain America

Valkyrie

Vision

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlett Witch

Xu Shang-Chi

Xu Xialing

Ajak

Druig

Makkari

Sersi

Thena

Eros/ Starfox

Lord of the Rings

Legolas

Aragorn

Tauriel

Avatar: TLA + LoK

Zuko

Mai

Ty Lee

Azula

Aang

Sokka

Katara

Toph

Suki

Korra

Asami

Mako

Bolin

Lin Beifong

Kya

Dynasty

Fallon Carrington

Length/type

Headcannon: word length varies

Drabble: 100-500ish words

Short fic: 500-2000

(If you want me to write something longer, please know that they take me more time)

AU’s (optional)

High School

College

Roommates

Vampire

Fantasy

Modern

Futuristic

Certain time periods (ex. 1940’s)

Gen Z Prompts ✵

1. “This is going to sound controversial, but I think that went well.”

2. “You have no idea how to make toast?”

3. “I haven’t showered in four days.”

4. “Tell them how you screwed up.”

5. “Try not to gasp.”

6. “Well, this just scrambles my eggs.”

7. “Look I’m not the brightest tool in the… toolbox.”

8. “Please be quiet, I can’t even hear myself losing the will to live.”

9. “Chile, anyways.”

10. “Why does he have to be so fucking hot!!! And respectful!!!”

11. “That sounds neat, my guy.”

12. “So sad. Alexa play Despacito.”

13. “Well, there goes the fucking plan.” “Wait there was a plan?!”

14. “I want you to park that big mack truck right in this little garage!!!”

15. Teaching them how to do the WAP dance.

16. “Why can’t I throw it back?!”

17. “That wasn’t very g-money of you.”

18. “Yeet!”

19. Playing Among Us.

20. “It the ___ for me.”

21. “You are such a [zodiac sign].”

22. “Sorry, I only simp for Corpse.” “You’ve never even seen his face.” “I’ve seen his hands!”

23. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

24. “Might I request thy hand in-” “Marriage?” “No, I was wondering if you want to go to McDonald’s with me.” “Even better.”

25. “I’m here for you bro.” “Really bro?” “Really bro.”

26. *giggles* “Rawr.” *more giggles*

27. “Please pardon my french, but what the diggidy dang was that.”

28. “When will you learn! That your actions have consequences!”

29. “Calling all the Monsters by China Anne Maclaine is a bop and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

30. “Eat the rich!” “[name], I am rich.” “I make no exceptions!”

31. “You’re being very calm right now.” “Oh, that’s just because I haven’t processed what happened. Give me a minute.”

32. “I love you bitch. I ain’t never gonna stop loving you. Bitch.”

33 “I am in love with you and I’m telling you straight up. I want you to be my boyfriend/girlfriend. Do you accept or deny!?... BItch get out the way.”

Fluff ❁

1. “Boyfriend and girlfriend right now?” “No.” “Boyfriend and girlfriend eventually?... You didn’t say no.” “I’ll play the long game.”

2. “I crave physical touch. Please cuddle me.”

3. Kisses on the nose.

4. *sneeze* “That is the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard.”

5. “How long have you been flirting with me?” “Only since we’ve met.”

6. Playing with their hair.

7. Dancing in the kitchen.

8. “Did you just boop my nose?” “Yes… boop”

9. Y/n going off into a rant and character just stares in admiration.

10. Waking up in the morning.

11. Cuddles after a stressful day.

12. Teaching character or Y/n how to ____.

13. Character or Y/n having a long day and is given a massage.

14. “Sorry I’m late, have you been waiting long?” “Darling for you, I’d wait for centuries.”

15. “Care to give me a back scratch.”

16. “I’ll always be here to annoy the hell out of you.”

17. “I think I love you.”

18. Passing notes in class/in a meeting.

19. “It’s always been you.”

20. “Shush and go back to sleep.”

21. “Your bedhead is really cute.”

22. “I will murder you.” “Of fun?”

23. “You are my new pillow.”

Angst ☁

1. “I said I’d die for you”

2. “I never loved you.”

3. “I trusted you!”

4. Y/n or character sacrificing themself for the cause.

5. “If one of us doesn’t make it-” “Don’t say that.”

6. “I am not weak.” “Yes, you are. And you know what else? You’re stupid too.”

7. “I’ll see you again. One day.”

8. “Is that all we’ll ever be? Friends?”

9. “It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!”

10. “Where did all those bruises come from?”

11. “You could’ve died, you know?”

12. “You want to know the truth? I’m not okay.”

13. “I’m your friend of course I care!”

14. “Let me clean your wounds.”

15. “Can you please come and get me?”

16. “I can’t love you anymore.”

17. “Stop telling me you’re okay!”

18. “Because no matter how much I tried, I can’t stop loving you!”

19. Character or Y/n being reminded of the other, despite them being dead for years now.

Spicy (18+ characters) ♛

1. Hands

2. “You know you’re awfully red for someone who supposedly isn’t attracted to me”

3. Character or y/n training and taking off their shirt.

4. Soft sex

5. Bondage

6. Drunk sex

TBU

[king-finnigan]

Please do 2 and 49 for the geraskier prompts!

2: Royal AU + 49: Fake Married

Sorry it took me a while, anon! School’s been eating me alive.

***

Geralt’s always loved horses. He loves their elegance, loves their strength, loves their personalities and the way they press their noses against his pockets, looking for treats. 

He’s always loved being around them, he’s always loved brushing them and spoiling them after a hard day of ploughing the fields that surround the farm. 

Today is Wednesday, though, and his dad always forces him to take the day off on Wednesday - he’s not sure why Wednesday, specifically. Vesemir never dignified him with an answer, when he asked.

So, he gets up early in the morning, like he does every day - he’s never been one for sleeping in, anyways - and goes to the stable. He should brush Roach and Beetle, before maybe taking one of them on a ride through the hills - probably Roach, since Beetle is getting a bit older, and she’s never really been the adventurous type. He doesn’t blame her of course, after all the hard work she does day in day out, she deserves to stand around and do nothing all day if she wants to.

He walks out of the cottage, the late spring mist swirling around his feet as he walks through the orchard. He stops by one of the trees, reaching up to pick three slightly-too-ripe apples that would never make it to the market, before he continues walking to the stables. 

“Mornin’,” he greets Beetle, feeding her one of the apples. She munches on it happily, her big, brown eyes looking at him intently. He frowns a bit. She never looks at him like that. He shrugs it off, walking to the next stable, where Roach is. “And good morning to you,” he mutters, giving her the second apple, putting the third one in his pocket for later. 

Roach eats it, but butts him with her nose immediately after, shaking her head when he looks at her curiously. He walks back to the door, taking a brush off one of the hooks on the wall as he talks: “Something the matter, girls? You two seem a bit agitated.”

The horses, of course, don’t reply. He’s always loved them for that.

“Alright,” he mutters, a she turns back around. “Who first?” Roach neighs, shaking her head again. “Alright, alright. Impatient today, aren’t we?” he says, chuckling a bit as he opens the door to her box, stepping inside.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees someone huddled in the corner.

“What the hell?” He’s only aware of the fact that he’s dropped the brush when he hears it clatter on the floor.

Blue eyes shine up at him, red-rimmed, half-covered in a mess of brown curls. He steps forward, towards the young man curled up in the corner, hands balling by his side. He doesn’t care if he gets attacked, he can defend himself, he only cares about the horses. The stranger is so close to Roach’s hind leg, and if he were to break it, Geralt would have to put Roach down - and he definitely does not want to lose his best friend.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The young man sniffles, wiping his face on his dirty sleeve. His clothes look fancy enough, like they cost a lot of money, but they’re all torn and bloodied, seemingly from a gash in the man’s forehead, and the scratches on his cheeks and hands. 

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers, “it was cold last night, and I had nowhere else to go.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

Geralt sighs, crossing his arms in front of him. This is his only fucking day off in the week, he doesn’t have time to question the stranger that’s broken into his stable. “Why’d you have nowhere else to go?”

The stranger rubs his reddened eyes again, before clasping his hands around his stomach - Geralt can hear it growling from here. “Ran away.”

Geralt sighs again, sitting down on the ground. “Why?”

“It was...” the young man clears his throat “it was... a prison.”

Geralt clenches his fists. “You escaped from prison?” He plants his hands on the ground, ready to get up and get on Roach to find the nearest palace guard - if this man is a criminal, then Geralt does not want to be caught red-handed harbouring him, even if he didn’t really consent to it.

“Nonono!” The young man reaches forward, trying to stop Geralt. “Not literally. I mean- I uh...” He rubs the back of his neck, frowning. “Shit. I’m so sorry, I thought I would be able to leave before you found me, I didn’t know you’d be getting up so early.” He waits for an answer, but Geralt merely purses his lips, jaw clenched.

The young man rubs the back of his neck again. “My dad, he uh... he’s a bit... very... incredibly overbearing. He wants to control my life, and I don’t want that. So I ran away.”

The young man’s stomach growls again, and the delicate features scrunch up in pain. Geralt sighs, and takes the last apple out of his pocket, the one he intended on eating himself, and rolls it towards the other man. 

Wide, blue eyes look at him in wonder and gratitude, as nimble fingers reach for the fruit. “Thank you, uh...”

“Geralt.”

“Thank you, Geralt.” He’s about to take a bite, when he stops himself. “I’m uh... Jaskier, by the way.” He bites into the fruit, face relaxing as he sighs deeply, a soft hum at the back of his throat.

“You’re welcome, Uh-Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and smiles at him, cheeks stuffed with apple. Geralt can’t help but smile back. Jaskier may be strange, and kind of off-putting, familiar in a way that Geralt feels like he should know the man, but not in a personal way, and he may look like a bit of a poncy prick, with his fancy clothes and neatly cut hair, but Geralt can also see the relief in those blue eyes, see the weight of the world lift off those thin shoulders.

And maybe he feels a little bad, sure. And maybe he decides not to chase Jaskier away the first chance he gets. But he’s definitely chasing the young man away the second chance he gets.

“So, Geralt,” Jaskier says, muffled through the bits of apple, “do you always talk to horses?”

Geralt frowns, shrugging. “I suppose so. Do you always run through the woods like a madman?”

Jaskier frowns, indignant look on those delicate features. “What makes you think I was running like a madman?”

Geralt looks him up and down, in a way that’s clearly saying: Did you even look at yourself? “You’re covered in scratches and bruises and your clothes are ripped. Either you were behaving like an idiot, or you got beaten up.” It’s silent for half a beat. “Though those two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Jaskier gasps at him, nimble fingers on his chest, mouth agape. “How dare you. I’ll let you know I’m-” He cuts himself up, his finger hanging in the air between them.

Geralt pulls his eyebrows up. “You’re what?”

The young man shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

Geralt shrugs again, turning around when he hears the thunder of hooves on the dirt, outside. A distant shout: “Julian! Julian Alfred Pankratz!”

Geralt frowns, shaking his head lightly, as he turns back to Jaskier, who’s blushing from his slender neck to his messy hair. “Wait,” he mutters, “are you Julian? Are they calling out for you?”

Jaskier looks at him, wide, blue eyes guilty and sad, so incredibly sad. 

“What’s this noise all about?” He hears Vesemir shout in the distance, probably standing in the doorway to the cottage.

Julian Alfred Pankratz. He’s heard that name before. 

He squints his eyes, raking through his memory. Oh no. It makes sense now. The clumsiness in the woods, the fancy clothing, the familiar-but-not-that-familiar face. Julian Alfred Pankratz. The crown prince of Kaedwen.

He stands up abruptly, heading for the door. He’s not going to get himself and his dad arrested for harboring a runaway prince, for the love of the gods.

“Wait!” Jaskier calls behind him, still on the floor, and for some reason, Geralt does stop. He doesn’t turn back, though, and simply waits for Jaskier’s explanation.

“He was gonna marry me off. My dad. To some noble lady from Nazair. I don’t wanna marry a noble lady from Nazair.”

Geralt sighs, rolling his eyes. “I completely understand. Your life must be so hard.”

He can hear Jaskier sniffle behind him, probably crying again. “I know you don’t understand. I wouldn’t, either. I mean, she’s pretty and she’s nice and she’s a noble lady from Nazair. But-” it’s quiet for a second or two, as the palace guards keep shouting the prince’s name, outside, “but my dad doesn’t understand that I don’t wanna marry a lady.”

Geralt looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna marry a lady,” Jaskier whispers again, tears in his eyes, blush creeping up his neck, hands trembling in front of him as he stares at the floor. “He doesn’t approve.”

“Oh.” Geralt thinks for a second, lets Roach bump his shoulder with her nose, lets her snort against his frown. “And if you go back now, you have to marry her?”

Jaskier nods, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

“And if you were already married? He can’t break the sanctity of marriage, once it’s completed.”

Jaskier looks up at that, frowning at him. “I guess, but I don’t know anyone who’s willing to marry me right here and now.”

Geralt sighs, and looks at Roach, who looks right back at him. He can’t believe he’s gonna do this. 

He turns around, kneeling in the straw, as the footsteps of the guards approach the stable. It’s only minutes until they find Jaskier. 

Geralt takes a piece of straw, taking Jaskier’s left hand, tying the straw around his finger. He holds his hand out. “You do the same.” Jaskier does as he’s told, eyes confused but realization slowly dawning, hands trembling.

“But- the ritual of getting married takes longer, this isn’t marrying, we’re not-”

“Yes, I know that,” Geralt hisses impatiently, then beckons to the door with his head, “but they don’t know that. We just have to keep pretending.”

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, doesn’t know why he’s basically about to throw his whole life at the farm away for a life at the court, but he feels bad for Jaskier, feels the same anger and frustration and sadness mirrored in himself about not being understood, not being accepted for who you love.

He remembers a summer love, long ago. He remembers Vesemir chasing him away.

“This is just temporary, okay? Just until you find someone you actually love, and then you can marry him and reveal that this was all fake, alright?”

Jaskier’s finally finished tying the straw around his fingers, but his hands clasp Geralt’s before he can move away. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Geralt loses a little piece of himself in those ocean eyes.

He shakes the sudden dizziness away, and pulls Jaskier up, taking his hand, leading him outside.

Immediately, they’re surrounded by guards, their swords aimed at Geralt’s chest. He swallows thickly. “Let the prince go!” One of the guards says, the point of his blade pushing into the fabric of Geralt’s shirt.

“No!” Jaskier shouts, standing between them, clasping Geralt’s hand in his. “Don’t, McKinley. He’s-” his voice catches in his throat “he’s my husband?” he whispers.

McKinley takes a step back. “What?”

Jaskier smiles hesitantly, holding up his hand with the piece of straw around his finger, then holds Geralt’s hand up, showing the matching makeshift ring. “I got married?”

McKinley pales. “Oh, gods, Julian, I don’t want to be the one to tell your father about this.”

Jaskier shrugs. “It’s okay, I’ll explain, don’t worry about it.”

Geralt’s eyes are drawn by Vesemir, standing outside the semi-circle of guards, looking just as confused as they are. “Married?” he mouths at Geralt.

“Explain later.” Geralt mouths back.

Oh, gods, he thinks to himself, as the guards bow to him and Jaskier, one by one, muttering ‘our royal highnesses’. What have I gotten myself into?

[chatonyant]

are u planning on making any major (or minor) changes revolving the kekkei genkais? :D

OhohO yeah I’ve got plans :> thanks for asking, I have an excuse to ramble about them now :D

The ideas I have actually came before the idea of this au because I was chatting with my friends and had a whole ramble on “Hey, kekkei genkais don’t make sense. What if they did?”

The ideas, much like pretty much everything else, are still a work in progress BUT the general idea I have for them is that they’re learnable jutsus-- it’s just that they’re harder to learn and control and may have physical debilitations due to the nature of the jutsu. 

This is excluding the things that are obviously physical/biological like the doujutsu and the bone kekkei genkai. Though that does bring up the question of why Ao could activate and deactivate his Byakugan but Kakashi couldn’t do so with his Sharingan. Personally I want to think that it may have something to do with a battlefield implant by a still-learning (but highly talented cause wOW) medic-nin. But that’s more food for thought at a later time :D

More rambling underneath!

So to go more in-depth with kekkei genkais being learnable, I want to first talk about the original concept itself. It’s interesting how within the Naruto universe, there’s this concept of knowledge being passed down through genetics. Because this isn’t the Avatar universe, where movements and will are what control the elements. Though their movements are akin to martial arts, accidental bending exists, as does bending with casual movements. Ninjutsu isn’t like that. Ninjutsu requires specific hand movements in a specific order. The control of chakra could be instinctual, like someone knowing how much energy they need to jump, but hand signs are a lot more precise and complex(?) than that. So how is it that such knowledge is passed down through genetics? Haku and Tenzou both wield their bloodlines very well without having a teacher with the same kekkei genkai. 

I’ve got no proper answer for that in canon (except the idea of “why not?”), but I do want to go more in-depth with the idea of knowledge and instincts within the au at a later time, tying it in with the idea of yokai and spirits ;)

So. The fundamental elements of kekkei genkai aren’t unusual. It’s the combination of two chakra elements to create a secondary element. But is that impossible for other shinobi? What makes these clans so special? 

In this redesigned world, this combination of chakra elements isn’t impossible for other shinobi-- just really really difficult and requires high chakra control. If a shinobi doesn’t have the chakra control and just slams the two elements together, sure it could work, but it may not have the results that they particularly wanted. These jutsus COULD be copied by someone who has a Sharingan, but it would difficult for the copier to control said chakras if they didn’t have experience beforehand. 

Another reason it’s difficult is the physical requirements. For example, Haku’s ice. So say someone eventually DID learn how to utilize the ice style. But there are consequences. They can’t use it for long before the cold seeps into their skin and bones and begins numbing their fingers and potentially causing hyperthermia. Haku, being born with this kekkei genkai, has a body better suited for such jutsu which could vary from naturally lower body temp to being more resistant to the cold. 

Another example is Tenzou and his Mokuton. I mean really, this man can turn his body into a tree. Enough said about physical requirements. 

HOWEVER.

That does not mean that someone couldn’t learn a modified version of Mokuton that doesn’t require turning your flesh into wood. 

But before I get into that, let’s go into ambient chakra. 

I don’t know if this is canon or not and frankly i’m too tired to find out because it doesn’t matter, i’m doing my own thing. 

I’ve got this headcannon that there is ambient chakra that infuses the air, water, and nature in general. This is not nature chakra, because nature chakra is a special type of chakra that does not usually float around in abundance because if it did, sages would just need to tap into the near infinite energy of nature around them and spend less time “gathering” the energy. No, this is just casual chakra that just vibes in the world. 

Haku’s ice is created by the moisture around them. Ok, cool. Fire jutsus are created when the user breathes out chakra elements. Aight, makes sense. You could totally science that and say something about chakra and friction and sparks and- yeah. Kisame creating a fucking mini ocean in the middle of a desert?

I hate my brain trying to science this. Did I just make ambient chakra a thing just to make some things make sense? Yes, among other things? Am I going far too into things when I really don’t need to/ probably shouldn’t? Probably.

So. Conservation of matter really doesn’t apply to this world, but ANYWAYS, shinobi subconsciously use ambient chakra to create and manipulate the world around them. They basically use their chakra as a fishing line to hook onto the chakra of their surroundings and yank it into position. Or create a mini-ocean in the middle of a desert, whatever. 

The idea I have of how Mokuton works is that the user manipulates the roots and seeds of plants around them into growing faster and moving where the user wants them to be. Thus, their jutsu is weaker in areas with very little plants. At first I was thinking “hey maybe they make wood out of nowhere like they do with water” but then I was like “wow that would use up a LOT of chakra.” And also i just like the idea of a Mokuton user carrying around seeds and tossing them around but I digress.

So a Mokuton user would use their chakra and ambient chakra to feed the plant and make it grow. (wow such a simple explanation that took too long to explain-- I’m sorry, words get ahead of me sometimes.)

Thus a person can learn to manipulate the plants in their vicinity but not be able to turn their own flesh into wood like Hashirama and Tenzou :D with Obito as honorable mention.

Stuff like chakra chains are less of “wow that require pinpoint control and understanding of chakra natures” it’s more of “oh fuck that’s a lot of chakra and i have to mold it into shape outside my body??? nope” it’s like Rasengan! except with wayyy more chakra and more density. (Tailed beasts!!! It can fucking hold down tailed beasts-)

Chakra is said to have five (+two) natures but there’s also so many different types of jutsus shown within the show that things inevitably get very very confusing

[xryn-art]

*takes breath* MAN. Every update to the Linguistics AU gets me more and more invested and fucked up about it. Pt 4 hit me so bad I couldn't stop thinking about it for a week, and now I've reread pt 8 at least five times. I have so much to say about it but too little space to say it. I can't wait to see what else you have planned. Two quick questions though! Did Zim react specifically cause Skoodge touched him on the back? And are Zim's PAK legs all bent because of the struggle in pt 4? Ty!

God every time I read this ask my brain just goes ASDFGHDSKJLASKJHDFDSAJ until i am forced to look away. Thank you so much. Messages like these have me grinning like an absolute idiot for freaking days after I’ve read them. Hearing about how invested people are in my weird little story or how much a certain part affected them emotionally is honestly the best feeling. I’m a bit of a weenie so I always end up getting emotionally invested in each of the comics I make, but part 4 and part 8 were rough. I feel like I aged a couple of years while I was making them lol. I can’t imagine what it would be like to read them when you don’t know what’s coming ^^

As for your questions... yes and yes! Zim reacted the way he did as an involuntary response to being touched. I don’t know if I made it very clear, but Zim actually didn’t hear Skoodge coming before he touched him (he’s been kinda dazed lately, as you might expect). Zim has also been very cautious of anyone being behind him or touching his PAK after what happened in the dark room.

Which is... Understandable.

So, yeah. Skoodge is lucky Zim didn’t skewer him. The memories are still very raw for him at this point, but over time these reactions will get less and less severe and somewhat easier to handle. They never truly leave, though (I’ve hinted a few times that present-day Zim struggles with being touched-this is one of the reasons why.) We’ll be seeing some more of these struggles soon.  

The PAK legs are indeed broken because of the struggle with the two PAK technicians in part 4. You don’t come out of a scuffle like that without some damage, and it’s not like he can go to the medic without also explaining how it happened. Miyuki could have had them fixed before letting him go back to the smeetery but she figured it'd serve as a nice little reminder if he had to carry the broken ones around for a while. As well as being physically wrecked, the PAK legs have also been emerging from Zim’s PAK involuntarily when his anxiety spikes. That’s why he didn’t notice they were out- he didn’t call on them. He doesn’t remember telling them to do that. 

Zim might have survived his execution but his life has just gotten about two squillion times worse, and now to top things off Skoodge is poking his antennae where they really don’t belong. The amount of stress this kid is under should be criminal. 

And it’s not about to get any better.

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - pt 6

a/n: THIS SHIT TOOK SO DAMN LONG AND IM SORRY ive just been dealing with people moving and going out to do stuff and having little motivation to actually write so im VERY sorry that this took years. also, this chapter is way more nsfw than my other chaps so it is of course inspired by @lxdy-starfury‘s absolutely BEAUTIFUL nsfw art so plsssssss check that out because she’s incredible. also this is the last part of this main series, who knows, if people ask or I feel like it ill write more in this au for this pairing. well see!! for now im happy to completely finish it

also I know that my masterlist is fucky rn, im looking for the time to fix it, so if you want to see a specific fic or even all my fics for a specific pairing or book, don’t hesitate to message me or send me an ask!! im happy to point yall in the right direction, and when its not a request, I usually get to asks pretty quickly so yeah!!

words: 3.7k 

warnings: unwanted advances, nsfw at the endddd

tagging: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

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Tyril was letting his PhD go to waste. He was letting it all go to waste because his brain was pouring out of his ears as his eyes took in the purely magnificent sight of Naexi in that skin tight purple dress, hugging every curve just right and accentuating her breasts with a low V neckline. The way the fabric moved with her every step was captivating, drawing his attention to every little piece of her body, tantalizingly revealed and taunting him. 

“You’re going to catch flies, Tyril.” She was fumbling with her clutch, checking to make sure that her phone fit inside and then turning around to grab something else. This new angle gave him a perfect view of her backside, filling out the dress as if it was made for her. In all honesty, his sharp  tuxedo had caught her eye as well, but the large field of crimson spread across his cheeks and nose was a reminder of how much better she was at holding her feelings about Tyril in. Tyril, however, could barely keep his hands to himself in her room, in the living room, in the kitchen, and on the drive over to the gala. 

“Of course you own a stupidly expensive car.” Naexi ran her hands over the smooth leather seats and the crisp finish of the wood on the dashboard. The car was clean, making her feel like if she continued to touch anything, her fingerprints would forever ruin the surfaces. 

“It’s a nice car.” His hand was on her thigh, covered by the fabric of the dress but no doubt covered in faded love bites meticulously placed by Tyril. She only hummed her response, briefly distracted by the way his thumb was rubbing circles on her inner thigh, spindly fingers inching toward her core as if it was magnetized. His inability to draw his hand away suggested that he was most definitely not thinking about the car. She only hummed, insistent on keeping any gratification he was giving her to herself; it only encouraged him to drag his fingers over the apex of her thighs, her core only separated from his fingertips by two flimsy pieces of fabric. 

“You better not crash it,” she teased, still stoic. Quickly, Tyril figured out that continuing his current path was only going to hurt him in the long run, so he ran a finger back down to her knee as they arrived at the large hall his father had booked for the gala. He knew that this night was already going to be one of schmoozing and torture, but he still barely looked forward to it since he knew Naexi would be at his side. 

“Hey, elf boy!” a voice called to his left as he gave his keys to the valet with a hefty tip. Naexi turned and was met with a man a few inches shorter than her with wavy brown hair and a smile that betrayed that he was up to no good. 

“I told you not to call me that, you rogue,” Tyril grumbled, begrudgingly clasping hands with the man and patting his back as he was pulled into a hug. 

“You can’t just say that people think you’re an elf in an interview and then expect not to be called elf boy,” he reasoned, sending a wink Naexi’s way. “I’m Mal Volari, and you’re gorgeous.” He gently took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of it, never breaking eye contact. 

“Mal…” Tyril cautioned, palm spreading protectively over his girlfriend’s side. 

“Don’t worry, Ty.” She tamely ran her fingers through the hair that fell so gracefully over his ears, hiding the blush that had started to touch the barely pointed tops of them. Mal smiled knowingly. “I’m Naexi, Tyril’s date.”

“I’ve heard much about you.” They began walking into the gala, all gold finishing and sparkling diamonds adorning the necks and hands of New York’s elite, and Naexi couldn’t help but feel completely out of place. Mal rambled on at her side, so she took advantage of his distraction to whisper to Tyril, who already looked bored. 

“This is weird.” 

“Indeed,” he murmured, his deep baritone accompanying the words quite nicely. Already, people were beginning to stare as they made the rounds, hopping from rich group to rich group. Mal had abandoned them to camp at the open bar.

“Why do people look at me like that?”

“I apologize, it’s my fault. I’ve not had a date to one of these things in quite some time.” They had sat at one of the tables, a glass of champagne in each of their hands as they took a break from socializing. 

“Ah, yes; the elusive bachelor Tyril Starfury.” She threw her hand out in the air to indicate a headline. He smiled. 

“I don’t know how I ever got through one of these things without you.”

“Mal never helped? Or Imtura?”

“Imtura always takes her job as security seriously and Mal enjoys the expensive champagne my father orders.” Tyril nodded his head at where his friend was gesturing wildly, no doubt telling a story of his travels to a handsome man with a starry look in his eyes. “As well as the company these events attract.”

“Will I get to meet your father?” The question threw Tyril off his balance, but he quickly recovered. 

“Well, he usually finds me along with my sister so--”

“Big brother!” Two pale arms wrapped around Tyril’s shoulders and squeezed, holding him close. His eyes lit up as the woman behind him kissed his cheek. “Staying as asocial as always, I see.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not for your company, no.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Naexi’s, as piercing as her brother’s but leagues warmer. “You’re Naexi? I’ve seen your work. You’re very good.”

She smiled as she responded. “Really? That means so much, thank you. You must be Adrina.” She stuck her hand out, but exclaimed a small “oh!” when Adrina pulled her up from the chair to give her a hug. 

“Everyone’s here for my father, so I’m allowed to break stuffy old etiquette.” Her laugh was light and airy, like a sweet breeze on a summer day. A man with Tyril’s pale skin and dark hair appeared behind her, posture straight and face neutral. Tyril stood quickly, taking his place in front of his father and next to Naexi. 

“Hello, Father.”

“Tyril! I’m glad to see that you found a date in time.” His tone was one of pride that barely hid the small element of surprise.

“Yes, this is Naexi.” The feeling of Tyril’s warm grip on her waist was already enough to make her knees buckle, but she forced herself to stay upright to shake his father’s hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Your gala is truly beautiful.” 

“What else do we ever expect from the famed Valir Starfury?” a smooth voice sounded from her right, and her head quickly swiveled to see who it belonged to. The man’s smile was friendly and inviting, but upon closer inspection, the feeling never reached his eyes. His mop of curly hair was perfectly styled to make him look boyish, but with the way Tyril’s grip tightened ever-so-slightly, Naexi knew something was off. 

“Aerin.” 

“Tyril, is that how you greet an old friend?” Aerin laughed, sloshing his champagne in its glass. He turned a predatory gaze on her. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a date, Ty.” The man next to her stood completely still, his eyes narrowed. “Who was the last...Kaya?”

“And your point?” Tyril’s response was sharp enough to make Adrina take the smallest step toward him. Aerin continued to stare at Naexi while addressing Tyril.

“You sure know how to pick them, hm? You have a keen eye for beauty.” Aerin winked, but it made Naexi’s heart flutter and skin crawl. She shifted in her heels, ignoring the pain in her feet. There was palpable tension in the air between the five of them, suffocating and humid. Naexi racked her brain to find some way to cut it. 

“I have to use the restroom.” The statement came off far louder than she intended, but it still did the trick. Aerin blinked, taken aback by her exclamation, and Adrina surged forward to take hold of her wrist, pulling her away from her brother and through the crowd of high rollers. 

“I’ll take you!” Adrina said, hoping that the men would get the hint. As soon as they were out of earshot, she let out a sigh. “Thank goodness you got us out of that one. I’ve never been more grateful for girl code.” 

“Who was that? He was charming but…”

“Sleazy? Yeah, you’re not the only one. That’s Aerin Valleros, heir to WhiteTower Corporations. He acts like he’s the best thing since sliced bread, but he’s been in more scandals than I can count.” Adrina visibly shuddered. “He’s creepy.” 

“Didn’t he assault his brother or something?” Naexi asked, remembering the name popping up in one of the numerous headlines Nia sent her a while back. 

“Yup, they fought over who was going to take over the company. Beat him so bad that his brother stepped down.”

“Holy shit.” They had reached a wall next to the opening for the bathroom, so they stood outside and leaned against it to talk. “Everyone here is insane.”

“Yeah, I feel kind of bad for leaving Tyril with him.” 

“What’s their beef?” Adrina sent a wide-eyed glance to Naexi.

“People really say that?” She let out a delighted laugh. “I love that! Anyway, Tyril used to be engaged to this girl Kaya, but she cheated on him with Aerin and they planned to take over the Starfury company together.” She grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and took a long sip. “But then her assistant leaked information to the press and she disappeared.”

“Do you guys live in a Lifetime movie?” 

“Pretty much,” Adrina sighed, seemingly searching for someone in the crowd in front of them.

“Did you come here with a date?” Adrina hummed her answer and Naexi gently nudged her bare arm. “Go find them. I’ll be fine here.” 

“You sure?” 

“Go on!” Naexi waved her hands to shoo her off and leaned back against the wall to sip her champagne. Just as she was about to go find Tyril, a sultry voice and a large hand on her forearm held her in place. 

“Hello.” Aerin was polite, but kept his hand on her. She felt goosebumps rise along the back of her neck and Adrina’s explanation of who he was repeated in her mind.

“Hi.” 

“I apologize for the uncomfortable situation earlier. I’m afraid Tyril and I aren’t on the best of terms.” He seemed genuinely concerned, and for the briefest second, Naexi felt her guard fall. 

“Should I be the one you’re apologizing to?” Her champagne barely stayed in her glass as he slammed his hand onto the wall behind her, bringing his face close to hers and smirking when she backed up to the hard surface. No one around her seemed to notice. 

“You’re quick. It’s attractive. Do you think I’m attractive?”

“Trapping a woman because you can’t get her to come to you isn’t attractive,” Naexi drawled, keeping her gaze locked on his. He was simmering and dangerous; one wrong move could make him boil over, but she figured that he had more to lose than a random photographer here as a plus-one. 

“What does Tyril have that I don’t?” At this, his breath cascaded over her face, and she didn’t know what he had been drinking all night, but it certainly wasn’t the expensive, barely alcoholic bubbles that were being passed around. 

“Better alcohol tolerance, for one.” She winced as he laughed. 

“Funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.” Before she could speak again, Aerin gave a yelp as his tuxedo was yanked back, making him stumble into Tyril, who caught him easily. 

“It’s time for you to leave, Aerin.” People were finally beginning to stare as Tyril walked Aerin out, who was mumbling about his kingdom. Naexi followed, easily hailing a taxi and pushing the drunk man into the back seat with a purposeful shove. The night was cold, and she turned to walk back inside when she felt a tug on her wrist. Looking back, she saw Tyril with his cold, slender fingers against her skin. “I don’t want to go back in.” 

“Wanna head to your place?” 

“Desperately,” he breathed, pulling her close to him and handing his ticket and a tip to the valet. His hand was wrapped around her waist exactly how it had been for the entire night, but this time felt different. His hands were always cold, but his touch was burning with a promise, which he kept as soon as they shut the door to his apartment. 

His kisses were always encompassing, as if he captured every atom of her being between the seam of his lips, his teeth grazing every thought in her mind and his fingers brushing her soul. His movements were deliberate as he walked her backwards to his bedroom, slipping her dress off and letting it pool on the floor next to the sleek coffee table. She was more hurried, eagerly tugging his jacket off and tossing it in the hallway. Finally, they reached his room, vast and cold but slowly thawing. A well-placed kiss to his now-exposed collarbone had him gasping. 

“Please…” he breathed, falling back onto the bed by himself as she stayed standing above him. She looked down on him, studying the way his chest rose and fell so quickly and the way his lips were ever-so-slightly parted, caught in the guarantee of pleasure that was soon to come. He gazed at her as if she was the only person left for him in the world.

He made her believe it. 

“Tell me what you want, Tyril.” His words seemed to get caught in his throat as she, bare and only clad in a thin pair of black panties, got onto her knees on the bed and straddled him, already moving to unbutton his fancy shirt and pants. She could feel him hardening beneath her and gave an experimental grind, pulling out a low moan from his chest. His hands were loosely placed on her hips, but they traveled down to stroke her thighs. 

“Please,” he repeated, sitting up to shrug off his shirt and unintentionally hitting his forehead on her collarbone. 

“What, baby?” she asked, picking his head up and tilting his face to look up at her above him. His eyes were nearly shut and his lips were swollen, and she gave him a small simper. “Use your words.” 

“I…” he trailed off, struggling to voice it. “I want you to suck my cock, Naexi.” She pressed a kiss to his lips and climbed off him, pulling him up to stand and kneeling in front of him. His hands immediately found her hair, tangling in the long locks as she pulled his pants down and fished his cock out of his fancy boxers. He opened his mouth to say something, but all thought left his mind as she wrapped her lips around his head and sucked, flicking her tongue around the tip. “Ah!” he yelped, eyes rolling back as his hand tightened in her hair. She briefly took her mouth away and settled for just her lips against him, and he whined in displeasure. “P-please--ooh--don’t tease me…” She took him in deeper until he teased the back of her throat, and he risked a glance down at her. 

Naexi was looking directly into his eyes, studying his reaction and flicking her tongue accordingly. The sight of her green eyes brimming with tears as she took him was nearly enough to make him come, and she sensed it in the slight scratch of his fingernails against her scalp. 

“You take my cock so well, Naexi,” he breathed, and she moaned around him. Letting out a shaky breath, he tapped once against her head. “I’m so close.” Instead of pulling away, she pushed his cock further down her throat and ran her tongue along a prominent vein along the underside of his shaft, pushing him over the edge. He let out a long groan as she swallowed him down, running her hands up and down his sides to both soothe him and keep him from stumbling. She stood and gave him a bright smile, raising herself to her tiptoes (even though she didn’t need to) and pressing her lips to his. He eagerly returned the favor, pulling away only to allow his lips to burn a path down her throat. He reached her collarbone, but stopped suddenly with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Everything okay?” Naexi asked, searching his face in concern.

“You--” Tyril started, but stopped, pursing his lips in disapproval. “You smell like him.” 

“Aerin?” Her head was cocked, but her eyes widened when his own darkened. 

His voice was low and made her heart race. “Don’t say his name.” 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, casting her eyes downward and fiddling with her hands. Sighing, he nuzzled the crook of her neck, placing kisses and small bites on the flesh he found there. 

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful with him. He sees a beautiful woman and loses all ability to think.” His hands flew to her hips to pull her closer to him when she gasped at his teeth on her skin. “The fact that you’re mine only made him crazier.” 

“Yours?” She reached under his chin to bring his face up to hers, glancing down at his lips and then back up at his eyes. 

“I’m--I meant you were my date, not mine, you’re not property--I just meant--” he stammered, taking a step back before realizing that the bed was close behind him. He lost his balance, falling back against the bed with a loud cry and frowning when Naexi snorted, barely containing her laughter at him. Instead of tugging him back up, she climbed on top of him again, letting her hair fall into his face as she looked down at how pretty his own locks were splayed out against the bed. 

“Don’t worry, Ty, I like it.”

“You do?” 

“I like being yours…” She pressed a kiss to the right side of his neck. “...and only yours…” She switched to his left. “No one else’s.” She placed a final kiss to his lips, one that he prolonged as he followed her when she tried to break it. “So greedy.”

“I can’t help it,” he breathed, giving a small squeeze to her hips. “I hated watching him put his hands on you.” 

“Then how about you put your hands on me?” He smirked as she yelped at his quick movement to flip them over, pinning her to the bed by her wrists. Tyril immediately released her and ran his fingertips down her arms and stopped at her breasts, electing to switch to his mouth. With his left hand, he kneaded her flesh in his palm and took her right nipple in between his lips, flicking his tongue to mirror her movements from when she deepthroated him. His right hand continued downward until his index finger was circling her clit and entering her easily with the help of her own arousal. “Yes!” she gasped, back arching to push her body even closer to his. His finger pumped in and out of her, curling every so often and making him smile as she moaned louder and louder the closer she got to climax. He rushed the process by adding his middle finger and curling, hitting her sweet spot inside while rubbing her clit with his thumb. 

“Come on, Naexi, let go for me.” She responded with a wail as she came, hands clutching the sheets and legs shaking. He continued to move his fingers even after she recovered, but leaned down to whisper softly in her ear. 

“Would you like more?”

“Fuck, Tyril, yes. Just fuck me,” she begged, eyes barely able to stay open to look at his grin. He raised to his knees on the bed and looked down at her for a brief moment before entering her, admiring the way her skin shone with sweat and the way her flesh was blemished with the marks he had placed there. Naexi, in all her glory, was his. 

“All mine,” he whispered before thrusting and gasping at how perfectly her heat enveloped him. He buried himself inside her, allowing her a few seconds to get used to his size. Finally, the legs she instinctively wrapped around him squeezed his waist, getting him to pull out of her again before slamming back in with a loud moan. 

“Tyril!” she screamed, thankful for the lack of neighbors in his penthouse apartment. “Faster, please!” she pleaded, green locking with blue as she met him thrust for thrust, clenching around his cock and grabbing the wrists that connected to the hands clutching her waist. He picked up his pace, moaning all the while, and felt his stomach already coiling, a tell-tale sign of how close he was. She let out a small cry as he hit her sensitive spot and brought his thumb down to rub around her clit, unexpectedly throwing her over the edge. “Don’t stop, Tyril!” He heeded her instruction, and at the feeling of her juices coating his cock, followed her to his own peak, releasing himself inside her. Her eyes blinked slowly, as if finally coming back to her senses minutes after he pulled out and retrieved a warm washcloth to clean her up. Sitting up, she followed him to the bathroom, rubbing at his shoulders as he began to draw a bath. 

“Did you...enjoy the gala?” he asked awkwardly, frowning when she laughed. 

“After that mind-blowing sex, that’s what you’re going to say.” She poked his cheek and then kissed the small, red spot. “You’re too adorable.”

“...It was mind-blowing?”

“You’re turning into Mal.” His eyes bulged and he exaggerated a shudder. 

“Oh no.” 

“But yes, it was mind-blowing.” Her lips found his easily, but she pulled away again when she felt a smile against them. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m just happy that now I can have mind-blowing sex with you all the time now.”

“How romantic.”

[janiedean]

fic excerpt for regencyfemdom2020: song for orphans (the witcher, geralt/essi daven)

... so, I’m here bringing you the based-around-the-peterloo-massacre-au written for @regencyfemdom2020 starring my witcher het rarepair of doom which got... very long and I couldn’t manage to finish, so I’m posting the excerpt with the first explicit scene on here hoping that I finish this monster in the weekend or early next week. HAVE FUN.

warnings & such: the original fic is nonlinear so this should be standing on his own, but for context: geralt has just run from the aforementioned peterloo march and went to her place to get help, she’s still a singer in taverns, he’s a waterloo vet and works at a blacksmith’s shop and not making great money and that’s all you need to know for context to get this I think /o\ hopefully the whole thing will be up soon!! for this chapter there’s just explicit content without specific kinks but the rest will actually have some /o\

***

“Please,” he had blurted, “can I - can I come in?”

Essi had opened the door at once, that dark blue dress of hers looking the same shade as that pretty sky as she gasped and let him in, asking what in the bloody hell happened to you, and he could just say nothing as he crashed on one of her kitchen seats, and he still hasn’t said nothing since then, just standing still, blood falling from the wound in his arm.

She had disappeared after he sat down, but now she’s back with what looks like a bucket full of warm water, a rag and - needle and thread?

“Off with that shirt,” she says, and he can’t help thinking that he likes that her fingers are rough, with callouses covering the tips all over, even if her fingers are soft and slender. But it’s good. It’s good, and she smells like verbena and not lilacs, and it shouldn’t get to his head to this point because he knows she’s only doing this out of decency and because they’re, well, friendly, they’ve been since Jaskier introduced them that night, and it’s already a miracle she hasn’t turned her head the moment she looked at him as most women tend to do -

“What the hell,” she says, “is this?”

He shrugs.

“I was at the march.”

“I know that. What the hell happened, that’s what I’d like to know,” she says as she cleans blood off his arm, and he wishes he met her before he got shrapnel in his stomach, which she’s most likely going to notice the moment she’s done with that.

“They called the army on us,” he grits through his teeth. “Should’ve figured that out.”

She shakes her head, hair brushing against his skin, feeling so soft Geralt has to shudder.

“That’s -” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I have words. You weren’t even armed!”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I’m only friends with Jaskier and you and I am in that tavern most of my time, surely I would not know the plans. Please,” she says, putting thread through the needle and starting to stitch his now cleaned wound.

Her fingertips are rough.

He never wants them to move from his arm.

“This is deep,” she says, shaking her head.

“Got worse in the war,” he shrugs. “Though at least in the war you knew people were after you.”

“Doesn’t make it any better,” Essi goes on, the needle easily fixing the wound up.

“... You’re good at that,” he says as it reaches the end of it.

“My trade is in taverns,” she half-smiles. “All of us have to learn it at some point. Here,” she says, tying the knot on the thread, “it should hold.”

He nods. “Thank you,” he says, “I guess I should -”

“You haven’t seen the bruise on your damned back, Geralt Rivia,” she interrupts him, “you’re not going anywhere and your - father, mentor, whatever he is to you, can handle it for once.”

“He did say I should not come -”

“And I can see you both care for each other, but I think you need to lie down and I have a bed.”

He stops dead in his tracks, looking down at her blue eyes, which are uttermost fucking serious.

“You aren’t - offering me your bed,” he whispers.

“I am,” she says, “and you need it.”

“It’s not proper -” He starts, unable to stop even if being in her bed right now seems to be exactly the one thing he wants, or maybe not the one but certainly very much so.

Essi laughs, sounding almost delighted by that interruption, before she takes his arm and drags him towards the first room in front of the kitchen where she fixed his arm.

“I sing ballads in taverns for a living, Geralt. I also compose them, but that’s not quite the point. Do you think I have given a single effing damn about property since I was old enough to understand this was the life I wanted?”

Put like that, he supposes she’s right. No woman who wants that life and has it actually would care. And yet -

“You shouldn’t,” he says, “it’s your bed, I do not belong -”

All breath leaves his lungs as she shakes her head, puts her hands on his shoulders and just pushes him down on the bed, making sure he sits - now she’s looming over him, in that pretty blue dress, and he’s shirtless and without his shoes on and she can see the shrapnel in his stomach and how thin he has gotten lately and why the jacket didn’t fit him, and then one of her hands is in his hair, running through it so very softly, eyes staring into his as if she doesn’t find the color revolting as most other people do -

“Do you remember,” she says, “that first evening when we met?”

He nods, all speech having left his throat.

“Do you think,” she says, “I hadn’t taken a good look at the entire tavern first?”

“I - suppose you would,” he admits, “but -”

“And do you think that I would have looked straight at you while singing those lines in that song out of no reason?”

He gasps, remembering them at once. They’re etched in his brain, after all, but -

“That was to say,” she smiles, a bit tentatively but still looking down at him, and oh hell she knows who came before her, he told her something, Jaskier certainly told her more but they’re friends, why wouldn’t he, and all he can smell is verbena and it’s clearing out the smell of blood from before, “that if you think you do not belong in my bed - well, you don’t have to belong in it, but you’re wrong. I might quite like that plan, all in all.”

“You wouldn’t,” he breathes, knowing his hands are shaking.

“Oh,” she says, “I would, and I thought I made that clear.”

“Since - since then?” He replies, quite unable to wrap his head around it because there is just no way she saw him and thought -

“Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I think, and I should like to correct your very much wrong assumption, if -”

Essi never finishes that sentence because he can’t - he reaches up with the hand not attached to a stitched arm and puts it behind her neck and drags it down, and when his lips meet hers he feels like fainting - her mouth is smaller than the last one he kissed, but her tongue is hot and wet as it crashes against his and her fingertips are rough and careful as they run through his dirty hair, undoing the ponytail and letting them fall around her hands as she drags his head forward, her knees going around his thighs as she moves into his lap on the bed, her hands moving back to his face after, almost cradling it as they kiss, and maybe it’s that he can only smell verbena everywhere but he thinks he can taste it in his mouth too and he wants it to fill up his throat until it’s everything he can smell and taste - no blood, no dust, no memories of lilacs, and her breasts are pressing up against his chest as she moans into his mouth and gasps in delight when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer.

“Fuck,” he blurts when they part, “fuck, you - you want this, you want -”

“I guess I should have been a bit more forward,” she breathes against his mouth, “and yes, I do,” and then she’s pushed him down, back on the mattress, hands running over his chest, and it might be too thin and too scarred but she doesn’t seem to mind as she leans down and trails kisses along it, and then she’s moved back up and kissed his mouth as she raises up her skirt and takes off her smallclothes, and she’s smiling as she looks down at him and motions for him to lay back with his head on the pillow, moving forward -

He doesn’t even let a second pass - the moment she leans down, sitting on his face, her cunt right over his mouth, he buries his face inside it, tongue twirling around the soft, wet flesh inside her thighs, the smell overcoming him in the best way as he feels her thighs clench around his face, and suddenly he doesn’t even feel pain in his back anymore nor in his arm, not when she’s running her fingers into his hair and pushing his face in deeper and moaning his name in that pretty, pretty voice of hers as his tongue circles her clit and then moves inside her again for he doesn’t even know how long until she’s sobbing his name as she spills all over his face. He groans, drinking it up, his tongue licking her clean until she stands and moves back, and he groans again as she sits on his chest, smearing it with her spend.

“You - you do want this, don’t you,” she asks then, hand grasping Geralt’s hip, those rough fingertips pressing into his side.

“Yes,” he whines, not caring how it sounds, “but I thought there was no way you would -”

“Oh,” she says, “I would,” and then she’s taking off his old belt and those trousers that really don’t fit him anymore, and her slender, strong fingers are wrapped around his cock and she’s stroking him fast and hard as she moves back up with her head next to his, and he keens when she does, realizing that he hadn’t feel good like this in - in months, fuck, he can’t remember the last time he did, and she’s kissing him again as she keeps on stroking him, and then she grabs his hand and moves it in between her legs and he gasps when he feels how wet she is, and then she’s stopped jerking him off but she’s moved over him and on him and she just sank on his cock and he wants to scream and so maybe he does, not that she tells him to be quiet so why should he -

She’s all warm and wet and tight around him as her legs clench around him and her hand reaches back down and grabs the back of his head and pulls him forward, kissing him again, taking one of his wrist and putting his hand on her breast, and god it fills his palm completely, overflowing a bit, and she moans when he lets his fingers squeeze it a bit, and fuck he’s not -

“I can’t -” he says, “I won’t last -”

“No one said,” she breathes back, “that it was a one time only thing and we can’t do it again,” and - he’s coming inside her at that, unable to keep it in, and fuck he’s - it feels so good he can’t even think, he had thought he had forgotten how it felt and he had given up on feeling it again with someone he actually wanted, and then she goes still and her legs clench closer and she screams his name as she grasps on to his shoulders and he can’t think anymore, he doesn’t even want to, and when she pulls out and swears under her breath and moves over and sits on his face he immediately moans against her cunt again before putting his mouth on it, his tongue licking her clean as she moans and screams his name above him, and he can barely feel any pain at all by now as he presses his head in deeper and lets his tongue run over her cunt hoping that she comes on his face again soon, and when she does not long later, fingers running through his hair and telling him she’s this close just before she peaks, long and hard and right over his face and mouth, he just knows that if she really meant it before, if she wants him to belong in her bed -

Maybe he might really never leave it.

He certainly won’t right now, and he won’t for a very, very long time.

[jayjay547]

SHIELD's Best Podcast and Other Things Bucky Should Not Have Done: Chapter One

Summary: Bucky Barnes: natural poet, amateur author, and relationship expert. The last part was a heavy exaggeration, but he's fooled enough people into thinking so; after all, his advice was held to such high regard that he got a spot on one of New York City's most popular podcasts. He even liked to think he was revolutionary for helping break down the stereotype of relationship experts being perfect at handling relationships. If only someone had asked him for advice on how to deal with falling in love with two different people who were coincidentally in love with each other.

Not that it would have mattered, anyway. Bucky never followed his own advice.

Chapter Word Count: 3,309 words

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

AU: Modern/College

click here to read on ao3

click here for the masterlist 

Bucky didn't ask to be famous. 

Not that he was in the normal sense of the word. No one in New Jersey knew his name, much less anyone on the West Coast. Actually, most people in New York City probably didn't know who he was, but that was okay. He liked to think the people who mattered (meaning people within a half mile radius of him) knew who he was, at least a little bit. 

If one was to go up to a college student about to go into their first lecture of the day at New York University and asked them whether the name "Bucky Barnes," or "James Buchanan Barnes" if it was a day for formalities, rang a bell, the most obvious and common answer would be along the lines of "that writer boy." Not "that failed mechanical engineer," not "the one who can't do any type of science to save his life," and definitely not "the boy who cried in his car while eating ice cream after his ex-boyfriend dumped him." Especially not the last one, even if that particular low moment was just the beginning of his rise to fame. 

He also wasn't quite famous enough to get stopped while walking through hallways, unless it was by an older professor of his; even then, it was a reach. As he walked to his class, nobody really gave him a side glance. He liked to think that the people who did were somewhat appreciative of his looks, but that was wishful thinking, the thinking of someone who was still in the rebound period of getting over a relationship even though the break up was a year ago. 

When Bucky walked into his poetry concentration class, though, he knew more than a few people recognized him. There was only one picture of him that was published with his writing, a professional headshot and all, and while Bucky looked like a wreck most days in his life, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. 

He sat down on one of the benches, shuffling the papers he brought with him around, just to look like he was doing something. Not long after, there was a tap on his shoulder. Bucky braced himself for his first fan interaction of the day (and the month, but he wouldn't tell you that). 

Turning around, he was met by a face that was somewhat familiar to him, even if he couldn't place the name. Maybe she was a fellow writer, or something of that sort. Her blonde hair was tied up in a low ponytail, and the wrinkles near the bottom of her forehead suggested that she spent a hell of a lot of time frowning. "What's up?" Bucky asked, angling his body towards her as best as he could. 

"Are you James Barnes?" Her tone was blunt, the voice of a woman who did not mess around. If she wasn't in his class right now, Bucky would think that she was a Business major. There was always the possibility that she was a double major, but that was a bit excessive. 

"Yes," Bucky said, before quickly (and clumsily) adding, "But I go by Bucky." 

"Bucky," she parroted, as if the nickname was much too personal for her. Maybe it was. "That's from your middle name, right? Buchanan?" 

Up until now, Bucky hadn't had any stalker-type fans, and he was hoping that he would keep that record. Of course, his middle name was published with his work, but still, it was odd. "Yes ma’am,” he responded. 

The woman stuck out her hand, and Bucky shook it. She didn't seem fazed by his gloved hands, and he appreciated the lack of questioning around why he was even wearing gloves inside a warm classroom. “My name's Sharon,” she said. Her handshake was firm, practiced, and Bucky wondered again whether she was in Business. “You're the one who wrote the open letter, right? ‘What's Wrong With City Days?’”

She was much too put together to be a stalker, but who the hell actually knew the title of his first published piece? Bucky didn't even know some of the titles of his own works. “Uh,” he said intelligently, “Yeah. Yes, that's me.” 

Sharon put her hand on the desk in front of her, tapping at it for a second or two, drawing attention to her perfectly manicured nails. Bucky wished his nails looked that nice. “Well, I've read your work, Bucky,” she sighed out, as if it was a tragedy that had happened to her. “And I thought it was superb.”

Maybe she was a little too put together; Bucky wasn't sure he knew anyone who used the word “superb,” much less anyone who used it to describe his work. Stalker wasn't off the list yet. “I'm glad you think so,” he said slowly, before slapping himself mentally. He was being rude. “Sorry, I'm still not used to people reading my stuff. Specifically that piece.” Bucky winced, his mind going a hundred miles per hour. “Kinda wish people hadn't read that piece.” 

Sharon leaned forward, closer to Bucky. “Why not?” She asked gently, taking him by surprise. She looked sincere enough, and he wished he could tell her, but then the door opened. As the professor walked into the classroom, Sharon straightened up, sitting back into her seat, and Bucky took that as his cue to face forward. 

Why not? The question stewed in his head as the professor Mr. So-and-so, who Bucky had missed the name of, promising himself that he would just read the syllabus, started to drone on about basic topics. 

Why not? Maybe because it was around the time he found out that Brock Rumlow had been cheating on him throughout the entire duration of their relationship. Maybe because, right after that, he realized that he couldn't pass any of the classes meant for engineering. Maybe it was because he had then been notified that he had to go in for another round of surgeries on his arm. 

There were a lot of reasons why “What's Wrong With City Days?” hurt. But he had still published it, as a dramatic and overly emotional person does. Correction: Natasha had published it, but only after Bucky told her she could. 

He had written it in between the first and second operation on his arm. The hospital TV didn't play anything he was interested in watching, and staring downwards at his laptop while it played Netflix gave him a headache he couldn't bear to have. So he wrote. And he wrote. And then he napped, woke up, and wrote some more. He may have even written when he was high on anesthesia, which Clint told him didn't make much sense. 

Getting pieces of metal inserted into your arm was apparently the best motivator there was.

He stared ahead at the professor who continued to talk, the words passing through Bucky's head quicker than the man was saying them. It was only the first day of this class, and Bucky knew he would have catching up to do.

His phone screen turned on, placed next to his binder and all his messed up papers, a notification popping up. He swiped it. 

Spider Mom

Walk Lucky when you get back. Ty 

Bucky coughed quietly under his breath to disguise the laugh he felt bubbling up his throat at Natasha’s bluntness. He texted back a quick confirmation before clicking his phone off. Behind him, a pair of eyes bored into his back, so much so that Bucky swore he could feel it. When he turned back, Sharon didn't even disguise the fact that she was looking at him, smiling slightly at him when they made eye contact. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, he looked away first. 

The minutes ticked by as Bucky entered a staring contest with the right-facing wall. His phone lit up a few more times, but he didn't check it. The one portion of exposed brick was getting more and more interesting by the second; Bucky was convinced if he looked at it any longer, he would have enough ammunition to make another viral poem. 

And then suddenly, the lecture ended. Most likely, the end wasn't as sudden to others as it was to Bucky. 

While Bucky was scrambling together the papers that he had put on his desk for nothing, the quiet sound of footsteps coming up behind him alerted him that Sharon was still here, and still interested in talking. 

“Where do you go after class?” She asked briskly, and what was left of Bucky's “Stranger Danger” alarms went off in his head. Against his best interest, he answered her.

“I walk over to Martinelli's, the coffee shop. Do you know it?” He added as her lips tilted up into a half smile at the name. She nodded slightly.

“You could say that. Let me walk you over?” She asked kindly, but something told Bucky that it wasn't really a request. He could obviously say no, but something about her compelled him to accept.

“I could always use the company,” Bucky muttered back, stringing his bag over his right shoulder. Together, they walked out the classroom, and after a few more steps, they entered the outside world.

“So,” Sharon said immediately, as if the cold city air allowed her to talk freely. “I have some questions.” 

“Uh,” Bucky got out. He had only done one interview for his writing, and he had prepared so thoroughly for that one, only for half of his words to be taken out of context. “Go for it.” 

Something that Bucky realized very quickly was that Sharon walked very, very fast. He widened the length of his strides, huffing cold breaths of air as the woman started to speak, barely sounding out of breath. “Do you know what SHIELD's Best is?” 

Bucky's heart skipped a beat, and not because he was struggling to speed walk. SHIELD's Best: the most popular podcast in New York City, not just NYU. There was no real reason why it had the renown that it had; listening to it, though, was explanation enough. If the topic was relevant, it was covered. Bucky even swore multiple times to Clint and Natasha that the podcast covered things that weren't even out yet. They never lingered on the same topic twice, and there was something for everyone, it seemed. It was his source of news, and the source of news for most people in the city. The defining part of it had to be that the four speakers all had undeniable chemistry, not to mention that they also had very, very nice voices, especially the two men. 

“Wait,” Bucky said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Sharon slowed down with much more grace, turning to face Bucky in the middle of the slightly crowded sidewalk, a smile on her face as if she was already anticipating his question. “Are you Sharon Carter?”

She laughed, and Bucky felt a swell of pride for being correct, followed by a torrent of embarrassment for their entire conversation up until now. “I'll take that as a yes, then,” she murmured, and Bucky forced himself to move towards her as she started to walk again. Sharon Carter, one of the speakers on what was possibly one of the most influential podcasts, was walking with him to a coffee shop. 

The multiple shops passed by as they walked in silence for about a hundred feet, or something like that, which Bucky appreciated. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, and there was a lot to collect. After they passed a few more signs, though, Sharon decided that enough time was given. 

“So you're aware that we have guest speakers?” Sharon asked, and Bucky tripped. At least, he almost did, but he corrected himself right away. He couldn't wipe away the humiliated red that stained his cheeks, though. 

“Yes, I'm aware,” he said, stringing his words together as carefully as possible. He refused to mess up whatever was happening before it even happened. 

“Well, Bucky, we want you to guest speak about your writing,” Sharon said smoothly, as if it wasn't the biggest (positive) thing that had happened in Bucky's life. “I will say it was sheer luck that I have the same class as you this year, but don't think this is just a convenience grab. One of our speakers, Steve, really likes your work.” 

Bucky turned red again, which was not the best look for him, but at least he could blame it on the cold. Steve - amazing, supposedly kind-hearted Steve with a voice that Bucky would die for - liked his work?

It was only after they walked a few more steps that Bucky realized that Sharon was probably waiting for more than a lovesick look from his face. “Yeah, uh,” he got out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I'd love to. It'd be an honor,” he finally said, and Sharon smiled again. Maybe she could sense his sincerity, as wrapped up in his awkwardness as it was. 

“Sounds good, Bucky,” she murmured in reply, slowing down. In a daze, Bucky realized that they had reached their destination. Out of pure habit, he moved to open the door. It was only after Sharon thanked him and went into the shop that Bucky remembered that she had only said she would walk him there. Once again, anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, his brain piecing together every possible bad impression he had made on the woman. 

“Hey Sharon. Hey Bucky,” was what the two of them heard upon entering the shop. Sharon immediately waved to Bucky’s (kind of) employer.

"Hey Angie. I was just walking Bucky over here," she threw out casually, gesturing vaguely to Bucky, who was still trying to figure out why Sharon was familiar enough with Martinelli to call her "Angie." 

"Cool, cool. Didn't know you guys knew each other," she added, her eyes darting between the two of them. Bucky could have said the same thing back, but his mouth had a tendency to betray him, so he kept it shut. 

"Just met today. So, Bucky," she stated, all professional, "Let's exchange numbers and you can let me know when you get back home so we can discuss times when you're not busy."

Bucky took her phone hesitantly, starting to type in his number as he spoke. "Actually, I live above the shop." 

Sharon's eyebrows went up. "Really?" Bucky nodded as she continued, "I actually haven't met any of the others who live here." 

She had to stop confusing Bucky. His head couldn't take much more thinking. Why would it be a surprise that she hadn't met them? Sharon mistook his blank stare and silence as disdain, adding quickly, "I'm not planning on meeting anyone else today, so don't worry about introducing me." 

"Oh no, it's fine, I was just..." Bucky muttered, handing back her phone carefully. "Thinking. I was just thinking." In front of him, Sharon opened up her messages, clicking the new contact he had made for himself, sending a text. In his back pocket, he felt his phone buzz, but for her sake, Bucky made a show of taking his phone out and checking to see whether he had gotten a text. He had, and he quickly created her contact. 

“So,” Sharon started again, sliding her own phone back into her pocket, a movement that mirrored Bucky's. “We usually record on Saturdays. Does that work for you?”

Bucky nodded, wordlessly, which was an appropriate enough answer for Sharon. “Alright, good. I'll send you some stuff about it later. Basically, you're allowed to pick any piece of work that you would like to share, but let me know which one by tonight. I will then send you a rough outline of questions that will be asked, but try not to practice answers. It's more engaging if it doesn't sound like you're reading off a script.” 

As much as he tried, his mind was still struggling to wrap itself around the information that Sharon was calmly relaying, as if she had practiced it multiple times over, but just enough to still be natural. Her smooth way of speech had to be attributed to the fact that she was on a podcast; Bucky refused to believe that people were just born that charismatic. He nodded again, barely remembering to answer her. 

“Alright,” she said, checking her watch. “I have to go. I'll text you later. It was wonderful meeting you, Bucky.” Her voice was honest, sincere, as was the smile on her face. It was contagious, and he let a small smile slide onto his face as well. 

“It was nice meeting you too, Sharon,” he replied back, just as sincere, earning him a flash of teeth in Sharon's smile before she made her way towards the door, only stopping to give a quick goodbye to Angie. Even after the bell on the door stopped ringing and she was past the sight of the windows, Bucky kept standing there, frozen to the floor. 

“Hey man,” came Angie’s hesitant voice, and Bucky made a small sound of assent to declare that he had heard the woman. A few more seconds without a reply, and Bucky turned around slightly, just enough to see her in his peripheral vision. “Clint mentioned to me that he wanted you to take out Lucky?” 

Bucky groaned, but it was the reality check he needed, at least.

- - - - -

When he finally came home from the long walk, he entered through the back entrance of the shop. From personal experience, bringing the happiest, friendliest golden retriever in through the front of the shop would take from Bucky about an hour of his life. Bucky and Lucky (yes, they rhyme) clambered up the stairway to the small upstairs area with two doors across from each other. The door on the left was closed, signalling to him that Wanda and Pietro, the siblings that lived there, were not home; Wanda liked to leave the door open when she was, claiming it helped with “air circulation.” 

He opened the door to the right, simultaneously leaning down to start loosening the harness around Lucky. For his efforts, Bucky got a slobbery kiss on the cheek which he took in a stride. Closing the door behind him, he unleashed Lucky, who made a beeline for his water bowl. Bucky collapsed on the one tiny couch, leaning his head back on the top of the cushion so he could stare at the plain popcorn ceiling. 

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed. Letting out a long sigh, he fumbled for the phone he had thrown clumsily onto the couch, blinding swiping on the notification once he felt the phone in his hand. 

Sharon 

Saturday, 1:00 pm. Don't worry about eating lunch beforehand. 

Also, let me know what piece as soon as you can. 

He read the text again and again in his head. For the hundredth time, he clarified to himself that it was PM and not AM before making ten alarms for Saturday, starting at ten in the morning and ending at noon. Immediately after, he returned to regarding the messages again, only glancing away to make eye contact with Lucky, who had decided that the only rational thing to do after drinking water was drool on Bucky's leg. 

“Well bud,” he muttered, reaching out to scratch behind the dog's ears absentmindedly. “I'm really doing this, huh?” 

Lucky just stared at him, which was a good enough answer for Bucky to send a quick reply to Sharon, confirming his attendance and assuring that he would, in fact, pick a piece of his writing by tonight. 

“It's just a one time thing,” Bucky said to the rest of the room. “It's a breakthrough, but it's only a one time thing.” 

masterlist

[oldloveatz]

dance with me | san

— TYPE: prince!au, somewhat requested, princess!reader, fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2.8k

— SYNOPSIS: the annual grand ball takes place in your father’s palace, and on that night you meet a particular someone you become very interested in.

— MESSAGE: hi, i see that you’re getting so many requests so idk if you’re still accepting them but if yes, then i would like to request anything san related. it’s completely up to you to choose the plot, i just need more san scenarios in my life 😩 also, you’re such an amazing writer and my fav blog on tumblr so yeah, ty for taking your time to write for us!

— AUTHOR’S MESSAGE: so thank you for requesting a san scenario and thank you so much for reading all of my stuff im devastated ): but since you didn’t request anything specific, i took one idea from a few ideas i came up with and wrote it for san! please enjoy this omg im so sorry if it’s bad

you dreaded the grand ball your father throws annually. you had to get in a very tight corset (tight enough to constrict your lungs) and dance with strangers in some painful heels. on top of that, you had to wear a very tiring dress which you know your parents had picked for you to wear. it wasn’t that you hated the grand ball, you liked them, in fact. they were a bit socially tiring, however. you were constantly pulled left and right by your mother and father to introduce you to some family that you care less about. they weren’t even the same family you meet each year!

“a-are you sure you don’t want to wear your hair up for the ball?” your helper, elena, asked. she was verifying the clothes, shoes, makeup and accessories, hairstyle and even perfume that you’d be wearing for the ball. she offered to wear your hair up, but you insisted to not even touch your hair. “oh, your father-“

“i don’t care!” you exclaimed, which frightened her a little. “i’m sorry. but just sprinkle glitter in it, it’s fine.”

“i understand your frustrations,” elena said, pulling your velvet stool to sit down. and she was right, you were frustrated. frustrated that you had to wear whatever she was ordered to dress you in. “but, listen to me, dear. the ball will be a fun experience for you to meet other people.”

“oh, i meet so many people,” you cut in. “way too many people for my liking.”

all elena could do was sigh, thinking of another response to your remark. “alright, i’m not going to touch your hair. but you will wear your cor-“

“please, lose the corset,” you insisted. “if i breathe in that fucking-“

“language,” she warned. no wonder they soft-banned you from going outside. you were learning foul words from the people outside the castle you lived in, which was also alright because you liked them.

“well, if i breathe in a corset, either it will break or my ribs will,” you explained, hopefully it was enough to convince her to not put you in a tightly tied corset. god, you didn’t want to spend 45 minutes just putting on a corset. “and puncture my lungs, which you all do not want to happen.”

“alright, fine,” elena said, getting up from the raspberry-colored velvet stool to cross off the hairstyle and the corset from her list. “anything else you want to lose?”

“uh, yes,” you started, getting up from your king sized bed and beginning to pace across your shiny, marble floor. the reflection perfectly mimicked the ceiling, a clean tiled dark ceiling with gold intricates. the walls were white and the familiar intricates like the ceiling. you loved your room, in fact you spend a lot of time in your room. “i’d like to lose the heels.”

“but, darling they’re designer heels,” elena said, completely unfazed with the things you wished to not wear.

“so? my feet are murdered by the end of the day if i wore those heels,” you reasoned. the sound of scratches on her clipboard definitely fueled your victory, a smile playing on your lips. “and i think that’s it. yeah, that’s it.”

“rather plain, but simple,” she commented, clipboard in hand before heading for the door to leave. “lunch is ready, by the way.”

“oh, sweet.”

your darling parents discussed the ball for tonight, giggling to each other as if it was the first ball they had ever organized. your parents were the king and queen of the land, holding power but they take advantage of the said power by being kind to those who lived outside the castle. they were loved by many, which is why it was perfectly fine for you to step outside and spend the day out for hours. and you have done it.

after lunch, you bid your goodbye to go hang out with your friends (or non-royal as those who worked for your family would say). the village was a sight to behold, and you adored seeing paintings of talented artists that live within the village. you bought about fifty paintings, maybe more.

“y/n! i thought you said you weren’t coming by today?” your friend, jaehyun, asked, getting up from his spot and giving you a side hug.

you trusted jaehyun, he was the boy who helped you become comfortable with the world outside the walls of your castle. he introduced you to his friends, befriending the girls and the boys easily and connecting with them in an instant. jaehyun whistled at his friends, stealing their attention from the marbles they were playing with and running up to you and him.

“i wasn’t, but they let me go out today,” you told him with a smile. “i came to give you an invitation actually! i stole one from my parents, and you are invited to the ball tonight.”

you earned groans from the invitation, as for sure the others wanted to go too. you placed a finger on your lips, hoping to shush them and they did.

the enveloped was gorgeous. it was parchment-colored, beige and blotched. the sound that it makes when it gets touched was the most satisfying thing ever, and hearing jaehyun fumble with a fancy royal-like envelope was making you nervous. you didn’t want him to drop the letter. it was sealed by a custom-made wax and stamp for your family, and the wax was sparkling under the bright sunlight as it was mixed with gold particles. you did the honors of writing his name at the front, though calligraphy was difficult to do so you printed his name in your normal handwriting.

jaehyun lifted the flap carefully, hoping he wouldn’t ruin the wax at all and whispered a ‘yes!’ when he didn’t tear it apart. you snickered at his action, covering your mouth and the others mirrored your action. “what does the letter say?”

“it just says i’m invited to the castle,” jaehyun said, stuffing the letter back into the envelope in a delicate manner. he then slipped the letter into his pants’ pockets, patting it from the outside to make sure it wasn’t folded in any way. “i’ll see if i can go. i.. i don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“it’ll be lovely if you can,” you told him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay if he couldn’t attend. “i won’t hate you if you couldn’t. plus i have all the time to come out here and hang out with you guys! a ball means nothing.”

you went back a couple of hours later to get ready for the ball, silently cursing in your head each step on the track on your way back. the guards opened the tall, dark oak doors for you and you stepped in, the sound of dry track silenced as soon as your shoes met the smooth, marble floor. the environment of the castle was much different than the village. the castle was huge, but echo-y and quiet - obnoxiously quiet. on the other hand, the village was small, but a lot of children run around and kiosks that contained things to catch attention from anyone. you liked both on some days.

“it is about time you returned from your trip,” elena said, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase with her iconic clipboard wrapped in her arm. she had been waiting for you to get home, rather patiently but as soon as she watched you enter through the tall doors, all of her contained patience went down the drain. “shall we get started then, dear?”

“do we have food? i’m quite famished,” you told her, hoping to get through with this excuse and stall. but, elena saw through your excuse and shook your head. you weren’t too hungry anyway, you hoped for the dress to be loose enough for you to eat later on. you and elena headed up the grand staircase, hand resting on the gold-engraved wooden railing for support as you made your way up in your room.

elena had sent you to the bathroom to take a long, refreshing bubble bath. so, you sat in the bathtub filled with bubbles that spilled over the tub. your eyes stared blankly at the white-tiled wall, ignoring the anxiety building up in your chest but also the excitement slowly mixing with the feeling. of course, you were excited. maybe there will be a cute boy you’d want to dance with, or other people you’d eventually want to meet. it wasn’t like you had a choice though, your parents will pull you left and right meeting families you didn’t even know existed.

your thoughts were disrupted by elena pounding her fist on the door, “hurry up, darling! we still have to get you in our dress!”

you stepped out of the tub, grabbing the beige towel sitting on a golden rack next to the tub and began patting it throughout your body and rubbing it around your hair to soak up any water in your mop of hair. you wrapped your body in your soft plush robe, tiptoeing back into your room where everything was set up around your vanity.

elyssio was standing by your vanity with a hairbrush with a smile on his face, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you wanted to do something simple for the night. you hoped elena told him, maybe that’s what the hairbrush is for. “hey, elyssio! it’s nice to see you again.”

“very nice to see you too, princess!” elyssio said, placing the big hairbrush down on the surface of the vanity that had been littered with various boxes filled with shiny and elegant jewelry. you looked over at the headless mannequin standing still a few feet away from the vanity, and you fell in love with your dress. it was everything you had dreamed of wearing. “your parents did a very good job picking your dress for the night.”

“they took note of how you reacted to each dress they picked for every ball occasion,” elena said, sitting on the velvet stool located at the foot of your grand bed. you smiled, taking the skirt-part of the dress in your hand, and god you were thankful the dress was just right for you. “so, do you want to get the hair and makeup out of the way or get in the dress first?”

the process of the get-up ran faster than you thought, as you were in the empty hallways wandering with your dress on complete with the slightly elevated flats, waiting for the ball to start. it was 7:15 in the night, and guests were expected to pile in the grandeur room for the ball. you wanted to kill time, so you went into the kitchen to see what kinds of hors d’oeuvre and appetizers they had for the guests.

“kingston, what are you cooking for tonight?”

“hey! you’re not supposed to be here!” kingston pushed you out of the kitchen. “we don’t want you smelling like the food. you’ll see them when it’s out.”

you wandered the walls again, deciding to head to the library to kill time by reading the big books you had been putting off to the side. you’ve read the the smaller ones, at least. you grabbed the nearest big binded book in sight and sat yourself down on the velvet chair, opening up the hard cover and reading the very first page. you thought that you’d just fall asleep, assuming it’d be a boring book mostly about the geography of the earth, but that really wasn’t the case.

you had been in the castle’s library burning through time by reading the book you had grabbed, clearly and deeply into the topic of geography. what was it about the book that made the concept of geography so interesting? you were so into the book that you hadn’t realize the ball started. you wouldn’t have known if elena hadn’t gone in the library to tell you.

the room was filled with many people, a few minutes in when it started. more and more citizens and visitors made their way through the door, hearing a lot of ‘woah’s and such. as the usual, you were introduced to royal families. handshakes and smiles and nods had already gotten you worn out, but you carried on.

you pranced to the food section, grabbing a ceramic plate decorated with faint pink flowers and gold specks all around it and began walking down the table to see what the chefs had to offer. you ended up not bothering to ask what food is what, whatever looked good to you - you took it.

“that’s a lot of food you’re getting there,” a voice said from behind you. upon turning around, the owner of the voice must be an angel. he was a bit tall, he had the eyes of the fox and cheekbones made from the greek gods and goddesses. he had think yet so pink lips, if he told you he was an alien you’d believe him. how could someone be so gorgeous? “are you the king and queen’s daughter?”

“u-uhm, yes- yes i am,” you stuttered, moving on along down the table. you glanced at what he was wearing, and gosh was he a gem. the only difference between his suit and the other young boys in the room was he was adorned in gold chains, from head to toe. even his ears were littered with gold. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he replied. you took note of how nice his voice sounded in your ears, you wanted to hear more of him. “i don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“yeah, i don’t think so either,” you responded, reaching the end of the table and standing off to the side. you wondered if you should wait for him and talk more. “i’ll see you around..?”

san turned his head from the bread and butter presented in of him, flashing a small smile in his face that made your heart thump like a rabbit’s foot. he nodded, “you will.”

you sat down to eat, fending off your parents’ random arm grabs to leave you alone because you were eating. you sure got a lot of food, some of it you didn’t even get to finish at all. maybe you were rushing to find him, maybe that was it.

“you’re done eating, princess?” elena asked, dabbing on a handkerchief to her lips to get rid off of the sauce from the spaghetti. you nodded, dusting off any food on your dress and yourself to make sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself when you see san again. you checked your hair too. “you look great, sweetheart. go out there and dance.”

“thank you, i will!” you hopped off the platform which your table had been on top of and began to walk around, simply disguising it as meeting other families and attendees, but you only wanted to look for san.

you found him in a group of girls, gushing and poking his gold-adorned suit as they giggled so loudly. you didn’t think much of it and approached san, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. he swiveled around, a smile creeping on his face as if he knew you’d come to him.

“oh my gosh, it’s the princess..”

“winnie, shut up..!”

“hey,” he greeted with his cute smile. you noticed his dimples, smiling even more at this. “i knew you’d come see me.”

you blushed, knowing that he had known you’d come for him. “uhm.. yeah.. so-”

“does the princess want to dance with the prince?” he asked, the girls behind him muttering to each other and gasping. your eyes peeked at them, before training them on san. his hand reached out to you, offering it for you to take and dance with him.

you took his hand, and in an instant he led you to the dance floor among other pairs dancing with each other. he grabbed your other hand, placing it on his shoulder and attaching his hand onto your waist. your hands still intertwined together when he offered you his hand. you got the idea that he must be a romantic person.

“where have you been all my life?” you whispered, eyes so lost in the void of his eyes. a smirk appeared on his lips, that later transformed into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. you just thought out loud, and felt so embarrassed that you said that to him. but.. san didn’t mind. “i’m sorry i said that.”

“i was just going to ask the same thing,” he said, his eyes were soon beginning to fill the dark void with adoration, like falling in love at first sight. “i’m glad you came to me tonight.”

jaehyun witnessed them dance together to the slow and perfect classical melody, his heart slowly falling off of its place. he left the venue, knowing that she was never interested in him in that way in the first place.