#also i realized halfway through that tomorrow's prompt is reflection..

[dailyhmsw]

loop 58

split

[mooswords]

Home

Pairing: kuroo tetsuro x reader

Word count: 3k

Tags: red string of fate au, historical au

Ramblings: part of the lost collab, all based on the prompt ‘only when you are lost does the red string of fate appear’ organised by the lovely @yacoka​�� who is a wonderful writer and an even better friend 😚 also a big thank you to remy for beta-ing <3

---

You stare in exasperation as the red string fades into sight, the familiar warmth wrapping back into existence around your finger. It was only visible when one of you was feeling lost, and you certainly knew where you were. Tetsuro was only meant to be coming home from town - how did he get lost? 

You pluck at the string.

Seriously?

An answering pull against your pinky. 

Shut up.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the horse in front of you.

“That man, eh?” You scrub the brush along a thick-boned leg, scrunching your face away from the cloud of dust that puffs out. “Probably one of the smartest people this side of the island, knows the stars like the back of his hand, but can’t even find his way across his own fields.” You huff, watching as the string disappears again. “The cows know their way home better than he does, honestly…” 

Bess rattles her head, mane flying, and you sigh. “Ahh, you’re right, I guess we love him anyway.”

“You guess?”

You start, twisting at his sudden presence. 

“Stop! Doing that!” You huck the brush at him and he ducks, grinning. 

“Hear that Bess?” he sings, sidling up to the horse and scratching her forehead as she noses at his pockets. “She loves me.”

“And I married him too,” you lament. “What was I thinking?”

“Something I ask myself every day,” he says softly, eyes alight. You mellow, as you always do for him, and wonder if you will ever get sick of that look. 

“How’s town?” You ask instead, snagging a new brush.

“Good. Got offered a job.”

“Oh, who with?”

“Nekomata.”

You hum. “Down at the docks?”

“Not... exactly." You flick a look up when he doesn't elaborate, only to find him determinedly pulling Bess' forelock into a crude braid. 

"And?" you prompt.

"He wants me as the navigator." He swallows, fingers still twisting in the coarse hair. "For an expedition.”

“Really?” You scrub at a particularly stubborn splatter of dried mud. "I thought he had given up on all that. What’s he planning?”

He doesn’t reply for another long moment. 

"Depends on how quick the ice melts." 

You tear your eyes away from your work; he looks wary. "But with what he mentioned to me, we’d be away… a year? Maybe longer?"

“Oh,” you breathe. Really, for a sailing expedition, that’s short. But it’s still a year. You're thinking of money, and supplies, and who will take over teaching his students while he’s gone, and he’ll definitely need a new coat, and oh that's such a long time-

“I don’t have to decide immediately.” You pull your gaze back into focus. He still looks nervous, but you know him - he might not always be the most expressive person, but he wears his passions with pride. And there are few things your Tetsuro loves more than the stars. 

“You should go."

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your tongue and start sweeping the brush along Bess’ broad back again. It’s not till he gently pulls your hands to a stop you notice how they shake. 

“I don’t have to go,” he offers softly.

You sigh, not quite able to focus any higher than the hollow of his neck. “No. You should.”

His fingers are light under your chin, and you reluctantly let him draw your gaze up. 

“Are you sure?” 

And you are. Despite your reticence, you are; because at heart, he’s always longed to explore the world. You remember sitting with him in the summer, feet dangling in the creek and listening to his rambling dreams of travelling to the far corners of the world. He loves teaching - weaving stories from geography homework, gently coaching the younger kids through their sums - but you’ve caught him many a time just staring out at the sea, eyes unfocused and longing.

"I’m sure," you tell him with a genuine smile. "It just means I'm going to have to do all your chores while you're away."

He tsks, but there's already excitement building under the mock-glare. Giving Bess a final pat, he meanders back to the house. You listen to his cheery whistling and tell the pang in your heart he'll be fine. 

He always comes home.

--

“Have fun. Don’t kick Yaku overboard, OK?”

“What’s this, huh?” The string hums as he twirls a finger through it, his voice low and amused. He twists it into a bow around a lock of your hair, an achingly familiar action that has the string glowing brighter against your skin. “You can’t be lost without me if I haven’t left yet, sweetheart."

He frowns, and you etch the image into your memory - it will be months till you see that pout again. 

“Oh, hush you.” 

Eyes bright and fond, he grins down and pulls you into his chest. For once, you stop thinking about tomorrow and just enjoy this final moment with him; the gulls’ cries tearing across the sky, the winter sun across your back and stiff breeze sweeping through your skirts. He is constant and unshakable, heartbeat steady in your ear, his chin pressed against your hair.

You draw back and poke him in the cheek.

“You come home, you hear me?”

The string continues to flutter between you, dancing in the seaward breeze as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Always.”

--

The second plate stares back at you. 

Right. Of course. 

You press your lips together and return the other plate to the shelf for the third time this week. Your lonely plate looks pitifully small on the uneven table, and the red string that sinks down to drape across it only adds to the ache in your heart.

You grip the string tight and try not to cry.

--

The drumming rain is muffled as you duck under the barn’s eaves. Shaking the water from your eyes, you peel off your now sodden coat. In the flickering lantern light, you can see how the heifer is huffing, swollen belly already heaving.

Crooning to her, you run a tired hand over the heifer’s rough hide and crouch down.

You shove wet hair off your face and sigh. The late nights and bad weather were only exacerbating an already stressful time of year, and of course this had to be the year your entire herd was calving. You wearily draw a pail of water and tsk as you grab the last towel off the side of the stall - it seems tomorrow will have to be a washing day too.

There’s a wet nose. There’s also a tail.

“That’s… not right.” you mutter, stumped. 

It hits you a moment later - twins. She’s having twins.

“Ohh… uhh…” You know you can’t panic, but your thoughts just continue to speed up, desperately flicking through your memories because you know how to deal with a breech birth, but twins? Where do you even begin? There are two calves in there, and that's twice the number of things that could go wrong. Think. It’s only a few minutes over the hill to the Kagayama’s, maybe they-

The gentle tug at your hand startles you. The string is there, looped around one of the cow’s ears and floating out into the pouring night. Another tug comes, a little firmer this time. 

You suck in a breath.

You send him a grateful tug back and get to work.

It’s messy and stressful, and the deep ache in your arms will definitely be worse tomorrow, but there's a pile of knobby legs and liquid eyes in your lap that more than makes up for the pain. You snag the old towel off the straw and gently wipe the nose of the first calf before helping it struggle to its feet. The cow blinks around and lowes softly. You grin and quickly swipe at the other calf, blowing gently on its nose till it snorts.

Your eyes are heavy, and you are already compiling a list of the thousands of things to do tomorrow. But with pride singing through your tired bones, you are content to sit, half-wishing he was here with you to listen to the rain beat down on the tin roof and proudly watch the calves take their first, wobbling steps. 

--

“Endeavor."

“E-N-D...” Natsu scrunches her nose and you nod encouragingly, “E…”

The string appears. It’s sudden; not the usual fade-in of realization, but a tidal wave of colour that has it crashing into existence all at once.

“-A-V-O-R. Endeavor.”

You clear your throat, pushing past the lump. “Correct. Let’s have an early lunch everyone.”

The clatter of chairs is immediate, and you wait for all the kids to race out the door before sinking shakily back against the desk. You rub the string between your fingers - it’s hot and trembling, swaying drunkenly as if buffeted about by the wind.

You pull at it, questioning.

You pull at it again.

Again.

There is no reply but it stays, curling in the corners of your vision for the rest of the day.

--

The next morning it is still there. You bite your lip and bundle his old coat around you to go collect more firewood. 

--

Day four. You stare into reflected, apprehensive eyes for too long before shakily wrapping the everpresent string into a bow around your hair. For some reason, it doesn’t feel the same as when he does it.

--

Yachi reads you off your total and you freeze, hand clutched around the small bag of flour. She looks at you oddly as your hair falls free around your shoulders.

There is a soft tug against your finger, faded by distance and ringing with reassurance, as the string finally, finally disappears from sight after the longest eight days of your life.

“Is everything OK?” she asks, mystified.

You dash the tears and drop the coins into her hand with a smile.

“Everything is perfect.”

--

The string fades in for the third time today and you snort. You’d like to imagine you can feel his annoyance even halfway across the world.

You give it a sharp tug for good measure.

Lost again, huh? 

He pulls grumpily back, and you bite back a giggle.

“How’s that pain-in-the-ass husband of yours doing?” Ukai Jr. asks from behind the bar.

The string bleeds away.

You think of a ship navigating the perilous ice, of unknowable depths and old sailor's tales, of the maps you watched him plot that stretch into expanses of blank parchment.

You think of jokes thrown across candle stubs and empty plates, of a crew that have become more of a family than either of you have ever had.

You think of the furrow he gets between his brows when he’s puzzling something over, his poorly hidden glee at the sight of the open sea.

The string fades in again, and there’s a pull from his end before you can do anything.

Don’t.

You grin. “He’s doing just fine.”

--

You wake to birdsongs. The sun is just peeking over the hills, the red string curled quietly on his pillow. You send three tugs, watch the string ripple out the window and imagine it stretching out, out, out across the seas to him.

Today was usually a day just for the two of you; no chores, no work. Just sunshine and bad jokes and the simple enjoyment of being together. One time he had pulled you along to the neighbouring town's county fair. Last year, you had taken him to the waterfall for lunch.

It was meant to be his choice this year.

You twine the string around your fingers as you wait. It glows softly in the morning light, a physical manifestation of how deeply lost you feel on this special day. He's not gone; he's still here in the scuffed shoes tucked under the bed, in his notes piled high on the desk, but they're not quite the same as hearing his hisses from the kitchen, or being able to sink into warm arms at the end of a rough day.

His returning tugs are delayed, aching and soft - one, two, three.

Sighing, you force yourself out of bed - the cows aren’t going to feed themselves.

Happy anniversary, love.

--

Most days the string isn't visible at all. And that's fine. Really, it is. It means he's not lost, and no news is good news, right?

Anyway, you’ve become quite content in your own company. He’s been gone long enough that you’ve found your solo rhythm and it's by no means easy, but you manage to keep busy enough.

And yet, the string is a double-edged sword - a reassuring and tangible connection between the two of you, but one that fills you with longing heartache all the same. There are days when you so keenly feel his absence; days of no special importance, but days where his company would just make the monotony more interesting. The mundane days, where you find yourself wanting a hug and instead having to settle for imagining the blur of red in your periphery.

You can lose minutes simply staring at your hand, trying to will the string back into colour. Wishful thinking isn’t something you can afford to indulge too often, but some days, if you focus hard enough, you think you can feel the invisible string pressing around your finger. 

Some days, wishful thinking is all that keeps you going.

--

“Hello, sorry.” You ignore the cheeky pull of the red string. He knows how you hate admitting you need help. “I’m a bit lost. Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

The man points up the road, explaining you need to go up past the post office and take a - twitch goes the string - and then follow the path that - another pull - and you should be there. Oh, but don’t - tug - because that will take you out of town.

You bite your tongue and thank the man, fond exasperation simmering in your chest. You might desperately miss him and his stupid antics, but you had almost forgotten how relentless his needling could be. 

As you lead Bess away, you pull sharply on the string. Much to your dismay, it doesn’t deter him in the slightest - an incessant barrage of tugs pull against your pinky, singing with his amusement from half a world away. Huffing out a sigh, you carefully flip the string around your hand. It’s smooth in your grip as you wind it around your palm and close your fingers over it-

And yank the string sideways.

Silence.

A single, pouting yank back.

Pushing down the smile tugging at your lips, you stop infront of the woman sweeping the front step of the post office.

“Hello, sorry. I’m a bit lost. Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

--

A laugh is pulled from you, glee ringing through the air. Hinata’s hand is sweaty in yours, and you grip it tighter as you swing round and round to the music echoing across the field. The wedding party is still holding strong, even this late into the night, and the chatter and music is rvight at home in tonight’s warm summer breeze. 

The song ends to cheers and you yell with them, high, unfiltered joy singing through your body. You drop into a chair, watching Hinata pull a giggling Natsu off the sidelines and head back out as the band striking up another well-loved tune.

The ever-present twinge of sea salt mixes with the sweet scent of the apple blossoms floating over from the orchard and you are content. The food was fresh and plentiful, Kiyoko looked gorgeous. And, you think smugly, Suga had cried before Tanaka did, so now Kinoshita owed you a beer. 

The music slows, and your finger aches at the sight of everyone else partnering up. You had promised yourself you weren’t going to let memories overshadow your fun tonight. There’s too much love around for you to fully feel his absence anyway, but you still catch yourself missing him above the crowd, searching for the wink he’d send across the room before returning to his own conversations.

Someone clears their throat. The string curls and sways between bodies as Takeda smiles down at you, eyes crinkled in understanding. 

“May I have this dance?”

--

You push hurriedly through the crowd, ducking between market stalls and wagons. There’s no string to follow, but you don’t need it to find him today. Asahi scrambles for the bolts of cloth you knock into and Suga yells something that gets stolen by the wind as you continue to run heedlessly towards the docks. 

Lev is on the dock already, only just visible through the small crowd gathering. Yaku yells directions from the ship, and you can see Shibayama sitting up on the boom, Kai pulling the jib down, so where is-

There.

He’s talking with Nekomata, gesturing up at the mast. You know it’s probably important, that there are things to be done on the ship before the crew can leave, but he’s been gone 402 days and you’re calling his name before you can stop yourself.

He twists around, and for the first time in over a year you watch his face split wide. The crowd parts for you as you’re darting forward and he vaults over the side of the ship. 

There are yells and whistles behind him but you couldn’t care less as you are swept into a tight spin, stumbling with him as you laugh. His salt-crusted shirt is coarse under your fingers, and when he kisses you he tastes like the sea; like salt-spray and dry rations and freedom. 

As soon as your hands find his cheeks you pull back sharply. There's a scar, a puckered pink line that cuts across his cheek and up into his hairline. He watches you carefully as you trace it with a feather-light touch.

“I thought I told you to have fun,” you admonish gently. 

“Who said I didn’t?”

You tsk. “What am I going to do with you?”

He grins, wilder than you remember, twisted a little by the scar, but full of familiar trouble. “Kiss me again, hopefully.” 

(How you’ve missed that grin.)

“Can’t imagine why I’d do a silly thing like that,” you say, even as you press your own grin to his.

Maybe he’s still a little wobbly on his feet, and he’s definitely thinner than when he left, but when he twines your hands together - no string in sight - your heart settles. 

He’s home, and you can’t really ask for anything more.

[captainchrisstan]

My Leather Guy

Summary: Bucky has to make things right, even if it means losing you.

words: 1935

Warnings: none... a little bit of Smut... (but if you find any please let me know)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader.

A/N: This was made with love for @saiyanprincessswanie​ !!! My prompt was “Nice ass” / “it´s all yours”

Hey guys! <3 my mother language is not English, so if there is any mistake please help me to improve. Also, my work is not allowed to be on other platforms. Just comment, like and reblog <3

Bucky kisses your lips for the last time to see you leave for the club stairs that lead straight to the rooms upstairs, with a sigh he turns around to see his best friend Steve and almost friend Tony at a table watching him expectantly.

Bucky knows their faces too well to know what they want answers to their questions, today would be the sixth time you've stayed with them in less than two weeks. The problem wasn't that you stayed, they loved you, the real problem was that you lied to your father who was also the leader of one of the New York City motorcycle clubs.

"I hope you got it right this time Bucky," Tony says as he brings his beer to his lips but stops halfway through. "That you stood in his driveway like a decent man" as the silence drags on Steve lets out a big sigh.

"He escaped out the window again?" Steve asks what Bucky nods to. "Bucky... I understand that you love her I went through the same thing with Natasha... the thing is we can't get into trouble now that they've agreed to ally themselves with us to corner the Hydra club"

"If it were up to me, I would have told his father by now." Bucky interrupts.

"Does her father beat her?" Tony asks, and the blonde looks at him expectantly.

"No! It's just that she doesn't want to disappoint him."

"Bucky, you're the best man in the club-"

"Steve I'm not saying that... It's because of his mother... since his mother died his dad has made sure he doesn't follow in his footsteps" Tony and Steve look expectantly at Bucky, waiting for answers. "That doesn't end up with a biker.”

"Oh God too late!" Tony says quickly as he grabs his leather jacket on the back of his chair and stands up. "Looks like the conversation is going to get sentimental so I'll see you tomorrow" and without further ado, Tony walks away from the door.

"Look Buck... if you want some advice... You'd better go to his father and tell him" Bucky opens his mouth to say something but Steve raises a hand "Let me finish please, Hydra has been up to our asses since they got to town, they have been trying to wipe out our business and theirs. If he finds out you're sneaking around with her daughter and goes crazy and finishes the deal; we'll be in danger, not just us as a club, but our partners as well"

A few minutes later Bucky thoughtfully climbs the stairs, what Steve was saying was true, he was putting the whole group, no, his family in danger with his selfishness and that could not continue to happen. When he got to the door of his room a soft humming could be heard through it, when he opened the door he found himself with y/n with his headphones lying on her stomach in bed with his back to the door, his pajama shorts barely covering his ass and he was wearing one of Bucky's t-shirts to sleep, closing the door to lean on it, Bucky simply watched his girlfriend and how much he was going to miss being with her once they told your father.

Feeling a change in the air y/n realizes that she is not alone, turning quickly in bed she sees her boyfriend leaning on the door, she smiles but her smile does not last long because of the look in Bucky's eyes. y/n knows that something is wrong.

"What's wrong, love?" she quickly gets out of bed to go to her boyfriend.

"We have to tell your father"  I knew that this day would come, I knew that the moment those words came out of Bucky's mouth their lives would have to go their separate ways forever. 

"Tomorrow we'll both go together, I promise," hugging Bucky around the neck and he's hugging her around the waist. "Would you kiss me?" one last time she thought 

Bucky's lips feel like feathers on the skin, they both know this could be goodbye and they would both make the most of it. Without rushing, they take off their clothes and throw them away so who knows which part of the room, when y/n's legs touch the bed he gently pushes it. Skin on skin meet and fireworks explode as the moaning fills every corner of the room.

In the large double bed, they try to calm their breaths, both have their heads full of possible scenarios of what could happen tomorrow, but in Bucky's head are the most tragic.

Little whispers of 'I love you' and 'I'll always be with you' fill the room until y/n's voice is interrupted by a yawn from her, Bucky puts one arm around her shoulders and draws her as close to his body as he can.

Bucky goes down the stairs with the little courage he has left in his body, when he sees the time on the wall clock he deduces that his father-in-law could be in the club's bar, without wasting any more time he goes to Steve to communicate his decision. This one is on the same table where he left it a few hours ago.

"Steve, I'm gonna go tell y/n's dad" Steve looks up from the documents to focus on Bucky.

"Give me 5 minutes and I can join you" with one hand on his shoulder Bucky stops his best friend.

"I don't think you understand me, Steve... I'll go alone," Steve looks at him not knowing what to do. It wasn't that they were afraid of Y/N's father, only that he was a man respected by many, almost a legend. "If I'm not back in three hours... you know what to do." Without saying anything else, Bucky hands Steve a sealed envelope with Y/N's name on it. Bucky always so dramatic thought Steve as he saw Bucky's figure coming out of the bar.

The road to the other side of New York was long and tense for Bucky, his Harley stopped just outside the Death and Co Bar as he took off his helmet hesitantly for a couple of seconds before grabbing what's left of his confidence and going in.

The place reeked of alcohol and cheap cigarettes, and the place was barely visible in the dim light of the tavern. In the distance, he could see a group of men in leather jackets with the symbol of the American flag on their backs. 

As he approached the group of men he could quickly make out the father of Y/n, with a soft cough by Bucky the men at the table stood still and quickly looked in Bucky's direction.

"But look who we have in this fucking place... Nothing more or less than the right hand of the famous captain", your father was looking bucky in the eye who wished he was 3 miles away from that place.

"I've come to talk to you, sir," Bucky mentally kicks himself, his voice must sound firm. "Alone." Without further ado, Jim "The King" stands up from the table with a head taller than Bucky. 

“Follow me”

As he leaves the bar Jim leans against the wall and pulls out a cigarette, Bucky is nervous, his hands are sweating and his breathing is labored.

"It's about my daughter, right?" Stunned Bucky doesn't know what to do or say so he just nods. "I've known all along," Bucky's soul leaves his body. "Ever since my Betty died and left me with the task of raising our daughter I always knew this day would come... I always knew you guys had something because Y/N is the spitting image of her mother, and she's not too quiet when she escapes out the window either" the latter brings a smile to Bucky's face. Jim takes his last breaths into the cigarette and drops it, putting it out with the sole of his shoes. "Your mother and I were doing the same thing you do... We were running away and lying to our parents... Come on son, let's go have some beers", without further ado Jim opens the door of the bar, Bucky perplexed, expecting everything but that, so he just follows him inside the establishment.

Two hours later Bucky finds himself saying goodbye to all the club members and heading for his bike, Jim is waiting for him at the door.

"Hey, son," unprepared Bucky feels like the right side of his face is hit with something, "This is just a precaution, okay?. If I see my daughter crying over you, the beating will be much bigger." When Bucky comes out of his trance he just nods and pats his shoulder. "Perfect!, have a good trip boy" the door of the place closes and Bucky throws a spit to throw the blood in his mouth, touching his jaw he realizes that Jim didn't manage to break anything, fortunately, but he won't be able to put the helmet on because of the swelling that is forming on his face. Was too good to be true

Upon entering the bar Bucky can see that the place is almost dead without counting Natasha who is cleaning the bar and Steve leaning on this flirting with her. 

"Shit Bucky I think you lost the fight man!" Natasha tries to hold back the laughter, but she can't and Steve just shakes his head.

"Yeah, anyway... I'll see you guys in a little bit" walking up the stairs to Bucky's rooms doesn't stop thinking about how well the situation turned out, about Jim's reaction that he didn't grow up and that now they practically had a free hand so they wouldn't be hiding like two teenagers.

"What the fuck happened to your face, Bucky?!" Bucky had unwittingly entered the room and found y/n at the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes.

"I've gone to talk to your dad" without more y/n gets out of bed and throws Bucky by his wrist to the bathroom of the room, when Bucky enters he can see his reflection in the mirror, his cheekbone was already taking a purple color and his eye was swelling more and more without counting with the little cut under his eye, with a pressure in the chest y/n makes Bucky sit in the toilet while she takes out the first aid kit. 

A few seconds later she finds herself delicately touching her boyfriend's face with a wet cotton ball to get the dried blood out. A little sobbing gets Bucky out of his trance and he realizes that he's screwed up, with his hands he touches his girlfriend's naked legs to somehow comfort her.

"I didn't want the three of us to talk in case it got too big, I just wanted to protect you." He whispers

"Bucky, he's my dad, he wouldn't hurt me and you know it.

"The situation could have gotten dangerous and you know it," bucky sighs, "I just want to make things right... besides, your dad already knew about us."

"What?!" y/n stops wiping Bucky's face and waits expectantly for an answer.

"He said you weren't very quiet going out the window.”

"Oh, God... What a shame" they both laugh and the atmosphere relaxes a bit.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"I'd have to think about it a little bit more" playing bucky up his hands and grabbing his girlfriend's ass through his pajama shorts.

“Nice ass”

“It’s all yours, baby”

[theycallmebecca]

How about 30. “Hear me out: a marriage pact.” with Steve? ❤

My original plan with these drabbles to keep them short and sweet and fluffy… this story blew that plan to smithereens. 🤷‍♀️ Oh well. It is what it is. I got the idea for this, @nomadicpixel encouraged it and here we are.

Title: Insightful Evening

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Rating: PG-13

Prompt: #30 - “Hear me out: a marriage pact.”

Warnings: some language, drink responsibly

Note: Not Endgame compliant, everyone is happy and they’re one big happy (slightly dysfunctional) family. Also, I’m just playing with some of my fav characters.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Because of how tumblr can be silly about links, I will reblog this post with links to the masterlist and the prompt list.

Steve surveyed the atrium of the Avengers compound, which was playing host to yet another Avenger family wedding. He took a sip of his drink, trying to count the number of weddings that had taken place after Tony and Pepper’s nuptials a year earlier. He knew of three for certain, Maria and Sam’s, Wanda and Vision’s, and, now, Clint and Natasha’s, but he knew there had been others that he just hadn’t been invited to or, rather, hadn’t attended.

Who would be next? He wondered as he eyed his friends. Thor and Jane? He looked at the table they were sitting at and nodded to himself. It would likely be Thor and Jane getting married next, but would they get married here or someplace else?

His eyebrows rose when he saw his best friend Bucky sitting at the table with them talking to Jane’s friend Darcy. There was something in his friend’s body language that told him that Bucky was interested in the brunette. Steve didn’t know Darcy well and didn’t consider himself knowledgeable in women at all, but she seemed to return Bucky’s interest.

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned just in time to see a beautiful woman stumble and start to fall. Darting forward, he caught her. It wasn’t until he helped her right herself that he recognized her and realized that she was more than a little drunk.

—–

The room was still spinning around you as you held onto the forearm of your guardian angel. You’d thought for sure you were going to smash your face on the floor thanks to the fucking heels your friend had insisted you wear tonight, but then, you hadn’t.

When the world finally righted itself, you found yourself looking up into the concerned face of Steve Rogers. Aka Captain America. While you worked with the Avengers in a minor capacity, you weren’t on a first name basis with them all, but you and Steve had bonded over old movies a few months back.

“You ok?” he asked, genuine concern etched into his handsome face.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, only realizing then that you were still holding onto his arm. Judging by the feel of it, he really was as muscular as he looked.

A soft chuckle came from the man in question and you looked up, confused.

“Yes, I really am that muscular,” he explained.

You might have been embarrassed to realize that you’d spoken your thought aloud, if you hadn’t had so much champagne. Instead, you shrugged it off and took advantage of his sizable strength to take off your heels. Or at least that had been your plan, until you nearly fell again trying to take off one of the awful shoes.

“Let me help,” Steve offered. He wrapped an arm protectively around your waist to keep you upright and then he somehow managed to get your feet out of the heels with the other. Once your bare feet hit the ground, you couldn’t care less about how it had happened.

“You’re a personal superhero tonight,” you told him once the shoe removal business was finished. “And now I’m going to go to my apartment and pretend I won’t be horribly hungover in the morning.”

—–

Steve cringed as he watched her making her way towards the elevator. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends and decided he couldn’t let her go up there by herself. Especially after a waiter had to do a fancy spin to keep her from nearly taking out a tray of finger cakes.

He hurried after her, stepping between her and another waiter to guide her out of the way.

“Rescued again,” she said with a relaxed smile. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Steve.”

“I’ve decided to turn in for the night as well,” he told her. “Will you allow me to escort you back to your apartment?”

“Are you sure you want to leave the reception already?” she asked, nearly taking them both down as she turned to look.

“Clint and Nat have already left, now it’s just a party,” Steve pointed out as he took a firm hold of her. In all the time he’d known her or even just been aware of her, he’d never seen her this far gone before.

“It was a beautiful wedding wasn’t it,” she said almost wistfully as he led her to the elevators.

“It was,” he agreed in all honesty. The wedding itself had been outside in the gazebo in the compound’s gardens. It had just been Clint and Nat with Pepper making an appearance or two to act as the officiant, but they hadn’t wanted anyone else involved in the ceremony.

Hearing the elevator ding, he led her into the empty elevator and automatically pushed the button that would take them to the floor where the private apartments were.

—–

You allowed Steve to guide you into the elevator as you felt the sour mood that had hit you halfway through the reception coming back. Everyone was getting married or having babies and you weren’t even dating. Tonight’s wedding was the tenth you’d gone to in the last year and your group of singling women was dwindling down. You’d been sitting with Darcy and then Bucky had come over and asked her to dance.

Looking up, you saw Steve’s reflection in the elevator and saw that he was looking back at you. Had you spoken your thoughts aloud again or was your sadness just that obvious? His lips quivered in slight amusement, giving you your answer. This was why you didn’t drink.

“I’m sure tomorrow morning will remind you of the other reason you don’t drink,” he mused.

“How do you do it?” you asked him. “I haven’t seen you date anyone, either. Or are you just one of those people who prefer to be forever alone?”

“I don’t think anyone ever prefers to be forever alone,” he replied. “But it’s a little harder for me.”

“Why because you’re a 100 year old man with the body of a Greek God?” you asked.

“Something like that,” he said with a chuckle.

“We’re good friends right, Steve?” you asked even though you were sure ‘good’ was a stretch on what your relationship with him actually was. Yeah, you spent a few hours every week with him in the dark, but it was to watch old movies while you both stuffed yourselves with popcorn. And yeah, you guys had conversations, but they were never about exciting things. Nothing like the conversations your friends claimed to have with their significant others.

—–

“I think we are,” he said, still talking to her reflection in the elevator doors. It was only as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened that he realized his mistake from earlier. Instead of being on the floor that had the skywalk to the support staff apartments, he’d taken them to the floor that had the skywalk to the executive apartments.

Turning to study her, he decided that he didn’t like the idea of her being alone tonight. The relaxed look that had been on her face early was gone now, replaced with a pensive one that he didn’t like the look of. Add to that her topic of conversation, he really didn’t want to abandon her.

“Change of plans,” he said as he took her hand and led her out of the elevator. “I can’t remember which floor you live on, so you’re going to crash at my place.”

“I am?” she asked. “Are we going to watch Casablanca? That’s the next movie on our list.”

“You are and we aren’t,” he told her. “We’re going to go to my apartment, I’m going to make you drink a glass of water and then you’re going to go to bed.”

With her shoes in one hand and his other arm wrapped around her waist to help keep her upright, he led her over the skywalk and down the hall to his apartment. Some of the executive units were over the top, but he’d designed his to be a comfortable escape from the world with just one bedroom. Until tonight, it hadn’t been a problem, but he’d give her his bed and sleep on the couch.

He let go of her for a moment to unlock his door and then led her inside.

—–

“I’ve always liked your apartment,” you said after he saw you safely to the couch and made you sit down. “It’s just so… you.” There was no other way to describe it. The apartment, like Steve, was homey but in a sexy way. It was the kind of place that you wanted to come home to after a long day of work. And his soft leather couch, it was the kind of couch that you wanted to be laid back on and kissed senseless. Or at least, you wanted to.

Returning with your water, Steve cleared his throat and held it out to you. Looking up, you saw that his face was slightly flushed and knew you’d fucking done it again.

“Clearly my brain doesn’t work when I’ve been drinking,” you muttered before you took a sip of the water. You didn’t want to drink the stuff, but you knew it was a good idea. Not that he wouldn’t let you not drink it.

He chuckled.

“Fucking hell,” you whined setting your glass on his coffee table before buring your face in your hands. “You probably regret ever becoming friends with me.”

“Assuming I heard you correctly, I don’t regret it at all,” he replied. “In fact, this is a refreshing insight into your mind. You, like me, tend to keep things to yourself more than sharing them out loud.”

Feeling him press the water glass against your hand, you took it from him and sat up straight. He was right, you weren’t normally the type to say whatever came to your mind. Especially when it came to the thoughts you’d had previously while sitting on this very couch watching movies. You stole a glance at him over the rim of your glass, wondering for the hundredth time if his lips were as soft as they looked.

He cleared his throat loudly and stood up, making the way back to the galley kitchen to get himself something to drink.

“Do you want to get married someday, Steve?” you asked him. You weren’t drunk enough that you wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning, but you were going to take advantage of the liquid courage running through your veins. The fact of the matter was that you did want to get married, but if he didn’t want to, then you needed to know.

—–

What a loaded question that was. The short answer was, yes. But it was complicated. As she had already pointed out, there was a significant age gap even if he didn’t look or feel his actual age. It was likely that it would all catch up with him at some point. The serum didn’t stop him from aging.

“Nevermind,” she said softly.

“Drink your water,” he told her as he came over. “The easy answer is yes I want to get married. It’s just there is a lot to factor in.”

“Isn’t there always?” she asked after taking another sip. “Everyone comes into a relationship with their own baggage.”

“That’s true,” he conceded and then shook his head. “In some ways, I’ve thought of myself and, well, I guess, Bucky, as different from the rest of the world. Not because of the ‘superhero’ part but because of the serum. It changed a lot of stuff and it makes things different. But you’re right, we all have things that make us different or special.”

“Like my inability to think silent thoughts when I’ve been drinking,” she stated.

“It’s been an insightful evening,” he said in agreement. He definitely wouldn’t be able to look at his couch without picturing her laying there waiting for him to kiss her. He cleared his throat and let silence fall between them.

Or at least until she started thinking aloud again.

“I want to get married, too,” she said. “I always thought I’d get married young and have kids. And now, I’m not young, but I’m not old either. But there aren’t many options.”

“Any guy would be lucky to have you for a wife,” he stated.

She turned her eyes on him then, so he’d know she was talking to him, and said, “This is probably the craziest thought I’ve ever had -”

“You sure about that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up and hear me out,” she said, waving him off. “A marriage pact. Between us.”

“A marriage pact,” he repeated.

“Yeah, like if neither of us are married in a couple years, we’ll get married to each other,” she explained.

“You’re right, that is the craziest thought you’ve ever had,” he told her. Not because it was crazy, but because after the revelations of the evening, he wasn’t going to let her spend the next two years trying to find some other guy to marry. Obviously, she, like himself, had been suppressing her feelings and now they were out there.

“Oh,” she said, softly.

He set his glass on the table and then took hers from her and set it down too. He sat down next to her on the couch and then took her hand. “We’re not going any further than this tonight,” he told her. “In fact, as soon as I do this, I’m going to make you go into my room and go to bed -” She opened her mouth to argue, but closed it when he pressed a finger to her lips. “- a lot has been revealed tonight and we both need to think, but I want you to know where my brain is at.”

Pulling his finger away from her lips, he leaned in and kissed her.

—–

God, his lips were as soft as they looked. And he was an amazing kisser.

Then he was pulling himself away from you and laughing when you tried to wrap your arms around his neck to keep him put.

“We’ll do this again,” he promised. “But right now, you need to get some sleep.”

“Where are you going to sleep?” you asked him.

“Right here?” he said, patting the couch. A pained expression crossed his face and before you could ask about it, he explained, “Doubt I’ll get much sleep out here knowing you want to be laid against it and kissed. Especially now that I have kissed you.”

“I’m sure the bed is big enough for two,” you stated. You weren’t ready to go that far with Steve, not tonight, but you wouldn’t mind some more kissing.

“Not tonight,” he said firmly. Then he stood up and he helped you off the couch. He led you into his bedroom and opened a drawer in his dresser, pulling out a shirt. “Here, you can sleep in this.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, accepting the shirt.

You watched him cross the room and he gave you one last smile before he pulled the door closed. Sighing, you undressed, only stumbling once in the process, and pulled on his shirt. It smelled just like him. So did his super comfortable bed.

Closing your eyes, you breathed him in and knew you’d have the best dreams tonight. And maybe in the future, you’d share them with Steve and the two of you would be able to act them out.

[echo-bleu]

By The Sword

Malex Musketeers AU. I’m reposting this little series here (from AO3) ahead of the @alterarnm fic I’m hoping to finish by Thursday (movie fusion, though it’s a show). This was originally written for the Whumptober prompt “Stab Wound” but it also fits with today’s theme “Pre-1900s”.

Alex barely makes it all the way to the garrison before he collapses. He falls to his knees the moment he's inside the large doors, with no energy left in him to make it to his quarters.

“Captain!” someone calls out. “Liz! Maria! The Captain's back, and he's injured!”

“Alex!” This time it's Maria's worried voice. Alex feels her crouch beside him. “Alex, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder,” he murmurs. Maria gently pries his hand away from the wound on the inside of his left shoulder, not far above his heart, and hisses.

“Alex, you got stabbed?” she asks. “Kyle, get over here!”

“Alex!” Liz calls, joining them.

“I'm okay,” Alex murmurs, trying to stand back up.

“No you're not,” Maria says. “You have a stab wound and you've lost a lot of blood. Now how about you let us get you to bed?”

Alex just nods and relents. Liz slings his right arm around her shoulders and pulls him up. Alex tries not to put too much of his weight on her, but between the bloodloss and his leg, he's unable to stand under his own power. Liz supports him without flinching, though. She may be short, but she's stronger than she looks−otherwise she would never have made it through Musketeer training.

Maria stays on the other side for balance, though she doesn't touch his arm. Alex is grateful for that, because he almost passed out the last time he tried to move his shoulder. The three-hour ride back to the garrison has been hell.

Kyle, the garrison's doctor, joins them halfway to Alex's quarters, his medical bag in hands. He helps Liz lower Alex onto his bed and immediately starts removing Alex's leathers.

“Your shirt isn't salvageable, but these can be cleaned,” he says, handing them off to Maria. “Good leather is pricey.”

“Kyle, no offense, but we don't really care about his uniform right now,” Liz says, annoyed. “How about the wound?”

“Get me some water to clean it out, and I'll tell you!” Kyle rolls his eyes.

Alex only barely follows the conversation, exhausted. He grits his teeth as Kyle runs a wet cloth on the partially scabbed wound.

“It's not life-threatening, as long as it doesn't get infected,” Kyle diagnoses. “But it definitely needs stitches.”

Alex winces. He expected it, but it's never fun. He's had his fair share of injuries over the years−more than his fair share, actually, since an infected wound took his right leg in the last war. Everyone expected him to retire then, or at least retire from the field, as he'd just been made Captain, but he got thoroughly bored of desk work after a week, and Liz and Maria were simply not as good a team without him. So he worked his ass off to get back on his feet and train to fight with his new prosthetic, and within less than a year, they were the best Musketeer team of all Antar again.

Liz hands him a glass. “Bourbon,” she says. “You're going to need it.”

Alex nods his thanks. He barely has time to swallow the drink before Kyle digs into his injury, checking for dirt, and he arches back, biting back a scream. Liz offers him a cloth to bite onto.

“I'm going to bind your arm to your chest for now so you don't tear the stitches,” Kyle says when he's done with the stitching. By then, Alex is exhausted and covered in sweat, so he doesn't protest. His leg has definitively cured him of his tendency to take injuries lightly, anyway.

He gestures to his leg, which is painful and raw after the abuse it took today. “You want me to remove it?” Liz asks. Alex nods.

“So, who was it this time?” Maria asks, while Liz pulls of his boot and works on the latch of his prosthetic.

“My father's men, who else,” Alex answers tiredly. “But they had someone else with them, I couldn't see his face.”

He could swear he recognized his stance, though. But it's impossible. The man it belonged to is long dead. But the way he ducked left, right before plunging his blade into Alex's shoulder…

Alex doesn't know many people who can fight that well. He's one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, even now, and this person bested him like he already knew all his tricks.

He ponders on that for a long time, after the other file out of his room. He's spent but restless, the pain preventing him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. He can't find a comfortable position to lie in. His free hand keeps going to the pendant around his neck, as his thoughts wander. He traces the gold ring, and then the medallion, without opening it.

Why did this man, cloaked and hooded, remind him so much of the man he once almost married?

He swipes at his eyes before the tears can fall, angry with himself for letting his thoughts take him there. Of course that man wasn't Michael: Michael has been dead for ten years. The anniversary is coming up, Alex realizes. He died the day their wedding was set to take place, a reflection of his father's twisted mind. Ten years, in less than a week. Maybe that's why Michael was on his mind so much today.

Sitting up, Alex decides he's done lying in bed. He can be careful of his arm and still make himself useful. Putting his prosthetic and his boots back on is hell with only one hand, but he manages after a few minutes. He rummages his chest for a clean shirt and pulls it over his head awkwardly, leaving the left sleeve empty as his arm is strapped to his chest.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims from the courtyard, when she sees him coming down the stairs. “You shouldn't be out of bed yet!”

“I'm fine,” Alex says. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.” He knows Liz is just as scared as he is of him getting another infection, but he really wants to shake off her concern. This whole business has put him in an awful mood, and the fact that he's light-headed from bloodloss and in pain doesn't make it better. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“The king requested us to escort his children tomorrow back from the summer palace,” Liz says.

Alex sighs. “Are we on babysitting duty again?”

The twin prince and princess, Max and Isobel, who are about Alex's age, aren't really as annoying as children, but they tend to scoff at having bodyguards, and regularly ignore the Musketeers' safety requests. They like to travel a lot, especially between the royal houses all over the country, and the king has taken to requesting his best Musketeers to guard them since the latest threats on their lives, even though it should be a job for his royal Guard. But everyone knows Valenti's Musketeers are better fighters than Manes' Red Guard, especially with Alex Manes at their command. Something that angers his father to no end.

“They're not that bad,” Liz shrugs. “You won't be going anyway, you're injured.”

“And you're not saying that at all because you have a crush on Prince Max,” Maria interjects, handing Alex a bowl of soup as he sits at the table. “How are you feeling?” she adds to Alex.

“I'm okay,” Alex says. “Just sore.”

“You're the one who keeps flirting with Princess Isobel,” Liz retorts to Maria. “What, you thought I hadn't noticed?”

Alex shakes his head at his friends' antics. They've been inseparable ever since he first joined the Musketeers. They're the best of friends in every situation, funny and supportive. With them, he even forget, sometimes, the life he left behind.

“What's got you so worked up?” Maria asks, and Alex realizes he's gotten lost in his thoughts again. His hand has made its way to his pendant against his will, and Liz and Maria are both giving him knowing look.

Over the years, they've become really good at gauging his moods, and especially at noticing when he's taken by bouts of melancholy. He's never told them anything of his former life, and he doesn't intend to, but they know which subjects to avoid.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just...I hate being injured.”

“We know,” Liz says, putting her hand on his arm. “But you still need to rest up, okay?”

“I know,” Alex sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone march up to them. “And I guess it's time for me to report,” he adds, standing up to welcome Commander Valenti. “Commander.”

The woman looks him up and down with severe eyes.

“Captain. Who did you piss off this time?”

Six days later, Alex is in the foulest mood. He's been dreading this anniversary for months, and it's proving as bad as he thought it would be. Everything is going wrong. His arm still isn't healed enough to use, now resting in a sling, so he's been on desk duty for the last few days, and he's remembering exactly why he hates it. And then, whether the effect of his injury or simply the time of the year, the nightmares started. The anniversary of the day he lost his fiance and the day he lost his leg are just two days apart, and it's always a bad time for him, filled with alcohol and fevered dreams.

His team is set to spend the day at the palace again, and this time the King specifically asked for his favorite Musketeer despite his injury. Alex doesn't understand why, but as he's not bed-bound, he has no choice but to obey. He hoped to be able to take the day off and drink the pain away, but the universe is against him. To top it off, both his shoulder and his leg are killing him, and he's forced to ask an aid to hold his horse's reins on the way to the palace, because he barely has enough balance to keep himself on the saddle.

“Come on,” Liz tries to motivate him, as he mopes on his horse. “It's going to be okay. There's to be some kind of celebration planned, for some noble guy who just came to court.”

“That's usually not good news,” Alex remarks. “Means we'll have to be twice as vigilant.”

“Leave that to us,” Maria says, bringing her horse to his other side. “Just because the King requested you doesn't mean you should overtax yourself.”

“My father will be there,” Alex sighs.

“And you can't help showing off your Musketeers in front of him, in hope that he'll acknowledge your accomplishments someday. Alex, you don't need him. Everyone knows you're better than him.”

“He's still the Prime Minister, and he has the King's ear. He could have me executed if the fancy took him to see me gone.”

“The King loves you far too much for that,” Liz says. “That's why your father is reduced to sending his Reg Guards to fight his battles and try to off you in a skirmish.”

Alex sighs and readjusts his sling. “We're here,” he says.

As usual, the day at the palace involves a lot of waiting around and standing guard, far more than Alex's leg should really be put through today. But sitting in front of the Royal Family is simply unthinkable. He watches Prince Max and Princess Isobel, lounging in comfortable armchairs under a canopy, with envy and a twinge of resentment.

“Who's this?” Liz asks him, midway through the day. She discreetly points to a man on the other side of the canopy. He's wearing red like the Red Guards, but his uniform is richer and perfectly clean, and his stance isn't that of a guard. He has a hood over his head, hiding his hair and his face. Alex frowns. Someone who can get away with hiding his identity in the middle of a royal event must be high-ranking, probably from the Royal Family, but he can't think of who that could be.

“Watch him closely,” he tells Liz. There's also the option that he's an imposter.

He's not. Minutes after Liz notices him, the man approaches the canopy at a sign from the King. The king stands up, and everyone immediately stops talking.

“I would like to introduce to the court my natural son, Michael,” the King says, one hand on the man's shoulder. Alex feels his breathing pick up, like his body has already figured out what his brain refuses to understand.

The mysterious man reaches up and removes his hood.

“Thank you, my King,” he says, kneeling quickly. “I have lived my whole life in the shadows, and I will go back to a modest life as soon as my purpose is complete. I have come to court for one reason only: to challenge Captain Alex Manes of the Musketeers to a formal duel.”

Alex gapes. Liz and Maria rally around him, confused. “What?” Liz frowns.

Michael stands back up, and turns to look straight at Alex. It feels like a punch to his gut.

“But why? Alex, do you know him?” Liz presses in a murmur. The court is getting agitated, the announcement raising eyebrows. A King introducing a natural-born son to give out a title and a land is not uncommon, but for that son to challenge the Captain of the Musketeers? That's unheard of.

“Yes,” Alex mutters, still in shock.

“Who is he?” Liz asks.

“Michael was my fiance,” Alex says. “My dead fiance.”

“What?”

“He can't be alive,” Alex breathes. “It's not possible. He was hanged because of me.”

Liz looks about to shake him, but she's interrupted by Michael raising his hands. “Do you accept?” he shouts across the space between them.

“But he's injured!” Maria shouts back.

“No,” Alex says, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. “Reparations are deserved. I will duel you. Choose your field of honor.”

He meets Michael's eyes for a moment, and the emotions are almost too much to keep inside. Alex feels like he's going to burst. Michael is alive. The man he's missed so much that he would have ended his life, had the Musketeers not given him a purpose again.

Michael takes a step back and looks toward the King, who nods.

“You will duel here,” he says. “The two of you are likely the best swordsmen in my kingdom. This should be entertaining. Please refrain from killing each other, though. Although my court may well be bloodthirsty enough to enjoy the show, I have uses for both of you.”

Michael bows deeply, and Alex scrambles to do the same. His leg gives out of under him, and Liz has to hold him up as he straightens again.

“Elizabeth and Maria will serve as my seconds,” he says when he's balanced again, waving at his friends. “Who are yours?”

“Oh, I was hoping for sweet Maria,” Michael tilts his head. “Are you as good with the sword as you are in bed?”

Alex looks at Maria in shock.

“I didn't know who he was,” she whispers hurriedly. “It was just a drunken hookup.”

“I know Michael,” Alex murmurs back. “He's a charmer alright, but he didn't approach you by chance. He was fishing for information.”

Maria frowns in anger. “I'll stay with my friends, thank you,” she shouts across the field.

“Then, will my King allow his daughter to second me?” Michael asks, bowing respectfully. “Obviously the heir cannot risk a hair on his head,” he adds with a smirk to Max.

“Did you have to make me second choice?” Isobel whines.

“You can never be a second choice, dear sister,” Michael assures.

It's only then, that the King's proclamation from earlier makes it to Alex's brain. Michael is the King's son. How is it possible? A man who came to him poor and alone, with no family and no name, is the King's bastard? A man, as he discovered, convicted and branded for thievery?

Did Michael know his heritage, back when they were together? Did he hide that from Alex, too?

For the first time today, Alex looks over to the chair to Max's right, a little to the back, where his father sits. Jesse Manes gives him back an enigmatic look. Alex has no way to know if he knew about this, if he knew that Michael was alive and who he was this whole time. He closes his eyes in dismay.

“I will allow it,” the King says. “Now prepare yourself.”

“Alex,” Liz shakes his good shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? You don't look good.”

“I'll be fine,” Alex says. He doesn't know if that's true. He's the one who taught Michael to fence, and even back then, he was amazingly good at it. God only knows how much he's improved in the last ten years. And he's able-bodied and uninjured, while Alex can barely stay on his feet.

He's read to be beaten, though. It's only what he deserves.

He removes his sling, keeping his left arm close to his body. It's useless, but he needs to be able to move for balance. He gives Maria his hat and his blue uniform cape, and draws his sword. He'll give Michael a run for his money, if nothing else. Michael has always enjoyed the challenge.

Trying not to limp too much, Alex approaches Michael, in the middle of the field everyone else has vacated. They have an audience, a good portion of the court. Duels are a highly-valued form of entertainment to the noble class.

When he's close enough to Michael, he turns toward the King to bow deeply, then gives Michael a smaller bow, without taking his eyes off him. Michael returns it with a smirk.

“You look good in blue and leathers,” he says, low enough that only the two of them can hear.

“How are you alive, Michael?” Alex asks in the same tone.

“Not thanks to you,” Michael shrugs. “I've come for revenge. You had me hanged!”

Alex averts his eyes.

His father gave the order, when Michael was exposed as a thief and a fraud, and Alex wasn't strong enough to stop it.

That's why he joined the King's Musketeers. To become strong enough.

“Fight!” the King shouts.

Alex raises his sword.

I’ll be posting part 2 in the next few days, and then the new stuff Thursday or whenever I manage to finish it.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

sprung spring | take you home; adam page [m]

Prompt Used:

  “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” + comfort sex + drunk sloppy sex + “Oh my god you’re so much better than the last person I was with.” + A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond. + needy/clingy sex

Notes: 

Okay, so… I have literally… Never… used my given name in a work of fiction before and… ya girl found out it’s hard to write dirty things when the OC has your name. Pure self indulgent smut because fuckkit yolo, I needed this. Some of the dialogue prompted above was changed to reflect the situation these two were placed in, fyi. This is mature content, so nobody under 18+ up in these parts. Also, I owe a serious hug to @heelsamizayn​ & @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​ because no matter how many times I whined and bitched and got all squirmy whilst writing this, they really kept me going and I love them for that.

Warnings: 

alcohol tw ( it’s the OC this time), clingy unprotected sex, sawwwft!Adam, lots of teasing (and hopefully tension, I was  really trying to play at heightening that here) and yeahhh.. It’s tame. I promise ya’ll… I’m going to write actual harder / filthier prompts, I just… had a mighty need. Anyway, that’s all the warnings.

Pairing: 

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ashley

Ashley narrowed her eyes at the bottle before glancing up at Shane and shaking her head. “I-I’m good.”

“Aw, c’mon hon. It’s just a little drink.” Shane was stepping closer, right in her space all over again. He’d been plying her with drinks and trying to get her to dance or talk to him -or the most annoying request he’d made so far, “Smile, darlin. Ya look prettier when ya do.” and it was starting to rub him the wrong way, the way she kept resisting. She could almost feel it radiating off of him.

Ashley was at that state of drunk where it was more annoying than endearing and now that it seemed to be irritating him that she wouldn’t just give in, it only gave her all the more reason to resist. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t almost cringe inducingly clear what the asshole thought he was doing and she just wasn’t having it.

At all.

Not even slightly.

Rather than even partially entertain his offer for another drink or to go dance with him, Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes in sheer boredom, taking the drink and taking a sip as she scrolled through her contacts list.

As usual, she hovered over Adam’s number in her phone and that loneliness crept in all over again. More pronounced. More tinged with regret.

She found herself missing him so much that before she even realized it, she’d pulled up the text bubble from their last text conversation and she found herself grimacing at the date.

Had they really not spoken at all in nearly 3 weeks?

And then Ashley found herself going back over the last time they had spoken face to face. Before she realized the true depths of her feelings and Adam drunkenly tried to kiss her and in a blind panic, she’d backed away.

Not because she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, but because she’d been afraid of what might happen if he did kiss her.

And now, Ashley thought bitterly, hugging herself a little as the thought came, I’m lucky to get a Hi, how are you over text out of him..

With a sigh, she finished scanning their last brief text conversation and then, when Shane cleared his throat impatiently, she remembered that apparently, this guy expected her to pay all her attention to him and she put her phone down. Biting her lip, she settled warm brown eyes on the other man.

“I asked ya if you wanted to dance, darlin. They’re kinda playin our song.” Shane chuckled, holding out his hand. When she started to shake her head no, he gave her a sort of put off glare and muttered something to himself about tonight being a complete waste. All his buddies told him not to walk over and try talking to her; they all told him she was bound tighter than molasses from the knees down and every single night she’d come in this week so far, she’d managed to shoot down anyone who thought they might possibly stand a chance of takin her home. I clearly should’ve listened, Shane found himself thinking, because now I’m out fifty bucks and she looks more annoyed with me each second that passes and that real gorgeous chick I know I coulda won over left an hour ago with Greg.

“W-we don’t have a s-song?” Ashley’s brow quirked and she shook her head, holding up her glass. “I-i’m good, actually.” Ashley muttered as she took a long sip.

Moron, do you seriously think I want to dance to this song… with you? Because no. Ashley thought to herself as she glanced around the crowded bar, face falling when she remembered that Adam wasn’t in town right now, he was on the road. When Ashley realized what Shane had just muttered about the night being a total waste, she mildly shrugged. “I-i don’t r-recall askin y-you t-to come up n’ t-try pourin the booze to me, either. Play s-stupid games, w-win stupid p-prizes.”

As Shane grumbled “Fine, suit yourself, darlin. Don’t come lookin for me when it’s late and you can’t find a ride home.” and made his way onto his next target, Ashley let out a long and deep breath, blowing at dark bangs as they flopped right into her eyes, laughing off Shane’s words.

She went back to her phone, scrolling through her contacts.

“Maybe Shayna’s up.” Ashley mused to herself as she pulled up what she thought was a text conversation she’d been having with her friend earlier in the day while they were both stuck in their office working through lunch.

What she didn’t realize -and wouldn’t just yet, was that she hadn’t texted Shayna at all.

She’d texted Adam… The subject of the earlier conversation.

→ First of all, pretty sure I just completely eviscerated this one guy’s poor ego. *eye roll*. Guess whose NOT having the sex right now bc she gets mouthy when she drinks?

→ This bitch, that’s whomst. In my defense, he was the one who kept pouring the drinks to me. I just took ‘em. You know me, guy stood about as much a chance as… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I chased him off. Like usual when we’re out at this bar.

→ But seriously though.. Maybe it’s the alcohol and the fact that I’m lonely and I’m salty because I’m not getting cuddles rn like youuuuu but…

→ Okay, u were right earlier.

→ It’s late and I’m drunk, otherwise I’d never say that. Maybe a little lonely too. Enjoy your shallow victory and the sex you’re probably getting rn, lmao. ILY Shayna!

→ I know ur probably busy with Samuel - sexy times and all that but… You win. You’re right.

→ I love him and god… I miss him so much it’s making me an even bigger bitch lately, so.. Sorry for that I guess. I wish I’d just… Kissed him back. Climbed him like an actual tree, giant he is… Shoved him against the wall, tangled my fingers in that hair and tugged his mouth against mine. Maybe even rubbed myself against him a lil bit too, just to see if that yummy cologne he wears all the time rubs off. At least then I’d… Well, I sure as shit wouldn’t be sitting here, shooting down pushy douchebag assholes and drinking alone.

→ Anyway, have your moment. I love Adam Page. I always have and it scares the living hell out of me. You were right. Now there’s only one problem… How do I make the big idiot answer my calls?!?

→ don’t answer that rn. Tomorrow… When drunk Ashley isn’t out and doing dumb shit and can think clearly.

→ Okay, no… answer meeee… I just… I need to know what to do here? Pls. I beg of you. If you don’t answer me, I swear to God, I’m gonna wind up drunk dialing.. >.>

–

The cell phone was going batshit crazy on the bathroom counter and Adam mostly ignored it in favor of soaking under a long hot shower. It had been a long drive; made longer by the fact that he was all beaten and banged up from the past few shows but trying to soldier through as usual. Parts of him admittedly ignored the phone because he thought it was most likely one of three people and none of them he wanted to talk to right now.

No, Adam thought to himself, the one I wanna talk to more than anything I can’t talk to now… He sighed as he thought about the way he got too drunk; out of control. He’d tried to kiss her that night and just the sheer look of panic in big brown eyes right before she bolted the hell away in a hurry had been more than enough to make him realize where he stood.

He couldn’t face her after that either, so he’d been keeping a low profile. Trying to distance from… his actions.

Just thinking about it had him both cringing and feeling that raw surge of pain he felt that night all over again, fresh as ever.

She hadn’t texted him or tried calling either, so that only further confirmed his suspicions. And now, Adam thought to himself as the phone buzzed one last time and he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist after drying off his face, you lost your best friend. The one you could talk to about anything. You messed that up. Being a jerk that night and coming on way too strong.

He picked up his cell phone only halfway glancing at it at first. But when he actually read all the messages, he wound up dropping the phone on the bathroom tiles with a quiet thud. Then he stood there, trying to get his head around everything he’d just read, all the texts from Ashley to what she apparently thought was her best friend Shayna.

About him.

He took several deep breaths and then got himself at least partially together before even attempting to answer the barrage of texts.

← Where are you?

← Are you drunk right now?

At re-reading that her shooting down men when she went out with Shayna was apparently a common thing, Adam let out a few shakier breaths and bit his lip, raising a hand to his head and dragging thick digits through damp hair as he let it sink in.

Blue eyes scanned the next message after hitting send.

← Nevermind, screw it.

← I’ll be there in 10.

← And me and  you? We’re gonna have ourselves a serious talk.

After throwing back on the jeans and tee shirt he’d had on before showering, he grabbed his keys and headed out. He knew the bar she always went to because they’d hung out there on more than one occasion.

“Bastard who was pourin the drinks to her better hope he’s long gone when I get there.” Adam muttered as protective urges reared their head and he found himself more than a little worried. Ashley wasn’t a drinker by any stretch of the imagination. And given the rambling in the texts she thought she’d sent to Shayna just now, it was.. A safe guess that she was at least two thirds of the way to being too drunk to function.

And it had him more than a little concerned because he knew how the guys at this particular bar got when they saw a pretty girl sitting there, drinking alone. His grip tightened on the wheel as he sped towards the bar in question.

When he was in the parking lot, he tried to call her cell phone but it went straight to voicemail. Without wasting any time, Adam killed the engine to his truck and got out, hurrying into the bar, blue eyes darting around all over as he tried to pick her out in the crowd.

Maybe she hadn’t left yet. God, he could only hope.

–

“I-i’m gonna stop you right there. Just because I-i’m a lil tipsy right now..” Ashley stared up at the man who’d taken the seat next to her at the bar after Shane vacated in a hurry earlier. “Don’t mean I want any part of y-you.”

“Aw, c’mon darlin. Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be sittin here, drinkin all alone. C’mon.”

“I’d a-actually prefer it, if you w-want the honest G-god’s truth.” Ashley waved over the bartender, signalling for more bourbon in her glass. She fixed her eyes on the man and raised the glass to her lips. “Thanks f-for the drink though.”

Before the guy even got a chance to respond, a throat cleared loud; almost protectively, from behind the two. Ashley didn’t even have to turn around to know exactly who was standing behind her, but what she was having trouble grasping in her tipsy state, was what exactly Adam was doing here now.

“Just do yourself a favor and leave, buddy.” Adam stared down the man intently, arms folded over his chest, moving to step closer to Ashley’s stool, lightly pressing against her from behind.

“Adam? W-what the hell?” Ashley drawled, turning on her stool almost immediately, brown eyes locking on him with a questioning gaze. “I… y-you w-weren’t home.” she could feel herself starting to sober up just a little at his sudden appearance. She frowned a little, shook her head sadly.

Adam moved to step between her legs and he leaned in and down, brushing his lips against her own as he muttered quietly and firmly, “Kiss me.” catching her chin with his finger curled beneath it just when she went to look down. “My eyes and mouth are right here, darlin.” Adam coaxed, gazing at her mouth intently.

“K-kiss me, he s-says.” Ashley drawled, biting her lip, staring right back at his mouth just as intently as he stared at hers.

Her hand raised, resting across the back of his neck, fingers tangling in and tugging his hair free from the bun he’d thrown it into, threading through it once she had. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and her other hand curled in the front of his tee shirt, tugging his mouth down to her level a little better. Once she’d done that, her lips trailed lazily over his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips, making him give a quiet groan and his eyes flutter open and closed. By the time her tongue was slipping past his teeth, his tongue was fighting against it for complete control of the kiss and he’d leaned into her so much that her back was right up against the edge of the bar. His teeth scraped at her lower lip as the kiss deepened, both of them panting for their next breath and dizzy from it.

His hands slid beneath her ass and he scooped her up, not bothering to break the kiss just yet or untangle her from his body. Her legs squeezed his waist harder and she rubbed against him more than a little. Once they were out in the parking lot again, Adam stopped, sitting her on the railing around an outdoor sitting area, pulling her into another deep and almost bruising kiss.

“I-I was just… about to l-leave. Walk.”

Adam chuckled and shook his head no, nodding to his truck. “I’d feel much better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

Ashley eyed him, hints of a pout on her lips. “Y-you s-stopped e-even t-talkin to m-me.” she sighed and shook her head sadly, muttering under her breath, “I-it is m-my fault.” and Adam tilted her chin to make her meet his gaze when she looked down, shaking his head. “It’s not, darlin. Not at all.”

“I-I fucking r-ran. S-seriously?” Ashley whined, her legs squeezing at his waist as she wrapped them around him all over again, staring at his chest for a few seconds, blowing out an exasperated breath, because the more she thought about her choice to run the night he finally kissed her, the more it did truly exasperate her. Of all the times to panic… It had to be then. The worst possible one.

Adam chuckled and leaned down, muttering softly against her mouth, “If it makes you feel any better, darlin.. You made up for it. And it drove me crazy, not talkin to ya.”

“G-good.” Ashley giggled and poked out her tongue as she looked at him. “B-because it m-made m-me really cranky. H-holy s-shit, so cranky.” she giggled again, making Adam laugh and scoop her up into his arms, making his way towards the truck. “I know.”

“H-how?” Ashley’s brow raised as she stared up at him, resting her head against his shoulder. “I-I literally o-only told Shayna…”

“You texted the wrong person, actually.” Adam teased as he unlocked his truck, sitting her into the passenger seat. Ashley’s mouth opened and closed and she palmed her face, groaning in sheer embarrassment while laughing softly.

Adam got into the truck, starting the engine and Ashley was raising the console, curling into his side as soon as she’d moved to the middle to sit, tucking her legs on the seat beside her. Adam chuckled, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “You’re awfully cuddly tonight, know that?”

“Mhm.” Ashley purred, her lips brushing against his neck, making him grip the wheel just a little tighter. By now, the embarrassment over what she’d done was melting away and her internal filter -the little she actually possessed to begin with, was at an all time low thanks to having drinks poured into her all night by random and far lesser appealing men. “Is that a b-bad thing?”

Adam bit back a groan and barely resisted bucking his hips as he felt her lips clumsily moving along the side of his neck as she nuzzled into him and chuckling quietly, he gave an answer. “Not at all, darlin. Except for the fact that you’re getting me all sorts of stirred up right now.” he muttered, the truck coasting to a stop beneath the red light a block away from his place. When he did, he turned to look at her, wasting no time in pulling her mouth up to his as his hand went from squeezing her thigh to slipping between them, rubbing her through her jeans as he swore quietly because he could feel how warm she was and it only made him think about how wet she might actually be.

“Maybe t-that’s what I’m trying to do.” came pouring out before she could stop herself from saying it. Not that she would have either way, but she was at least trying to show a little restraint, still partially shocked that he was there and that she’d somehow managed to confess everything to him under the guise of texting Shayna.

Maybe it was a good thing that happened, Ashley thought to herself as she slipped her hand down, trailing it along the inside of his thigh, then up… Sucking in a sharp breath when her hand settled palm down against the bulge already straining and growing, pushing against his jeans. Adam’s hips snapped and he locked eyes with her, biting his lip, the hand between her thighs starting to move a little harder and a lot faster. Ashley rocked her hips against his hand and sucked in a sharp breath as Adam leaned in, teeth tugging at her earlobe and catching as he muttered against it in a whisper, “If that’s so, darlin.. You’re in for it. Just wait.”

“What if I don’t w-wanna wait, hm?” Ashley muttered as her lips brushed against his neck again and Adam’s breath caught in his throat before making the remark aloud, “Got a lot to make up for, me and you.”

“Mhm.” Ashley could feel herself getting wetter and wetter with every single word he said. She knew he had to feel her thighs clenching tighter with each word he said because his hand was currently buried between them, palm down against her dripping and throbbing heat, rubbing through her jeans and by now she’d trapped his hand where it was. A shiver passed through her body as she continued to rock her hips against his hand, a quiet whimper of frustration coming when all that lead to was him, slowing down way too much for her liking at the moment. She pouted up at him and bit her lip as he leaned in, closer and closer, pulling her face towards his.

“Could take all night.” Adam was turning his head slightly, tugging her neck closer as he ghosted his lips along it, the pressure of his hand reaching an almost feverish frenzy as he growled against soft skin, “Maybe even tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Ashley’s eyes fluttered open and shut and she bit her lip, her hips rocking faster to meet his hand and the way it cupped and rubbed at her heat. Just enough to make a little friction, not by any means enough to give the amount of friction she actually craved.

He was teasing her.

Just the thought had her pouting in sheer frustration as she locked eyes with him. “Tease.”

“Ain’t exactly teasing if I know exactly what I’m gonna do to you when I get you home.” Adam pointed out, giving her a smirk. Ashley swallowed hard, breath catching in her throat at his words. Her mouth opened and closed and it had Adam chuckling quietly because this was one of very few times he’d truly seen her with a complete lack of something clever to say in response.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin?” he practically purred the words as his hand started to massage all over again and almost instantly, she started to rock against it more urgently.

“Adam… Fuck.” she gasped quietly, eyes fluttering open and closed as she started to palm at the way he was strained against his jeans.

The light went green and the careful and almost teasing movement of her hand in his lap felt so good that for about half a second, Adam didn’t realize it had.

“Light’s green, Adam.” Ashley’s voice was teasing, she gave a soft giggle as Adam took a few shaky breaths, nodding as he hurried from beneath the green light, turning down the next street. His house was in view, only a few seconds away and yet… It felt like a million miles away.

Almost the second he was parked at the curb in front of it, he was reaching out, pulling her over the console and into his lap, his hands and mouth all over her, mouth latching onto her neck and leaving a string of hickies down the side as he bucked himself into her from below and his hands disappeared up her shirt, slipping beneath her bra before finally getting frustrated at how in the way it was and unfastening it, gripping her breasts in his hands, palming and squeezing at them as he growled against her mouth when his mouth finally rose to meet and conquer her lips again.

He leaned into her so heavily that her back met the steering wheel and the horn in the center, making them both laugh only to have the sounds of their laughter swallowed by a deep and frenzied, needy kiss. The kiss broke and Ashley backed away slightly, biting her lip, wiggling around in his lap, bucking herself right against the prominent bulge strained and about to burst through his jeans. “I think that’s our sign to go inside, Adam.” she muttered the words as she felt her face burning hot and she bit her lip, squirming around in his lap just a little more, harder, desperate to keep the friction going. Adam nodded, killing the engine and getting out of the truck, carrying her up the steps, stopping to unlock his front door, with her body pinned between his body and the door as he did so. Twice he had to grip harder just because she started to trail her lips down his neck and chuckling quietly into the kiss he stole, he gave a triumphant and joking ‘Yee haw’ when he got the door unlocked at last. Ashley gave a soft whimper as he stepped through the door, shutting it behind him and locking it. He sat her down on a sturdy console table that ran the length of the back of his sofa and stepped away to pull off his boots and Ashley took a few deep breaths, tried to pull herself together.

This was really happening.

Finally.

Adam met her gaze as he straightened to stand again and he stepped between her legs, devouring her mouth hungrily, his hands cupping her cheeks and caressing. “You’re sure, right? Because once we cross the line, darlin…”

Ashley gripped his jaw, guiding her mouth back down against his greedily as she whispered needily into the kiss, “Fuck me, Adam. I don’t wanna remember anyone else but you.”

Adam’s teeth clenched her lower lip; tugging. She was clinging to him and it was driving him crazy because there was… Still too much clothing in between them, keeping them apart. He scooped her up off the console table he’d sat her on to take off his boots and started to carry her down the hall, stopping halfway to put her back against the wall, tearing her shirt up over her head, tossing it onto the floor. Ashley tugged impatiently at his tee shirt, finally getting it up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor a few feet away from where her own shirt lie. Adam did away with the pesky bra next, letting it hit the floor softly, an almost primal growl bursting from his lips as he dipped his head low, dancing his mouth over the tops of her breasts, leaving behind beard burn and littering soft skin with bites with each time his mouth connected with her bare skin.

Ashley writhed around in his grasp, rocking herself into him, gripping his hips tighter with her legs, whimpering aloud, her head falling back and softly hitting the wall as her eyes fluttered open and shut. Her hand gripped his shoulder, fingertips digging into and dancing over his skin, sending a shiver through his body and making him groan as he glanced up at her, biting his lip. Ashley stared right back, both of them struggling to catch their breath but too caught up in the moment to bother putting a halt to the deep and biting and almost bruising kisses. She took his face in her hands, pulling his mouth deep against her own, her tongue trailing over the outline of his lips before parting them, her body rubbing against him even more frantically. Her hand raised to tangle in his hair and in the process, a photo clattered to the hallway floor noisily.

“Let’s take you to bed, hmm?” Adam’s breath against her skin as he mumbled the words into her neck quietly had Ashley whimpering and rocking against him even more frantically. Adam growled quietly as he bucked himself right back against her, starting the walk down the hall to his bedroom all over again. He kicked it open, a quiet creak of the frame echoing through the stillness as he stepped inside and shut it behind him, tossing her against the mattress as he stared down at her hungrily. Ashley went to raise up, reaching for the waistband of his jeans but Adam pushed her back against the mattress all over again, making her pout and give a frustrated whimper as he chuckled softly and leaned down, hands going down her bare skin, sending goosebumps to it’s surface as he lowered his mouth down, ghosting it slowly over her abdomen before raising to whisper next to her ear, “Uh uh darlin. Let me take care of you.” in a husky and firmer tone.

He started to lazily trail his mouth over bare skin all over again, the blunt of his teeth tugging at her nipples as his tongue circled them and he caught her eye, winking at her, his hands drifting down between them, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, lingering to rub and squeeze her cunt before hooking in her waistband to tug her jeans and panties down all at once. Ashley tried to rock her hips upward, desperate to feel any kind of friction, frustrated beyond belief by all Adam’s teasing, but almost the instant she dared it, Adam was on his knees, kneeling in front of her, parting her legs with his hands and ghosting his mouth up the inside of her thigh slowly, occasionally placing a soft bite against her skin.

When her fingers tangled in his hair, he grunted against her skin, grazing his teeth against it, his tongue slowly making a lazy broad swipe upward. Ashley whimpered when she tried yet again to rock her hips against the way Adam had her pinned, just hoping to at least make an attempt to steer him where she needed him most, but he chuckled quietly, the shake of his head that he gave making soft hair brush against her skin and sending a shiver through her body. “I’m holdin you still for a reason, darlin. Now c’mon, be a good girl. Be still and let me take care of you.”

“Adam, please.” Ashley begged, trying again to rock her hips upward, only to pout when she realized just how determined Adam was to hold her in place and tease her relentlessly.

“Be patient, darlin. We got all night.” Adam’s tongue was trailing lazily over her folds as he said it, the taste of her on his tongue making him half growl his words as they left his mouth. He smirked a little to himself when he felt her not only try to rock her hips upward to meet his mouth but her hand curling in the comforter on top of his bed and in his hair, tugging as she whimpered and whined, her cries of frustrated pleasure echoing off the walls of his bedroom and shattering the silence around them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his tongue make a long stripe over one side of her cunt. And then, straight across the middle, finally, another long stripe across the opposite side to which he lazily chuckled “A.” as he met her gaze with a teasing smirk. Ashley rose up slightly, staring down at him, biting her lip as a series of needy whimpers and loud whines left her mouth and her toes dug into the comforter. One long and broad stripe and then another curved stripe had her shivering and arching her back, fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged gently, “Fuck.”

“D.” Adam was at it again with the smirk, lowering his head almost a split second later to get back to what he was doing. His tongue trailed a familiar pattern over her folds and he muttered quietly against her cunt, “A”. and Ashley shivered even more because it hit her what he was doing, spelling out his name. “Adam, please… Need you, baby, please.” she begged almost frantically, desperate to ease some of the ache rapidly building because of all his teasing. Despite the urgent begging, Adam’s tongue rolled lazily, the one slanted stripe required to form one side of the M and then the two stripes required to form the middle of the M and finally, the last stripe. “M.” he groaned as his nose bumped right against her pelvic mound and he buried his tongue as deep in her pussy as he could, tilting her hips upward, pulling her closer to his mouth as he savored the taste of her as it started to fill his mouth. He could feel her body starting to tense up and another smirk came, pressing against her soaked warmth as he started to slow way down on the movements of his tongue. When he felt her fingers tugging at his hair again and noticed that she was digging her toes into the bed too, the smirk on his face grew.

Yeah, he was teasing. Taking his time with her, making this last. He’d waited so long already, now that it was happening, he was just… Really savoring the moment.

“Adam, please!” Ashley choked out, back arching away from the mattress slightly, eyes fluttering open and shut as she tried to keep frustrated tears at bay. When she felt him leaving a string of bite marks on the inside of her thighs, she whimpered and tried to rock her hips against his grip at them to no avail.

“Not yet, darlin. Just a little longer, I swear.” Adam breathed against her cunt as his tongue rolled lazily over the folds before slowly slipping in all over again, starting over with his little teasing torture. Ashley’s grip tightened in his hair and he paused, glancing up at her with lust blown eyes. “Pull as hard as you want while my head is buried between your thighs, darlin. C’mon. I like it.” his tone was firm, almost demanding.

And it only served to make her even wetter, she could feel the wetness coating her thighs, dripping. Adam growled quietly, tongue moving a little faster, flicking over her clit, lingering and trailing a lazy circle, grazing his teeth against the circular bundle of nerves as he chuckled against her, “What’s wrong, darlin?”

“You know what you’re…” Ashley writhed beneath the grip Adam had on her lower body, keeping her legs spread wide for him as his tongue slowly dove into and out of her soaked heat, “doing. Tease.”

“Oh, I’m not teasin at all, darlin.” Adam chucked again quietly, “Just said you better not dare cum yet.”

“Adam, it’s all I want to do! Fucking… ahh, hurts. I’m aching, baby, c’mon… Please?”

Adam continued to lick, adding two fingers and Ashley hissed sharp, her breath catching in her throat, her entire body tensing as she tried to do as she was told and resist the urge to cum. The more teasing she endured at his fingers and mouth, the harder that became.

He could feel her body tense up so tight, the way she was propped on her elbows to watch him had her arms shaking. He definitely felt her toes digging into the comforter by now too. Giving a soft nip to the inside of her right thigh as he stopped for a second or two, he muttered quietly, “Okay darlin. Now.” before raising her hips just a little, burying his tongue back deep inside her, rocking her hips against his face faster, his tongue swirling inside her cunt in a frenzy as he felt her shaking all over, heard her gasping for her next breath as she moaned out loud over and over, her cries of pleasure and his name filling the air and driving him over the edge, making him lick and suck harder, faster. He loosened his grip on her hips and she rocked them against his face almost shamelessly, he muttered quietly against her skin, “C’mon, darlin. Don’t stop.” breathing heavily.

Ashley’s hips started to slow and Adam lowered her legs, crawling up her body after dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes locked on her intently as he leaned down, pulling her into a deep kiss, breaking the kiss quickly to raise up, his hand lowering and wrapping around his thick length just to trace the tip right over and slightly between her folds, shivering himself in anticipation, growling quietly. His hips pinned her hips against the bed and she dug her nails into broad shoulders as he sank into her slowly, carefully, stopping to kiss her cheeks and mutter against her mouth, “You okay, darlin?”

“Yeah.” Ashley answered, trying to rock her hips against him once she was adjusted to the way he stretched her out and filled her up. Her nails trailed lightly across his shoulders, digging in slightly when he sank into her even deeper, his hips smacking against her hips softly and slowly, placing kisses all over her mouth and face, trailing them down her throat as he muttered lazily, “So sweet I could eat you up.” as he met her gaze and slowly licked his lips. Ashley wrapped her legs around his hips and the new angle had him groaning, his hips sporadically crashing against her own for a few seconds as she took his cock as deep inside her as he could go, buried to the hilt. Her hands moved over his face, raising, dragging through his hair after pulling his mouth against her own for a deep and slow and greedy kiss. The kiss broke and he gave a lazy peck at the corner of her mouth, driving deeper and slower into her as he did and muttering softly, “Gonna get way too used to this, I think.”

“I already am.” Ashley breathed out against his skin, making him shiver. He’d always had a weakness when it came to gentle touches against his neck. The fact that she seemed to be enjoying brushing her mouth against the spot, or gently nipping at it with her teeth only had him giving a quiet growl and slamming himself into her slower and with much longer strokes. When she tried to speed him up, he chuckled and his hands lowered, gripping her hips, holding them so that he controlled the pace as he muttered against the shell of her ear, “What’s your hurry, darlin? We’ve got all night.”

Bleak sunshine was starting to peek through the curtains by now and Ashley giggled softly against his neck as she clung to him and he continued to attempt slowly and deeply fucking her into the mattresses on his bed, “It’s morning, actually.” as her forehead softly bumped against his collarbone and he chuckled as soon as the realization hit him too. “Well then, smarty pants, we have the rest of the day. Either way,” Adam’s mouth trailed lazily over her skin, leaving an erratic trail of marks in it’s wake, “we’ve got nothin but time.”

“You make a good point.” Ashley’s breath caught in her throat as his cock bottomed out, brushing against a spot that felt almost magical with each time he did so. She clung to his body, her moans and whimpers only drowned out by his answering groans and the occasional growl.

“I’m so.. Fuck, I’m so close. Please?” her begging had him giving a soft and quiet laugh, capturing her mouth in a deep and breathtaking kiss as he muttered into it, “Me too, darlin.. C’mon, let go for me.”

He sped up his thrusts, almost frantically chasing his oncoming orgasm as she dug her legs into his sides and her nails into his shoulders, raking them down his back as he growled against her skin, feeling her clench tight around him, feeling her body start to spasm, feeling her biting at his skin gently as he fucked her through her orgasm and straight into his own. He tried to stop but every time he tried, she’d grab hold of his hips and rock against him, begging for more until finally, he was throbbing, emptying inside deep, filling her up as he pressed into her heavily, covering her face in kisses before lazily kissing her mouth and having her deepen it as she breathed against his lips, “ That was amazing.”

“Better than the last guy, right?” Adam was only half teasing, but her answer really went a long way to fully reassure him when as he sank back against the mattress, pulling her on top of him and wrapping his arms around her while staring up, she smiled and gave a soft giggle, nodding as she leaned down and mumbled into his mouth, “You were so much better than the last guy. Ten million times better, baby.” before deepening the kiss he gave…

[writetobuildtheworld]

BLACK

Power, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil, anonymity, unhappiness, depth, style, sadness, remorse, anger, underground, grief, and death.

"hello, for the prompt game, could you do Adrien from ml with the color black? i think it would be interesting to see our sunshine boy be angsty."

Hello friends, and welcome to pt.2 of my akumatized!Adrien fanfic. I hope you enjoy!

Read pt. 1 here. (Or don’t, but you might be kind of confused going into this.)

I apologize in advance if the line break doesn’t work. Tumblr is being shitty again, but what else is is new?

xXx

The end of pt.1:

Marinette awoke to a soft knock on the skylight in her bedroom. “What on Earth?” she muttered groggily. She pulled herself out of bed and opened the skylight, jumping as Chat Noir climbed down into her bedroom.

“Hi, Marinette,” he said, sitting cross-legged on her floor. “There’s something that you and I need to talk about.”

Marinette yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“No. It’s too important.”

Marinette stared at the superhero, and noticed an unfamiliar dark gleam in his eyes.

Chat Noir offered her a smile, but it wasn’t his usual goofy grin. It was cold, calculating.

This person... This was someone else entirely.

xXx

"Uh," Marinette stammered. "Sure. Okay." Internally, she was in complete panic mode. She didn't know why her partner was acting the way he was, and part of her was afraid to find out. She sat down on the edge of her bed, scooting towards the end away from Chat Noir. She doubted she was successfully hiding her discomfort. "So... What's going on?”

Chat Noir sighed, resting his chin on his hand and staring up at her from his seat on the floor. His eyes weren't their usual vibrant green - they seemed darker, somehow, yet also faded. Emptiness was not a look she liked on him. "Princess, has someone close to you ever kept a secret?"

Marinette wasn't sure whether it was worth lying to him. The knot of fear coiled in her stomach suggested it wasn't. "I mean. Probably. People keep secrets all the time."

"Not like that." He sat up straight, and Marinette noticed him clench his fists. "I mean a secret that never should have existed in the first place."

"I - No?" She laughed, and her voice jumped up an octave. Ugh. It couldn't have been more apparent she was freaking out, could it? "I don't think anyone has ever kept something like that from me. At least I hope they haven't."

"Huh. Well, you're lucky."

Marinette bit her lip, glancing sideways at Tikki, who was hiding in a crevice between a bookshelf and a portrait on the wall. "I guess so." She clapped her hands together, standing up. "If that's all you needed, you really should get going. I need to get back to sleep because my parents are expecting me to wake up early to help out in the bakery tomorrow - we've got these big orders from Mayor Bourgeois, you see - and I really think it'd be best if you -"

Before Marinette could blink, Chat Noir had jumped to his feet and grabbed her, pulling her close to him as he placed a finger on her lips. "Shh," he murmured. "You talk too much when you're nervous... M'lady."

Marinette's heart was racing, beating out of her chest. Her voice was caught on a dozen blades in her throat, ice seemed to flow through her veins instead of blood, her lungs were lead and she couldn't breathe -

He knew.

He knew she was Ladybug.

Marinette's legs became Jello and she would have collapsed if Chat Noir hadn't still been holding her close to him.

Shit. She was going to pass out.

"Marinette? Are you okay?"

She looked up at Chat Noir, and for a moment, her partner was back. The person she cared for to a fault and was incomplete without. Vibrant green eyes stared down at her with deep concern, and his grip loosened on her waist. Whoever had been there before, whoever it was that had climbed through the skylight into her room - he was gone.

Marinette reached up and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her embrace, closing his eyes. For a moment, he seemed to melt into her warmth.

But it couldn't last.

Her partner reopened his eyes, and the stranger was back.

Marinette shoved him away. "Sorry!" she managed to say. "I need to - uh, well, I gotta..." She trailed off. Of course her ability to generate excuses would fail her now, when she desperately needed time to recalibrate and think.

"Is something wrong?" Chat Noir asked, taking a step towards her. "You know you can trust me, Marinette."

"No, no, everything's fine! It's just, I need to - er, my period started!" she blurted out.

Chat Noir froze, and - oh my God. Was he blushing? That would have been hysterical if she wasn't so terrified. "Oh," he stammered. "Well, ah, you should probably go take care of that."

The period excuse. It never failed with men.

"Sorry," she apologized, already halfway down the ladder out of her room. "I'll be back in a hot second, I swear." She closed the trapdoor behind her, jumped the rest of the way to the floor, and practically flew down the hall to the bathroom. Tikki was waiting for her there.

"Not your classiest excuse, Marinette," Tikki teased.

Marinette rolled her eyes and locked the door behind her. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides - it's a solid backup plan." She really didn't understand why men turned into a quivering mess around the word "period," but she certainly didn't mind using it to her advantage.

"Speaking of a backup plan... What are you going to do about Chat Noir?"

Marinette sighed, hugging herself tightly as she leaned against the door. She was still shaking. "I don't know, Tikki." She glanced at her kwami. "Do you have any idea what is going on with him?"

Tikki shrugged. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's been akumatized." She glanced at her chosen. "Do you think...?"

The question was left unspoken.

Marinette sighed. "Yeah. That's what I'm worried about." She ran her hands through hair. "Tikki, he knows I'm Ladybug! This is bad, this is so, so bad!"

Tikki flew over to her. "You don't know that for sure, Marinette. Let yourself breathe."

Marinette glared at the kwami, her fear turning into frustration. "He called me 'M'lady.' He only calls Ladybug that. I don't know how he figured it out, but he did. He knows."

Tikki sighed. "If you're right, if Chat Noir is akumatized and he does know you are Ladybug, then the odds that Hawk Moth knows your identity, too, are much higher."

Marinette groaned. "I would say this couldn't get any worse, but I'm sure it can, and I don’t want to jinx myself." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A small, frightened girl was staring back at her. "Tikki... I don't know what to do."

The kwami flew next to her, landing on Marinette's shoulder. "And that's okay, Marinette."

Marinette almost laughed. "Aren't you supposed to tell me that I'll figure something out?"

Tikki shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think that's what you need to hear right now." She flew up next to Marinette's face, nuzzling her cheek. "Do I believe you'll come up with a plan? Of course I do. You're my chosen, and therefore the most clever person in the world. But it's okay to not know what to do, Marinette. No one is perfect. We're in a sticky situation right now and I'd probably think you were crazy if you told me you already had a foolproof plan."

Marinette closed her eyes and allowed tears to fall down her cheeks. "It's the middle of the night. One of my best friends has probably been akumatized and also knows my secret identity as Ladybug, not to mention he basically broke into my house. I'm having an emotional breakdown, and I am currently being comforted by a small, magical creature who gives me magic powers when I say the right words." She started to laugh. Or maybe cry. She wasn't sure. "Can my life get any weirder than this?"

Tikki didn't answer. Marinette hadn't expected her to.

She let silence fall. For a few minutes, that was what she needed. Quiet.

But she knew she had to start brainstorming. It was time to switch into Ladybug mode - develop a plan and use what she had around her to get it done.

"Okay," Marinette began. "Chat Noir is akumatized. We need to get ahold of the akumatized object, only we don't know what that is."

"It's probably his ring," Tikki pointed out. "If I were Hawk Moth, that's what I would target."

"That makes sense. Unfortunately, if it his ring, that means I can't destroy it to get the akuma, since only a Cataclysm can destroy a miraculous. Which means we need to get the ring off of him and take it to Master Fu."

"Taking the ring off will cause him to detransform, you know. Then you'll learn his identity, too."

Marinette sighed. She'd realized that. "Yeah. But there's not really any other option, is there?"

Tikki nodded. "I understand. Assuming the ring is the akumatized object, then at least he'll also de-akumatize. But until you can get the akuma out, we can't let him put it back on."

Marinette cracked her neck. "Alright. I think I've got a plan. It's pretty simple, but I'm going to need your help to make it work."

Tikki beamed at her. "Anything for you, Marinette!"

xXx

Marinette returned to her room, hitting her head on the trapdoor as she opened it in a way only she could. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I was starting to have bad cramps, so I took some medicine."

If it weren't for the anxiety gnawing at her stomach, Marinette would have laughed at Chat Noir's expression of discomfort. God, she hoped her plan would work.

"It's fine," he muttered. "I, uh, hope you feel better soon."

Marinette laughed and sat on her bed, pretending she wasn't trying to guess his every move. "The midol should kick in after a while. But I appreciate your concern." She crossed her legs. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? You mentioned something about a secret."

Chat Noir shrugged. "Yeah. I recently learned a few people I know were keeping some things from me. And these were people I really thought I could trust." He shifted away from the bookshelf he'd been leaning against and moved next to her on the bed.

Marinette had to resist every instinct in her body telling her to move away. She needed his full attention to be on her in order for her plan to work. "That sucks," she said gently, trying to sound comforting. "Is that what you wanted to talk about, then?"

Chat Noir stared at her, and Marinette had never felt more vulnerable. His gaze seemed to pierce her body and see straight into her heart. "No," he finally said. His eyes shifted up to her ears. "Cute earrings."

Marinette touched her ear out of reflex. "Thank you. They were a gift. From a good friend of mine."

Chat Noir nodded. "Do you mind if I get a closer look?"

Marinette shrugged, chuckling. She had to keep him distracted for a few minutes longer. "That's kind of a weird request, you know."

He smirked. "Well, I guess I've never been close enough to you to notice them before."

Marinette turned bright red at that comment. "Oh. Well."

He reached to touch them, but Marinette pulled away, scrambling off her bed and moving to the other side of her room. All she had to do was keep his eyes on her - and away from the bookshelf.

"Sorry," she said. "I just... Like my personal space, you know?" Tikki needed to hurry. Marinette didn't know how much longer she could keep him preoccupied.

Chat Noir stared at her. Finally, he stood up. Marinette became very aware of just how much taller he was than her. "Let me see your earrings."

Marinette managed to hold her ground. "No."

"Marinette."

"No!" She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. "C'mon, kitty. You're normally pretty good about knowing when a girl needs her space."

Chat Noir smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was only icy malice behind it. "I need your earrings.” He took a step towards her. “Ladybug."

"Ladybug?" Marinette sputtered, doing her best to act shocked. "I really don't know why you’re acting so weird tonight, but -"

"Don't bullshit me, Marinette!" he growled, his hands curling into fists.

"Any minute now, Tikki," Marinette muttered under her breath.

"It's the only way, M'lady," Chat Noir insisted, slowly moving towards her. "The ladybug and cat miraculouses, when combined, can grant any wish the user desires."

"Except it's not that simple!" Marinette protested. "You should know that! Every wish comes with a price. It's - It's equivalent exchange."

"I should have known you wouldn't understand," he sneered. "You have everything."

Before Marinette could process what he said, Chat Noir moved directly in front of her. He placed two fingers on her forehead, and energy suddenly began to seep from her body. Marinette glanced down at her arms, biting back a scream as she watched the color slowly fade from her body. Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed had Chat Noir not caught her and helped her to her bed.

"I don't want to hurt you," he insisted. "I really don't. Not you." He sighed, muttering a curse under his breath. "I just need your earrings!" He reached for her ears.

"No," Marinette gasped. Her body was stiff, but she managed to push him away. "I won't... I won't let you do this."

A familiar purple outline of a butterfly formed around Chat Noir's face, and Marinette bit back a swear. She'd been right - he was akumatized. Sure, she'd expected that from the moment he'd entered her room, but never before had she wished so much to be wrong.

It was too late, now.

"What do you mean that should have incapacitated her?" Chat Noir demanded. Marinette knew he wasn't speaking to her. Her partner paused. "Detransform?" He sighed. "Fine." He glanced at Marinette. "Whatever it takes to bring my mother back." He held his hand up. "Plagg, claws out!"

If Marinette's body hadn't felt like it had been drained of all life, she might have gasped upon realizing who her partner was. Instead, all she managed was a weak, "A-Adrien?"

Her... friend gave her an eerie smile. His eyes were covered by a blood red ribbon and his skin was nothing short of a deathlike gray, but she could tell who he was. His arms were bare, but his veins glowed a deep red, twisting and turning up his body. On his chest, around where his heart should have been, was a red, felt, stitch-on heart, halfway peeled off. The quaintness of that didn't match the deadly black smoke curling around his fingers.

"My name is Cœur Noir," he began. "Not Adrien." He clenched his fist. "Adrien has been locked away, and he can't - he won't return until his mother returns with him."

Marinette didn't know what he was talking about, but even if she'd wanted to ask her lips refused to move.

"Sorry about this, Marinette," Adrien said as he stood over her. "I really do like you, you know. As Ladybug and as yourself. You stole my heart from day one." He shook his head. "I don't think you know how much I wish there was some other way I could do this." He stared down at her, and though Marinette couldn't see his eyes through the ribbon, she could feel an intense sadness permeating her room. "But I can't afford that anyone gets in my way." He reached towards her, the black smoke dancing around his fingers as tantalizing as it was repulsing.

Why did guys always confess to her when they were akumatized?! It really wasn't fair. "I appreciate the sentiment," Marinette mumbled. "But I'm the one who needs to apologize to you."

Adrien frowned, pausing with his fingers an inch away from her forehead. "What are you -"

"Tikki, now!"

A textbook was shoved off the bookshelf and crashed onto Adrien's head with a loud thunk, knocking him out cold. He crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.

"Don't mess with my chosen!" Tikki said triumphantly before flying over to Marinette. "I already know what you're thinking - 'is he dead'?"

Her kwami wasn't wrong.

"He's not. He’ll be fine. I think that will keep him knocked out for maybe an hour. But he probably has a mild concussion."

Marinette winced. She did feel bad about that.

Tikki's eyes narrowed, then widened as she took in Marinette's full appearance. "Marinette... Did he touch you?"

Marinette managed a shrug, even though it felt like there was a one hundred pound weight on her shoulders. "Kind of. But I got the impression the effect of the akuma was muted because he was transformed into Chat Noir at the time." She glanced down at Adrien. There was a small cut on the back of his head.

She pulled herself off the bed, allowing herself to fall to her knees next to her friend's limp body. Carefully, she reached out and removed the silver ring from his finger. She shoved it into her pocket and then watched as the effects of the akuma disappeared from his body.

God, it really was Adrien.

Marinette wiped stubborn tears from her eyes. This was no time to cry.

Part of her had been praying that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Adrien. That maybe she'd been mistaken. But she'd recognize him anywhere.

Almost anywhere.

"I can't believe Adrien was Chat Noir the entire time," Marinette murmured. "How did I never see it before?"

"I know this is a lot for you to take in right now," Tikki said gently, flying down next to her, "but we need to get to Master Fu."

"Oh, thank God."

Marinette turned to see a small black cat floating behind her.

"Plagg, you're going to need to fill us in on everything the moment we get to Master Fu's," Tikki instructed. "Okay?"

Plagg winked at her. "Got it, sugarcube."

Tikki rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Marinette."

Marinette hardly registered her kwami's remark. She stretched out and grabbed a small mirror off her dresser, then nearly dropped it when she saw her reflection.

No longer was a small, frightened girl staring back at her.

This girl... This girl was a hollow shell of a person.

Her eyes were no longer blue but instead gray and void of all life, and they were accentuated by bags so dark they were nearly purple. Her hair was duller than it had ever been. The pallor of her skin was ghastly in more ways than one. "I look..."

"Dead?" Plagg finished. "Yeah. That's essentially what Cœur Noir's power is. You're lucky you weren't touched for more then a few seconds, or when he was at his full strength."

"We should get to Master Fu's," Tikki said. "He'll know what to do."

Marinette nodded and placed the mirror back on the dresser, unable to stomach her appearance any longer. "Right." She forced herself to stand up, and fortunately the movement did restore some energy to her limbs. "I don't think Marinette is up for this journey. I just hope Ladybug is. Tikki, spots on!"

She could only pray they'd make it to Master Fu's before it was too late.

xXx

Chat Noir's ring was stored away in a sealed miraculous box before Plagg recounted his tale. Adrien was also tucked into a sleeping bag, with a bandage wrapped around his head where the textbook had left a cut.

"He's going to be fine," Fu had assured Marinette. "As long as he doesn't put that ring on, Adrien will remain himself, and Hawk Moth will not be able to communicate with or even locate him."

Marinette had offered Fu a sad smile. Sadness and hurt seemed to be the only emotions she was capable of feeling at the time. "That doesn't stop me from worrying."

Fu had chuckled. "Well, I would hope not."

Plagg then explained everything, from Adrien convincing him to spy on his father to the discovery of his mother's body underground.

"Oh my God," was all Marinette could say. "No wonder he got akumatized." She'd never wanted to hurt someone more in her life - Gabriel Agreste was a horrible person. Words couldn't possibly describe it. How had she ever worshipped him as a designer?!

Marinette couldn't imagine the sense of betrayal Adrien had to be going through. When he'd been ranting about secrets, she'd assumed he was referring to her keeping her identity as Ladybug to herself. In reality, he'd been talking about finding out his mother was alive after so long.

Not alive. But protected.

And worse, his father had been the one hiding it from him.

Marinette became nauseous trying to comprehend it all.

"Master Fu, is there any way we can fix this?" Tikki begged. "We don't know how to destroy the miraculous to force the akuma out without a Cataclysm."

Fu sighed. "There are only two feasible options, I'm afraid."

"That's better than no options," Marinette replied. "You know we're willing to try anything."

"The first is for Plagg to cataclysm the ring himself," Fu began. "That would effectively destroy the miraculous, but I fear the damage done to it would not be completely reversible by Ladybug's power."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Tikki. That option seemed fitting for a last resort. "What's the other way?"

"The other way is that we wait for Adrien to wake up, then have him put on the ring and force the akuma out."

Plagg winced. "Master, I don't know if that's possible, even for my chosen. Hawk Moth's will is crazy hard to break once someone is hooked. Not to mention that in this stage of grief, Adrien really will do anything in his power to bring his mother back."

"Well, he won't be alone." Fu turned to Marinette. "You will be with him."

Marinette blinked. "Me?"

He nodded. "Yes. You, Marinette, are the only one who can help Adrien fight off Hawk Moth. Ladybug and Chat Noir complete each other. He needs you."

Marinette looked down at her friend, who appeared so peaceful she could almost pretend he was sleeping instead of being unconscious.

Her friend. Her partner.

Maybe something more, like she'd always dreamed.

But that was only possible if he was deakumatized.

"Okay." She turned back to Fu, determination glimmering in her still-gray eyes. "I'll do it. I'll convince him."

"Are you certain, Marinette? While I have full confidence in you, you also must trust yourself. And I have to warn you that the effects of the akuma also will not disappear from your body until you cast your Miraculous Ladybug."

Marinette laughed, though there was no humor in it. "It's the only way. Besides." She glanced back at Adrien. "I have to help him. Whatever it takes."

Tikki smiled. "And that is why you, Marinette, are the perfect Ladybug."

Not perfect enough to stop her best friend and loyal partner from getting akumatized, she wanted to say. But she didn't. "Thank you, Tikki. That means a lot coming from you."

Fu sighed, adjusting the turtle miraculous on his wrist. "Now we must wait."

Waiting.

Sometimes, Marinette felt like that was all she could do.

Wait. Completely helpless against the flow of time.

But if it meant pulling Adrien out of the hell he'd been trapped in... Well, she'd wait as long as needed.

She'd do anything to save him.

xXx

people who were interested in a pt.2: @shayshaysspace, @sassy-bagel-to-go, @a-mahou-shoujo, @rena-rain, @ouatpancakes

(I apologize if you didn’t want to be tagged!)

I hope you all enjoyed pt.2! I plan to start writing a pt.3 soon if anyone is interested; that will probably be the final part. I’m curious as to how you guys think all of this will be resolved. ;) Thank you so much for reading!

For more ml content by yours truly check out @yespleasefandomtrash.

(if someone drew akumatized!Adrien I would love you forever okaybyenow)

[sagemoderocklee]

For the fanfic trope thing: "oh no there's just one bed!" + stay by alessia cara + gaalee ofc (or inosaku if you up for a challenge)

sorry i didn’t get to this sooner, anon! doing writing prompts usually takes a while unless I’m in a good grove and I have definitely not been lately. i went with gaalee cause it’s my main pairing and also cause i think it’d be more challenging cause i do not hc that gaara sleeps post-Shukaku’s extraction. so like here’s to challenges! 

i kinda forgot that i was supposed to like use a song as inspo so like i don’t know if i rlly did that part of this whole prompt justice…. but i hope you like it? also, this got a lil longer than i was planning. i suck at short things and finding the right beat to end on was… difficult. this is also entirely unedited so like please forgive me. 

[read on ao3 // kofi]

—

“Sorry but that won’t be enough for two rooms–” “That will not be a problem!” Lee was soaked through, but the chill wasn’t so bad–at least, not for him. Gaara, on the other hand, was shivering beside him, his teeth chattering behind pursed lips. 

“–and one bed,” the inn’s attendant finished, raising an eyebrow. 

“O-oh,” Lee squeaked. 

“That’s fine,” Gaara snapped at his side. “We’ll take whatever’s available.” 

“But Kaze–” Gaara silenced Lee with a look and a snap of his chakra. 

“It’s fine,” Gaara said heavily. 

“I’ll just need an ID,” the attendant said, eyeing the two. “Just one night, right?” 

“Yes, please.” Lee handed over his papers–fake for the sake of the mission–with a tired smile. 

The storm had caught them unawares in the midst of tracking a missing nin. They’d been separated from their team hours earlier and had been in the processing of setting up a camp under the shelter of a rock formation when thunder had rumbled overhead. 

The downpour had been too heavy for them to safely remain out of doors, so they’d packed their things and made for the nearest town. 

Rainbow Country–home to Amegakure and ceaseless rain–was dotted with random inns all along the most traveled roads and it didn’t take long for them to find a safe place to rest. 

Once they’d been checked in, the attendant led them up a flight of stairs and to a room at the end of long, narrow hall. “Bathroom’s just down the hall,” the attendant said, pushing the door open to their room open. He dropped the keys into Lee’s hand. “Have a good night, gentlemen. Check out’s at noon.” 

The door closed behind them as thunder boomed across the sky and Lee’s heart sank. Their room was smaller than what a hundred-and-fifty ryo a night should have got them.: the bed was small, but only slightly smaller than the room, and and had been pushed right up against the wall to provide enough floor space for a little bedside table. Apart from that, the room was barren, with hardly any space for Lee to do his stretches in. 

“This is quite the predicament,” he said with an awkward laugh, a lump forming in his throat. 

“What’s the issue?”  

“Well,” Lee began, “when he said there was only one bed, I had assumed it would be… bigger.” 

“I don’t sleep,” Gaara said flatly. “You should know that by now.” 

“O-oh, of course.” Lee wasn’t disappointed per say. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to share a bed with Gaara when he secretly harbored feelings for him. He definitely hadn’t been privately hoping for the chance to share a private moment in close quarters, moonlight shining in Gaara’s eyes as he confessed–

“Do you want to take a shower first?” Gaara’s voice cut through Lee’s musings like a kunai to the throat. 

“N-no! You go right ahead! I think I will just dry off and shower in the morning.” 

Gaara shrugged before disappearing from the room, leaving Lee alone with his disappointment and denial. 

Lee dropped his bag on the floor, where it squelched and water pooled. At least it had a water-proof lining, he thought as he rummaged through for a towel and something to wear. 

He unzipped his flack jacket, patted his face dry, and toweled off his hair before the dreaded task of peeling himself out of his sopping wet suit. Though he loved his suit dearly, it was not meant for extreme weather conditions–especially not such heavy rain which made it stick to him like a magnet. 

He grunted, scrunching his face at the unpleasant feel of his suit slowly peeling away from his skin. He was halfway out of his suit when the door opened and Gaara walked in. 

Lee squeaked and fell to the floor with his suit stuck around his thighs. 

“We should go over our plans for the morning.” Gaara paused, staring at Lee, sprawled out at his feet. “What are you doing?” 

“Getting out of my suit?” 

The corner of Gaara’s mouth twitched and he stepped over Lee, moving to the bed. “I didn’t realize it was such a production getting out of that thing.” 

“It is not usually,” Lee said, picking himself up from the floor and pulling the suit back up to hide his modesty. “But it does stick terribly when it is wet.” 

“Ah,” Gaara said, gaze two pinpricks of reflected moonlight.

Lee shifted, face suffused with warmth. He cleared his throat. “Would you mind turning around while I change?” 

Gaara’s gaze snapped to Lee’s. Lee hadn’t been aware it had wandered away from his face until that moment and his sense of embarrassment heightened. He covered his bare chest, smiling sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” Gaara said gruffly, turning away to stare out the window.

Lee changed as quickly as he could, removing his drenched suit and hardly bothering to dry himself off further before throwing on his shirt and shorts. 

“Done!” he declared, wringing his suit out before he could think better of it. Water splashed onto the floor, pooling around his feet. “Oops.” 

Gaara’s towel landed on his head, still slightly damp from his shower. “We should go over our plans for tomorrow, and then you should rest. A good night’s sleep in a proper bed would not go remiss.” 

“Proper rest is important,” Lee agreed absently, mopping up the small puddle. “You should try resting some too.” 

Gaara let out an annoyed huff, a barely audible puff of air escaping through pursed lips. 

“I do not mean sleep,” Lee hastened to add. “Just… rest. Your body and mind will thank you for it.” 

“I take your point.”

“Do you want to leave at sunrise?” Lee asked, turning out the light and climbing onto the bed. “That would be best. We’ll need to find an aviary so we can contact the others. In this rain, my sand will be useless.” 

“I am sure Darui-san is taking good care of everyone else!” 

“I have no doubt, but it’s my responsibility to ensure the safety and success of this mission. That last attack caught me off guard.” 

“You should not beat yourself up. We were all surprised! There is a reason our target is in the Bingo Book, after all!” 

Gaara shifted at the foot of the bed, glancing up at him. “Will you kick me if I sit here while you sleep?” he asked, fingers grazing the edge of the bed. 

Lee felt his face warm instantly. “N-no! Of course not!” After a moment of consideration, he added, “But it would probably be more comfortable up here, so you can lean against the wall.” 

Gaara eyed him skeptically. “And you won’t attack me in your sleep?” 

“Why would I do that?” Lee asked, caught between exasperation and horror. 

“Your teammate informed me that you have… unusual sleeping habits, and I have observed you on this mission–you do sleep different from the others.” 

Lee was grateful for the darkness of the room because his face was hotter than a furnace and most likely beat red. He buried his face in the pillow, mumbling, “I did not realize you had been watching me.” 

“There isn’t much to do besides observe my surroundings late at night,” Gaara pointed out. The bed dipped and creaked as Gaara’s weight settled beside Lee. “I’m sorry if that was a breech of your boundaries. Temari says I’m prone to doing things that most would find off-putting.” 

Lee shook his head, face still hidden within the fluff of his pillow. “It is all right.” 

“Do you need the blanket?” Gaara asked, rising from the bed briefly. 

“No, I will be too hot with anything else on.” When he wasn’t on missions, Lee was used to sleeping in the nude with just a thin sheet between him and the air. It was the only way he could stay cool at night, otherwise he’d toss and turn and wake up drenched in sweat. 

“It’s freezing out,” Gaara said, disbelief hidden in the flat note of his voice. 

Lee laughed. “I am always too hot,” he explained. He lifted his head, holding his arm out towards Gaara. “Feel me.” 

A rush of adrenaline followed his request, which only made his body warm further, but he quashed it down as quickly as he could. Gaara eyed the arm before him, the green of his eyes skating across the scars that criss-crossed along Lee’s skin. 

Gaara’s fingers were cool against Lee’s burning skin. They left a feather light trail of cool air in their wake. Gaara’s hand wrapped around Lee’s wrist for a brief second before he released Lee, looking away. “You feel like the desert.” 

There was a reverence in the way the word ‘desert’ rolled off his tongue, as though the very word were sacred. The tone hit a nerve in Lee, something hot and deep burning at his core. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. 

“I suppose my scars are a bit rough,” he croaked, staring up at Gaara, his gaze unintentionally beseeching.

“I meant your skin is hot,” Gaara clarified. “They are rough though.” 

“They used to call me ‘hot-blooded’ when I was a kid.” Lee laughed, a note of bitterness creeping into it. “I suppose this is not what they meant.” 

“Doubtful.” 

An awkward silence fell between them. The space between them in the bed warmed, like a beacon for Lee to move closer. He kept his gaze rooted to the wall before him, laying so still he might have been maid of stone. 

Beside him, Gaara stared ahead, in much the same fashion, unmoving except for the careful rise and fall of his chest. 

“I’m usually cold.” The abruptness of Gaara’s voice in the silence made Lee jump, his heart racing like he’d just taken off his weights. 

“O-oh?” 

Gaara held out his own arm. “See?” 

Lee could barley hear anything over the cacophony his hear was making, over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He reached out and touched the bare, unmarred skin of Gaara’s arm, running his whole hand across the soft skin of his inner arm. The cold seeped into his hand before the feel of soft skin registered with his damaged nerve endings, and Lee drank it in as though he were the desert Gaara had said he was. 

If Lee was a desert, Gaara was the cool water that could save a man from death.

Lee’s mouth went dry at the thought. He pulled his hand away, trying to leech some of the cool from Gaara as he went.

“Are you always this cold?” The whisper of Lee’s voice, in contrast to the abruptness of Gaara’s, felt too intimate. It felt as though he were revealing himself in the darkness of their little hotel room. He looked up at Gaara, a new question in his gaze. 

Gaara nodded. “It’s worse here. With all this rain.” 

Lee had never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Gaara in that moment. He wanted to press himself close, sap the cold from Gaara’s body and give him his own warmth instead. He wanted to kiss him until he complained of fever. 

He shoved his face into his pillow, afraid that somehow Gaara would be able to read his thoughts. 

“I’ll let you sleep.” Gaara shifted and the bed dipped until Gaara arm–cool and soft–pressed against Lee’s. 

“I hope you get some rest too,” Lee murmured, petulant in his frustration with himself. 

Lee didn’t fall asleep as quickly as he usually did. He kept his body still, so still he felt stiff, and the heat of embarrassment made it all the harder to calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to roll over and talk to Gaara more; he wanted to reach out and take his hand; he wanted to throw caution to the wind and wrap himself around Gaara until he drifted off. 

A cool breeze settled over Lee, making him shiver. Chakra–warm with familiarity, and gentle yet strong–settled over him like a blanket, cooling his burning skin. He jerked, looking up to find Gaara watching him, his eyes intent and wide as the full moon hanging outside their window. 

“Forgive me,” he murmured, gaze unblinking. “I should have asked.” 

Lee shook his head, a giddy grin stretching across his face. “Thank you.” 

Lee fell asleep moments later, smiling foolishly. 

When he woke in the morning, as the grey light of early morning broke through the clouds above, it was to find himself tangled around Gaara, who seemed perfectly content, if not outright pleased by the opportunity to steal Lee’s warmth.

“You could have told me you were cold,” Lee teased, voice muddled with sleep. 

“I thought I did.” 

Lee laughed, stretching his arms high above his head. Gaara watched him, a languid smile lighting up his face.

“Did you rest well?”

“I did. And you?” 

Lee’s grin was as warm as the sun. “I did. I should sleep with you more often–I mean–that is not what I meant! I simply meant that you are a good sleeping partner–uh, no, I meant–” 

Gaara laughed, warm and low, as sweet as honeycomb. “Lee, you’re babbling.” 

Lee flushed, his face an inferno. “I-I-I–”

Gaara’s hand against his cheek stopped him mid-babble. The coolness of his skin soothed the heat in Lee’s face. “Breathe, Lee. I know what you meant.” 

Lee’s heart sank. “You–you do?” he squeaked. 

“I do.” Gaara’s smile, small and amused, left Lee all the more confused. His hand dropped from Lee’s face and he rose from the bed, stretching out the kinks in his back. “We should hurry. We don’t want to get caught in another storm, after all.” 

Despite the lack of inflection, Lee could hear the implications in Gaara’s words all too clearly. He jumped from the bed, grinning like the fool in love that he was. 

“Oh! Absolutely! It would be–most unfortunate if we were forced to find shelter again!” 

Gaara’s responding laugh was all the confirmation Lee needed to know that maybe, just maybe he had a chance after all. 

[kalle-and-lita]

Jealousy

For @goddessatina Prompt 14: Jealousy

A/N: Any canon muses are under my interpretation of the character, and mine alone and do not reflect those who RP the same character. 

~~

The party was lively, to say the least, and one Lita was certainly enjoying. It wasn't too often that she went to events such as these, as a gathering of the Primarchs was a rare occurrence indeed. But there were politics to discuss, war plans to go over, and when the Warmaster called for a gathering one was usually inclined to listen.

Her attendance had also been a bit of an unexpected development. Just earlier in the evening she'd been happily filing away paperwork for the Eighth Legion when his Highness had come barging into her office. Judging from the scowl on his face, he didn't seem at all pleased.

"Get ready.”

His curt order earned him an equally curt, but curious, reply,

"For what?"

He simply waved his hands, allowing two serfs to enter the room with various garments, "You'll be attending a gathering with me. Now get ready." He growled, leaving Lita with the serfs.

And so she eventually found herself at his side, hugging the far corner in every vain attempt to avoid conversations with his other brothers. Mortarion, Primarch of the Death Guard, had joined them not long ago. The pair of them spoke in low tones to each other, leaving Lita to hop softly from foot to foot.

Her drink was nearly empty, and not nearly strong enough to stave off her boredom. She had hoped that Atina would be in attendance, but so far had yet to see her good friend. Eventually, she became fed up, and politely excused herself to get more to drink. Easily she slipped in and out of the crowd in attendence. Remembrancers, and first officers alike, chatting and laughing as the party continued ever onward.

"Pardon me," a thick voice intruded upon Lita's thoughts as she refilled her drink, and she turned to find a Primarch she'd never met standing before her. He looked as if he'd been forged in fire, tall and terrifying, but there was a gentleness on his face that put her at ease, "Might you be Lita, Eighth Legion Representative?"

She dipped her head politely, "Indeed, Primarch...?"

"Vulkan, of the Salamanders."

Lita wasn't quite sure how long they stood and talked for. Their topics jumped and varied about, from Vulkan's home world to Lita's occupation and finally settling upon the topic of Lita's garden. They talked and talked about it for a good long while, the Primarchs interest very apparent.

"Brother, do tell me you're not going to demand all of this young woman's attention!"

Another voice joined them, and she turned to find another one of the Primarchs at her side. His skin was color of the rising sun, crimson and proud, a single eye gazing down at her in interest. This brother she knew.

Magnus the Red, Primarch of the Thousand Sons. She dipped her head in greeting,

"Young woman," she teased, "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to flatter me, Lord Magnus."

"Is it working?" He smiled,

"Only a little." She replied with a laugh.

"Ah, and here I had hoped to steal you away from my brother Konrad, I've heard of you, little human. Pardon my forwardness, but I believe your talents for speech would be in far better use in my Legion than that of the Eighth's. What say you?"

Lita simply shook her head in amusement, "Apologies, Lord Magnus, but there is little in this galaxy that would tear me away. My work is important, and my loyalty to my King far more so. I fear your attempts shall on deaf ears."

"A pity." Magnus mused into his drink, "I would speak with you all the same. That is, of course, if Vulkan has not already exhausted your powers of speech."

The three of them shared a laugh, "Of course not, Lord Magnus, though I pray you can keep up with me. I've been told I'm very hard to stop once I really get going."

"What's this, gathering around a beautiful flower amidst a room full of vagrants?"

A new Primarch had joined them, displaying colors of purple and gold paired with a pale face and even paler hair. He was pretty in a way, as if sculpted from marble, a charming smile painted upon his features

"A flower in a room full of vagrants?" Lita said, now noticing her drink was halfway empty again, "Why must you speak so ill of me, Lord Fulgrim? I don't believe I'm a vagrant."

"I agree," Magnus teased, silently offering Lita another cup of wine. She gratefully accepted, as the four of them delved into deep conversation. They laughed and teased, conversing on all manner of topics from art, to history, to everything under the sun. At some point, Lita realized she was losing her faculties, made evident when she swayed dangerously only to have Magnus reach out to steady her.

"I think, gentlemen," she spoke carefully, "I am done for the evening."

"So it would seem," mused Fulgrim, quickly replacing Lita's wine with water. She drank from it gratefully, "While I am sorry you must leave, do part with a promise that you'll come visit Chemos. If I may be so bold, I do believe you'll find it quite spectacular."

"No, no, say you'll come to Prospero. The view from the highest point in all of Tzica is most amazing." Argued Magnus hotly. Lita smiled all the same,

"Perhaps, if my busy schedule affords me the time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

They bid her farewell and parted their own ways as she did. In and out she dipped through the thinning crowd, back towards to the wall where she'd left her Primarch some hours before. Halfway there she found him right where she had left him, though Mortarion had seemingly long since departed.

"I wondered when you would deign to return to me." Her king commented coldly, and the cheerful mood Lita had previously found herself in died. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him,

"I am here now," she bit back just as coldly, narrowing her gaze upon him,

"Though I find it very difficult to believe I was so hard to find."

A nerve in his eye twitched at that, but he said nothing in return. Instead he pushed himself from the dark corner, his swift pace making for the exit of the room. She followed behind him dutifully back to their transport and back aboard the Nightfall. Once inside the main lift, and closed in a tight space with him, she could feel the cold radiating off him in waves.

"You reek of alcohol." He said eventually, making Lita's hair stand on end in fury.

"Apologizes, Your Highness," she fought the sneer as hard as she could, yet failed all the same, "Are there any other grievances you'd like to air, or shall we stew in furious silence all night?"

He said nothing, earning him a scowl as the lift finally slowed to a halt on the stateroom floor. Lita lifted the hem of her dress and swept past the Primarch in an effort to retire to her room. She didn't look back to see if he was following, but the tell tale sound of his footfalls told her that he was. She ignored him as she came to her stateroom door, keying in her code in furious silence as his cold aura still radiated off of him.

"Fits of jealousy are unbecoming of you." She finally said as her door hissed open. She lay a hand on the door to keep it from closing, turning back before she swept through with a furious glare up at him, "The next time you see fit to drag me off to one party or another do feel free to talk to me, otherwise just leave me be!"

The door hissed shut behind her, with a loud thud on the wall following shortly after. If she had to venture a guess, he'd probably hit the wall. In furious silence she discarded the dress in favor of a shower and more comfortable clothes, silently hoping that tomorrow they'd all be in better moods.

[itsclydebitches]

Drabble Prompt: Ruby makes some hot cocoa for Ozpin/Oscar when she finds them awake one night. (post V6E4 was what I had in mind)

I’m being unfair and skipping ahead in my prompts because 1. I need this and 2. I promised @ninjanaomi hot cocoa yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Feel free to spray me with virtual water bottles

Spoilers for RWBY Vol 6 Episode 4 

They say that the hunter never sleeps. The same can be said of the huntress.

Ruby had her hand on the edge of Crescent Rose before her mind registered what had woken her in the first place: the soft crunch of snow, muffled through decaying wood, and a silhouette passing by the window beside her. She’d expected that they would all sleep together in the living room when Yang found the old beds infested with bugs, something like their very first night at Beacon… It had hurt Ruby more than she could say when everyone still separated, hardly speaking as they settled in for the night. Now she had the little family room all to herself and was the only one there to notice that someone was still out in the snow.

Ruby left her weapon behind. Foolish, maybe. Probably. But something told her not to go into this conversation armed.

“Hey.”

Oscar wasn’t a hunter though, not yet, and his whole body jerked when Ruby’s voice broke the silence. She hadn’t even realized how she’d been moving: picking up on how the farmhouse door had squeaked earlier and making sure to open it slowly; walking toe-first through the snow to minimize the sound of her boots; keeping to where the shadows were long enough to hide her. Those instincts broke when Oscar raised arms protectively over his head and flinched backwards against a fencepost. Ruby kept still until his eyes opened again.

“Ruby.” Even in the dark she could see how far his shoulders fell in realization; the fear rushing right out of him.

Actually, it wasn’t very dark at all. The snow had picked up after their arrival and the pristine blanket reflected the moon, providing a surprising amount of light once Ruby’s eyes adjusted. She could see now how hard Oscar was shaking and felt something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby squeaked. She held up her hands, now doubly glad she hadn’t taken Crescent Rose with her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw—thought—what are you doing out here?”

Blinking, Oscar surveyed the odd pile at his feet. Ruby could make out sticks of various lengths, leaves, a few bits of trash that must have been lying around for years. Once he’d looked down it seemed like Oscar didn’t know how to look back up again.

“Clearing debris,” he said, voice hollow. “You… you’ve gotta keep the fields clean for when spring comes. Clear the tree lines too. Otherwise stuff might get caught in your equipment later, you know? We’d be doing that back home now. No. Wait. I’d be doing…” Oscar trailed off. He pressed a hand to the side of his head like saying anymore physically hurt him.

Ruby had realized as a kid that things were a lot easier at night. She might chaff at being the “baby” of the family during daylight hours, but had no qualms about crawling into Dad’s bed once the sun went down. All her secret talks with Yang took place between 2:00 and 4:00am. She could often admit things more easily too—whispering them to the ceiling where they stayed until she was finally ready to speak them in the morning. 

Nighttime had more possibility to it. There was a whole mess of things to work through come tomorrow, but right then none of it seemed to matter when it was just her, Oscar, and the snow.

…and Ozpin.

Ruby opened her mouth to ask how long he’d been out here, noticed the size of the pile (like a bird’s nest, she thought) and closed it. Instead, Ruby gently took Oscar by the arm and tried not to hiss at how cold he was.

“Okay,” she whispered. “C’mon. Just… follow me.”

He did and the part of Ruby still churning over questions of faith and trust and responsibility loosened a little when he did. She kept a tight hold on Oscar’s wrist as they picked their way back to the farmhouse and halfway there his other hand rose up to grasp at the edge of her cloak. They slipped inside like that, silent and tethered.

Ruby didn’t actually believe that the rest of the group was sleeping soundly, but it made her all the more focused on making sure no one came out to check on them. Qrow had taken up position at the very back of the house—facing the direction they hadn’t cleared of grimm and strangers yet—and Maria had closed the door to the one guest room downstairs. Yang, Weiss, and Blake had all gone up to the second floor to carve out their own spaces. In retrospect, Ruby didn’t know where Oscar had planned to sleep. Or if he intended to sleep at all.

She snuck them into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she said, all but dragging him onto one of the rickety chairs. It wasn’t like the house had heat anymore, but the wood and stone did a decent job of keeping out the wind and seven bodies scattered throughout had helped to add a bit of warmth over the course of several hours. After a moment’s hesitation Ruby re-lit the fireplace they’d stocked, deciding that Oscar’s blue lips were more important than a potential interruption. After another pause she pulled off her cloak and draped it over his shoulders.

It was only then she realized he was still holding onto it. Now he let go.

“I can’t take—”

“You should really—”

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue and unwilling to do the same. Eventually, Ruby’s lips twitched and Oscar mirrored her. 

“You’re cold,” she said only, hopping up onto the table. It was a massive wood structure that had her looking down on Oscar just a bit, giving Ruby space to swing her legs and get the blood going. The smell of the fire burning dust filled her nose and a bit of the chill seeped out of her hands. Oscar tugged her cloak closer and buried his face in the folds.

Ruby stopped swinging. “He wasn’t right you know.”

A slight tilt of his head was the only evidence of confusion.

“Uncle Qrow, I mean.”

Oh, that was a sound. Ruby didn’t quite know what to call it—something like a scoff mixed in with a cold laugh—but it set her teeth on edge and gave her the sudden urge to shake Oscar until he promised to never, ever make a sound like that again. She settled for leaning down into his space. “He’s not, Oscar. I love Uncle Qrow but he’s not always right. You’re your own person and I—”

“Don’t lie.” Oscar’s head whipped up so fast that he nearly bludgeoned Ruby’s nose. He didn’t seem to notice though. There were tears welling up in his eyes and a tremble in his lips that ran all the way up into his cheeks. “I’m not me anymore, Ruby. Why don’t you get that? It doesn’t matter if he’s gone right now because he’ll come back and when he does we’ll merge or whatever and then I won’t be—” Oscar suddenly stopped, staring down at his hands, bawling them into fists before shoving them beneath her cloak. “I’m going to change, okay? I’ll change and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So what?”

It slipped out fast, but as soon as she heard the words Ruby knew she meant them. She glared hard down at Oscar, voice rolling out in a tight whisper only because the rest of the house was still quiet. Ruby had no qualms about waving her arms though and Oscar reared back with a wide-eyed look that erased the bitter expression he’d had before.

Good.

“What? You think you’re just gonna stay this Oscar for ever and ever?” Ruby waved her arms harder when that shock turned to confusion. “I’ve changed. Of course I have! I went to Beacon and became a leader and fought the White Fang and watched my friends die.” Her throat caught on the last word but she didn’t slow down, scooting until her legs were pressed against Oscar’s shoulder and the two of them were smooshed together in a weird little bundle of limbs and cloth. “Everyone changes. That’s a good thing. Even if… even if the things that caused the change aren’t good themselves. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Did it? Look. My point is that old Ruby was terrified to even talk to anyone other than Yang. She’d never have changed if given the chance, but then life made her and now I’m me.” Ruby gestured at all of her, hands finally beginning to still. “I like who I am now, Oscar. I don’t like some of the stuff that made me this way, but I also wouldn’t want to go back to being that old Ruby. It’s weird. But everything’s weird right now! So yeah, of course you’re going to change. You would have changed anyway. It’s just... now you get to change with him.”

Ruby wasn’t sure how Oscar would receive that last part, but if the way he drew his own hands close to his chest was any indication, maybe the thought wasn’t all bad. 

“And you know what? No matter how you change, I know I’ll like that future Oscar. Okay? I promise.” 

Ruby saw the movement of his throat and hastily looked away just as he pressed palms up against his eyes. For a long minute there was nothing but the fire and muffled sobs. 

“Do you think he can hear us?” Ruby asked the wall. She only dared voice it after the sniffling had subsided. “Even locked up like that?”

“I... I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I think Ozpin needed to hear that too.”

Slipping from the table, Ruby gestured for Oscar to stay put and used her semblance to fly silently up the stairs and through the door she’d seen Yang choose. Her sister was asleep, a minor miracle given all they’d been through today, and Ruby was able to rummage through her luggage unnoticed.

She only stole a small piece. And if Yang asked about it, Ruby would say it had been for herself.

Another lie, but… Yang wasn’t ready to hear the small truths yet. Like how sometimes even the people she was furious with needed comfort too.

So Ruby took a piece of the chocolate Yang had bought at the station and flew back down to the kitchen. Oscar watched her, eyes red and puffy, as she located a brittle mug and the fresh water Weiss had boiled earlier that night. The fire had finally warmed them and Ruby used the now glowing wood to heat the water again, dropping the chocolate in piece by tiny piece. She hadn’t been able to find a spoon, so she used her finger to stir it all together. It hurt a little, but that was okay.

“Here,” Ruby said, shoving the makeshift hot chocolate at Oscar. “It’s probably gonna taste a little weird, but,” she shrugged.

Oscar reached for the treat with careful, reverent hands. “We don’t have a lot of supplies,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“So why?”

Ruby settled back onto the table, this time pulling the edge of her cloak over her legs like a blanket. Her right arm moved to drape itself over Oscar’s shoulder.

“Because you two look weird without a mug in your hands,” she said, squeezing him tight.

He smiled—a small one—and took the first sip.

When he did, Ruby thought she caught the slightest flicker of gold in the back of his eyes.

[imagineyoungjustice]

1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 4/10

D r a b b l e please! Maybe where the team is on Internet lockdown and have to come up with a way to keep entertained? -Anonymous

So I went a bit off-prompt because the only instance I see any form of internet lockdown being an issue for the team is when it interferes with their hero job because they accidentally locked themselves out of the system and are too afraid to go to one of the League members for help. So I know it’s not quite what you wanted but I hope you still enjoy it! Also this is set just a little extra bit before season 2 so Jaime hasn’t yet joined the team! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve @loverbug1123 @aworldwideapart @wallywestie

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           “How could you manage to lock us out of the entire system?!” Cassie shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

           “With a lot of skill and an astounding lack of intelligence mixed with a heaping side dish of Murphy's Law.” Robin replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand.

           “This is why I told you we should have waited for the older members to get back from their mission! What are we supposed to do now?”

           Robin just kept staring at the red screen in front of him, the bright text of “access denied” blinking back at him almost mockingly. He really hated himself right now. He was so confident that he could perform the upgrades to the Cave’s computer systems himself despite Dick’s warnings for him to wait for when he, M’gann, and Conner got back from their mission with the League. Batgirl was currently away on a solo mission for Bruce, leaving him as the only Bat on the team for the week. He just wanted Dick and Bruce to be proud of his skills and to stop treating him like he was some fragile baby bird that would break under the slightest use of force. He wanted them to stop treating him like a future Jason Todd.

           “Earth to Robin! You there or are you just going to keep ignoring me?” Tim blinked as his mind was pulled back to the present. He felt his face flush as he realized he had been ignoring her for probably a good while now.

           “Sorry, what were you saying again?”

           “I asked how we were supposed to do our jobs in the meantime if we can’t get into our own computer system?”

           “That would be… a really good question. I guess watching the news would be too much to hope for until we can get this fixed?” He tried to smile and lighten the mood, but by the look on Cassie’s face she wasn’t having it with his attempts at humor and in all honesty, he did deserve the resulting smack to the back of his head. “Guess that would be a no then.” He mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.

           “What are you two fighting about in here?” Tim cringed as he heard Karen’s voice drift into the room, Mal, Garfield, and La’gaan trailing on her heels, all of them equally curious to the commotion in the training and mission debrief room.

           “Boy Wonder over here managed to lock us out of the Cave’s systems while upgrading everything on his own even though Nightwing told him to wait until they got back. So unless we figure something out we’re basically without internet for the whole week.” Cassie huffed and put her hand on her hip, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “You normally handle monitor duty Mal, is there anything you think you can do to fix this?”

           “I’m not really the guy you’d want to be asking. I can try, but this system is a lot different than any I’d be familiar with. I haven’t had the time to learn its in’s and out’s yet, not like the Bat’s have. I mean I could try turning it off and on again but that might be the extent of what I can do.” Cassie audibly groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose a little harder.

           “Why should we waste time trying to figure this out on our own? Let’s just contact the League and have them send Red or someone else to clear this up for us.” Karen remarked, already bringing her hand up to her earpiece.

           “Wait no!” Tim yelled, stretching his hand out to stop her before she could make the call.

           “What now? Did you knock out our communications too?” Karen asked, one of her eyebrows raised.

           “We just barely, convinced the League to let us oversee ourselves for a week without an appointed ‘Den Mother,’ what would that look like if barely halfway into our first day we made a call to them because we locked ourselves out of the computer system?”

           “You mean you locked us out of the computer system, the rest of us did nothing.” Cassie remarked.

           “Technicalities. Besides you think the League will care? If you make that call they’ll never trust us to look after ourselves again.”

           “He does have a point.” Gar said, looking up at Karen. “They were already really reluctant in the first place.”

           “I’m sure Robin will have figured it out before the week is over. He’s a Bat, they practically live and breathe tech.” La’gaan added.

           It was quiet for a few moments as Karen considered the situation. She narrowed her eyes at Tim, “You sure you can get the system back online before the week is over?” When he nodded, she just let out a defeated sigh. “Alright then, I won’t contact the League, but you better get that system back online, priority: alpha do you understand me?”

           “Yes ma’am.” Tim saluted, barely able to hide the rush of relief he felt that followed upon knowing they were in the clear from him having to explain this mess to Bruce.

           “That’s great and all we still need to figure out what we’re doing for missions now.” Cassie interjected. “All our mission data was on file here and now we have nothing.”

           “Actually, we do have some of it.” Tim replied, fishing in his utility belt and tossing her a flash drive. “Bats teaches us to always be prepared, so I tend to make copies of current info in relation to our current missions. If we need anything else, I can always rip whatever we need from the Batcomputer back at the Batcave.”

           “And I supposed you call this your Batdrive?” She teased turning the small flash drive over in her hands, the black bat logo catching the reflection of the lights.

           “No.” Tim snapped. Yes. She didn’t need to know that though.

           “Right old school it is then. I’ll go grab a laptop for us to use in the meantime. Everyone be ready for debrief by the time I get back.” Karen called, already halfway to the Zeta-tubes with Mal not too far behind her. “Oh and Robin?” He turned his head to look at her when he heard his code name. “Try not to shut off the lights or something else in the meantime.” With that, the tubes flared to life and he was left to deal with the barely muffled laughs from his teammates. He deserved that, he concluded, and went back to work on checking the wiring of the Cave’s computer in their absence.

           “This is going to be an utter disaster this week.” Cassie deadpanned.

           “I’m sure things will turn out swimmingly.” La’gann remarked, patting her on the back of her shoulder. Somehow, Cassie wasn’t all that convinced, and neither was Tim if he was listening to that quiet, honest voice he currently had shoved in the back of his mind in favor of the sweet, sweet, serenade of the voice of denial at the forefront.

          In reality, they were both completely correct. Things were indeed not going very well at all. Tim was currently racing through the jungles of Santa Prisca the sounds of bullets hitting the trunks of the trees a little too close for comfort all around him. Most of the week had been much like things were now. The Batcomputer had a lot of information, but it often lacked just that tiny bit of useful data that would have been on the team’s computer in the cave, especially for missions and locations the team had been previously.

          Karen would do her best as acting leader, but all of their plans never made it far past the drop zone. Tim’s little mess up had them walking in largely blind to most of their operations, and every time they paid the price for it, just barely securing what they set out to accomplish before having to make a hasty retreat. Speaking of mess-ups, after almost the whole week Tim was still no closer to accessing the Cave’s computer than he had been when this had all started. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get the system to let him in. Tim was ready to start banging his head against a wall if only that would be what it took for the computer to call out that beautiful “access granted” and they could all get back to their lives a little worse for wear but largely unharmed.

          If only.

          Once they were back at the cave, Cassie rounded on him. “How could you still have no idea how to fix the computer!?”

          “You’ve been watching me the whole week Cassie! You know I’ve tried literally everything I could think of short of an entire system reset! There’s nothing we can do!”

          “This is why we should have just called the League! But noooooo, you wanted to save face and fix this yourself! We’ve been getting our butts handed to us this whole damn week because you said you could fix it! Well guess what? Nothing’s changed since this first went down!”

          “Cassie has a point Robin,” Karen said, peeling off her Bumblebee mask and rubbing her temples, “we’ve still got nothing a week later, we should have just contacted the League. Nightwing and the other’s will be back from their mission in the morning, you’re going to be the one to tell them since this was your doing in the first place okay?”

          “Yeah, I understand.” He really wasn’t looking forward to how that was going to go tomorrow.

          “Good, team dismissed. Everyone get some rest.” Tim didn’t wait around for too long, just wanted the morning to come quickly so that he could deal with it and get it over with.

          It was every bit as embarrassing and awkward as he knew it was going to be. He had pulled Nightwing aside as soon as he entered the next morning and fumbled his way through the events of the week. The entire time he refused to look him in the eyes, but he could tell from body language that Nightwing wasn’t too pleased with him.

          “Look, Tim,” he braced himself for what was coming, “I’m not mad that you locked yourself out of the system, we’ve all done it at some point, but I am disappointed that you didn’t ask for help, and as a result put yourself and the rest of the team in danger. You’ll get a proper reprimand and punishment for that later on.”

          He looked up then, a little shocked at how calm he was being about the situation. “That’s… completely fair, I won’t let it happen again. I’m sorry.”

          “Like I said it’s okay, but see that you don’t put the team’s health in jeopardy like that again okay? Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out what it is you did to lock yourself out.” Tim just nodded and followed Dick back out into the training room, watching as he went through the motions of checking the Cave’s internal systems. Dick was quiet for a moment as he observed the virtual keyboard.

          “Hey Robin, you did know that caps lock was on, right?”

          What.

          His face must have given his confusion away. “The caps lock is on. You did try putting the password in without it right?” With a few taps of his fingers, the system was back online, the red screen of denial fading away to the green of granted access that had the last of Tim’s soul dying inside of him. “System looks to be in order… Oh! Looks like the upgrades went in smoothly, good job Robin.” There was a bit of a pause as Dick continued to check the system. “Please tell me you guys weren’t locked out of the system the whole week because you didn’t check to see if the caps lock was on.”

          Tim just hid his face into his hand and prayed to whatever deity may or may not exist that an alert would go off somewhere or that he would spontaneously die to escape the embarrassment of his current situation. As fate would have it, no such thing happened, and Dick’s smirk only grew wider on his face as the realization set in.

          Tim was never going to hear the end of this.

[captnswilson]

Following your prompt ask - which is great selection. I choose Romanogers ‘I had a nightmare and wanted to check you’re okay. Possibly leading to complete fluff and late night talks and fluff and fluff again. Ah so beautiful 🤗

stars-above-luna requested it as well.Hmm, it’s not really the fluff you wanted, but I hope you’ll like it anyway :)

The long awaited dream did not want to come. Resigned, Steve finally dragged himself out of bed, poured some water into a glass and walked to the window that occupied the entire side wall. At night, surrounded by a million stars, Wakanda seemed even more beautiful than during the day, if it was possible.

It was not easy to get rid of the idea that in the morning, in just a few hours, this place would fill up with thousands of people ready to fight. That blood would flow through streets, fields, and forests, and many innocent beings would end up dead.

Steve took a sip of water, only realizing someone else’s presence at the second knock on the door. He expected who it could be. His suppositions were confirmed to be true as he opened the door and Natasha’s eyes met his.

There was something new in her, unique as if the magic of the night had changed her into a mysterious creature showing her true face only after dusk. It was not due to her loose pajama, so different from her tight-fitting outfit wore during the battles. It was rather the expression on her face that made Steve concerned.

“Hey.”

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Does anything have to be wrong for me to visit my friend?”

Natasha’s little smirk didn’t manage to fool Steve. He had to admit to himself that he could use some company. However, before letting her in, he wanted to find out the reason that had brought her to him.

“It’s the middle of the night, Romanoff,” he stated. “Just tell me.”

“You’re going to think I’m being silly.”

He couldn’t help but smile, wondering what was so hard for her to declare.

“Try me.”

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she finally confessed.

The way she said it, and her gaze that never left his eyes… It all made Steve’s face grew serious and he just nodded, feeling his heart beating faster for that woman. He opened the door wider, and Natasha boldly stepped inside.

“Do you happen to have any alcohol here?”

“Not really.” He followed her. “I can only offer you water.”

“The battle will start in a few hours, so perhaps it’d be better for my mind to stay clear.” She stood in the same place where he had stood only a few minutes earlier and looked at the marvelous view behind the window. “Why aren’t you sleeping, soldier?”

Steve leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. For a long moment, he was gazing at Natasha who, turned back to him, seemed only a figment of his imagination, an illusion among stars and shadows.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he responded. “I’ve probably slept enough in my life. Actually, I must have broken a record.”

His poor attempt at joke and reference met with Natasha’s merciful giggle.

“The nightmare I had…,” she started, but suddenly paused. Steve’s smile faded as he noticed a change in Natasha’s voice. “You know how it feels, don’t you? When your worst dreams won’t let you sleep at night, but they will also, at some point, start to appear during the day.”

He knew it well enough.

It was impossible to count how many times the image of Bucky falling into the gulf had appeared in front of his eyes. How many times he had caught himself feeling the irrational fear regarding Sam’s or Tony’s life. How many times he had set out on a mission with Natasha and been afraid to leave her even for a second because although he had never doubted her skills, he couldn’t help but protect her.

“Is that how you feel, Nat? Are you scared?”

“I think so.” She nodded, still not looking at him. “Damn, Steve, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. Not since the Red Room. Not since I had to prove to be ready.” She closed her eyes. “For a long time, I was indifferent to human harm, to lack of justice, not able to feel anything. Then Clint appeared in my life, next S.H.I.E.L.D., and finally Avengers. Especially you.”

Only then did she look at him. Her face, always with a smirk and self-confidence, now reflected honesty and affection. He’d seen her like that before when she had mourned Fury, but even then, she hadn’t been as sincere with him as she was now.

As the thoughts ran through his mind, Steve concluded.

“You don’t think we’ll survive the battle,” he understood with calmness. “Or rather, you’re afraid that one of us won’t make it and this is your way of saying goodbye.”

“Just in case.” She smiled faintly. “Oh, Steve, you know what Thanos is capable of. He has already killed so many people. We might be Avengers, we might be heroes, but we’re not immortal.”

“Natasha…”

He had no clue what to say, but apparently, she didn’t need any words from him. She didn’t need consolation or assurance that everything would be all right. She just wanted him to listen to her.

“Going back to what I was saying… I have a family now. People I care about. That’s why I am scared because it’s no longer just about the mission.” Tears glimmered in his eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall. “Those few years we’ve spent together… In the end, I’ve managed to be quite happy, despite all the problems and tragedies. I’ve survived because you have always been there and if tomorrow’s battle is our last, I will be honored to fight at your side.”

Something, some invisible force, pushed him straight towards her. Perhaps it was a longing for what he had never had a chance to experience. Perhaps it was fear of tomorrow and an attempt to enjoy the last moments of peace. Or maybe all the feelings he felt for Natasha finally forced him to act.

Before it would be too late.

Anyway, Steve did not want to devote a lot of time to these thoughts. His mind was clear as he approached Natasha and took her face in his hands. Her lips met his halfway as if she were also waiting for it and as if that kiss was the only right thing at the moment.

All those years he had lost and couldn’t recover, and all those years he wouldn’t survive if he died in battle… He found all the relief for lost time at Natasha’s side, kissing her lips, looking into her eyes and listening to her heartbeat. He found it in the fights when she was always close and in daily life as he spent all his free time in her company. Although she was as broken as he was, they found peace in each other.

Natasha took a deep breath and smiled gently, resting her forehead against his. Steve did not intend to open his eyes too quickly, enjoying the silence and the night that seemed to surround them from every side.

“I should go,” she whispered.

“Stay, Nat,” he asked, almost begged. “Stay until the very end.”

Only then did he open his eyes. Natasha glanced at him with sincere affection, and her fingers gently stroked his cheek. Steve embraced her with one hand and put the other one in his pocket. Natasha leaned her head on his shoulder and they stood there, in the darkness and silence, staring at Wakanda surrounded by stars.

Despite all the fear, they didn’t have even the slightest idea of how difficult the next day would be.

[deepdickdaniel]

Hwang Minhyun | Host Club

prompt: you don’t really know how you ended up at your school’s host club...but the second you see hwang minhyun, you know that there has to be a reason.

note 1: so i’m turning my original daniel host club scenario (found here!) into a full series for all 11 W1 members! the first four bullets will be the same for each member’s scenario just to remind you all of the host club’s mission.

note 2: for whoever doesn’t know what a host club is, it’s a place where people pay to be entertained by male hosts! a customer usually pays to talk to a specific host of his or her choosing and talks/flirts/jokes around with him for however much time is paid for! the host club i’m writing about is mostly based on ouran high school host club.

your school’s host club was a new addition to the…extracurricular activities that one could partake in

you heard that there were eleven different hosts that you could choose from

each host was specifically recruited by the mastermind that came up with the idea for the club

and each host had a specific charity that he would donate his proceeds to at the end of every semester

you watched as one of your friends was dragged to the host club by your friend circle, and before they could pick you as the next victim, you just decided to go by your own free will

when you got to the doors, you let your friends choke on the perfume while you hid and giggled behind them - you were a bit smarter, tbh

you watched your friends pick their hosts and you debated on who you should pick, because no one really stood out to you?

but then a tall, black-haired gentleman walked in from the bathroom exit at the back of the room, wiping his hands on paper towel and then throwing it out

he straightened his black blazer and tie - you were amazed how he could make such movements seem so gentle and refined, despite them being so trivial

you knew then and there that you had to have him as your host

you saw how a few of your friends noticed the newcomer as well, but you practically slid into his eyesight and appeared in front of him

his eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, but he smiled kindly at you nevertheless

“hi, i’m minhyun. am i your choice to keep you company today?”

honestly, you were pretty shook™ too. you didn’t know what came over you and only when minhyun spoke did you realize that you didn’t even try to be subtle...

after talking for a bit, you noticed a stack of books at the side of his coffee table and nodded your head towards it,

“do you read a lot for fun?”

minhyun’s princely demeanor faded a bit as his cheeks reddened and he coughed to hide his embarrassment

“ah, yes. sorry about that, i didn’t have time to put them away after i got here from class. i can do it now if you’d like...?”

you shook your head faster than humanly possible, “no!!! i want to know what kind of books you like reading, it’s nothing to be ashamed of”

“it’s just that a few of my guests have told me that it ruins their view of me? mostly because they aren’t all academic and some are fiction. some say that it makes me a ‘dork’“

you felt your eyebrow twitch - you would pummel these people if you ever found out who they were

the overwhelming feeling of protectiveness you felt for minhyun surprised you, though - why were you so upset at him being upset if you just met him???

“don’t listen to them. it makes you even more well-rounded. people who read for fun are so cool and i admire you even more now”

minhyun sat in awe for a few seconds at how blunt and approachable you were, then he remembered something he forgot to tell you when you picked him as your host

“ah, i forgot! since we’re talking about reading, the charity you’re actually helping by picking me as your host is one that provides poverty-stricken children the opportunity to learn how to read and write...!”

he went on and on about how it was important for kids to have a bright future

and as the two of you kept talking, minhyun realized how easily the words came out of him when he spoke to you

usually, he’d have to put on some kind of act when hosting - not that he was fake, but he’d have to pretend to be a little more talkative, cheery, princely, etc. when he had other guests

with you, on the other hand, everything came naturally: the way he talked, how he moved around while speaking, how he listened to the stories you told him

so by the time your session ended, he was even more disappointed than you were

as you stood up and thanked him for a good time, minhyun suddenly grew quiet and stared straight instead of up at you

“minhyun? are you okay?”

he nodded and bit his lip, seemingly conflicted, “...would you mind coming back on wednesday?”

you felt your mouth open in shock, but you nodded nevertheless “yeah of course! but why not tomorrow?”

“oh, we’re only open on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays!”

on that wednesday, you were overhearing some girls talking about trying to get minhyun that day at the host club

wanting to keep your promise to him mhmm because that’s the only reason you ran to the host club

there, you controlled your breath and regained your cool, fixing yourself up before entering the doors

and as if they already knew where to look, your eyes landed on minhyun immediately the second you walked in

you were lowkey embarrassed, but it was worth it to see how excited minhyun’s face got when he saw you

but when he walked to you, instead of greeting you, he simply chuckled

“what is it...?”

he laughed harder the longer he looked at you, and quickly fixed some of your crazy hairs that betrayed you trying to look cool

“did you run here?”

you glared at him, but he continued to smile angelically at you as his fellow hosts tried to hide their amusement

“yeah, i just wanted to keep the promise i made to you on monday. you know, when you asked me to come back?”

“oooOOHHHH” 

you recognized the howl coming from jaehwan, who was your homeroom’s class clown - you smirked proudly at him, who returned your look with a thumbs up

but jaehwan’s happiness quickly left as minhyun’s face quickly turned on him

“i’m sorry, please don’t make me clean anymore...!”

minhyun cleared his throat and the smile was suddenly back on his face, his eyes promising jaehwan a slow, painful death as he offered his arm for you to take

in the distance, you could hear sungwoon scolding jaehwan: “now he’s going to make all of us his personal mops after club hours!!!”

when minhyun led you to his usual couch, you saw your friend, who had come to the host club with you on monday, holding kang daniel’s hand

your friend’s eyebrows started wiggling and you were dying in embarrassment by every second

“oh shUT UP! as if you weren’t running here to make sure you got to daniel first!” you called out

your friend shut tf up immediately and when you turned to look at minhyun, he was trying real hard to contain his happiness

“you want me here or not?” you shot at him, but he just laughed and shook his head

“ah, you’re so cute”

you turned bright red - with the way minhyun said it, you were sure it meant nothing, but you couldn’t help but be shook™

minhyun, however, was also super shook™ because he didn’t realize how forward that sounded - he was so used to saying it casually with the rest of the guys that it just came out

but that’s when minhyun realized that he felt truly comfortable with you

three months later, as the two of you would continue to meet for your tri-weekly host club sessions, he could tell how much meeting you had improved his mood

you helped bring him out of his awkward shell. you gave him encouragement that who he really was, albeit a little awkward and shy, was still really amazing

you made him see that if his guests didn’t appreciate him for what he offered, they didn’t deserve to have such a wonderful host

he also showed his playful side with you quickly, which surprised his fellow hosts because they weren’t used to seeing him open up to his guests

one day, they heard him humming a love song to himself as he wiped tables before the host club opened

“so...when are you going to confess?” jaehwan asked casually as he mopped around the table minhyun was cleaning

minhyun dropped his cleaning wipes

“w-what?!”

“...when are you going to confess? you’re going to keep your favorite guest waiting?”

“confess? waiting?”

jisung heard the conversation and quickly interjected, “you honestly haven’t noticed your feelings for your favorite guest and your favorite guest’s feelings for you???”

minhyun stared at his reflection in the glass table, all of the things you ever made him feel suddenly slamming into his chest

“i...like...someone?”

jaehwan and jisung exchanged looks - how had such a handsome face make it this far in life without ever dating? the world may never know

they left minhyun to his thoughts and when the time came to open the doors to guests, he was a nervous and confused wreck

but guess what

that day, you just had to be sick

you went straight home that day, telling your friend to tell daniel to tell minhyun that you would see him another day

when minhyun found out, he was pretty sad about it - he didn’t notice how much not seeing you made an impact on him. he knew that you made him happier, but he didn’t know that not having you around would make him...sad?

that’s the day he really realized he was pretty much in love with you

you, on the other hand, had been waiting for a while for him to give off signs that he liked you

you knew you liked him halfway through your first host club session with him, but you also knew that he was oblivious and didn’t really know what the whole romance thing was all about

(aside from his books at least)

so you were patient - you were willing to wait until he had feelings for you to make a move

a part of you was slightly disappointed that he still didn’t seem to notice - your friend had already begun to date kang daniel and the two of them were ecstatic together

but in the end, you knew minhyun would be worth it

soon enough, you would prove yourself right

the next host club opening, you were bombarded with vitamin c drinks, cold medicine, and the like

minhyun was so worried about you - he felt your forehead immediately for a fever and told you to just tell him if you weren’t feeling well again and he would take you home in a heartbeat

the gentle, concerned look on his face, the closeness of his body to yours as the two of you were seated on the loveseat, and the kindness that always seemed to radiate from him all gave you the courage to confess

even if he turned you down, minhyun was still an amazing guy and would most likely do it in the kindest way possible...so you would still try

“minhyun?”

“hmm?” he hummed while he prepared a thermometer to make sure your fever was completely gone

“you know i really, really, really like you, right?”

you noticed how the hand holding the thermometer started to shake slightly in shock, but he kept his calm and took a deep breath

minhyun continued to check your temperature, simply smiling at you as he put the thermometer into your ear

“i do now. and do you know that i really, really, really like you back?”

your heart almost burst out of your chest as a smile bloomed onto your face, your happiness unstoppable as you looked up at him

minhyun quietly grabbed your hand with his free one and stroked it with his thumb as he told you your temperature,

“wait, i think your fever is coming back?”

“nope, it’s just because you make me hot”

“too soon...! i’m still learning!”

that was the start of your relationship

in the beginning, you would continue your sessions with minhyun as your first few dates, and you’d occasionally see him outside on the weekends for more traditional kinds of dates

but after about a month, minhyun looked pretty serious as he led you to the couch that started it all

“what’s wrong?”

“i think i want to quit the host club...”

he explained to you that while he loved his friends and their host club, he didn’t feel right talking to other people like he adored them, even if it was just for an hour, while he was in a relationship

“daniel told me that he quit for a similar reason. would you hate it if i quit?”

“never, it’s your decision and i’ll back you up no matter what!”

you would always be minhyun’s #1 supporter and he was endlessly grateful for that

so he decided to turn in his blazer and tie, ignoring the pout ong gave him when minhyun did so

your intertwined hands swung as you walked out of the host club for the last time, together

“does this mean we’re no longer going to hear jaehwan serenade his favorite guest every time we meet now?”

“i guess so...what a shame”

[spartandiggle]

Of Cinnamon, Coffee, & Cohabitation [1/1]

Show: Arrow Characters: Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, William Clayton Ship: Felicity/Oliver, William & Felicity, William & Oliver Words: 2848 Notes: Listen I just want to understand more about how Felicity, Oliver and William came to be as comfortable around each other as they were in the beginning of 6.11. Speaking as someone who is part of two combined families, nothing comes that easy - because kids are weird and dynamics are hard to establish. So, I just wanted to explore that idea because I love this little family!

A well-oiled machine doesn’t just spring into existence. It’s built - one painstaking piece at a time - until each piece comes together to function in harmony. So, when it comes to building her family, Felicity is willing to put in the work.

(An interlude between 6.09 and 6.11)

[read it on AO3]

It’s not like she and Oliver come back from Central City married and everything is suddenly perfect.

Their lives don’t really work like that. She’s been building a rapport with William ever since she and Oliver decided to start seeing each other again. Officially, anyway. Not just not-so-subtle flirting in the bunker and weighing the pros and cons of making out with each other in the elevator before the doors open.

It was, needless to say, an extremely frustrating few months as they worked to keep their distance. But, now, with things settling down and them finding a nice, cozy groove to wedge themselves into? It’s all just starting to click.

Well, sort of. William seems fine with the change. Maybe too fine. Or is Felicity just projecting? She remembers being around his age and watching men walk in and out of her and her mother’s lives. Trust issues were basically built into her core after her father left, so she wouldn’t blame Will for being wary of her relationship with his dad.

Especially since they’d left the city only a few weeks after getting back together for one weekend and had come back married. A move that could definitely seem a little impulsive, especially to a teenager who hadn’t been around for their first go at the whole marriage thing.

So, moving in is a little strange. She and Oliver are splitting their time between trying to seem normal around William and trying to track down Cayden James. Felicity barely sleeps and, when she does, it’s usually in small bursts in front of her computer. It doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for establishing family dynamics.

One morning, she manages to pass out in their shared bed and sleep through the night. It’s been almost two years since she’d had a typical office job that required waking up at a specific time, so it’s jarring to be startled awake by the sound of Oliver’s alarm buzzing.

“No,” she huffs as the bed moves with Oliver’s waking. He laughs at her, the alarm cutting off as he presses the button on it. The fact that he still uses an actual alarm clock, rather than the app on his phone like every other normal person, is so unbelievably him.

“Can’t you be late for work?” She pouts, pressing her face into the pillow beneath her. His fingers move gently through her hair, catching in the knots and easing them out. “You used to be so good at that.”

He huffs and she thinks it’s in offense, but she’s too sleepy to soothe his wounded ego right now. She’ll make it up to him later.

“I have to get William ready for school,” he explains, rather than debating the claim. Felicity goes a little rigid.

It’s not that she forgets about William. You don’t just forget a whole person, obviously. It’s just that sometimes it’s easy to slip back into the mindset of where she and Oliver had left off two years ago. Which did not include the responsibilities of suddenly becoming a stepmom.

Oh, God, what if she fucks it up and totally screws him up for life? Should she buy a parenting book? There’s probably tons of scholarly articles out there on childhood development.

“Right,” she says, more awake now. Oliver’s hand moves from her hair, warm palm skimming over the skin revealed by the tank top she’d worn to bed. “Um, can I help?”

She shifts, turning her head to peek out at him from where she’d been pressed into the pillow. He leans forward, brushing a soft kiss over her exposed shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” he assures her, pulling away from her to sit up fully in bed. He hits the switch on the lamp next to the bed, filling the room with warm, yellow light. Her eyes track the movement, catching the way the silver band on his finger reflects the light. It makes her warm inside, something she doesn’t think Oliver Queen will ever stop doing to her.

Felicity watches him as he slides out of bed and pulls on a t-shirt. She drifts back towards unconsciousness as he disappears from the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Through the walls, she hears him knock on William’s door, calling softly to wake him up.

She wakes again to the smell of cinnamon drifting through the now slightly ajar door to their shared bedroom. Against her body’s wishes, she forces herself out of bed and ventures towards the living space. Oliver is standing in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand as he frowns at the news playing from the television in the living room.

“Where’s William?” She asks, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm the tresses. What she needs is a shower. Oh, man, she actually doesn’t remember the last time she’d washed her hair. Fucking Cayden James.

“He left for school,” he explains and Felicity pouts a little to herself.

“Oh,” she offers lamely, feeling like the worst parent ever. It’s probably stupid, but she feels like she should have gotten up in time to see William off. That’s what parents do, right? They make you a lunch and double check your homework and send you off to the bus with a kiss on the head.

At least, that’s what 90s sitcoms told her.

“I made cinnamon waffles,” Oliver tells her, offering her a soft look and not commenting on her disappointment. He motions towards the microwave, where the heavy smell of cinnamon and sugar is coming from, and she opens it to find still warm, leftover waffles.

She pulls down a plate and picks two waffles off the top, covering them in syrup as Oliver watches her with mild disapproval. Used to his arguments against her sugar intake, she ignores him.

Halfway through her food, Oliver empties the last dregs of his coffee into the sink and slides in behind her where she’s seated at the counter. He wraps his arms around her stomach and nudges her hair aside with his nose, placing soft kisses on the skin beneath her ear.

He smells like cinnamon and coffee and she leans into him.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow she will see Will off.

---

Once she is, once more, sleeping on a schedule that one may call remotely human-esque, Felicity begins to wake with Oliver and William. Part of it is that once Oliver leaves the bed it becomes significantly less warm and a shared shower in the morning is much more enticing than a cold bed. But, also, she likes getting to eat breakfast with the men in her life and chat with them.

William is stupid smart. Like, truly, so smart it’s almost unbelievable. He pulls his homework out in the mornings and sets it on the counter. Some morning it’s complete but a lot of them he’s scrambling to finish it up, which is a very Queen trait, she thinks. She checks it over as he works, impressed by the ease with which he completes things even in his sloppy, rushed handwriting.

“I thought you said you finished your homework last night, buddy,” Oliver says almost every morning, more teasing than annoyed with his son’s antics. Felicity figures that as long as it’s getting done on time and done well, Oliver is happy.

William gives him the usual caught smile, like the conversation is new rather than routine. Felicity underlines a dropped remainder with a pencil and slides it back towards Will. He spots the error and corrects it easily. Oliver frowns down at his tie, hanging untied from his collar, and lifts one end of it.

“Does this match?” He asks and Felicity startles, realizing the question is directed at her. Usually, he’s the one with an eye for matching his tie to his suit - Felicity likes her dresses and her lipstick and her shoes but menswear has never been her strong suit. No pun intended.

But it’s been a long week full of meetings with city council and the press and dealing with the backlash of the anti-vigilante bill. He’s nervous and strained, stretching himself too thin between all the things he’s committed himself to. Sometimes she thinks of the ways he’d shirked all other responsibilities - work, family, general hygiene, her - in the name of the hood he’d worn, but those days are long gone.

Now, he gives maybe too much of himself to each thing he loves.

“The blue one would look better,” she tells him, because he’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt. Any tie would match, but it’s not really about the piece of expensive fabric tied around his neck. He offers her a quick thanks, pulling the tie from his neck and heading out of the kitchen area towards the bedroom beyond.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so nervous,” Will offers, setting his pencil aside and gathering up the worksheets he’d been finishing. Felicity slips out of her chair and rounds the counter to refresh her coffee.

“You should have seen him on our first date,” she jokes, lifting the coffee pot and filling the porcelain mug in her hand. She turns back to Will, leaning forward on the counter. “He just wants to be sure he’s doing the best for the city,” she explains, tacking on, “And you.”

William rolls his eyes at the sentiment, but Felicity’s thinks it’s more to avoid the emotional truth than out of any real annoyance.

“You guys don’t have to try so hard, you know,” he says matter-of-factly. He opens a folder and neatly stacks his worksheets within the flaps. Felicity frowns at him, prompting him to continue, “I just mean it’s been… weird, I guess, with all the changes around here. But, you know, good weird. It’s been… nice.”

He’s got a pinched expression on his face, like the sharing of his feelings is physically paining him and Felicity thinks it’s the most of Oliver she’s ever seen in him. She lifts her coffee to her lips, humming in response.

“Good to know,” she admits quietly, earning a shy smile from William.

“So, can I have some coffee?” He asks, abruptly changing the subject. Felicity fumbles for a moment, surprised at the change, but nods. She pulls down a second mug from the cabinet and fills it. She holds it out to him over the counter, but Oliver appears behind her, taking the mug from her fingers before Will’s can make contact.

William sighs like he’s been caught and Oliver gives him a look.

“You’re too young for coffee,” he reminds him and Felicity cringes apologetically at both of them, pulling her own mug towards herself and clutching it self-consciously. “Is your homework finished?”

Will nods, slipping his folder back into his bag and gathering his things to leave.

“Do you want me to pick you up later?” Oliver asks, holding a paper bag with his lunch in it out to William.

“That’s okay,” William says, shaking his head and shoving the brown bag lunch into his backpack. “I’m gonna hang out with a friend after school, if that’s cool with you guys.”

“Very cool,” Oliver says warmly. William calls his goodbyes before heading for the door. Felicity spins around, caught between Oliver’s form and the counter, and his hands fall easily to her hips. She presses up on her toes to kiss him, her arms draping over his shoulders.

“He’s making friends,” he says, a tempered excitement to his voice. Felicity smiles up at him, filling with warmth for the two of them.

“Sorry about the coffee thing,” she sighs, shaking her head at herself. “I didn’t even think about it. I mean, I was drinking coffee at his age. But, then again, I turning into all of, you know, this.”

She removes one arm from his shoulder to motion vaguely at herself and Oliver laughs, leaning down to kiss her once more.

“I like all of this,” he reminds her in between presses of his mouth and Felicity hums in response. He backs off enough to give her a serious look, “It’s fine, Felicity. Don’t be so hard on yourself when it comes to William, okay? He already likes you and it only matters that you’re trying.”

She narrows her eyes playfully at him, “That was very wise. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“Well, you know, I do have my moments,” he offers dryly, rolling his eyes at her in a very similar way to how William had a few minutes earlier. She hums in agreement again, pressing up on her toes towards him once more.

“No doubt,” she says, guiding his head back down to her.

---

Slowly, things start to hum. It helps when Felicity starts sleeping more and trying less. She gets up with Oliver in the mornings and they share the shower. He rouses William and gets him up for the day while she dresses.

They begin to move around each other easily, the awkwardness of her first few days after moving in long behind them. William and Oliver eat breakfast and, quite often, goof off while Felicity does her hair. She usually checks over William’s homework before he leaves and eats the food Oliver leaves for her in the microwave.

She recognizes that they’re still keeping a secret from William - the irony on her end and complexity of which is not lost on her. So far, they’ve managed to avoid any huge fallouts. William sometimes gets an attitude with Oliver or retreats soberly into himself, but so far? Things are somehow working.

“Is this too easy?” She wonders aloud one night as they prepare for bed. Oliver is changing out of his dress shirt and slacks and Felicity sits on the bed, watching him.

He does that adorable scrunched-faced confused look and she warms with affection for him.

“What?” He asks, expertly undoing the buttons on his shirt. Felicity plays nervously with the strings at the waistband of her pajama pants.

“You know, just,” she halts, dropping the strings and motioning at large to the room around them, the apartment outside, the son in the next room, “this. Has it all gone too smoothly? I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Oliver gives her the softest smile, settling on the bed next to her. She looks him over, dress shirt opened to the t-shirt beneath, tiredness due to a night of video games with William, rather than the kind that comes from crime bosses and evil hackers, shading his eyes. She wants to kiss him, a want she actually has the ability to fulfill.

He lets out a soft sound as she presses her lips to his, something low and comfortable from within his chest. Felicity places her hand on his chest, toying with one of the loose buttons as she pulls back from him.

“I think when it comes to our lives,” he shrugs, “we should just accept the easy things.”

“Oliver Queen an optimist?” She teases, leaning back towards him with a grin that he mirrors. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He places his hand suddenly on her waist, pushing her back into the mattress and covering her mouth with his own. Her lips open under his, giving in easily to the familiarity of him as he hovers over her. She strokes her fingers over his shoulder blades, encouraging him to settle further into the cradle of her hips as she hooks one of her legs over the back of his calf.

“I know things are a little crazy right now, with the team and with Cayden,” he admits in a low voice, pulling back from her. Felicity moves one of her hands over his shoulder, towards his jaw, where her finger stroke over the short hairs there. “But here, at least, with you and with William, I finally feel like I have everything I need.”

She pouts affectionately at him, letting out a small noise of agreement that makes him smile. She knows what he means. Between him and William, even with the team being split and her company in limbo, it feels like they’ve found a groove. There are going to be problems ahead, outside of this apartment and the bubble of comfort they’ve created for themselves and, she hopes, William. But it feels like they have everything they need to weather those storms now.

“I’m glad we finally found our rhythm,” she says, meaning both the way she and Oliver had managed to find their ways back to one another, but thinking also of how their small, combined family unit moves around each other. Humming parts of a machine, weaving in and out and around each other to create the most effective output.

Oliver gives her the kind of smile that still makes her stomach squirm with excitement like the first time he’d asked her to dinner.

“I never doubted it,” he says and, yeah. It’s definitely everything they need right now.

[solivar]

WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

ake the one in which Hanzo is an expatriate art student, Jesse is a National Park Service ranger, weird stuff is going down in the New Mexican desert, and their lives collide in the middle of it.

No, this chapter isn’t done yet but I hope to finish tomorrow. 

The light that enfolded him faded slowly to gray and then to dark. The warmth that enfolded him faded slowly to cool, and it was the touch of something far colder on his eyelids that prompted him to open them. The wind that kissed his face also lifted the hair from his shoulders, heavier against his scalp than it had been in years, shining a pure and perfect white in the light shed by the river of stars arching across the sky overhead, bowing down to touch the peak of the mountain looming far in the distance before him. A cloak of red and gold lay over his shoulders and a glittering silver path lay at his feet and he stepped upon it and began walking. He did not look back; he knew that there would be nothing for him if he did.

He walked for perhaps forever or perhaps less, and came to a place where the path became a narrow pass between two high cliffs. The shadows lay deep between the walls of stone but in those places where the starlight touched, the white of age-bleached bone shone among the drifting sand, here the unmistakable curve of a shattered human skull, there the fragments of broken human ribs. He sensed within those high bloodstained cliffs a cruelty and malice beyond even humanity, a hunger for blood and flesh that could never be sated. He sensed also that it slept, bound by a will both ancient and strong, and so he walked through the Rock-Monster Pass unharmed.

He walked again for long or perhaps not long at all, and came to a broad plain that extended as far as he could see and beyond even that. In reeds the plain was covered, as tall as a man with great leaves upon them. The wind sang through them and the leaves struck against one another with a sound like the ringing edges of knives, from their tips blew tassels of dried human skin, sere human flesh. He sensed within those waving reeds a savagery and bloodthirst beyond even humanity, a hunger for blood and flesh that could never be sated. He sensed also that it slept, bound by a will both ancient and strong, and so he walked along the Slashing-Reed Path unharmed.

He walked and before he knew that time or distance had passed, he came to an open valley. Cane cactus grew along its sides and across its flat, crowned in masses of sweet-smelling flowers and limned in thorns the length of a man’s hand, glistening with poison. Long strands of human hair hung from their hundreds of barbs and at their bases lay a tumbled scree of many fallen bones. He sensed within those spiny branches a hatred and spite beyond even humanity, a hunger for blood and flesh that could never be sated. He sensed also that it slept, bound by a will both ancient and strong, and so he walked through the Poison Cactus Country unharmed.

He walked what only seemed a few minutes before he came to a barren land of rolling dunes, sand piled in waves taller than a tall man’s head. The wind whistled along them and stirred from beneath them the ashen remains of many who had struggled to escape and burned, shriveled to nothing. He sensed within those sparkling sands a wrath and wickedness beyond even humanity, a hunger for blood and flesh that could never be sated. He sensed also that it slept, bound by a will both ancient and strong, and so he walked through Burning Sands Desert unharmed.

And so it was that he made the rest of his journey towards the far star-touched mountain and came at last to the forest that gathered at its feet. There in the shadow of the pines, just off the path itself, he saw a flicker of firelight and heard the sound of a sweet voice singing and all at once the cold and weariness of his long journey fell upon him and he found he could go no further.

Another traveler sat in the shadow of the pines feeding sweet-smelling wood to a gentle, warming fire and, coming closer, he found that he knew the traveler’s face but could not say why. The traveler looked up as he approached, a smile more warming than the flames curving his mouth, and his eyes shone golden in the dark. “You’ve come a long way just to see me, cousin.”

“I...have?” Hanzo asked, and for the first time realized his journey had a purpose. “Who are you?”

“A friendly face in the cold and lonely dark, I hope.” The traveler said, lightly, and Hanzo knew the name belonging to that face, but not the name of what looked out through his unnaturally bright eyes.

“You are not Je -- the ranger that I know.” Hanzo replied and stayed where he was on the far side of the fire. “Who are you?”

“Will you not join me by the fire, cousin?” The traveler murmured, and stirred the pot sitting in the coals, releasing a fragrant burst of steam. “You are cold and weary, and I have warmth and comfort to offer you.”

“You call me cousin but you are no kin of mine that I know.” Hanzo replied and held his ground. “Who are you?”

“Ah, Hanzo Shimada, the things you don’t know yet could fill an ocean.” The traveler grinned and caught Hanzo’s eyes with his own and he felt himself touched by a will both ancient and strong -- touched, but not bound. “I think, my stubborn young friend, that the more important question here is who are you?”

“I...do not know what you mean.” Hanzo whispered and shivered as the cold settled into his bones.

“Oh, I think you do.” The traveler stirred the pot again, and poured a stream of fragrant liquid into the bowl he held. “Sit, child. Warm yourself and drink. Stop thinking of all those faery tales you heard as a boy and attend to the here and now.”

Hanzo came closer and sank down next to the fire, gathering the red and gold cloak that was not his closer around himself, and accepting the bowl the traveler handed to him. It was sweeter than the sweetest honey and more bitter than the ashes of ten thousand broken dreams and he knew, as he drank it, he would never taste anything like it again. He sat silently for a long moment, and allowed the warmth of the fire and the warmth of the drink soak into him, and when he spoke it was softly. “I know who I am, stranger.”

“No. I think you do not.” The traveler stretched his long body out on the ground on his side of the fire, and for the first time Hanzo saw that the tips of his fingers ended in claws. “I think you know who you thought you were -- who you thought you were meant to be. You came here to this place you had only read about in books because you thought you would find it as barren and blasted and empty as you felt in your own soul...and instead the desert is alive in ways you never could have guessed. You came here to wither alone into the nothing you thought you were.”

“I am nothing.” Hanzo replied, and gazed down, his reflection dark in the surface of the traveler’s strange drink. “I could do nothing to protect myself. I endangered the lives of my friends and my brother and could do nothing to help them. Minamikaze was correct -- I am not a dragon, and I will never be one.”

“There are more things in this world than dragons and nothing, my cousin. There is more in you than that.” The traveler’s hand cupped his chin, claws gentle against the skin of his cheek. “And, for the record, Minamikaze is a judgmental asshole who’s been right exactly twice in his entire existence and when next you see him, you can tell him I told you that.”

Hanzo choked on something halfway between a laugh and a sob, and the traveler’s fingers brushed the tears from his face.

“You do not know who you are, cousin. But you have chosen the path that will lead you to the where and the when that you will.” Warm lips brushed his forehead. “You need only the courage to walk it.”

“I -- “

In the distance, a howl rose, sharp as the edge of a knife and cold as death. The wind stilled before it and fled, the boughs of the pines overhead and the ground beneath them shivered, and the flames of the fire itself lost their warmth.

“The Serpent-Wolf hunts you still, hungry as only a thing that has tasted of your soul and now your flesh can be. For the sake of the one who lent you this, I think you should, perhaps, not meet him just now.” The traveler stroked his hand down the golden border of the cloak and seized his wrist in a taloned hand. “Wake up, cousin. We shall speak again.”

The traveler’s claws bit deep, drawing blood.

*

Hanzo jerked awake and the first coherent through to crawl out of the swirling morass of inchoate madness that was his mind was, I know that ceiling.

He did, in fact, know it: large wooden beams, carved their lengths with repeating geometric motifs painted particularly vivid shades of red and gold, white and ocher, paler latillas perpendicular and he was totally looking up at the ranger’s bedroom ceiling for the second time that week and his head spun savagely with the disorientation of it. He was looking up at the ranger’s ceiling. He was laying in the ranger’s bed, wrapped in the ranger’s wonderfully soft and warm sheets and comforter, his head resting on the ranger’s pillows, and he had absolutely no memory whatsoever of how he came to be there. In fact, the very last thing he could consciously recall was the sensation of being shot.

He lay perfectly still for a moment and took stock of the contents of his mind. Yes, that was a rather vivid and unmistakable memory of catching a couple very real and sincere bullets in the midst of an otherwise surreally horrific dinner hour at the Student Union. Moving slowly, he peeled back the covers and pulled up the hem of the tee he was wearing, expecting blood and pain and bloody pain to ambush him at any moment and found, to his pure and perfect astonishment, absolutely no physical suggestion of anything untoward whatsoever. No bandages, no blood, not even a powder burn where the ranger had held the barrel almost flush with his body and pulled the trigger. His arm, on the other hand, was wrapped in lengths of cloth dressing -- each finger individually, feeling too thick and clumsy to use properly, and up beyond the hem of the sleeve, the skin feeling prickly enough as he moved to discourage even thinking about unwinding any of it.

A sound caught his ear: something halfway between a deep breath and a gentle almost-snore. Given the precise gravity of recent events, it was with only a relatively small amount of surprise that he turned his head and found Zenyatta laid out next to him, deeply and comfortably asleep from the quality of his breathing. Beyond him, half-sitting, half-slouching in one of the ranger’s heavy old wooden chairs, his feet propped up on the far side of the bed, was Genji, his head thrown back and his neck crooked at an angle incompatible with human contentment. One of the ranger’s ceramic mugs, probably containing the world’s most powerful sedative tea, or possibly four times the average dosage of pharmaceutical-grade ketamine, or possibly both sat on the bedside table at his elbow.

For an instant the relief of seeing them both there, safe and unharmed, rose up in his chest and made his head spin, and it was all he could do breathe around it. Zen didn’t so much as stir when he touched his shoulder and shook him gently or when he slipped out of bed and padded around it on stockinged feet to check on Genji. Who did not respond in any way when Hanzo maneuvered his head and neck enough to insert a pillow behind both or rearranged the blankets a bit to cover his feet as well as his arms. It wasn’t chilly, precisely, but he fed the fire another sweetly resinous bit of fuel and closed the door firmly behind him as he stepped out into the hall, where it was genuinely cool. A wavering light shone through the kitchen entrance arch, its source an oil lamp on the counter next to the sink. The drainer, he could not help but notice, contained far more mugs than it was likely for one man to use on his own.

In the living room, he found the furniture rearranged -- the coffee table and a few of the chairs pushed back against the far wall to accommodate the introduction of a camp cot, occupied by Lucio, hands wrapped around the sides even in his sleep. Hana slept on the world’s most comfortable couch, wrapped burrito-style in three blankets, only the very top of her head peeking out. A second oil lamp burned on the dining space table and the fire was fed and as he turned he saw the flicker of firelight beyond the window seat curtains. He found his shoes lined up with all the others next to the door, his jacket hanging from the rack, and he pulled both on before he stepped outside, where it was so genuinely cold that his breath escaped in a puff of frost and an involuntary cough.

“Darlin’,” The ranger greeted him from the comfortably firelit shadows at the far end of the porch, “you should not be out of bed yet.”

The firelight illuminated his face in flickering planes of light and shadow, his eyes dark and tired and entirely human, neither shining red nor flashing beast-golden and somehow more beautiful for it. It took Hanzo a moment to find his voice. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. May I join you?”

The ranger patted the spot next to him on the bench where he sat. Hanzo folded himself into it, tucking his legs up to conserve warmth, and before he was even finished settling himself, the ranger spread the blanket he was sitting under over Hanzo, as well, and wrapped the free side of that red and gold cloak around his shoulders. Warmth enfolded him, shared body heat and the ranger’s cedar-sage-spice scent and it was all he could do not to curl against him, rest his head on his shoulder and his hand on his chest, the desire sudden and fierce.

“May I?” The ranger asked, softly, and for a moment Hanzo couldn’t imagine what he meant.

“Oh.” Realization dawned. “Yes. Yes, you may.”

It came out, he thought, reasonably even if somewhat squeaky and the ranger’s arm came down around his shoulders, gathering him close against his side. Under the cloak he was wearing one of those heavy suede-and-shearling jackets and, beneath his cheek and the palm of his hand, it was just as soft as it looked. The fire was burning in one of those gourd-shaped firepits in an iron stand, giant extinct prehistoric squash consumed by the megafauna that once roamed Ice Age North America variety, the smoke was sweet when the breeze wafted it in their direction, and unless he was grossly mistaken that was the ranger’s cheek resting against the crown of his head and that was definitely his hand, warm, gentle, callused, resting over his own. Hanzo closed his eyes and luxuriated in it, soaked in the comfort and peace, knowing that it could not last.

Ranger McCree’s voice, when next he spoke, was a soft rumble under Hanzo’s ear. “I oughta be askin’ you all kinds of questions about how your insides feel, but I don’t have the heart for that right now. You mind?”

“Not at all,” Hanzo murmured dreamily. “It can wait until later.”

“Glad we’re in agreement.” The grip on his hand, and across his shoulders, tightened a fraction.

Hanzo drifted, not quite asleep and not quite awake, safe and at rest and aware of nothing but the presence of the man next to him and the contentment of holding and being held by him. At some point, he heard something: a long, low howl that sounded nothing like the creature that hunted him and so he barely stirred. At some point he heard the rustle of almost-silent wings and the deep-throated rasping of an owl, somewhere quite close by. At some point, there were voices, human voices, including the ranger’s, but the gentle caress of a hand down his spine soothed him back down before they could disturb him. What finally brought him back was the slow fade of darkness into light, touching his eyelids from the outside, and when he opened them the eastern sky beyond the cluster of autumn-red dogwoods nearest the porch was growing pale with dawn.

The ranger seemed to know he was back without the necessity of speech. “Ana and Reinhardt are bringin’ some things over for breakfast this morning -- you up to helpin’ prepare our contribution?”

“Of course.” Hanzo agreed.

Neither of them moved except, perhaps, to squeeze the last microns of separation from between their bodies.

“I’m thinkin’ scrambled eggs and home fries,” Ranger McCree murmured. “I’m afraid I don’t have the kitchen space and probably not the time for individual eggs to order.”

“That sounds delightful.” Hanzo agreed, nestled unmoving against his side.

“And some bacon and sausage, because what this meal definitely needs is an abundance of protein options. I can almost guarantee that Granny and Grandpa are gonna bring fruit and pastries and all the breakfast sweets you could possibly want.” The ranger’s arm tightened around his waist. “I hope y’all find some spice tolerable.”

“Hana makes a haejangguk so hot you could use it to keep warm in the middle of a blizzard.” Hanzo replied, and laced their fingers together on the ranger’s chest.

He was absolutely certain those were lips pressed against his scalp. “We’re goin’ t’have to get up, darlin’.”

“A few more minutes.” Hanzo whispered and the ranger, evidently, agreed, because he didn’t move again until the sky faded from gray to silver to palest blue and the last of the stars went out.  

When he finally did move, he didn’t go far, rising to his feet with an audible snap-crackle-pop of unsatisfactory spinal alignment and a groan as he stretched it out.

“I’m sorry we sort of kicked you out of your own house. And your own bed. And, uhm, yeah, I’m just really sorry about this whole thing.” Hanzo unfolded his legs, pushed himself to his feet and found himself a moment later writhing in agony on the cold planks of the front porch while two million pins and an approximately equal number of needles reminded him why warm cuddles were not an actual substitute for healthy circulation. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Ranger McCree looked down upon him with an expression that was attempting, valiantly, to be Concerned and Kindly and was failing horribly at both because he was also visibly trying not to laugh. His dark eyes were dancing with a gale of suppressed cackles, the little lines next to them deepening from the force of his repression, the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

“Go ahead, let it out.” Hanzo muttered and sat up on his own, waving a helping hand aside and rubbing feeling back into his calves.

Ranger McCree’s laughter was low and husky and crawled into his ears and down his spine and into his chest, where it began frolicking around with his heart, which had abruptly forgotten how to beat in a calm and steady fashion. It hadn’t yet recovered when the ranger reached for his hand to help him up and it continued to skitter around, richocheting off assorted ribs and internal organs as they soft-footed it through the entranceway and into the kitchen. The ranger flicked the control surface on the wall and soon the kitchen was illuminated by gentle, eye-comforting light panels scattered strategically around the room. He took the oil lamp chimney carefully in a potholder, blew it out, and locked it back into a circular clamp mounted to the wall above the sink. The pantry was deeper than Hanzo would have guessed, quite probably once an eat-in dining area repurposed to hold both a refrigerator and a standing freezer, built-in bins for edibles that didn’t really require refrigeration, canisters of flour, sugar, cornmeal, coffee, and the most extensive rack of spices, herbs, and loose-leaf teas he had ever encountered in a private home.

Ranger McCree wordlessly handed him a pair of unused rubber dishwashing gloves to put over his bandaged left hand and offered him first choice of cutting boards, knives, and vegetables. Hanzo settled himself on a stool at the work island and began turning a pile of potatoes into a bowl of evenly sized potato pieces while the ranger warmed the broiler and began laying out thick slices of bacon and rounds of sausage on two different pans. They worked in a warm and comfortable silence, Hanzo’s heart slowly settling back into its accustomed place, surrounded by a little curl of laughter.

The first pan went under the broiler and Jesse murmured, “I’m gonna check the fireplace in the bedroom -- if you could keep an eye on that for a minute, darlin’, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Hanzo whispered and his heart discovered renewed cause for acrobatics, some of them a bit nervous.

But Jesse returned a handful of minutes later mercifully unstabbed and unsliced. “Doc Tekhartha and your brother are still sawin’ logs, so I elected to let ‘em. The doc took a pretty hefty energetic shot to the third eye when all his defenses went kaboom at once back there, so he’s likely to need a bit of TLC when he finally does crawl outta bed.” He slid the pan out from under the broiler, scrutinized the quality of the cooking thus far, and slid it back in. “You got questions, I can tell.”

Hanzo did, in fact, have questions, potentially all the questions since the beginning of time, and they decided that was exactly the moment to engage in a vicious scrum for the honor of being first substantive inquiry out of his mouth.

“Why do you use oil lamps and fireplaces?” The first substantive inquiry, knocked to the floor by inanity, stared at the inside of his eyeballs in unmitigated horror. “I -- I mean, you’ve obviously got a modern electrical system here, your solar array is better than the one we’ve got at the condo, and, yeah, that was -- “

“When the wind blows out of the north long enough, at the right time of the year, it can mess with modern electronics pretty severely. Even here, where we’ve hardened it thoroughly against such things, it can still whistle through the cracks from time to time, particularly when the local atmosphere is unsettled and primed to allow it.” He smiled, flipped the bacon, and put it back in to finish cooking. “Like now, really. When that happens, it can get mighty cold, mighty fast, so it behooves me to have alternate means on hand for warmth and light and cookin’. If the power hadn’t worked when I tried, we’d be doin’ this outside over mesquite charcoal on the grill.”

“That...doesn’t happen very often in the city.” Hanzo pushed the bowl of neatly diced potatoes across the table, wiped his knife and board clean with a damp cloth, and set to work on the peppers. “Or at least I haven’t noticed it if it does.”

Jesse laid paper towels on a broad serving plate, transferred the bacon to it, and set it inside the microwave to keep warm. “It’s a little different in the city. Reality’s a little more...solid there, I wanna say. Even so, weird stuff can happen in the right places for it -- abandoned houses with bad reputations, public parks at the times when nobody’s supposed to be about, that sorta thing. Given half a chance, unearthly stuff like we’ve been dealing with will find a way.”

“Such as it did on campus...yesterday?” Hanzo guessed, because he didn’t feel quite famished enough to have experienced a multi-day blackout.

“Yesterday evening, yes.” In went the sausage and out came several boxes of eggs, a gallon of milk, and a bag of shredded cheese. “That was kind of an extreme example, but yeah.”

“Of course.” Hanzo replied, dolefully.

“And not at all your fault, because there was literally no way you could have guessed that this thing would be so persistent.” The ranger gave him the world’s most perfectly soothing Stern but Kindly look in response to his tone. “Doc Tekhartha, who I know for a fact is better-educated than average about things like this, probably didn’t guess it would be that persistent, or so bold, so y’all are most definitely off the hook.”

“I suppose that’s pretty true, but I didn’t take the whole dose of my tea the night before last, and you know Zenyatta.” Hanzo looked up as all the ranger’s words filtered in and settled into place.

“Know is a pretty strong word.” A wry little smile curled the corners of his mouth. “I’d go more with professional acquaintances -- I guest lecture on occasion at UNM, and we’re both members of the loose association of practicing crafty types around here. We haven’t had cause to actually work together before this, though I gotta say, I’m pretty impressed with the tricks he pulled off on the fly using duct tape and markers. Be interesting to see what he could do with proper materials.”

“My brother is likely to hate that. A lot.” Hanzo finished with the peppers and set to work on the onions, as Jesse cracked eggs into a fresh bowl. “And I apologize if he was -- “ Hanzo gestured with his knife, “particularly cutty-stabby last night.”

“To give him the credit he deserves, he did sorta see somebody he loves get shot right before his eyes, so I really didn’t blame him for the cutty-stabby.” He fetched a whisk and set to work breaking yolks with untoward deep concentration. “There’s generally no good way to react to that.”

“So the shooting thing was...real.” Hanzo laid aside his knife and breathed peace for a moment.

“Kinda yes and kinda no.” Jesse’s hand closed over his own. “What I shot at you weren’t bullets in the traditional sense of the term -- they were a shell of matter around an energetic payload keyed to deploy a particular pattern of force. In this case, exorcism rounds. The physical mass of the bullet discorporates on impact, and only the energy penetrates to do its work, which forced the thing inside of you to let go.”

Hanzo shivered uncontrollably for a moment, and the ranger’s hands came to rest on his shoulders. “So it...it isn’t...it’s not...there...any longer?”

“No.” And now those arms were around him again, holding him close as he shook and failed at not crying. “You’ve got some of what we call physical artifacts of possession still in place on your arm, and that’ll feel prickly and uncomfortable while it heals up, and we’ve still got some work to do to make you permanently safe, but no. It’s not still there and I have no intention of lettin’ it come back.”

“Promise?” Hanzo whispered against his chest.

“You have my word and my vow. This thing will never hurt you again while I’m still breathing.” Warm hands tilted his face up and warm lips brushed his forehead. “I promise.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” said someone quite nearby.

The ranger lifted his head, eyes narrowing, and looked around. “What was -- “

Hanzo groaned and buried his face in the ranger’s chest again, because that at least stood a pretty decent chance of ruining Hana’s shot.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, you two are like THIS CLOSE to paying for winter break in Cancun for ALL of us.” Hana came completely over the top of the sofa, phone in both hands. “My steam thinks you two are adorable, by the way, can you do that forehead kiss thing again but turn a little more fully in this direction so -- “

“Hana.” Lucio manifested next to her on the couch between one minute in the next and plucked the phone out of her hands. “Maybe we could give them, I dunno, five minutes of privacy? Sorry to interrupt, gang, but we’ve gotta go, I think I smell breakfast burning, seeya later.”

“That kinda is somethin’ -- oh, damn, the sausage.” Jesse snatched up the potholders and rescued the pan of gently smoking, more than slightly blackened sausage patties just before they caught fire. “Well, I hope y’all like it on the crunchy side. And since you two are awake, I hope you don’t mind bein’ drafted to help.”

Within ten minutes, the ranger had Hana measuring coffee and loose leaf tea and Lucio juicing two full bags of oranges. A taste test suggested that the sausage was retrievable provided the worst of the crispy spots were scraped off, so Hanzo took over that task while the ranger sauted onions and peppers over gentle heat and whisked together eggs and milk. Ten minutes after that, the aroma of perking coffee was propagating through the air and, ten minutes after that, the door to the ranger’s bedroom opened and Zenyatta emerged, blinking owlishly, into the light.

“Hey there, Doc.” The ranger poured eggs-and-milk into the pan, gave both a brief stir, and retrieved one of his heavy painted ceramic mugs from the drainer. “How ya feelin’?”

Zenyatta settled himself onto the stool Hanzo vacated in order to fetch a packet of tea and a single-serving strainer. “As though I have been run over by an overloaded trash truck that was also on fire. Which is to say, crispy and in need of ritual cleansing.” A wry smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “And I would not refuse painkillers.”

“I’ve got a couple different sorts in the medicine cabinet -- darlin’, you’d be so kind?” The ranger asked, as he measured out the tea and poured the hot water. “It’s just next to the linen closet.”

Ranger McCree’s medicine cabinet was clearly assembled on the advice of a survivalist emergency medicine specialist who existed in active fear that the world was going to end sometime in the immediate future. There were at least six different varieties of OTC painkillers in the medicine cabinet, all of them in giant economy sized containers with their applications clearly labeled, and so Hanzo only grabbed the ones dealing with headache, fever, and body pain. Zenyatta was meditatively inhaling the vapors rising from the surface of his tea and being brought up to speed on current events by Lucio and Hana, with occasional interjections by Ranger McCree, by the time he returned.

“...and that’s when the big guy -- “ Hana was saying, as he re-entered the kitchen.

“Roadie,” Ranger McCree interjected, finishing off the scrambled eggs and pouring them into an enormous ceramic platter.

“ -- yeah, he got sick of waiting for everybody to hug it out and just picked you up,” She made a motion not unlike someone hefting a load of something on the blade of a shovel, “heaved you over one shoulder like sack of rice and started walking and we pretty much had to move it or lose it at that point, so Genji put his sword away -- and, believe me, I want to know where that came from because there is no way it came out of his backpack because it’s not there now and it wouldn’t fit anyway, I did measurements -- and he and Ranger McHottie here carried Hanzo down the stairs and there was smoke and rentacops and real cops and fire and rescue all over the place and the entire campus was blacked out and so was about half the city around us and before we finally fell asleep last night the news was saying some kind of major subterranean power relay station right near the school blew and that’s what they were blaming the whole thing on as of right now.” Hana took several deep breaths to recover from the oxygen deficiency that recital caused her. “And so, here we are, about to have breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Zenyatta replied warmly, to them both, as he selected his analgesic of choice. “It seems quite an eventful evening was had by nearly everyone.”

“That’s one way to describe it.” Lucio looked up from adding sugar and water to the jug of orange juice. “You accepting new patients, Doc?”

“I’m almost certain that the ethical canons of my profession don’t really cover situations like this so, yes, of course.” Zenyatta sipped his tea.

“Oh, good, ‘cause I’d hate to have to explain this to any other doctor.”

The ranger’s phone chimed gently and he stepped around the corner to answer it. Hana and Lucio exchanged a glance and immediately dragged him and Zenyatta into a huddle over the prep island.

“Are we agreed that this guy is possibly the hottest thing to ever wear a uniform apparently designed to absolutely negate personal hotness?” Hana asked, her tone low and intense.

“We are in agreement,” Lucio replied and Hanzo buried his burning face in his hands with an audible groan. “However, the precise state of his hotness is not really my concern at this moment. I admit, I was kinda mentally downplaying the whole ‘magic tea meant to keep my soul in one place’ thing in my head, Han, sorry about that, but, seriously what is this guy? Because I’m thinking ‘park ranger’ is only part of the definition. And that’s leaving out Roadie the Friendly Giant and his friend the psycho genius demolitions expert.”

“I could tell you,” Zenyatta murmured in the sort of low, soothing tones that had the effect of taking everyone’s body language and blood pressure down a few notches. “But it would be rude to discuss such things behind his back, when he has taken us into the safety of his home. I counsel patience.”

“I can do patience.” Hana agreed. “And not to belittle the seriousness of anything, really, that was pretty scary and intense back there, I mean, he totally shot you. But you weren’t shot? And it was freakworthy, but he was just so...nice? And he made us hot cocoa with real chocolate and gave us fresh clothes to sleep in and made sure we were all safe and comfortable and -- “

“Yes, I know,” said Hanzo who did, in fact, know quite well. “It seems to be his thing. Also, I understand that they weren’t real bullets.”

“Yeah, he said that but I’m not entirely sure Genji believed him which is another thing that’s a thing -- Genji, man.” Lucio flicked a glance down the hallway. “Your brother can get pretty hardcore from time to time but until last night I never thought I’d see him flat-out ready to kill somebody. And by ‘ready’ I mean ‘Hana and I had to physically restrain him from stabbing your boyfriend.’”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Hanzo replied to a chorus of eyerolls that included, to his surprise, Zenyatta.

“Semantics.” Hana replied, in almost precisely the same tone Genji used when he said it. “Listen, Hanzo, I’m going to strongly suggest that your face be the first thing he sees in order to prevent a potential outbreak of life-threatening violence.”

“That is not a bad idea at all.” Lucio concurred.

“I agree.” Zenyatta sipped his tea.

“Is this your way of getting me out of the kitchen so you can talk about me?” Hanzo asked, eying them all with newfound suspicion.

Any protestations of innocence were interrupted by the front door opening and closing and the ranger rejoining them, smoothing a pained look off his face. “Well, that was Ana and Rein, they’ll be here in about fifteen minutes and they’re bringing Jack and Gabe with them so...we’re going to need more seats. If you two,” he nodded at Hana and Lucio, “could give me a hand with that, I’d appreciate it greatly.”

“Sure!” Hana chirped. “Incidentally, do you have any more of these shirts? In pink? I mean, the fit’s nice and all but this isn’t really my color.”

The ranger smiled that genuine, bone-melting smile of his and Hanzo could not help but notice Hana’s knees swaying under the influence. “Y’all have no idea. There’s technically a gift shop in the park office across the way there -- I’ve got more stuff packed away in storage than I’ve ever sold. I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something after breakfast.”

“Cool. And a green one for Lu and Genji. And blue for Hanzo and Zen. And can we get our National Park Service passports stamped and you’ve still got those little pins and lanyard charms, right? I need to add those to my collection and maybe shoot some video and don’t you have some audio gear in your bag, ooooh, we could do a little mini-documentary and maybe our grades won’t get docked too hard…”

“She’s plotting something, isn’t she?” Zenyatta asked, amused, and finished his tea.

“I’m almost totally certain of it, yes.” Hanzo agreed. “I should probably see to Genji.”

“I concur. But before you go...may I?” Zenyatta gestured and Hanzo realized he was still wearing gloves and that what he wanted to see was beneath them.

“Of course.” He had, miraculously, not sweated through the bandages wrapped around his fingers despite the relative temperature inside the gloves.

Zenyatta took his hand in both of his own and bowed over it, eyes drifting half-closed and a low hum rising in his throat as he examined it, as he turned his wrist over to reveal the five tiny spots of dried blood welling up through the fabric. Hanzo almost jolted backwards out of his grip at the sight. “Whoever crafted this binding is skilled at their work.”

“If I hadn’t pulled yours loose -- “ Hanzo began and Zenyatta reached up to place two fingers across his lips.

“Mine were a stopgap, at best, and I am willing to guess that we all underestimated the lengths this thing would go to in its efforts to claim you. You have nothing to apologize for, least of all to me.” He looked up, eyes still gleaming faintly silver.

“You lot are in collusion to make sure no contrition from me goes unanswered, aren’t you?” Hanzo complained. “You were hurt.”

“Would offering an apology to me, and me accepting it, make you feel better about this situation?” Zenyatta asked with all apparent sincerity.

“Yes.” Hanzo paused for a moment, flustered, then soldiered on. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

“Very well. You apology is accepted.” Zenyatta smiled serenely, poured a cup of coffee from the carafe steaming gently on the counter, and handed it to him. “You should probably take this and go before the smell wakes him.”

[insane-hamilton-imagines-blog]

Secret Relationships (Thomas Jefferson x Hamilton!Reader)

Prompt: “Oh my God, you love her!”

Summary: Being Alexander’s younger sister isn’t always the easiest thing in the world. When you have to hide the fact that you are dating his enemy, Thomas Jefferson, it becomes even harder. How will Alex react?

Warnings: Lying? Ummm, maybe some Out Of Characterness, but I hope not.

Time Period: Hamiltime

Words: 2230

A/N: Hey guys! I really am so sorry for not posting a story recently, but school as gotten to me. However, I have a couple of stories almost ready to post. (and sorry about the title, still trying to work on that.) More exciting news: I started this blog 3 weeks ago today and I almost have 300 followers!! You guys are the best thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the story, and please send in some requests, my inbox is empty. Have a wonderful day!

Being the younger sister of Alexander Hamilton was not the easiest thing in the world. While you loved your brother dearly, there were times that he could be a bit too stubborn. Most of the these situations happened during dreaded cabinet meetings, or “battles” as they had been renamed.

Usually, you would avoid going, but Alexander would beg and plead with you until you gave him. The reason you dreaded them so much was because of the talk. Most people there believed that because Alexander was your brother, you could apparently control how he behaved. Not true.

One particular day, you and Alexander were walking side by side to the meeting. You walked along in comfortable silence, so your mind drifted to the upcoming battle. Alexander was going up against a man named Thomas Jefferson. They would be debating over whether or not the government should accept Alex’s plans for the nation to assume state’s debts.

After arriving, you wished your brother good luck and went to find a seat. Looking around, you pulled the hat you had worn, further down. Maybe then people wouldn’t openly tell you how idiotic they thought your brother’s ideas were. Not long after you got settled, President Washing walked into the middle of the room followed by Alexander and Mr. Jefferson.

Everything happened so fast, you were unsure where to look. Mr. Jefferson claimed that each state should be responsible for their own debts. he also tried to insult Alex by saying his plan was too long to understand, but you just laughed because he had just insulted himself.

Unfortunately, Alexander came back with full force. You but your lip and kept your head down, praying Alexander wouldn’t say anything too rash. Your ears tuned back in to the conversation when you heard your brother shout,

“Bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits!”

Your head snapped up and your eyes went wide. All around you, everyone was going crazy, discussing who they sided with most. Ignoring all the talk, you rushed to your brother and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the crowd.

“What the hell was that, Alexander?” you cursed, not caring if anybody overhead her.

“What do you mean?” he asked rather confused. “Jefferson was out of line so I put him back in his place.” Alex tried to defend.

Before you could respond, President Washington walked behind your brother. You quickly curtsied out of respect and watch Alexander’s eyes go wide as he walked away with his commander.

“Serves him right.” you mumbled, smoothing down the wrinkles on your dress.

Glancing around the room, you saw Mr. Jefferson talking quietly with Mr. Madison. Sighing heavily, you began the journey towards their spot. Somebody had to apologize for Alexander’s actions.

“Mr. Jefferson.” you stated and both men turned to face you.

“Yes, may I help you, Miss...” he began, but trialed off when he realized he did not know your name.

“Hamilton. (y/n) Hamilton.” you introduced yourself, but hurried on once you saw the distain in Jefferson’s eyes grow. “I, um, I came here to apologize for my brother’s words. He was partially in the wrong, and we both know he is too stubborn to admit it.” you confessed.

“I agree.” Jefferson agreed bluntly, but added on to his statement after noticing your look of disbelief. “But I accept your apology and offer my apologizes, Miss. Hamilton” he told you.

“Thank you.”

‘How is it that we have not yet met, Miss. Hamilton?” Jefferson inquired. “I’m sure I would not forget a face as beautiful as yours.”

You blushed and look down at the floor. ‘Well, Mr. Jefferson, you have been off in France.” you pointed out.

“That is true, and please call me Thomas.” he insisted.

“Only if you call me (y/n).” you countered.

Neither of you were able to say another word because it was then that Alexander stormed over to you and puled you behind him, distancing you from Thomas.

“(y/n), what are you doing talking to the likes of him?” Alex spat.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Thomas beat you to it. “We were having a perfectly civil conversation until you came over here, Hamilton.”

Sensing another argument, you stepped between the two men, holding each of them back. “Both of you are grown men, so let us stop fighting like children. For goodness sake, you are both dignified members of government.” you chided.

Then, you turned to your brother and tried to reason with him. “Alexander, I do not need to be protected, I was simply apologizing to Thomas for your behavior. Now let’s-”

“Thomas?” your brother seethed, and you quickly pulled him outside to head back home.

“I’m so sorry against, Thomas. I hope to see you again soon.” you called over your shoulder, offering him a smile.

“Goodbye, (y/n).” you heard him respond, and the rest of the way home you had a blush on your cheeks as you ignored your still fuming brother.

A month or so later, you stood in front of your mirror and smile at your reflection. You were going into town to meet Thomas as you had been for the past two weeks. It was always the highlight of your day. Thomas was a perfect gentleman and you could feel yourself falling in love with the Secretary of State more and more each day.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Alexander stepped in. “(y/n), my lovely sister.” he began, with a joking tone. “I was wondering if you would like to join me on a visit to Eliza? She has missed you these past few weeks.”

You sighed internally and turned to face your brother. “Oh Alex, I would love to go, but I've already made plans to go to town today with a friend.” you lied, praying he would buy it.

A look of disappoint crossed his face, but it was changed within a second. “That’s fine. Stay safe.” he advised, kissing your forehead.

You hated lying to your brother, but it was necessary; especially since you and Thomas had officially began courting last week. You took one last look at your appearance, gathered your belongings, and headed outside.

Once you reached your destination, you found a bench to sit on and wait for Thomas. Eventually, he strolled your way, and you stood up to greet him.

“Hello, darling.” he greeted, warmly.

Linking your arm through his, Thomas guided you down the street and past all the little shops. He stopped in front of the local bakery and pulled out a chair for you to sit in the outdoor seating.

“Wait here, I will be right back.” he informed you before disappearing inside.

You glanced around and smiled, enjoying the warm rays of the sun and the fresh breeze. It wasn’t until your heard two familiar voices that your smile dropped.

Alexander and Eliza were headed your way.

Instantly you turned, back facing the street, and you pulled your hat as far down as it could go. Your plan to become near invisible did not work. Turning around you saw Eliza beaming at you.

(y/n), dear. It’s so good to see you.” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a comforting hug.

As you pulled away, you took a chance and snuck a glance at Alex. “Where is your friend?” he inquired.

“Oh, umm.” you started, palms already sweaty. “He-SHE- I mean she is inside.” you answered, laughing nervously.

Alexander gave you a look that told you he was unconvinced, but Eliza spoke once more before your brother could interrogate you.

“Well we have to go, but we must spend time together soon.” she stated, and you just nodded your head meekly.

You let out a large sigh as Thomas walked back outside, pastry in hand. He set in on the table between the two of you and took your hand as he sat in the seat opposite of yours.

“What is the matter, love?” Thomas questioned, rubbing his hand back and forth over your hand.

“I hate lying to Alex about our relationship.” you confessed. “He almost just caught us now, but I feel terrible. We need to tell him.” you pleaded.

Thomas started at you incredulously. “Are you absolutely sure that you want to tell him now?”

“Yes!” you stated confidently. “No.” you answered again, this time with less enthusiasm. “I don’t know!” you sighed. “It’s so hard keeping this a secret and I hate lying to him, but I know he’ll hate me if he finds out.”

Thomas gave your hand he was holding a small squeeze and offered a comforting smile. “Why don’t we wait until after the next Cabinet Meeting? The meeting is tomorrow so we can admit the truth the next day.” he reasoned and you smiled.

Finishing up your date, Thomas walked you a little over halfway home, before kissing you goodbye. You entered your house and prepared for the next day.

The Cabinet Meeting the next day did not go well, at least not for Thomas. Both Alexander and President Washington disagreed with his idea to aid France in their revaluation. And unsurprisingly, Thomas and your brother where in bad moves.

Once you made sure that Alexander was out of earshot with the President, you pulled Thomas into a secluded corner of the room.

“I'm sorry it didn’t go well today.” you offered, trying to console him. You knew how much helping the people of France meant to him.

“Thank you, (y/n).” he said.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him for a quick, but loving kiss. You blushed as you pulled away and swat at his chest, trying to scold him for that fact that somebody probably saw you.

You were right, somebody did see you. Alexander.

He had finished his talk with Washington and was trying to find you, but he was meet with the sight of his baby sister kissing his enemy, Thomas Jefferson!

Without a moment’s hesitation, Alexander stormed into view and ripped you off of Thomas, making sure that you were well behind him.

“What the hell do you think you are doing to my sister?!” Alexander screamed at Thomas.

You pulled on your brother’s arm, trying to get him to calm down but it was too no avail.

“I’m not doing anything terrible to her. I’m kissing her because we are courting!” Thomas screamed back before he even realized what he was saying.

Alexander’s jaw slacked as he tried to process what had just been stated, and your eyes went wide. Nobody moved for a good minute, and you felt like you wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Excuse me? Did you just say you are courting my sister?” he growled.

Thomas only gulped and nodded ever so slightly. Alexander then turned on his heel and glared at you. “Tell me it’s not true.” he almost pleaded with you.

“It is.” you whispered, not able to look into Alexander’s eyes.

Again, it took Alex a few minutes to come up with a response and when he did you wanted to scream and shout. “You’re not allowed to see him anymore.”

“What?” you shrieked. Did your brother really believe he had the authority to tell you who you could or couldn’t see?

“You heard me. I’m not allowing you to see Jefferson any longer.” your brother stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hamilton, I really don’t think you have the power to say-” Thomas started, but was quickly overshadowed.

“I’m just trying to protect you, (y/n).” Alex said, trying to justify his decision. “I could almost guarantee that Jefferson is only using you to get ahead of me.” he explained.

Your eyes filled with tears and you turned away as you heard your brother and Thomas having a mumbled conversation. It was hard for you to make out, until Alex revealed the discussion.

“Oh my God, you love her!” Alex shouted, shocked.

Also shocked as well, you walked towards the duo and pulled Jefferson closer to you. “Do you really mean it?” you questioned, hopefully.

“Of course I do.” he responded honestly. “From the moment I gazed into your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes I knew we were connected somehow. And now I understand, you’re my soulmate.” Thomas confessed. “You make me a better person and I more myself when I'm with you. I love you, and nothing is every going to change that.” he told you, directing the last part towards Alexander.

You gave him a watery smile, through tears of joy. “I love you too, Thomas.” you replied.

Holding his hand in yours, you turned to face your brother and gave him a hopeful smile. After staring between the you and Thomas, he sighed and his gazed softened.

“If he makes you happy, (y/n), you have my blessing.” he half grumbled.

You walked to Alex and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Alex, I really love him.” you whispered. “And I love you too.” you reassured him, giggling.

Then, Alexander glared at Jefferson once more. “I swear if you ever hurt my sister, I will not hesitate to kill you.” Alex threatened.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Hamilton.” Thomas promised before he turned to you and brought you into a passionate kiss.

Everything had turned out all right.