#(sometimes I wonder about making him a guest muse but he only wants to interact with Ikkaku and Killer)

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Hawkins Sex and Sexuality Headcanon(s)

Before Hawkins decided to attempt to seduce and manipulate Ikkaku, he never had much interest in sex. He’d had it a few times, mostly out of curiosity, but it hadn’t been something he’d really been invested in. He’d seen men be reduced to panting, mindless dogs over just a glimpse of tits and ass and refused to debase himself so. He is a man of control. Part of the reason he relies on his tarot cards so is because knowing the future puts him in control. But when he began planning to draw Ikkaku to his side, he realized sex would absolutely be a necessity for the plan.

However, sex became far more pleasurable for him once he started sleeping with Ikkaku because he realized sex = power and control. In his mind, Ikkaku is something akin to a goddess that he intends to steal divinity from, and yet she lays beneath him in bed. He enjoys how his touch can leave her moaning and writing beneath him. He relishes being able to bring Ikkaku to orgasm or deny it. The understanding he’s gained of her kinks and body and desires gives him a sense of power over her he hadn’t anticipated. He can dominate and cause her extreme pleasure in so many ways, or he can have his submissive lover down on her knees to pleasure him. When she’s being a feisty brat in the bedroom, he loves putting her in her place – it actually turns him on more than Ikkaku being totally submissive, because it’s a reminder of how he can overpower her at any time. Even when they have sex in the bath, where he is basically powerless and Ikkaku tops, he is able to justify it in his mind because he gave her that control, and it was all for the sake of gaining her trust. To manipulate her further so he will have more power overall.

The size difference between him and Ikkaku also helps. He enjoys how much taller and bigger he is. How he can cage her in against a wall and loom over her, how he can so easily pull her into his lap and keep her there even if she squirms, how his hands are large enough to wrap around her waist or throat or cover her tattoo with his palm. He especially likes the feeling of her cunt, lips, and throat stretched around his large cock, considering how it’s a good 8in long and decently girthy.

Basically, when it comes to sex, Hawkins gets off on the power and control as much as the physical pleasure itself. The fact that Ikkaku also enjoys being overwhelmed and used in bed furthers this and makes him think that she’s more under his thumb than she really is.

Hawkins is also a closeted bisexual. His misogyny and wanting to be in control are the biggest reasons he refuses to acknowledge that side of his sexuality. Women he feels can generally overpower and control, but men he doesn’t have that advantage. Especially muscular, dangerous men like Killer, who he finds himself staring at despite his animosity. He is also aware of the fact that his looks would make many outsiders see him as the “woman” in the relationship which infuriates him. With Ikkaku, it was clear to everyone, at least in his mind, that even with his long hair and frilly shirts he was the “man.” If he pursued someone like Killer, he would not be so obviously the “masculine” one. So, his attraction to men (Killer) is repressed and shifts into anger.

[genshin-scenarios]

android au - personal assistant droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it's possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human. There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group! 

T.D.H. is a line designed to help busy users! They were intended for corporate higher-ups for personal assistant work around the workplace, but because of how attractive their designs are, it's not uncommon for regular people to save up for them to make their everyday lives simpler (and livelier).

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli, Ayato, Thoma

More like this: Anemo companion droids, Anemo droids who lost their previous user

To have Diluc as a personal assistant feels out of place, to say the least; his demeanor is a little too prince-like, or at least, you can easily imagine him as the heir of a corporation if he was human. So within the first few days you’re quick to ask him to address you casually - you don’t think your conscience can handle having someone like that treating you like a superior.

Diluc does prefer having some sense of structure however, so he still arranges your appointments and keeps track of everything else he was designed to do. He finds comfort in ticking off the tasks on his list, though he’s not sure why you request for him to wear fake glasses every now and then ‘for personal reasons’.

If you have guests over, Diluc makes a talented bartender! Though to your dismay (or joy, depending on you), he’d always limit the amount of alcohol in your drink or omit it entirely. Something about how he’d rather have you conscious even if your guests aren’t, and that if you really wanted to drink, you could do so once you two were alone.

‘Why, do you want me just for yourself, Diluc?’

‘...If that’s what you’d like to hear, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking that as an order.’

Childe is the kind of assistant droid who you never see actually doing work. He makes it seem like all he does is chat with people and dote on you, but you’re aware that once you aren’t around, he makes sure to run through his checklist and finish off the accounts for the month in his head. Such was the wonders of technology, to allow him to upload files to a cloud system without needing to physically type things down. 

He’s also very attentive, though you didn’t realize this at first because of how talkative he was. Distracted by his jokes and charms, you almost forget that Childe really is looking out for you every step of the way until he has his arm around you - not to flirt, but to keep you from bumping into the crowd of people on the street.

Childe is a good cook, but what he likes even more is asking you to taste-test his creations. While he can’t actually consume food, he has sensors on his tongue that allow him to detect flavors (very useful for when he’s buying desserts or snacks, and needed to try samples to see if they fit your taste).

‘A house-husband? Well, I guess that’s technically what I am. But don’t forget I can fight too, Master~’

Have someone you need to email or call but you really don’t want to? That's where Kaeya comes along to take care of your social interactions!

Jokes aside, he really is the most talkative model in this collection. Sly as he is, Kaeya isn't a stranger to figuring out which people or tasks you dislike, and rewards you with a gift after you finally drag your feet to get it over with.

He’s good at countering procrastination in this way, such as buying your favorite snacks or preparing a movie night for you when you get home. Kaeya sometimes dries your hair for you too after you shower, and quietly muses that you probably had a long day, when you doze off before the movie manages to cross the fifteen-minute mark.

Kaeya enjoys driving or escorting you to places too, knowing full-well he looks like a doting boyfriend when he does so. He dresses stylishly and would talk to passersby while waiting, telling them about this wonderful and super-important person… only to welcome you with the same amount of grandeur. He finds it cute when you half-heartedly scold him for it, saying he’ll make people misunderstand the situation.

‘What is there to misunderstand, Y/N? I thought you said we’d be together for as long as you lived? I was rather looking forward to that.’

An encyclopedia of knowledge, Zhongli has an elegant personality and voice that you could listen to for hours. He’s rather adept at keeping track of your accounting needs in particular, though you’ve learned quickly that he has a rather skewed sense of money when he spends it himself—you had to send him to buy last-minute groceries because you already started cooking at home, only for him to return with… way too many of the same ingredient, because it was on promotion.

That aside, Zhongli does emphasize the need to manage your mental and physical health quite a lot. He makes you medicinal teas and offers to give you massages quite regularly, though there’s nothing scarier than his offer to do chiropractic maneuvers at home… you tried to change the topic quickly after that, telling him you’re feeling great - so there’s no need for such a thing!

As much as he likes to ramble about topics that he’s interested in, Zhongli is an android that listens to you very well. He’d take note of information that might be useful in the future, such as things you said you’d like to buy or were curious about.

‘Today I thought it’d be beneficial to attempt an acupuncture treatment. …Just kidding. I heard that the flowers in the park would be blooming this season. Shall we go on a walk?’

Ayato's a little picky with his users. They don’t have to be rich corporate heirs or someone of prestige, but Ayato is an android with a personality that gets bored easily; he even comes with a warning label that he might get up to shenanigans if paired with an incompatible user, but once he finds a person intriguing enough, he’s loyal to a fault.

Sure, he still enjoys teasing you and keeping you on your toes, but for the most part Ayato practically sees you as the center of his world, though he presents himself to suggest otherwise. His work record is absolutely spotless, and sometimes he even predicts what you might request from him before you have to, getting it done while saying it’s all in a day’s work.

Just make sure you don’t let him cook unsupervised, as Ayato is quite curious about… experimenting with flavors, you could say. By which you mean he’d add the randomest ingredients into an otherwise normal recipe, which would sometimes be too adventurous for your palette to handle.

You realize just how much he dotes on you during one rainy day, where Ayato walks you home under an umbrella as he asks how your day was. In moments like that, his expression is just soft enough that you might be fooled into thinking it was love.

The perfect model for tired users, Thoma has a caring personality that warms the heart. Cooking, cleaning, and making sure you wake up on time? He's got it all covered!

Honestly, you don’t think your place has felt this homey until Thoma got here. During the first few days he asked you what you’d like out of your home - what activities you do to wind down, how often you work on your laptop, and other details. You thought these were just conversation starters at first, until weeks later, you started to see the vision of what he wished to give to you: 

A place where you could shed away the worries and expectations of the outside world. To rest safely and feel reinvigorated by the time you had to go out again - sometimes with Thoma in tow as he busied himself with self-appointed tasks (related to housekeeping). You realize after a while that Thoma views the upkeep of your home as a source of pride.

He likes to knit and crochet items for you whenever he has time, too. Little accessories to put on top of headphones, beanies, and even blankets to use around the house. Once, when the weather was unbearably cold and the heater wasn’t working, Thoma forgot his lack of body heat and attempted to warm up your hands with his own. 

[ofdetonation]

wishlist of things i’d love to do someday:

katsuki and endeavor just. talking. about endeavor’s younger years, about his training during the agency arc, etc. he doesn’t exactly like endeavor but he respects him and any advice he gives as a mentor.

katsuki and ALL MIGHT. they talk about izuku in canon and all might often watches them spar between one another, but i just want more interactions focusing on the two of them specifically. build on that lowkey regret that katsuki never took the chance to ask all might for his signature on his card.

ok honestly any interactions with the teachers / pro heroes.

any of class 1a finding out about katsuki’s recurrent nightmares that only get worse post-war, but they find out indirectly because katsuki refuses to talk about them + show weakness. by extension, i think anyone from 1b learning about this would be plausible too!

to extend on the previous point, katsuki learning how his classmates are dealing with the knowledge he died and came back. hard to forget when he has a scar to show for it + some of them saw it, and it’s likely the business course caught the moment on camera while documenting. i wonder just how many people find out about how he died… and how many more found out how he came back.

actually i have to mention this one too: katsuki and aizawa. my main thought is aizawa helping katsuki through his survivor’s guilt (working on the assumption that aizawa has a similar experience with shirakumo, and katsuki is dealing with all might’s retirement + edgeshot later on)… but anything with aizawa being a decent role model will make me happy.

bakusquad shenanigans. i don’t care what they are because katsuki probably got dragged into them anyway, but i think it’d be fun.

big three interactions inside and outside of ua. i feel like post-war, katsuki has unending respect for the big three considering they were all there at the floating ua and did everything to help. i just wanna see them talk more.

generalisation, could apply to anything: katsuki getting ANGRY. he’s in a perpetual state of annoyance for the most part (when i write him at least), and sometimes it escalates to different degrees of frustration depending on the interaction, but i would like to write when he gets genuinely pissed off more… he tends to dig his heels and bare his teeth, and refuses to budge even when he knows the other person might actually be right.

give him more reasons to smile and laugh. i love his stupid dorky laugh from the mr smiley ova, come on.

i’m usually nervous about tackling anything pre-ua, but i also wanna write more young bkg shenanigans. as in, baby. (not too sure about middle school yet.) i also know he hasn’t met anyone from ua besides izuku when they were super young, but shh. i don’t care. gimme.

ON THAT THOUGHT: any of katsuki’s friends (they’re his friends whether he likes it or not lbr) meeting mitsuki and masaru for the first time. they kind of float around as guest appearances on here sometimes, and i have a very specific dynamic in mind when it comes to the bakugou household, n while i don’t think katsuki often brings people home… when he does, i’m inclined to believe mitsuki and masaru really like his friends. (bring them around more often, katsuki!)

pro hero moments with team-ups. angsty, goofy, i don’t care, gimme. have fun (and good luck) with great explosion murder god dynamight.

i’m also terrible and know very little about a lot of anime (the only ones i could accurately delve into are fairy tail and of course bnha, why tf would i be here otherwise), and i haven’t even seen pretty much any of the big names bc i’m a sham, but !! even if i don’t know the depths of where your muse is from, i’d love to have a chance to have crossover interactions. katsuki is a little bastard. he will likely throw hands though (and for so many cases he will lose so hilariously bad, rip his confidence).

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 8

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 3,734

Warnings: none

A/N: If this chapter had a name it would be “me, you, and steve’. Also I know how infuriating they are, so oblivious and dumb but isn’t it the point of pining ;) Thanks for your patience!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky’s cab pulled over to the curb in front of his building. He tugged on the lapels of his coat, pulling it tighter around him, and braced himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side.

He hated the cold, hated winter. It reminded him of the day he lost his arm, alone on that godforsaken mountain until Steve found him. But he could deal with the cold if it meant he’d find you on the other side of that door.

He knew you were home, you had texted him about an hour ago telling him that you had a surprise for him. It had made him smile. He’d hurried home, desperate to see you even though he’d seen you that morning.

He had it bad.

He’d been restless since the gala, unable to sleep without dreaming of you, your velvet dress in a heap on his bedroom floor, your scent lingering on his bed sheets. He would wake up bathed in sweat, on the edge of coming.

He would deal with it with an ice cold shower.

Bucky had accepted the fact that his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as they once were. He had always thought you were strong, full of life and a little awkward, but lately he’d been wanting to kiss you, touch you, feel your warmth against him.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He wouldn’t say he loved you. He certainly felt something for you but love was something foreign to him. Sometimes he wondered if his feelings were even real. He’d gone from living an extremely solitary life to spending every single day with you. It could have easily been a product of his loneliness and your soft spoken demeanour.

He had stopped counting the number of times he’d almost kissed you on the lips. The urge was always there, eating away at him, but he always caught himself at the last moment, his lips landing on your forehead, your cheek or your temple instead.  

“I’m home,” he shouted, closing the door behind him. He bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off while he unzipped his coat. “What’s the big surprise? Is it something we can eat?”

He hung his coat next to yours on the hook and walked down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. As he walked, he became suspicious of the silence that hung in the air. Slowly he peeked into the kitchen and found you in the company of someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Steve?”

“Not edible, sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s face broke out into an instant smile, ear to ear and ecstatic. “Fuckin’ hell, Rogers, you look like a yeti.”

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky, almost lifting him off the ground despite knowing how uncomfortable hugs made him feel. Chuckling, Bucky returned his hug with one arm; the only kind of hug he could give.

“I’m happy to see you.” Steve pulled back and held him at arm's length.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at you who were standing behind the kitchen counter, grinning at them. “Is that my surprise?” You nodded. “Ugh, I was kind of hoping for pizza honestly.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m joking, man.”

Steve returned to his seat and Bucky followed. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fixed Bucky a cup of coffee. He gave you a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this punk on your own,” Bucky told you. “Did he give you a hard time?”

“Nah,” you said. “He was pretty sheepish. Also, I almost gave him a heart attack.”

Bucky burst out laughing as Steve’s face and neck flushed red. You told Bucky the story of how you and Steve met outside his apartment building. Bucky doubled over laughing when you made a pretty spot-on impression of Steve’s confused face. Steve rolled his eyes at your theatrics, a smile on his lips.

“In my defense, no stranger has ever screamed my name like that.”

“Oh, if the alley behind the church could talk, it’d call you a fucking liar, Steve.”

“First, shut up!” Steve jokingly pushed Bucky off his seat. “Second, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” That sobered you both up faster than a cold shower. Steve caught a furtive sideways glance between you and Bucky. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you replied with a smile. “I’m his, uh-” you trailed off and looked to Bucky for help but he was unable to speak. “I’m his roommate.”

“Oooh! Okay.”

Was that relief on Steve’s face? Bucky’s stare hardened. A muscle in his jaw jumped when Steve engaged you in a conversation. He asked you how long you’d been living with Bucky and if you liked the apartment. His tone was conversational but Bucky knew him like the back of his hand, he knew Steve was flirting with you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” you asked Steve. Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. You picked up the laminated meal plan from on the counter. “Creamed spinach and baked eggs.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agreed.

“You don’t like spinach,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Steve countered with an arched brow. It made you laugh. “Besides I haven’t eaten a homemade meal in... wow, probably years.” Steve turned to you. “I don’t know if Bucky told you but I’m a landscape photographer. I live in the wild most of the year. It’s kinda like travelling by foot on an endless backpacking trip. It’s amazing but the food is disgusting.”

“Yikes!” You grimaced in sympathy. “Well, Bucky’s an amazing chef. I keep telling him we should open a restaurant together.”

You walked over to Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “If we ask nicely, he’ll probably make us some garlic bread.”

That made Bucky smile. His first instinct was to answer with his usual ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’ but he couldn’t say that in front of Steve so he bit his tongue. He saw the disappointment in your eyes, as if you were expecting that usual answer too.

“I should go upstairs,” you said. “I have a painting to finish. Have fun, boys.”

Steve watched you go, then he shook his head and heaved out a sigh. He waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned to Bucky.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” he said. “So, are you two...”

“We’re friends,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Is she single?”

“As far as I know.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, the tendons in his neck looked like they were about to snap. He loved Steve like a brother but, goddammit, he wanted him to leave and never return. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling a visceral urge to punch something.

Yet, Steve seemed completely oblivious to Bucky’s turmoil. After living in the wild for several years, he was having trouble picking up on social cues.

“Do you think I should ask her out? I’m a bit rusty.” He ran his hand through his long hair, tugging at the strands. “I should get a trim first, right?”

“And a fucking shower,” Bucky grumbled to himself.

Steve didn’t hear him, he was too busy glaring at his hair in the big mirror on the wall.

Bucky tried to push away that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was becoming harder to pretend this was all innocent. Not when he had to physically restrain himself from punching his oldest friend in the teeth. Steve was allowed to ask you out, Bucky had no right to be jealous.

And yet...

“How long are you stayin’?” he asked, eyeing Steve’s backpack. It wasn’t unusual for him to take Steve in when he was between assignments, but things were different now.

“A few weeks. Is it going to be a problem?”

“Listen, if it were just me, I’d let you stay,” Bucky replied. “But I’m not alone anymore. She doesn’t know you, you’re basically a stranger, and you’re already thinking of hitting on her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. This is her home.”

Steve blushed. “No, of course. I understand. I would never-”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she has the final say,” Bucky cut him off. “If she lets you stay, you can take the kids’ room.”

“You sure? It’s right next to her room. I could take the room upstairs, the one above the living room.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky sighed. “It’s her painting studio.”

Steve stared at him with a suspicious frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and her?”

“Yup, she’s just a friend.”

He tried not to fidget as he forced himself to hold Steve’s gaze. He kept his head high and acted as composed as he could even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Okay,” Steve drawled out, not entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

As Bucky expected, you allowed Steve to take the guest room, the one with the bunk-bed, though Steve told you that it wouldn’t be a problem. It also meant that he would be sharing your bathroom, and while it didn’t seem to bother you, it made Bucky really uncomfortable.

That evening, he sat down with you and Steve at the dinner table. He made sure Steve was seated at one end of the table, thinking that if you didn’t have him in front of you, you’d interact less. Bucky’s plan backfired pretty quickly. Steve had so many ‘I-lived-in-the-wild-for-ages’ stories that he monopolized the discussion –and your attention.

Bucky spent most of the night lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming, and only smiled when he caught your gaze. He snapped out of his haze when he noticed that he was alone at the dinner table. You and Steve were washing the dishes, talking and laughing.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight before him; it was supposed to be him and it scared him that someone could take you away from him. Then it hit him. He wasn’t special, you were kind and sweet with everyone. It was what had attracted him to you in the first place; your kindness, your fortitude and loyalty.

He couldn’t blame Steve for falling for you, too.

“Guys, I’m going to bed,” he said, standing on the landing between the two rooms.

You turned around mid-laugh and smiled warmly at him. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.” It slipped out. He didn’t even realize what he’d said, but Steve did.

Steve cocked a brow at his best friend’s retreating figure before he hung his head and let out a brief chuckle.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s mood didn’t improve. He was holding back, unable to reach out to you the way he used to. Steve was always there. Always.

In the morning Steve would come back from a run, sweaty and hungry, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small for him. He really laid it on thick, even by his standards, but you didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, you would often go out with Steve when Bucky was working on his new book. He took you to art shows, introduced you to important people and you visited art supply stores together, which annoyed Bucky more than he thought possible.

He felt stuck in a Garfunkel and Oates song, praying for Steve to go away.

I could've wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear.

Worst of all, Bucky was snappy with you. Especially after he inadvertently overheard you and Natasha talking about Steve. You painted a vivid picture of Steve’s ass. Figuratively of course, though Bucky couldn’t be certain that you didn’t have hundreds of notebooks filled with drawings of Steve’s ass.

“Hey, stranger.”

He looked up when you walked into his study carrying a tray with his breakfast –coffee and two slices of toasted white bread with butter and jam. You left the tray on a pile of papers and closed the door behind you.

“I was wondering about you, since you didn’t show up for breakfast.” You stood behind him and worked your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let you massage his scalp, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky was so relaxed that his filter was non-existent. “Yeah, Steve’s bothering me. He stole my angel.”

“He can’t steal a mythical creature.”

“You’re my angel,” he half-moaned when you applied pressure to his scalp.

“I haven’t been feeling like your angel lately,” you said, giving him another squeeze before you let go of his head. You took a seat on the armchair close to his desk. “You’re... I don’t know. You’re moody and irritated, and I don’t know how to help you. I know you don’t like surprises, and Steve showing up out of nowhere and staying here was a pretty huge surprise. It’s difficult to cope with change but I think you’re acting a little weird. I swear, Bucky, sometimes you look at Steve like you want to kill him. Is it because we spend time without you?”

Bucky straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I guess. You two are having fun and I’m stuck here, alone.”

“You feel left out.”

“A bit,” he replied earnestly. “But if you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s nice. He’s also a dumbass but that’s part of his charm.”

You laughed. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you and Natasha,” Bucky explained, blushing. “You said, and I quote: ‘he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of.’”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, Bucky.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ if that’s what you wanna do... I’ll give you a bunch of quarters.”

“No, thanks,” you laughed. “I’m good. I keep my quarters for something else.”

Bucky speared you with a suspicious look. “So you don’t think his ass is like a juicy peach.” He blinked. “Also a direct quote.”

“Oh, no, I stand by what I said. His ass is so-” you lifted your hands and made a squeezing motion “-tight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that impressive. Anyone can do squats. I do squats.”

“Fishing for compliments?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You looked at him with a fond smile. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, focusing his attention on his laptop screen. You got to your feet and walked to the door.

“Oh, um, by the way, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, leaning against the half-open door.

“Not much, I left after the juicy peach thing.”

You hummed while nodding, your eyes cast down. When you looked up at him, a glint of something mischievous shone in your eyes. “You should have stayed a little longer,” you said enigmatically, your eyes roaming shamelessly over his body.

You raised your eyebrows and closed the door behind you, leaving Bucky speechless and confused. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hoping you could hear him through the closed door. “Angel? Come back!”

Needless to say he didn’t write much after that.

Bucky made a conscious effort to stop being an asshat. A week later, he was in a better mood, and only glared at Steve twice –the first time when Steve put his hand on your knee and the second when he made a vaguely flirtatious remark.  

You let Steve and Bucky handle the dirty dishes, and Bucky was sure you did it on purpose. Your little smug smile said as much. Steve didn’t seem happy, he had never liked household chores and probably only did the dishes to spend time with you.

Bucky remembered Steve’s childhood bedroom; shades always down, his bed perpetually unmade, and a monster pile of clean and dirty clothes on his desk chair. He remembered Sarah’s exasperated sigh whenever she entered her son’s bedroom. It made him laugh.

Bucky had always been a neat person, something his mom always took pride in. ‘Look at my son who does his own laundry and sets the table without being asked. Look how well I raised him!’ After his accident, cleaning became an obsession, a way of controlling something that was uncontrollable.

“Did you get Sam’s text?” Steve asked, tossing the now-wet towel on the counter. “Emergency brunch tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I know. Sam has a loose understanding of the word ‘emergency’. Last time he wanted to know if he could pull off a goatee. Not exactly an emergency.”

“Mhh,” Steve replied, thinking. “Are you coming?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky chucked, “I wanna know what this new emergency is.”

Steve cast him a sideways glance while leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He mulled over something as he watched his friend clean the sink.

“So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I have a date tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand faltered a bit. “Ah? With who?”

Steve looked toward your bedroom door and let out a very loud sigh. “A real-life angel, Buck.”

Bucky let go of the sponge and straightened up abruptly. He glared at Steve, hoping he’d heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

“I have a date tomorrow night so you’ll have the place to yourself.” Steve smiled to his friend, blissfully unbothered. “I think I’ve been invading your personal space. You always look upset so I thought this would be a great idea. And I’ve been alone for so long, I need... relief you know.”

“Awesome,” Bucky replied, gritting his teeth.

“Great, I’m glad you see it that way,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He watched Steve walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him. Something inside him cracked, and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw something, watch it break into tiny pieces.

He took a deep breath and went in search of you instead. He found you upstairs in your studio, kneeling in front of a canvas, the handle of a pair of pliers in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge his presence, and Bucky grinned when you let out a little shocked gasp.

“Did you have fun washing the dishes with Steve?” you teased, taking the pliers out of your mouth.

“I think we need a dishwasher.” He walked into the room and squatted down on his haunches next to you. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m removing the staples on the stretcher bars so I can roll up the canvas and put it in a tube,” you said. “This way they’re protected and I can carry them pretty easily. I have a meeting with a gallerist tomorrow. Apparently Steve knows her well. He mentioned my name and she wants to see my work.”

“That’s amazing, angel,” Bucky exclaimed. “How can I help?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to finish this one. Can you grab that sheet of plastic on the desk? We’ll wrap it in it and then we’ll use a piece of canvas for extra protection.”

He followed your instructions and made sure not to ruin your hard work. Once the canvas was in the tube, you placed it against the wall next to two similar tubes. Then you cleaned up and put away your tools.

“I don’t know if Steve told you but-”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky cut you off. “The date. It’s great. Honestly.”

“Yeah.” You lowered your gaze and studied your shaking hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Listen, I was thinki-”

“I really need some time to myself anyway,” he talked over you. “So it’s great, y’know? We all get what we want.”

“I guess,” you replied. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”

“Getting up bright and early tomorrow, uh?” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced, even to his ears. You nodded mechanically. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

You both stood unmoving, staring at each other. Your eyes were asking for something, pleading with him, but he was too lost to understand. He was lost in his own feelings, remembering something Sam had said a while ago.

There’s an entire world between like and love.

And it was true.

Like was doing the dishes with you. It was laughing and screaming while you chased each other around the living room, using fairy lights as lassos. Like was booping your nose when you watched him cook dinner. It was speaking gibberish after watching a foreign film.

Love was that sweet agony that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. It was letting you hold his hand and play with his fingers even though his nose felt itchy. Love was seeing you wrap his bow tie around your wrist like a bracelet. It was walking around a deserted planetarium with you.

Love was the colour of your favourite lipstick; Carter Red.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, interrupting his train of thought.

“My pleasure.” He tried to smile but it hurt.

Everything made sense now. His crankiness and irritability, his sudden aversion to his oldest friend, the one who had saved his life. The one who had asked you out on a date –or so it seemed.

“Sweet dreams...” he paused, considering, then used your name instead of your usual pet name.

He had no right to call you ‘angel’ anymore. Steve had asked you out first, he had asked Bucky multiple times if he was okay with that, and Bucky’s answers had always been a gritted ‘yes’.

The truth was, his epiphany didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t have asked you out because there was too much at stake: your friendship, your livelihood, your career, the well-being of your family. He couldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position, couldn’t ruin your hard work.

And he was terrified of these feelings. They were too new, too raw.

You pinched your lips together and nodded, avoiding his eyes. He clenched his jaw hard, hating the resigned look on your face. Why did you look so defeated? Without saying anything, you walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Part 9

[starlightrows]

The Lady of The House

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings and Tags: swearing, not a lot of Boba reader interaction, mostly reader just asserting her position as queen

Summary: Two guards, my original characters Tems and Rhys, have been tasked with informing crime boss Boba of an intrusion... but there’s one problem. It’s the middle of the night and he’s currently with his wife sleeping.

AN: Happy Monday! This blog is getting a bouns fic today!

“I don’t wanna go in there Rhys...” Tems said shakily. 

“The boss said he had to be informed immediately if someone was caught trying to break in to the palace, if the alarm on his ship ever tripped, or if the Mand’alor hailed him.... and all three happened over the course of 20 minutes. We have to tell him Tems!” Rhys waved off his patrol partners fretting and made for the handle on the large ornate door leading to Boba Fett’s private chambers “he will feed us to the rankor if we don’t go in there” 

“Look, you’ve only worked here for three lunar cycles. You ever wonder why there was a job open?” Tems grabbed his arm, yanking him back. The Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a shake of his head. “You’re all happy to point out the rules the boss has about being informed. But what is the other, number one fucking rule he has?” 

The realization struck him and his eyes went wide, he gave a silent “ohhh” 

Boba Fett’s number one rule, mostly for his business partners, but also his staff: Do not disturb the lady of the house. Boba Fett’s wife.

An unassuming woman, she was kind and gentle, slightly out of place among dangerous and somewhat violent bounty hunters and crime families that frequented the upper halls. She spent most of her days working on fixing the lower levels of the run down palace. She kept to herself, with the notable exceptions of her husband and his loyal bodyguard, Fennec Shand. The rule seemed to be, if she spoke to you, answer respectfully and do as she asks. But if you bother her, get in her way, or insult her... there would be hell to pay. 

“W-what happened to the last guy?” Rhys shifted nervously on his feet. He honestly hadn’t considered why there was a position available when he accepted the job. 

“He barred the lady from entering the throne room when the boss had guests. He didn’t know the guests were there by her request, but that doesn’t make him any less dead right now” Tems told him, looking uncomfortable at the memory. 

“Well we just won’t wake up the lady then” Rhys said “we’ll be really quiet. We’ll only wake up the boss, alright?” 

Tems still wasn’t convinced “Do we both have to go in there?” 

“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” Rhys threw up his hands in exasperation “every second we wait to go in there, the more angry he’ll be that we waited. I’m going in there, you can stand out here like a little bitch if you want to,”

Tems was tempted to throw a punch, this guy had no idea just how dangerous Boba Fett really is, or how scary he could be right after waking up. Nonetheless, he followed as his partner made for the door again. 

The heavy door swung open silently, surprising given how massive it was. The room was dark, lit dimly by the silvery light of the moon coming through the small window high up on the wall. Against the far wall, was an enormous bed where both guards could see their employer sleeping soundly with his wife tucked securely to his bare chest. 

Tems wanted to die. Every step he took deeper into these chambers felt like a step closer to a painful demise. While Rhys was excited, he had never seen any of the residential chambers of the palace. And this one was huge. 

Rhys creeped up to Boba’s side of the bed, while Tems stood awkwardly by the entrance to the chambers. As Rhys approached, reaching out to shake the bosses shoulder, Tems seriously considered making a run for it. Rhys made contact, giving the large scarred shoulder a few good shakes. 

“Sir?” Rhys attempted to whisper. Boba made no movement towards wakefulness, he just continued softly snoring. 

Your eyes flew open and a fearful gasp left your body. You backed up, trying to put distance between yourself and the supposed intruder. 

“Oh my god. No no no no. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry ma’am,” Rhys backed away, hands raised. Tems practically blacked out but stayed frozen in place. 

I’m gonna fuckin die, and it’s all that idiots fault  he thought 

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you recognized the young guard. You drew the covers up to cover yourself, you felt exposed in your thin nightgown. 

“What are you doing here? These are private rooms” you whispered harshly 

“I-I- I have orders,” Rhys stammered, knees knocking together in fear “To-to get the boss if” Rhys lost his voice. He could not seem to get the words to come out of his mouth 

“Get out,” you whisper “Go back out there and do not move. I will be there shortly,” 

Your tone was authoritative and stern, leaving no room for questioning. Rhys practically sprinted out of the room, dragging a paralyzed Tems with him. The door slammed shut behind them, making them both cringe. 

Tems doubled over, placing his hands on his knees and heaving with labored breath. “Oh by the maker... we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die. I’m gonna be sick. We’re gonna die” 

Rhys was pacing back and forth, hands gripping and pulling his own hair. “Shit shit shit shit shit.... you were right. We’re gonna die,” 

The large door swung open once more, and shut again firmly. Both men snapped their heads towards the direction of the sound of the door closing, awaiting the blaster blot that would surely end their lives. But it didn’t not come. Instead, there you stood, in a long robe tired securely about your waist, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Alright, what’s all this about then?” You asked tiredly. Neither man spoke a word, staring blankly at you. You grew annoyed, and tapped your foot impatiently. 

“Oh for heavens sake!” You exclaimed “He sleeps like the dead when he’s had a glass of wine before bed. He won’t be coming out here to throw you in the rankor pit anytime soon, but if one of you doesn’t speak up I most certainly will,” 

“The Mand’alor hailed for the boss,” Tems said quickly. 

“And the alarm on the bosses ship tripped,” Rhys choked out 

“And a scavenger was caught at the southern entrance trying to get in,” Tems added. You blinked at them in surprise. 

“That’s a lot of information to take in,” you said “Okay gentleman, first things first, has the scavenger been dealt with?”  

“Yes,” Rhys piped up

“Yes ma’am,” Tems avoided your gaze, staring meekly at his own two feet. 

“Lovely, and the ship. What tripped the alarm?” You asked, feeling slightly less angry by being awoken. If anything you felt a little bad for these two. 

“We’re not sure ma’am. The guards in the landing bay couldn’t find anything wrong with the ship, and couldn’t find any intruders,” Rhys said, taking Tems’ cue to use a respectful title when speaking to you 

“So then it can wait until morning for a follow up,” you noted “and the Mand’alor? Did he give a particular reason why he was hailing my husband?” 

“No ma’am, but he said it was important,” Tems supplied 

“Hmm, Djarin is a bit of a drama queen. But if he isn’t hailing repeatedly, or flying here himself, then I’m sure it can also wait until morning,” you mused. Rhys and Tems were visibly shaking with anxiety. 

“Well, if that’s all settled then I would love to back to bed. Goodnight gentleman,” you said turning to go. 

“My lady, I’m sorry” Rhys blurted out. You turned back to look at him. 

“For doing your job?” You asked 

“For disturbing you. For breaking the bosses cardinal rule,” he said “I should have listened to my partner. I shouldn’t have gone into your private chambers,” 

“Your job is to follow the orders you have been given. Protect this palace. And report when circumstances deem it necessary, no matter the time of day,” you stated evenly “you’ve done well. And your loyalty will not go unnoticed by my husband,” 

“Please don’t tell him,” Tems said “please don’t tell him it was us,” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him “I won’t if you truly do not want me to, but tell me why,” 

“My lady if the boss knew we came into your chambers, disrupted your sleep...” Tems shook his head “please don’t tell him my lady, I beg you” 

You heart softened, you forget sometimes how truly frightening your husband could be. And these men were genuinely afraid of his wrath. You nod gently. “You have my word,” 

“Gentleman,” you nodded quietly, slipping back through the door. 

The with door now shut, a heavy silence settled over the palace. Tems still felt violently ill, and Rhys was quite sure the boss would kick down the door any second despite the reassurances of his wife. 

“Rhys?” Tems said 

“Yeah?”

“I fucking hate you,”

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Hello!! We have not interacted in while!! But I love you and I check your blog religiously!!<3 can I request some more lance sweets fluff? Or angst/fluff? Honestly whatever you’re willing to write I’ll be giddy to read. Ty! I love you so much!! I hope you’re doing well!!<3<3

@doctorsteeb

Hi!!! Just let me say I absolutely adore you and it makes me so happy to know someone likes my writing this much! I will totally try and write anything you request! I’ve got a few stories in the works for Sweets now, but here is a little late Christmas story for you! 

Christmas Greetings

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: After a year of being in a relationship with Sweets, you’re finally getting the chance to meet his family, or the people at the Jeffersonian in other words. Oh, and it’s at a Christmas party, for some holiday cheer this season.

Words: 2573

---

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask nervously, fingers shifting against the porcelain crockpot in your hands.

Sweets slips an arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze, “Trust me, they’ll love you.”

You take a deep breath and nod. It doesn’t really ease the nerves buzzing in your chest, but at least he is right there beside you. You and Lance had been in a relationship for a full year now, and you had yet to meet his colleagues somehow. It already feels like you know them though, from all the stories he’s told you, especially his partner Booth, and his wife Doctor Brennan. You’ve wanted to meet them for so long (which lead to quite consistent pestering on your part) but now that you’re finally standing here, your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Christmas dinner is a huge deal, after all, and so are first impressions. What if they don’t like you? You weren’t in the science profession, so what will you even talk about? Sometimes you struggle to even understand some of the things Lance talks about, so how are you going to talk to the country’s foremost anthropologist?!

“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.”

You jump when you feel Sweets press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch lingers, sending a soothing warmth flooding through you, finally easing the tension in your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, head resting against his shoulder for just a moment. When the two of you draw away, you tilt your chin up and let a smile capture your lips.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Sweets chuckles and raps his knuckles against the door. Moments later, it swings wide open, letting the glow from inside cascade over you.

“Sweets!” You’re greeted by a man that towers over you, making you slightly shy away, but Lance keeps a steady hand pressed against the small of your back. The man gives your partner a side hug, clapping him on the back before turning to you with a wide smile, “And you must be (Y/n)! We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” You glance over at Lance, who’s looking down with a bashful smile. His cheeks are glowing the softest rose color, which sends your heart thrumming. How can he be so cute?

“Is that Sweets and (Y/n)?” A woman comes rushing up behind the man. She offers you a sweet smile, just as vibrant as his.

Their excitement is so infectious, it fills you to the brim with a fresh energy, and now your own smile is wholly genuine. You weren’t expecting such a warm welcome! Why were you so worried about all of it, these people seem so wonderful.

“(Y/n), this is Booth, my partner at the FBI, and Doctor Brennan, the lead anthropologist at the Jeffersonian,” Sweets introduces you.

The woman, Doctor Brennan, is quick to shake your hand and say, “Please, call me Temperance, and come in. We are almost ready to eat, we have ham, and I also made a tofurkey.”

“Really?!” You gasp excitedly, darting in to follow her to the kitchen and leaving Sweets at the door, “I’ve been looking for a good seasonal tofu recipe for years! Could I possibly, maybe get it from you after dinner?”

You plop down your contribution to the meal and fall into an excited conversation with the scientist. You had no clue she was a vegetarian like you, and it’s not every day you get to talk to another! Sweets and Booth watch the two of you from the entrance, both sporting fond glints in their eyes.

“Thanks for inviting us, Booth,” Sweets hums as he shucks off his winter jacket, “(Y/n)’s been eager to meet the team, especially you and Doctor Brennan.”

The older man shrugs, though he has a pleased smile on his face, “Anytime Sweets! Bones will take any chance to make her ‘meat substitutes’. Remember how excited she got when you told her about it?”

Sweets nods, it is always memorable when Doctor Brennan shows such strong emotions, which wasn’t always often around him. He had even gotten the chance to help her plan the dinner, not that you knew about that. It filled him with warmth to watch you excitedly flutter around the kitchen, and to see how your eyes practically sparkled as you helped the anthropologist set up the dishes.

“You really love her, huh?”

A sigh escapes Sweets as he nods again, “I do. She’s amazing…”

Booth can’t help but feel a small swell of pride in his chest. He’d never admit it, but Sweets was like a little brother to him, and seeing the young psychologist so happy just put a cherry on top of the night he was having.

“Lance!” Sweets looks up at you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you aggressively gesturing him over, all the while bouncing on the balls of your feet, “Come here! You have to check this out!!”

You know it must seem childish to some, but you can’t help but get thrilled over a good meal, especially when it’s vegetarian. You can’t wait for the day that you can make Christmas dinner for your family, spending the whole day cooking and then just being able to enjoy a nice night and some Christmas carols. Sweets would be right there beside you, and maybe a kid or two across the table. A boy and a girl…

“What is it?”

You jump, a fierce blush splashing across your cheeks when you whip around and come face to face with Lance. He’s standing so close, your noses are practically brushing. Your breath catches in your chest, and you spin back around, hoping he doesn’t notice just how red you’ve gotten. Stupid daydreaming, you totally forgot you called him over.

“Mrs. Temperance has this amazing recipe fo-” Your voice breaks when Sweets presses in close behind you, arms snaking around your waist. You clear your throat nervously, “-for um, for vegetarian casserole. She says it’s really good, so I was thinking I could, I could try making it sometimes!”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sweets hums, the words vibrating through his chest and against your back.

It feels like your entire face is on fire now, to the point where you feel like you need to call the fire department. There was more you were going to say, but it’s like all your thoughts have been put in a mixer and are now scattered throughout your mind.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sweets,” a smooth voice scolds from a few feet away.

You glance up to see a beautiful brunette with tanned skin, and right beside her stands a slightly shorter man with some of the curliest hair you’ve ever seen. You swat at Lance’s hands and twist away from his grip, embarrassment flaring deep in your chest. Nothing you could say would help the situation, so you just wave at them weakly.

“Angela, Hodgins, this is (Y/n),” Sweets says as he pulls you back to his side with a cheeky grin, “(Y/n), this is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist. And this is Jack Hodgins, our entomologist.”

“And botanist, mineralogist, palynologist, chemist, among other things,” Hodgins continues with a casual shrug.

Angela elbows him in the ribs sharply, not letting her glittering expression fall for even a second. “Excuse my husband, he’s just really passionate about his work,” she chirps, “It’s really a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you from our dear Sweets here.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse softly with a giggle, “It's nice to meet you too, by the way! Lance tells me you're also a traditional artist?”

You spend the night making conversation with all of Lance’s friends. You meet Cam and her partner, Arastoo, who are so lovely and gentle to you. You ask Arastoo all about his beliefs and how he came to work in forensics, and you even talk to Cam about her daughter. You also get to talk to some of the interns at the Jeffersonian. Each conversation just pulls you in, even if you don’t understand everything they’re saying. You’re literally talking to the leaders of forensic sciences, who wouldn’t take the chance to ask them all the questions and praise them for their work! Even through dinner, you share a quiet conversation with one intern, Finn, about his time before coming to Washington DC. Afterwards, you all take to lounging in the living room to enjoy some eggnog and story telling.

“So how did you and Sweets meet, huh?” Angela asks as she plops down next to you and Sweets on the couch.

The entire team falls quiet, all eyes immediately set intently on you. You shy back into Lance's embrace, which makes him chuckle and hold you tighter. Was your story really that interesting to all these people? Really?

“Do you want me to tell them?” Sweets asks you quietly, fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah, your memory’s better anyways.”

“He has to learn all that psychobabble somehow,” Booth jests from across the room, earning a disapproving look from his wife but some amused chuckles from the rest of the guests.

Sweets just rolls his eyes, easily brushing the jab off as he starts your story, “So, we actually met at a christmas party, just like this one. A mutual friend invited us and we started talking, and things just kind of...took off from there.”

You can’t help the snort of laughter that breaks from your lips when Lance trails off. He perks an eyebrow up, peering down at you in confusion, which only serves to send you into a bigger fit of giggles.

“What?” He asks, voice pitching up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chortle, pressing a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter, “You just left out a small tidbit. A pretty important tidbit.”

“Oh, did he?”

The room waits for you to calm down, but when you do, you just stare intently at Sweets with a raised eyebrow. Did he actually forget the beginning of the story? And right after you praised him for his memory! You wait for just a moment longer, the words perched on your tongue, waiting to see if he gets there on his own. It’s only when you see his eyes blow wide and his entire face flush red that you let the words tumble from your lips.

“What he failed to mention, is that we didn’t just meet and start talking. No, no.” Now it’s your turn to grin cheekily, “We met under the mistletoe, by chance, and you all know how the tradition goes. We started talking after that and found that we actually had a bit in common. It was about a month later that our mutual friend decided to share with me what actually happened that night.”

It begins to dawn on some people what you’re alluding to. You can hear some giggles ring out behind you from who you’re sure is Angela and the other women. Sweets is getting darker by the second, even his ears are tinged with that appealing rosy glow. This is totally payback for his teasing earlier.

“So, this is how the story actually goes, according to our friend,” you finally continue, “Apparently, I caught Lance’s eye when I got to the party. Back then though, he was a bit shier, and didn’t want to talk to me without a reason, sooo….he and our friend came up with a plan to have us meet under the mistletoe ‘accidentally’.” You break out some air quotes for the last word to stress just how silly the story is.

“Sweets, you dog,” Hodgins laughs.

“I never thought Sweets would come up with such a devious plan,” Temperance states amusedly.

“Alright, alright,” Sweets waves his hands in the air, looking thoroughly flustered much to your pleasure, “In my defense, she looked absolutely beautiful that night. Anyone would have been intimidated.”

Something warm and fuzzy fills your chest as you tuck yourself back into Lance’s side. To think, you almost didn’t go to that party last year. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met the most amazing person in your life.

“I can’t say I mind too much,” you chirp, eyes closing as you rest your head on his chest like a content cat, “I think I’m pretty lucky to be the one who caught his eye.”

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Angela giggles next to you.

Maybe you are. You had never felt such a deep sense of affection for anyone, that is, until you met Lance. Now that you know what it feels like, you can’t help but return it full force, with every ounce of your being. He’s just been so good to you and has lifted you up in dark times over the past year. You couldn’t ask for anyone better, because you’re absolutely sure such a person doesn’t exist.

The rest of the night is spent telling stories and sharing sentiments. You stay tucked in Lance’s side the entire time, just enjoying the jovial tone and the sound of his laughter. When midnight rolls around, the party begins to wind down, filled with yawns and mumbled goodbyes as people take their leave. You and Sweets are some of the last to go, with Seeley and Temperance trailing you to the door.

“Thank you so much, again, for inviting us,” you murmur as you give the older woman a tight hug.

“Of course! You are welcome here anytime, and if you ever need anything, do not be afraid to call.”

“Yah, we’re always here to help. Though I’m sure Sweets here would do about anything for you,” Booth chuckles as he pulls away from giving Lance a hug.

Sweets gives his head a little shake and takes up his place next to you, “Thanks you guys, we really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Booth gives a little wave, “You two have a good night. Oh, and you might want to take a look up,” he chimes right before closing the door.

Your eyes dart straight up at that, landing on a small plant hanging from the doorway. Breathless laughter shakes your chest, pale clouds lifting from your lips in the cold night air. It’s mistletoe.

“Did you do this?” You look at Lance, who has one of the smuggest smiles that you’ve ever seen on him.

He gives you a shrug and draws you closer by a hand on your hip, “Maybe…”

You shake your head at his antics, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that swirl around in your chest. Even after a year, he still makes your heart race.

“Well then, don’t leave me hanging.”

Lance doesn’t hesitate to cup your face, tilting your chin up so he can capture your lips in a sweet kiss. For just a moment, you forget the cold, you forget how late it is and how tired you are. All you can feel is the warmth of his body next to yours, the thrumming of his heart under your palm. Even when the kiss comes to an end, the two of you stay close, foreheads barely touching.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he murmurs oh so softly, for only you to hear.

“I love you too, Lance. Merry Christmas.”

Again, I love you all so much, and I hope your Christmas was absolutely amazing! Send in a request and I’ll be sure to try and write it!

[aurora077]

Ask not for whom the clarity bell chimes, it chimes for thee.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13913863/1/Ask-not-for-whom-the-clarity-bell-chimes-it-chimes-for-thee

Summary: What’s an esteemed sect leader to do when his nephew wants him to spend time with his estranged brother? He hides, of course. Unfortunately said nephew is stubborn... wonder who he got that from? Now he’s forced to talk about -ugh- feelings.

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

“Uncle!” Jin Ling panted, moving apart the lapels of his tent to find him sitting there with a cup of tea, “There you are!”

Jiang Cheng snorted, “Where else would I be A-Ling?”

His nephew scowled. “You could be sitting with the rest of us.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jin Ling had been setting him up. It was the third night hunt that he’d gone on with those friends of his that he’d actually invited Jiang Cheng to. Of course normally he’d follow Jin Ling anyway but Jin Ling used to scowl at him and pretend he was part of the scenery like the Ghost General who’d become his unwitting junior-stalking partner. He was surprised the first time he was actually invited. It wasn’t until this last time however that he realised what his nephew was trying to do. Because on every occasion that he was invited someone else was too. Someone who his nephew tried very hard to get him to interact with.

“Go back to your friends A-Ling. You don’t get much time with them as Sect Leader now do you? If you’re taking precious time away from your sect for this the least you can do is use it well.”

“How can I go back without you? I invited you, you know. Even Wen Ning is sitting around the fire with everyone and he doesn’t even need to warm up!”

“Don’t be stupid A-Ling you know very well that my presence will just make things awkward.” As it had the past two times. The juniors were more subdued when he was around and Lan Sizhui looked constantly anxious and alert because if an argument started he would inevitably land up playing peacemaker. The Ghost General seemed to have exhausted his anger in one shot the night he shouted at him in his own home no less, and now spent the time fidgeting around him like he was a bomb ready to explode whenever they weren’t busy spy-- protecting the kids. To say nothing of the other guest. Only the loudmouthed Lan seemed completely fine with his presence and he had to admit, the kid had guts.

Well, except when confronted with ghosts apparently. A matter that gave him no small source of amusement when he really thought about it. It made the last night hunt slightly tolerable because it put him in a good mood --a cultivator afraid of ghosts! Who ever heard of it? (He found out this little fact when the unorthodox Lan was faced with the ghost of a butcher and was apparently way more terrified of the ghost than of him, given that he screamed at the sight of it and clung to Jiang Cheng like a particularly large baby...a move that startled him enough for Zidian to lash out and banish the ghost without him even consciously doing it. Lan Jingyi couldn’t look at him for the rest of that hunt without turning beet red. It was hilarious. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a sense of humour. And if the action led to Jin Ling sticking closer to him than usual while petulantly glaring at the Lan all the while, well he wasn’t going to complain...much.)

His thoughts sobered as his nephew, already worked up from running around to find him only to realise he was just in his tent all along, lost his composure. “I’m not being stupid! Is it so bad to want you two to get along?”

“Aha! I knew it. So you admit you’ve been inviting me so that Wei Wuxian and I would what, fall into each other’s arms and cry and be bosom buddies again?”

Jin Ling flushed, “You don’t have to make it sound like that jiujiu!” Then he deflated and said in a smaller voice, “You’re the only two people I have left to call family.”

“And don’t say the Jins are my family, you know they’re not!” he snapped before Jiang Cheng could even open his mouth. Not that he would have said that anyway, the only other Jin he had considered family in that viper’s pit was Jin Zixuan who was cold in his grave.

“I just want the only family I have left to be on good terms, is that too much to ask?” his nephew continued, pouting slightly. A habit that he had been steadily leaving behind as he got accustomed to his role as Sect Leader Jin. He knew Jin Ling must have been incredibly upset to let it show. Indeed his eyes were starting to look shiny.

But Jiang Cheng was tired. Jin Ling was young enough to be optimistic. Jiang Cheng hadn’t been that way for a long, long time. He was prepared to be angry with his nephew for this when he finally confronted him about pushing him and Wei Wuxian together, but one look at that round pouty face made all the anger drain out of him suddenly as he was transported back to a young Jin Ling asking him about his parents after being bullied for being an orphan for the first time and being unable to answer without being choked up himself.

“A-Ling,” he said softer than usual, “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to.” “I should know,” he said bitterly, staring into his tea with a frown, recalling how the one thing he was most sure about all those uncertain years ago came back to bite him in the ass in the most horrible way possible. Even in the depths of his despair he had never regretted what he did to save Wei Wuxian. Now though...if he had only known what it would lead to... But how could he have ever even fathomed what would happen? Wei Wuxian did the impossible time and time again. His own sacrifice was rendered completely worthless. Just like him he supposed.

“But can’t you just try to get along with him?” his nephew continued, ignorant to his musings.

“I’m polite to him aren’t I? I don’t just flat out ignore him. And we haven’t even argued,” he said grumpily, still frowning at his tea like it personally wronged him. There was once a time when arguing would have solved everything. They’d air out their grievances and come out all the better for it. But Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to be inclined to do that any longer. That he’d attacked him instead of falling back into their routine that day in Lotus Pier’s ancestral hall was all the evidence he needed, even before Wei Wuxian said what he did in the temple.

His nephew huffed, “That’s not what I mean by get along and you know it!”

“It’s a two-way street A-Ling!” he bit out. Forcing himself to restrain his steadily rising temper he continued, “I’m aware you want us to act like a family but I don’t need to remind you of what happened on that horrible day do I? You were there. You heard him. He didn’t care for apologies. For him, it was a lifetime ago. He wants the past to stay the past. And it was all about repayment. Everything he did, he did because he felt he owed my parents and your mother.”

The bitterness crept back into his voice, “He wants nothing more to do with me or the Jiang sect. The least I can do is respect his wishes. After all, I’d be nothing without him, as his Ghost General took pleasure in reminding me. The only one who was foolish enough to hold onto things all this time was me. Besides, you weren’t there A-Ling, the first time around. I wasn’t enough for him then, what makes you think I’d be enough for him now? He has his Hanguang-Jun to hang off of, he has no need for a brother he never even considered one. And why would he? It’s not as if that accursed Jin Guangyao was entirely wrong anyway.”

“What exactly do you mean by that!?” came an offended voice. They both whipped around in shock.

“Wei Wuxian, were you eavesdropping?” he snarled, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I just came to see if Jin Ling found you, but never mind that! Explain yourself! How could you say a thing like that?” he said, outraged, pushing his way fully into the tent.

“Did I say anything wrong, Wei Wuxian? Please, do tell. What did I say that you didn’t say or imply yourself?” he said, angry that Wei Wuxian felt the need to intrude on his space and then had the nerve to get offended after eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t a total idiot despite being made a fool of time and time again by this man. If there was one thing he was particularly good at, it was knowing when he wasn’t wanted. He’d had a lifetime of practice after all.

The core in his body was given out of a sense of duty. After Guanyin Temple he recalled his parents’ last words to Wei Wuxian. Was it any wonder he felt like he had to give away the one thing that he cherished most if it would save Jiang Cheng? The people who brought him in from the streets and raised him had beseeched him with their last words to protect their children with his life, and so, he did. Maybe not in the way they would expect but in giving away his core, he also gave away his life as a cultivator. And debt paid, Wei Wuxian ran off to be with people who he chose for himself.

Jiang Cheng had slowly reconciled with the idea of having a core that wasn’t his because if he didn’t, what would be left of him? Yunmeng Jiang needed him and so did Jin Ling. He had no choice but to carry on like he had been doing for what felt like his whole life... for his sect and his nephew. The weight of responsibility that he had didn’t go away just because his once shixiong embodied his sect motto more than he did. His entire life revolved around duty; once again he recalled how the one thing he did that went against duty, that he did out of love, caused a chain reaction of misery.

Wei Wuxian seemed stunned, his mouth opening and closing like those fish he had liked to catch so many years ago.

“Do you really think like that?” he croaked, “After all we’ve been through, you think I don’t care for you?”

“All we’ve been through?” Jiang Cheng hissed, leaving his now cold tea and standing up to face him with a stormy look on his face,“Why are you now talking about all we've been through? What I know about all we’ve been through, Wei Wuxian, is that the one thing I wanted after losing my home, my parents, and the rest of my sect, was my second in command by my side. The second in command that my sister called her blood brother* in a way I was never allowed to. I had thought that despite the fact that we were unable to label our relationship thanks to my parents, that we understood what we were to each other. That he would do as he promised and stand with me. But what did he do instead of staying by my side? Out of a sense of duty to the sect, he mutilated himself to give me his precious golden core, his life force as a cultivator, without telling me! Without asking me if I would let him do that to himself for me. He made me believe that I regained my own and that the alcoholism and lazing around was because he didn’t respect me enough to support me as sect leader in a time where the leaders of the other sects would pounce at the first sign of weakness. He avoided meetings and banquets where he should have rightfully stood beside me and I wondered, what happened to his promise of support?”

Jiang Cheng’s body was heaving, having let out the words that had clogged up his chest for over thirteen years.

He continued, more softly now, resigned and tired, “He left out crucial information about himself that could have allowed me to see the situation for what it was. He let me think that he didn’t care if we lost face in front of the others, during a time when we couldn’t afford to lose face. Then he ran off to the Burial Mounds to save the rest of the Wens and refused my protection.”

(I'm afraid you don't know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei WuXian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign he had said, in defense of Wei Wuxian. It wasn’t enough. The hatred for the Wens was too great, and they hadn’t been aware of the Jin sect’s machinations at that time. But if he couldn’t save them he could at least save Wei Wuxian. Except Wei Wuxian hadn’t wanted him to. Just another failure to add to his list. Jin Guangyao was right after all. Maybe... if he had insisted… But it wouldn’t have changed a thing would it? Since unbeknownst to them there was Jin Guangyao himself working against them. So in the end it was a lie wasn’t it… the idea that he could have kept Wei Wuxian safe was a lie. Because the Jin sect wanted his seal all along. Whether he was in the Burial Mounds or in Yunmeng that fact would not have changed. But knowing was one thing, and feeling was another. And Jin Guangyao had known this and taken advantage of it.)

“Jiang Cheng…” Wei Wuxian said, sounding pained, “I…”

“You wanted me to renounce you,” he said, interrupting brokenly, “That was your grand idea. You let me think that you didn’t respect me rather than telling me outright that you couldn’t do certain duties anymore. Even if you had to lie and say it was Wen Zhuliu’s fault it would have been better than making me think you didn’t care. Why...why didn’t you trust me?”

His voice cracked but he shakily continued, “That fight we feigned...why would you let me injure you like that? You had your Ghost General break my arm but you had no core. Had I known, do you think I would have stabbed you anyway? Was our relationship that poor? Just because we never labelled it does that mean it didn’t exist then Wei Wuxian? I thought that we understood…”

He broke off to choke back a sob.

“You said you could control the resentful energy...the seal. I trusted you. I may not have reacted very well when the sect leaders tried to drive a wedge between us but I trusted you regardless. I trusted you even though you had been acting unreliable. I trusted you up until the moment A-jie died to protect you. You think you’re the only one who lost it then? The only one who went mad with grief? Do you think if you hadn’t died from the seal’s backlash I would have killed you? Because even now I don’t know the answer to that question. But what I do know is that the two of you broke me; one after the other you died, just like that. We promised that it would always be us three didn’t we? If it wasn’t for A-Ling I might have joined you then and there sect be damned.”

He was too far in the past to notice the strangled sound his nephew made in the background on hearing his words. Wei Wuxian, though, was as stiff as one of his corpses (or even more accurately, his annoying husband). He couldn’t seem to make a sound if he tried. His heart was pounding, disbelieving of the words he was hearing. Shellshocked, he just let Jiang Cheng rant.

“Then, when our old school friend somehow manages to scheme his way into bringing you back to the land of the living and clears your name in the process, what do you say? Take it as repayment to the sect Jiang Cheng, let’s not mention it again. Forget it. It’s all in the past. As if I could ever forget it. As if I’ll ever get the image of A-Jie dying in my arms out of my mind. As if the image of you getting torn apart by corpses right in front of me hasn’t been seared into my brain for all these years. And you want me to forget it. You come back and run off with Lan Wangji. You come to Lotus Pier and what do you do? Go to make bows in the ancestral hall with freaking Lan Wangji. The man who we all thought hated your guts even before the whole Yiling Laozu schtick. It’s been easy for you to forget and move on hasn’t it? I’m the only one stuck with these memories. I’m the only one who held on to promises,” he scoffed self-deprecatingly, “Falling apart in front of everyone in that temple and claiming you owed the sect was all I could do given that you would never come back for me. But you abdicated yourself of that responsibility too so what else could I say? Don’t talk about all we’ve been through Wei Wuxian. In the end, I’m the only one left who cares about that.”

“You’re wrong!” Wei Wuxian yelled, the accusation of not caring seeming to strike a chord, breaking him out of his state of speechlessness, “How could anyone give up a core for duty? I said it was repayment because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me. I know we have our differences but I still know you enough. Don’t tell me now that you know that you don’t see everything you did to rebuild the clan differently! You’ve always felt inferior because of me and I never wanted to put you in that position. How could I have told you what I did? I didn’t want to hurt you, and don’t say you wouldn’t have been hurt because you would have! How can you say I don’t see you as a brother? How can you not have known how much I…”

He trailed off and started again, eyes glossy, “In the end, your life was worth more than mine and I did promise your parents I would protect you. I cared about you much more than I cared about cultivation. I didn’t want you to give up, and you looked like you would. I wanted you to live and be the leader you were always meant to be. I found a method that would work and in the end it wasn’t a hard decision to save you. Even if I didn’t survive it, I would have been happy to have been of use to you. You could not be lost; you were Yunmeng Jiang’s last hope. I could be replaced. And I was right! Look how well you’ve done. The Jiang Sect is flourishing now, better than before and it’s all thanks to you. So if I had the choice to change whether I gave it to you or not, I wouldn’t. I’d do it again!”

“You really are arrogant aren’t you?” Jiang Cheng intended to sound harsh but instead he sounded closer to despair. “You think that because you think something is so then it must be. You think everyone else feels the same way about you as you do. You’re the only one who thought that you could afford to be sacrificed. Nobody who cared about you thought of you as disposable. Funnily enough I’m sure your irritating husband would actually agree with me for once.”

“Lan Zhan’s not--”

“Shut up! Who asked you to destroy yourself? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think A-Jie wanted this? It’s why you made sure we sent her away isn’t it? I only realised it later on. She would have put a stop to it. You did what you wanted to do as always. Mother and Father’s wishes came before my own with you didn’t it? So what if I was depressed? How was that worth your life? Do you think I would be happy that you lost your cultivation because of me? Whatever ‘inferiority’ I felt I’ve never once wished for you to be destroyed because of it. But you don’t seem to acknowledge other people’s feelings for you, do you? We loved you, you complete imbecile! How could you for one second think that we’d be okay with you dying to give me a core? You said you may not have survived it well that much I gathered on my own! Nobody ever did such a thing of course the risks were high. Did you ever consider what would happen if you did die? Would Wen Qing just bury you in secret and a-jie and I would be left wondering what happened?” he said, openly crying now and not even bothering to try and stop it. Not like Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen him look even worse than this. But he continued his rant nevertheless. A few tears couldn’t stop him now that he was on a roll.

“I would wake up with a brand new core and one brother less, which is exactly what happened except you came back from the Burial Mounds… but there would have been no coming back from dying then. You’re only here now because your famously ignominious death got you summoned as an evil spirit!” he paused to wipe his nose and continued, voice devastatingly melancholy,“Do you know how I felt when I found you missing? I came down that mountain expecting to see you waiting there with that annoying grin of yours, but you were gone. Vanished into thin air and nobody could tell me what happened to you. I feared the worst. And I was right to! Nobody’s ever walked out of the Burial Mounds. We had no idea where you were and everyone was whispering that you were dead. A-Jie and I refused to believe it; how could you be gone? All I could think of was that maybe if I hadn’t gone up that mountain you wouldn’t have been in a position to get captured in the first place. It was all my fault. What was the point of me getting back my core if you died because of it when in the first place I lost it to--”

He stopped. No. He couldn’t say that. He never meant for Wei Wuxian to find out what he did. After the events at the Guanyin Temple he’d considered coming clean but had held back. It would have seemed as if he was lamely throwing it out there. Like ‘ha it isn’t only you who can sacrifice’. It would just seem petty and like he was trying to one-up Wei Wuxian, and to him that would have diminished the worth of his actions. He’d done it without hesitation, expecting to die but preferring that to the alternative aka letting it be Wei Wuxian instead. He hadn’t done it to get acknowledgement. (He was man enough to admit --to himself at least after lots of time to think in the aftermath- that Wei Wuxian probably felt the same, except if the Wens had caught him, Wei Wuxian would have surely died, whereas without a core Jiang Cheng just felt like dying. So really in the end there was no need for Wei Wuxian to risk his life because Jiang Cheng would not have actually lost his.)

Surprisingly, Jin Ling had actually noticed his hesitation --which on later consideration made him realise his nephew was really growing up and he’d had some strong feelings about that-- but by that time it was too late even if he intended to say anything. It wasn’t as if Wei Wuxian had the time of day for him then anyway. He hadn’t even glanced Jiang Cheng’s way before making off with his stubborn donkey… and Lil Apple.

“When you lost it to what?” Wei Wuxian said hoarsely, still disbelievingly processing what was being said to him and latching on to the thing he actually knew instead, “I’ve never faulted you for wanting to retrieve your parents’ bodies. You were grieving.”

Jiang Cheng was flabbergasted. His tears stopped abruptly in his shock. He had never actually given much consideration to how Wei Wuxian determined he was in Lotus Pier and why. When he had woken up in Wen Qing’s domain all he’d been told was that Wen Ning helped Wei Wuxian save him. At the time he was too empty and hurt to think much about anything further than that he was alive and broken, and then all the other shit in his life happened and he hadn’t given that question a second thought. But to think, all this time and…

“That’s what you thought I was… Okay yes, that’s why I was in Lotus Pier,” he said decisively. He couldn’t believe Wei Wuxian thought he was that foolish but better he believed it was because Jiang Cheng was a grief stricken child that went back on his own. He wouldn’t blame himself then.

Except Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrowed. He may have been struggling with many complicated emotions but his mind was still sharp. “Jiang Cheng,” he said slowly.

“What!?”

“You went back for your parents’ bodies, right?”

“...”

“Right?” he said, stalking forward and clasping Jiang Cheng’s shoulders urgently. “Yes! That's what I said! Have you developed a hearing problem now?” Jiang Cheng barked defensively, half-heartedly struggling in his suddenly tight grip.

But Jiang Cheng hadn’t said that, he did.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Jiang Cheng! Why were you in Lotus Pier?”

“It doesn’t matter! Let it go, Wei Wuxian. It’s all in the past like you said.”

But Wei Wuxian had a sick feeling in his gut.

“You didn’t go back on your own, did you?” he said, chest tightening as his certainty grew.

His grip went slack. “You didn’t choose to go back. So why…”

“But I did choose,” Jiang Cheng said, a rueful smile forming on his face. It was his choice to step out from where he was hidden and distract the Wen soldiers. Although arguably, in the moment, there was no choice at all because letting them take Wei Wuxian was never an option.

“No…. No, if it wasn’t for your parents then you wouldn’t leave shijie. You wouldn’t have chosen to go back. You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t have tried to take back Lotus Pier by yourself.”

“As you said, I was grieving. Maybe I was reckless. You were there, you would have taken care of a-jie.”

“No, shijie was sick, you wouldn’t have left!”

He remembered going out to buy some food and medication for Jiang Yanli, who was too ill to take care of herself. There was a moment when he’d been afraid he’d be caught by some Wen soldiers but then they’d been distracted and he’d breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the Wens had caught up too quickly and he had to get the others out of there asap. He’d gone back with the supplies intending to let them know only to find that Jiang Cheng was gone.

But… thinking of it… hadn’t they left him alone because someone shouted ‘I’ve got him’?

No!

It couldn’t be.

“Jiang Cheng… Tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t tell you I didn’t leave Wei Wuxian, clearly I did,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes.

“No not that. You got caught on purpose. You…” his voice cracked.

“Why would you say that? Who would be foolish enough to get caught on purpose. You’re overthinking. Didn’t you just say I wasn’t stupid?” Jiang Cheng retorted.

“Didn’t you just say that maybe you were reckless?” he fired back, tearing up, “How could you… Why?? Why didn’t you just let them take me?”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, “Well aren’t you full of yourself. Not everything is about you, Wei Wuxian.” Why wouldn’t Wei Wuxian just drop it? Didn’t he know there was only pain going down this road?

He laughed, a broken hollow thing. “No, not everything is about me. But this is. My memory is full of holes but I remember that day. I remember how it felt to find you gone. And now, now I remember what happened before I found you missing. Why did you do it?”

He tightened his grip on Jiang Cheng once more and shook.

“You should have let them take me. How could you do such a foolish thing?” he almost screamed, tears leaking down his face.

“How could I do such a foolish thing? How could you carve out your core and give it to me?” Jiang Cheng growled.

“You were the new Sect Leader! Why would you give up your life like that? I promised that I would protect you with my life. Why would you throw it away for me? Your mother was right, it was all my fault. I wasn’t wor-- mmph!” Jiang Cheng covered his mouth.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! Were you not listening to a thing I said?!! Who gives a shit about worthiness? Do you think a-jie was thinking about worthiness when she threw herself in front of that blade for you? I certainly wasn’t thinking about worthiness when there were Wen soldiers about to capture you and take you to Wen Chao for his torturing pleasure. Who was going to let him take you? He dared?! Did I just stand aside when that Wang Lingjiao demanded your hand? And not in marriage! Why would I stand aside for some measly soldiers?”

He’d come to terms with the fact that taking the blade was his sister’s choice. He’d done the same after all, in a different way but nevertheless… he did. If this was a few years, heck months, ago he’d probably still be painfully in denial. Yanli’s death had unhinged him. And it had taken Jin freaking Guangyao to deliver a proverbial slap in the face for him to start to reflect on his own behaviour, as well as that of his siblings, with a clearer mind. Despite the fact that he’d come to the conclusion that Jin Guangyao was wrong about a great many things (given that he conveniently didn’t mention that he would have manipulated things in the Jin’s favour no matter what Jiang Cheng did), it had been the push he needed to work through his years of resentment. It had taken a while and was probably still going to take some more time, but he’d been learning a great deal about himself.

Which is why he was so mad at Wei Wuxian, whose tears were dripping onto the hand Jiang Cheng was using to cover his self-deprecating mouth. “How can it be that Lan Wangji hasn’t managed to get you to stop that? You’re sickeningly in love with each other and the entire cultivation world knows it, yet you have the nerve to come here and say you’re not worthy? To my face? A-Jie would be sad. Your sickening husband would be sad.” He was sad.

He grimaced as Wei Wuxian licked his hand in an attempt to dislodge it, possibly because he insulted Lan Wangji again and Wei Wuxian had a compulsive need to defend the man.

“Nice try,” he grinned, “But I’ve changed A-Ling’s dirty diapers, a little spit isn’t going to gross me out.”

His nephew, whose presence had been totally forgotten by both of his uncles, squawked in indignation. Jiang Cheng didn’t acknowledge it. If he had turned to look, he might have seen that the boy was shedding silent tears the whole time in solidarity with their emotional meltdowns. Jin Ling also briefly had the thought that Ouyang Zizhen would have loved to witness this spectacle and would definitely have declared it novel material.

Ignoring his nephew’s reactions, Jiang Cheng addressed Wei Wuxian, “Do you think that Lan Wangji would say you aren’t worth sacrificing for? Do you think he’d say you’re replaceable?”

Unable to speak, Wei Wuxian just shook his head. Lan Zhan would be hurt if he said those things.

“And why do you think that is Wei Wuxian? Why would Lan Wangji not think that?” He squished Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, forcing him to speak with fish lips. “B..cs e lv.s muh?”

“Exactly.” He finally let go of Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Jiang Cheeeng *hic*” cried Wei Wuxian.

“What!?” “I love you too,” Wei Wuxian said while sobbing some more and throwing himself at Jiang Cheng.

“Who said anything about love? Get off of me!”

“Y..*hic* youuuu did!” He clung to Jiang Cheng and refused to let go until Jiang Cheng gave in (but not before struggling a bit, had to at least look like he resisted) and hugged back just as fiercely. The two of them stood there holding each other and weeping for a solid quarter of an hour.

Wei Wuxian felt raw inside. He had never expected that Jiang Cheng would… It had never occurred to him that Jiang Cheng distracted their pursuers just to save him. Him. Jiang Cheng had let himself be taken instead. Jiang Cheng who was so prideful and who had blamed him for bringing ruin to Lotus Pier. That Jiang Cheng had been angry with him and yet saved him anyway. Saved him knowing that he was likely going to die for it. Saved him because he loved him. What else could he do now but cry? He felt wrung out. Like his world had shifted.

---

“Sooo…” said Jin Ling, clapping his hands together once decisively and smirking slightly (after drying his own tear-filled eyes), “Since you guys ended up falling into each other's arms and crying, that means that the only thing left is for you to become bosom buddies again.”

“Brat!” Jiang Cheng sniffed, pulling away from Wei Wuxian to threaten his nephew, “Are you looking to get your legs broken?!”

“No thank you!” he cried, rushing out of the tent quickly, only to bump squarely into Lan Sizhui who only managed to keep them both upright thanks to the infamous Lan arm strength that Jin Ling may or may not have been admiring surreptitiously the entire trip.

“What are you all doing out here?” Wei Wuxian asked, upon fixing his face and following Jin Ling out and seeing the rest of the juniors and Wen Ning nervously huddled outside of Jiang Cheng’s tent.

“Senior Wei!” fretted Lan Jingyi, “We were so worried!”

“Yeah, we thought something might have happened since you guys were taking so long to come back and we came to check it out but then we couldn’t get in! We had no idea what was going on inside,” said Ouyang Zizhen who had tear tracks on his face. He had clearly expected Wei Wuxian to come out as a corpse.

Wei Wuxian was stunned and looked at Wen Ning for confirmation.

“I would have tried to break in but A-Yuan stopped me,” said Wen Ning sheepishly and if he could blush his face would have been bright red.

“Are you all stupid?” snapped Jiang Cheng, “Am I a person that looks like I have a death wish? Who would take care of my sect if Hanguang-Jun murdered me?”

“A..ah I told them that Jin Ling would have come for help if anything was going on,” Sizhui piped up, “ I told you guys not to worry so much.”

Responsible as always, that Lan Sizhui. How someone like Lan Wangji raised a well spoken boy like that was a mystery to Jiang Cheng. Though he guessed Lan Xichen would have had a hand in it too. The boy did remind him very much of the Lan Sect Leader. Only in temperament however, looks-wise… well he stopped that train of thought before it could go too far. Some things were probably best left unacknowledged, though he was spending way too much time observing the juniors and the Ghost General on night hunts not to notice… well again, best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“Finally! Someone with sense,” was all Jiang Cheng muttered in the end.

“But how come you couldn’t come in?” Wei Wuxian asked curiously.

“Ah well…” Jin Ling rubbed the back of his head, “I kinda sorta maybe put up a privacy ward when you two started airing grievances. No need for the whole camp to hear about family business.”

“This kid…” Wei Wuxian laughed, secretly pleased that Jin Ling seemed to have accepted him. “Come here!” He slung his arm around Jin Ling’s neck and held him in a death grip to ruffle his hair. “Let go of me!” Jin Ling protested, pushing half heartedly at his arm. Two soft jingles followed the movement.

“Wait,” said Ouyang Zizhen, eyes widening, “Did you hear that?” “Is that…” queried Sizhui, also noticing the sound.

“It’s a clarity bell!” announced Jingyi, “ Senior Wei, why do you have a Jiang clarity bell?”

“Ah well.. It’s mine?”

“Huh, since when?!”

“Uh since I joined the Jiangs?”

“Why do you sound like you’re questioning it, idiot!?” said Jiang Cheng, barely refraining from whacking the back of his head. He did remember that his shixiong’s new body was frail.

“Ah hehe, I’m not, I’m not,” he raised his hands placatingly.

“But we’ve never seen you wear it, Senior Wei,” said Ouyang Zizhen innocently.

“That’s because I gave it back when I defected,” he said sheepishly.

“Then why do you have it now?” questioned Lan Jingyi, somewhat bluntly.

“Kid, has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” said Jiang Cheng.

“I’m not a kid!” he pouted, at the same time that Jin Ling said, “All the time!”

And well sure he technically wasn’t a kid anymore, at 21, but if Jiang Cheng admitted that then his 19 year old nephew wouldn’t be a kid either and Jiang Cheng wasn’t ready to accept that yet.

Lan Jingyi shot a rancid look at Jin Ling, who cheated and hid behind Sizhui, and turned back to Wei Wuxian like a dog with a bone. (Which was a hilarious analogy because, you know it’s a dog and they all knew what Wei Wuxian thought of dogs.)

“Does this mean you’re going back to the Jiangs then, Senior Wei?”

“As if his husband would ever let that happen,” Jiang Cheng snorted before he could answer.

“Hanguang-Jun lets Wei-qianbei do whatever he wants!” Lan Jingyi said, unable to hide the starstruck tone he used with Lan Wangji’s title.

Jiang Cheng sighed, “I forgot I was with the Hanguang-Jun fanclub.”

Lan Jingyi turned red and was ready to retort but Wei Wuxian cleared his throat and derailed the tirade before it could start. “Nobody’s going anywhere except to bed. As for the bell, Jiang Cheng just returned what was originally mine in the first place. It’s not a big deal.”

It absolutely was a big deal.

He couldn’t believe Jiang Cheng had held onto it all this time. He was sorely tempted to burst into tears again. Much like Chenqing, it was kept in pristine condition. Before they left the tent Jiang Cheng had shoved it at him like it was burning and told him to come home sometimes (“even if you have to bring your prissy husband with you”). It so was a big deal. Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan did not like each other at all. He privately thought that as much as he loved Lan Zhan and wanted to show him Lotus Pier, he’d make the first few visits on his own. Best not to push Jiang Cheng too much.

“Well I’m happy for you, Young Master Wei,” said Wen Ning, smiling as much as his face allowed. He at least had an idea of what it meant. Not just in general, but to Wei Wuxian.

“Thank you, Wen Ning.” He smiled softly at his friend.

“Well, I’ve had enough talking for one day,” said Jiang Cheng, “I’m going to go to bed. If you’re all going to continue talking, please do it somewhere that’s not right in front of my quarters.” And with that he bid them all goodnight and ducked back into his tent.

“Ah yes, I think it is past your Lan bedtimes is it not? You two also need to skedaddle,” Wei Wuxian said to the little Lans.

“Of course Senior Wei, we’ll head in now,” said Sizhui who promptly did as he said and turned to step into a tent.

“Hey! Why are you going into the Young Mistress’ tent?” called Jingyi, “Weren’t we supposed to share?”

“Ah well Jin Ling offered,” Sizhui explained.

“You just want to take advantage of his very fancy sect leader tent,” accused Lan Jingyi.

“Hehe guilty as charged,” he said,“Goodnight Jingyi. And to you Wen-qianbei, Wei-qianbei, Zizhen.” He left all four of them standing there and went to bed.

“No fair, I want to sleep in a fancy sect leader tent too. Ours is not nearly as comfortable,” lamented Jingyi.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t share the sentiment because his Lan Zhan always made sure he was the most comfortable. But he also couldn’t resist teasing Jingyi.

“There’s a very fancy sect leader tent right here,” he smirked, “Enter at your own peril.”

Lan Jingyi blanched and squeaked, “Never mind!”

Zizhen laughed heartily at him, “Better luck next time buddy!”

---------

Author’s note: * Since I read the translation of MDZS I am not sure how Yanli refers to Wei Wuxian in the novel other than as a brother which in English does not convey as much as the Chinese text would. In The Untamed episode 25 however when she is defending him from Jin Zixun she refers to him as didi, which I have gathered is what you would call a younger blood related brother, rather than shidi which would be the term for a martial brother. Since I don’t know Chinese though correct me if I’m wrong ^^;

Also I don’t recall the novel mentioning if wwx had a clarity bell or not so I am working with the assumption that much like the Lans’ forehead ribbons, the Yunmeng Jiang disciples would have a clarity bell... in The Untamed, Yanli gives him one when she shows him her wedding dress but I am taking creative liberties and saying he already had one as a member of the clan. Maybe main family members and disciples have different ones like the Lan ribbons but I’m leaving that up to interpretation.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Once Upon a December

Chapter 5: Alive or Dead. Who Knows?

A/N: OHMYGOD I finally posted!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so happy I’m done with this, it had been plaguing my mind for the past week and now I can sleep well knowing I finished! I’ll try to be quicker with chapter 6. If you want to be tagged or if I forgot you, please send me an ask instead of a comment! Also let me know if you liked it!! Enjoy

Masterlist

Chapter 4 // Chapter 6

Lin felt more than saw Rowan tensing behind her.

She knew some about Lyria and Rowan’s past, and Lyria’s voice was so full of despair at that moment that it was a wonder he hadn’t just gone up to her. If it wasn’t for the arm he kept tightly around her body, maybe Lin would have.

“Please.” She pleaded again as Lin turned quickly to Rowan, catching a flash of his silver hair, and she felt a sharp pain in her brain again.

Just like it had happened in her bedroom moments ago, she felt as if she was being transported to another room. She remembered a woman— a different woman— pleading like Lyria was. She remembered looking down and seeing a torn child’s dress. She remembered turning back quickly and seeing that same flash of silver hair.

The room was the same one she had seen in the mirror, but this time she wasn’t sitting on a pretty vanity. Instead, she was hiding somewhere near the opposite walls of the bedroom. She could feel a slightly bigger hand holding her wrist, but all she could focus was the pretty and small woman standing in the middle of the room, begging for mercy.

Lin wanted to go to her, wanted to help her, but the hand on her wrist was unrelenting.

“Please, leave her alone.” The woman implored, and Lin had the distinction of knowing that voice.

She felt lips that were and weren’t her own forming a single word.

Marion.

The woman’s name had been Marion.

“Fuck.” Rowan whispered, dragging her out of whatever the hell that had been. He turned her in his arms, tilting her head back. “Your nose is bleeding.”

She raised a shaken hand to wipe it away the moment they heard a loud thud coming from where Lyria and the other man were. Both Lin and Rowan turned to where Lyria had been. The men formed a circle around her fallen body, and she raised her head, holding the side of her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, shining in the moonlight and against the slap mark, but the rest of her expression showed nothing more than anger and defiance.

“I hope you and your queen burn.” Lyria’s voice held so much hate that when Rowan tensed against her, Lin didn’t know if it was from slight fear or surprise.

The men— most likely Cairn, Cain, Perrignton and one more she couldn’t recognize— remained silent, as if considering what to do with the fallen woman in front of them. They were dangerously near the back door, and Lin was almost trembling from the need to rush to help Lyria. But even with Rowan by her side, they were grossly outnumbered and this could cause the queen’s men to react briskly.

“Fenrys is in this room too.” Rowan bent his head to murmur against Lin’s ear. She didn’t tear her gaze from Lyria, but her attention shifted to Rowan’s words. If Lyria could get up and help, maybe they could fix this. “I need you to go back to the second to last wagon. They keep some coal and explosives there. Scream fire. When they shift their attention, Fen can grab Lyria and we get the hell out of here.”

“That could make them panic and throw Lyria out.” Lin murmured back, but there was no bite or anger to her words. His plan wasn’t bad, it just had too much room for error.

Better than nothing, she supposed.

“You have a better idea?”

“What do we do after? It’s not like they’re just going to give up because we helped her.”

“You have a better idea?” His voice came out harsh, and Lin held her tongue to keep a nasty reply in. This wasn’t the moment for their bantering, even though Lin knew she would bring that up later.

“Very well, Mr. Whitethorn.” She said, taking a small step back. She hadn’t realized how close they had stood, and was thankful for the absolute darkness in their part of the wagon as a soft pink colored her cheeks. She wasn’t used to proximity, to being close to anyone. Sometimes Lys, but that was more of a sisterly embrace— soft and welcoming. Rowan was… imposing. Too intriguing and unreadable at the same time for her liking.

Lin tried her best to keep to the shadows as she tried to exit the room. She could already see the door handle when she made the mistake of looking back. She eyed the alcove where she had been with Rowan, his figure completely hidden. The other one by its side, where she guessed Fenrys was, was just as dark. With her heart strained, she looked at Lyria and the three man.

She turned back to the handle when it hit her, almost making her shake.

Three?

She took in a sharp intake of breath when she felt fingers grabbing her hair, and she immediately knew it wasn’t Rowan. The two times he had grabbed her, it was not with pain as his purpose. Whoever this was, Lin had no doubt he wasn’t like Whitethorn.

The realization didn’t help her at all, the panic rising in her chest as she felt her whole body being pulled back violently. Lin didn’t remember if she had cried out before or after she hit the floor, the fourth man— the one she hadn’t recognized— standing above of her. He stood in front of her, one leg on each side of her body. Despite the fear clawing up her whole soul, Lin hoped neither Rowan nor Fenrys would do something stupid. Hoped they would use the distraction to get Lyria, to help Lyria.

“Who do we have here?” The man’s voice was like a caress, Adarlanian accent mixing beautifully with the Terrasenian one. Lin tried to focus on his face, tried to distinguish any of his features, but her vision was swaying due to the pain and the darkness only made it harder.

“A fucking asshole, if I have judged you correct.”  Lin groaned, trying to clear her mind. He was in a compromised position— she wasn’t wearing those big skirts, meaning that she could get a leg through his front, put her other one in the back of his knee and make him fall.

Or a kick in the balls, if she didn’t want to get fancy.

Despite the fact that his face was hidden, Lin knew he was smiling. She saw the silhouette of his head looking up, back at the other three who were terrorizing Lyria. “Any of you know our unexpected guest?”

Lin tried to turn her head slightly, tried to see if Lyria was still ok. The brunette was staring right back at her, fear and anger mixing together. Lin knew the feeling very well. Lin stared at Lyria, hoping she would understand even without words. Silently and almost imperceptibly, Lyria started crawling little by little away from the door as Cain, Cairn and Perrington had their attention on the fourth man. Lin then looked up, realizing that Cairn was also watching her. He gave her a disgusting grin before looking at her assailant. “She was talking to Dunes earlier, Mr. C. The two of them were acting as if friends.”

“Hum, interesting.” The man mused, bending down on Lin. A new sense of panic took over her body, and she felt tears in the back of her eyes. Part of her wanted to start trashing, but the other part was terrified that if she did that, the situation would just get worse for her and Ly.

Some situations forced people to chose between the bad and the terrible, and although Lin hated it, she remained still— body completely tense and one breath away from snapping. Just a few more seconds and maybe Lyria would have crawled away enough to have a fighting chance instead of being thrown out.

“Are you also a traitor then, sweetheart?” He muttered, one hand going down her face.

“Wouldn’t it be boring if I told you that so soon into our interactions, darling?” Lin grunted through clenched teeth, nausea rolling in her stomach.

The guy chuckled, standing up again. Lin released her breath, looking at where Rowan was still hiding. She prayed to the gods a second time in the past ten years that he was staring at her. That, like Lyria, he would understand what she was about to do.

The man in front of her opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out as Lin attacked.

She bent one leg against the back of his knee, bringing her other leg to his front. She half wrapped it around his waist, pulling him backwards as her bent leg pushed him forward. As she had planned, he immediately lost his balance, letting out a yelp as he fell.

But instead of falling to the back as she had wished, Mr. C fell right on top of her. His weight was crushing her down, forcing the breath out of her lungs. Lin’s head started swaying again, vision blurring. He raised himself on his elbows, looking down on her with so much rage that his brown eyes shone.

Her legs and arms were constricted by his body on top of her, so Lin did the only thing she could think of in the moment.

She threw her head forward with as much force as she could. She could feel the blood running down her forehead, and she didn’t know if it was from an injury she caused on herself or the man’s newly broken nose. Behind them, grunting noises and shouts started ringing out, indicating that Fenrys and Rowan— and maybe even Lyria— were trying to deal with Cairn, Cain and Perrignton.

Lin focused back, readying herself to do the same again, hopefully knocking him out, when the man’s body simply disappeared.

Lin closed her eyes forcefully, blinking to get rid of the black dots swimming on her vision. When she could focus again, she realized that the man hadn’t magically disappeared. It had been Rowan.

Rowan pulled the guy back with so much force that he didn’t even get up.

“He was mine, fucker.” Lin grunted when Rowan kneeled by her side.

Despite the darkness, Lin could see him grinning slightly. “Pardon, next time shout dibs.”

She snorted, but any lightheartedness was destroyed by Lyria’s shriek. Lin and Rowan immediately turned their heads to where Lyria and Fenrys were standing, their backs against each other’s. Cain was holding the left side of his face, blood leaking through his fingers. Lyria was holding a small knife with her shaken hand while the other was gripping Fenrys’s pinky and ringer finger. He had one gun pointed at Cairn, but Perrignton had one pointed at Lyria.

Fuck.

Lin nudged Rowan’s arm, and he spared her one more glance before standing up and carefully walking up to them, raising his own gun at Perrignton.

Lin’s heart was beating wildly, her headache and blurry vision making everything worse. She tried getting up, legs weak under her, hands sweating and shaking. She noticed the blood dripping down her chin, either from her earlier nosebleed or the new injury on her forehead. Lin slumped against the wall when she finally got up, breathing in and out a few times before daring to take a step. The wagon was eerily quiet, each person pointing their guns or knives at each other.

This was going to end terribly, Lin knew.

She had to help however, in whatever way she could. Because she was in her nightgown, she couldn’t have brought her daggers with her, and guns were too expensive for her to ever consider buying one. Even empty handed, Lin straightened her back and started walking in Rowan’s direction. She could see if he had a spare weapon, a knife maybe, anything that would give her some advantage.

Before she could even reach them, she felt a hand on her shoulder violently turning her around. Immediately, Lin felt a fist connecting with the right side of her face, and she coughed some blood while looking up. Apparently Rowan hadn’t completely knocked Mr. C out if he was up and ready to give her a beating so fast. She straightened again, raising her fists limply. Her head was pounding, and not in the way it had been minutes ago while she walked to the last wagon on the train.That pounding had been different, more complex than this simple and agonizing pain.

Lin curled her lips at the brown-eyed man, her upper lip stinging.

“Fucking bitch.” He spat.

“My six foot five friend over there knocked you out, not me.” Lin said, forcing a sarcastic smile on her lips. Her face was throbbing, and she probably had a split lip and would get a huge bruise on her right side. “Why don’t you deal with him?”

“Tell your friends to lower their guns.” He almost growled, taking a step on her direction.

“Tell your friends to lower theirs.” She stared right at him. Now that they were standing in the middle of the wagon, the moonlight filtering through the back door allowed her to study his features. He had a soft tan skin, brown hair to match with his brown eyes. Powerfully built, average in height. Absolutely normal, the type of person Lin would never guess was someone dangerous. They remained in silence, the group behind them still closer to the door and barely breathing.

Lin had to think fast, especially because the chance of someone else taking a midnight stroll to the last wagons was almost none. They would have no help, and no one would hear anything either. Behind them there was no other wagon, in front was a storage room with coal and explosives according to Rowan.

An idea— stupid and absolutely reckless— sparkled inside her mind.

She took a small step forward, forcing her head to clear out. She needed all her attention for this, and so much could go wrong that the addition of a headache would only worsen things. Despite trying to remain calm, her heart was galloping, the sound deafening against her ears. She was about to put her life, as well as her other three companions, in danger. She couldn’t care less for the queen’s men.

“Very well.” Lin suddenly said, and although they had their backs to each other, Lin knew Rowan was paying attention to her words. Lyria and Fenrys too, she supposed. “Ro, the gun.”

Lin had to admit, Rowan Whitethorn was a fucking prick, yes, but a godsdamned smart prick.

And absolutely reckless if he was just going on board with whatever Lin was coming up with.

Lin moved at the same time Rowan’s gunshot sounded out. She had hoped he would understand what she meant when she called him Ro— something only the cadre did as far as she was concerned. She barely called him Rowan, and so by calling him Ro he understood that he was supposed to do the absolute contrary of what she had implied.

The man in front of her was shocked by Rowan’s reaction for a second, and Lin used it wisely. She elbowed him on the throat, her fist connecting with his nose as he doubled over. It had been broken when she hit her head against his, so hopefully the pain would be unbearable right now.

Lin didn’t dare to turn around to see how Rowan, Fenrys and Lyria were doing. Eventual gunshots sounded, but there was no indication of a body falling against the ground. Grunts, shouts and curses filled the wagon as Lin grabbed her assailant by the hair and kneed him in the throat again. He felt to the ground, hands gripping his neck as he coughed uncontrollably.

Lin ran to the connecting door, body screaming in pain as she threw it open and rushed to the other wagon.

It was lighter than the other one, windows all around illuminating the piles of coal. There were sheets covering some boxes, and Lin started frantically looking through them.

She found some matchboxes, holding one strongly in her hand as she looked for the last thing she needed. She almost cried in relief when she found a small box with three explosives.

“Oh, thank the fucking gods.” Lin sighed, getting up again. Her steps were unbalanced, both by her bodily soreness and hazy mind. She had to stop for a second, fearing going back to the last wagon. She was to cross the train connection again, and she hadn’t even worried about that when adrenaline was rushing through her veins. But now that it was fading, Lin was very much aware of the gap between the doors, the fast moving train and her inability to even walk straight. She looked forward, vision swaying but not blurry.

Lin held the door’s threshold, taking a big step. Maybe she would start being religious, based on the amount of prayers she sent to the gods in those five seconds that she needed to enter the last wagon again.

She half ran, half limped in Rowan’s direction. He had lost his gun, as had Perrington, and now both were just rolling on the ground, the punches they were throwing reverberating through the room. Lyria still had a grip on her knife, her back against the wall but hand raised to make sure Cain wouldn’t take one more step. Like Rowan, Fenrys and Cairn were brawling, Fenrys’s face sprayed with blood, his knuckles bleeding.

Lin looked around the room, looking for…

She sighed, holding the matches and explosives strongly. “Can’t you fucking stay down?”

Mr. C chuckled, taking a limping step towards her. It didn’t take one second before he tried to connect his fist with her face again, but this time Lin actually managed to dodge. Her clenched left fist hit him in the stomach at the same time he elbowed her right wrist.

The pain shot through her arm and hand, forcing her to drop the matches and explosive. The matches remained still, but the explosive rolled until the back of the wagon, almost falling through the back door.

Shit shit shit shit

She took her mind away from the fact that her only plan was in the back of the room now, focusing on blocking the blows the man in front of her wasted no time delivering.

“Cain!” The man shouted as he tried to hit Lin’s side with a right hook. He jerked his head to the connecting door, and through the corner of her eye Lin saw Cain leaving Lyria alone and rushing to the other wagon.

Lyria ran in Fenrys’s direction, slicing Cairn’s arm open as it was raised to punch Fenrys in the face.

Lin’s attention remained on them for a second too long. A second that caused her to receiver a smack against the throat, her guts constricting and allowing no oxygen in. She blinked the tears away, mouth open to get as much air as she could. She couldn’t stop, not now. She had to get him down, had to get to the fucking explosive.

“Perrington! Cairn!” Mr. C shouted, blocking a kick Lin tried to connect to his side.

They— Lin, Rowan, Lyria and Fenrys— were too busy fighting to realize what was happening. Cairn let go of Fenrys only to push Lyria so forcefully that her back and head slammed against the wall. Fenrys was immediately there, holding her in his arms. Turning his back to Cairn was a stupid move, but Lin knew that Fenrys’s complete attention was focused on the brunette in his arms.

Perrignton elbowed Rowan’s face, and Lin almost cringed at the sound of his silver head against the floor. There was some blood contrasting against the silver, and Lin’s stomach rolled. Just like Cain, Perrignton and Cairn ran to the other wagon.

“No.” Lin breathed. 

At that, Mr. C smiled and kneed her in the stomach. Lin fell to her knees as she watched him follow his companions. “It’s a shame you must die. You seem interesting enough.”

Mr. C strolled to the other wagon, whistling. Lin grounded her teeth and got up, following him. He was already reaching the door that would take him back to the rooms compartments when Lin finally managed to leave the last wagon and enter the storage one. Regardless of the distance between them, Lin saw him smiling as he lit a single match.

And let said match drop on coal and the sheets she had thrown around. Almost immediately everything started catching on fire, and Lin didn’t know if she should focus on the flames or on the man slamming the door after him as he left.

“Did he just set fire to the train?” Lyria said from behind her. Lin looked back, seeing the brunette resting against Fenrys’s side on the other side of the train gap. Her eyes were wide, body trembling. “He’s going to kill everyone. He just fucking set fire to the train.”

As if her words had caused it, Lin had to hold herself against the threshold to not fall forward into the flames or backward into the gap. If she had fallen in the gap, it would take seconds for her to fall over the train and… well, die. The train had been completely shook, and Lin understood what had happened seconds later.

She stepped on the gap, cranking her neck to look to the front of the train. Her stomach rolled at her position, but she kept looking until her suspicions were confirmed.

“He detached the last two wagons from the front of the train.” She breathed, the flames now consuming the front wagon making her sweat. “Oh, gods.”

She only noticed how bad the fire had become when the flames licked her fingers. The hand she had against the threshold, holding her up so she wouldn’t fall off the train, felt as if it was burning. And so, stupidly, Lin let go of her grip with a pained shriek.

She only realized her mistake when she felt as if she was starting to fall.

Fucking gods, she was going to die in the most idiotic manner possible.

Lin closed her eyes, praying that dying wasn’t that painful when she felt a big and warm hand against her arm. She was pulled into the back wagon, hitting a man’s chest. His arms wrapped around her, and Lin wasn’t sure who was shaking more. When she looked up, Rowan was staring at her with both disbelief and anger. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“If you saved me to be a pain in the ass, you can just throw me back out.” Lin hissed, trying to cross her arms even if Rowan’s chest was pressed against hers. She was in the brink of death, but arguing with Rowan gave her some normalcy.

“Not to interrupt this beautiful moment between the future couple,” Fenrys said. “But can we take care of the imminent death first?”

“Fuck.” Rowan cursed, taking a few steps in the back wagon. Despite not being attached to the train, they were going extremely fast and this would kill them in the first curve.

That is, if the fire didn’t do so first.

Lyria had entered one alcove, coming back with a small hammer and pickax. Rowan immediately picked them up from her, jumping in the gap and starting to use the hammer to detach the pin holding the two wagons together. He barely did the second motion when the hammer broke, forcing him to use the pickax. “Come on! There’s gotta be something better than this in there!”

Fenrys and Lyria entered the other alcove, looking for a stronger tool. Lin, on the other hand, went straight for the explosives near the back door. She ran to Rowan, grabbing the matchbox as she went back. She lit the explosive, handing it to Rowan when the pickax also broke.

He stared at it for a second before shrugging, brows furrowed. “That will work.” He said, putting it in a hole in the gap. He jumped back to the wagon, rushing Lin to the furthest place from the connecting door. They crouched there, Fenrys and Lyria running to their direction and doing the same behind them.

“What the fuck do they teach you in those orphanages?” Rowan turned to Lin, incredulous.

Lin was about to answer when the loud sound reverberated, indicating that it had exploded. They raised their heads, watching as the wagon on fire disconnected from theirs.

Lin sighed in relief, even though they still had one problem to worry about.

“How the fuck are we going to stop?” Lyria asked, resting again against Fenrys. She closed her eyes, and Lin thought that she probably had hit her head pretty bad when Cairn threw her against the wall. Fenrys sat down with her, his arm around her shoulder.

Rowan stared at them for a second before turning away. He went directly to a chain pile resting on the ground. He grabbed it by one of the hooks, leaving it near the back door as he stepped out.

Lin shouted after him, running to the back door as well. She saw Rowan holding himself up by one arm, extending the other one. “Fenrys, give me the chain!” He shouted, and Lin immediately grabbed it and handed it to him. He raised his eyes to her, nose scrunching. “Not you.”

“Fenrys is busy.”

“I don’t trust you near train doors anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just take the fucking chain, asshole!”

Rowan sighed, but he grabbed it. Lin saw him lowering himself, his head inches away from the tracks. He lopped the chain on the under part of the train, pulling it to make sure it was completely attached.

Some small parts of the underside of the train fell, going straight to Rowan’s face. Out of instinct, Lin reached forward, grabbing Rowan’s hand and pulling him inside.

He fell on top of her, panting hard. Lin was panting just as hard, and when she looked up at him, he was staring down on her. She looked at him a second too long before shoving him away.

“Get off of me!”

“I’m trying!” He grunted, sitting down. They both looked outside the back of the wagon, seeing the broken pieces of the train spiked against the wooden trails.

“And to think that could’ve been you.” She mused as they got up.

“If we live through this,” Rowan was saying as Lin turned her back and looked at Lyria’s direction to check on the girl. “Remind me to thank you.”

Lin snorted, kneeling again to push the other side of the chain off of the train. Rowan did the same, and they silently watched as the chain uncurled and uncurled until the anchor at the end of it caught in one of the wooden trails. The thing must have been so old that it completely broke, metal and wood disconnecting from the ground. Lin heard Lyria screaming, as well as Fenrys’s curses.

The wagon spun to the side, tilting slightly. Rowan put his arms around Lin’s body— one covering her back and the other one her head. She burrowed her face on his chest, closing her eyes as the wagon shook violently.

Shook, and shook and shook.

But each time slower.

It must have been the most stressful minute in Lin’s life, and when the wagon finally came to a full stop, she could almost cry of relief.

She kept her head against Rowan’s chest, too exhausted and pained to even move. The adrenaline in her body had ended, and now everything seemed heavy.

“I should have told the six of you to fuck off a week ago.” Lin complained.

She felt Rowan’s chest trembling with small laughter. “Yeah, you should have.”

They remained in silence for a while, each taking their time to recompose themselves.

“You can do it now.” Lin said, sitting up. She looked at Rowan, realizing his furrowed brows.

“Do what?”

“Thank me. You said if we survived you’d thank me.” She crossed her arms, looking around before letting her gaze fall back at him. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere, trees and more trees extending for miles. “So thank me. Also notice that I am incredible.”

Rowan’s jaw fell slightly, but he quickly recovered himself and rolled his eyes. “Thank you for being a decent human being, Ace.”

Lin was going to smile, was going to reply with a snarky comment when she saw two figures coming from the forest. They were all dressed in black from head to toe, impossible to recognize. They walked cautiously in the wagon’s direction, looking around to see if there was anyone else other than the four people inside.

When they both raised their guns, Lin simply sighed, raising her hands. “Here we fucking go again.”

————————

Aedion Ashryver was not a happy person.

He wasn’t unhappy, he just wasn’t happy either. Maybe somewhere in the middle.

In his opinion, happiness was a conjunction of many aspects. One of them was hope, and Aedion had lost that ten years ago when his kingdom was conquered and his cousin murdered.

Aelin had been his best friend, his confident. Despite the age difference, they had been inseparable and Aedion was closer to her than he was to anyone else. They were like brother and sister, always together. Losing Aelin had broken something so fundamental inside of him that he didn’t believe he could ever be truly happy again.

Until he met Lysandra.

Not in the way that Lysandra would substitute Aelin, or in the sense that they would fall madly in love and she would bring the light back to his life. No, Lysandra had changed everything because she possessed the most important information he could ever wish for.

Aelin was alive.

His little cousin, the person he swore to protect had been alive these ten years, living in a piss poor orphanage while he acted brooding in a beautiful palace in Banjali. The day he discovered it, when Lysandra had a photo of Aelin to prove what she was saying, Aedion had vomited his guts out. Vomited as he imagined his eight year old cousin alone, thrown in an orphanage and treated like shit. Vomited as he imagined what she must have gone through, what she had to learn in order to survive. He vomited because for every miserable day in her life that she managed to survive, he had been an ungrateful brat.

Mourning, anger and embarrassment clawed their way into his mind and heart, and Aedion couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop wishing he had done something. He had taken too long, but he wouldn’t sit around and do nothing no more.

Aedion Ashryver was going to get his cousin back, and they would make up for the lost time.

He might normally have been an arrogant prick, but even he knew when to ask for help.

And Lysandra was the only person who actually knew Aelin. Knew her ways, her thinking, her tells and how she operated. If Aedion had any chance of finding his cousin in all Erilea, he would need the girl who had become Aelin’s sister during the past ten years. Convincing her hadn’t been that hard; Lys was as eager to find Aelin again as Aedion was. So, the following day when Aedion went back to that terrible bar and paid for Yrene and Lys’s debts, Lysandra didn’t hesitated in agreeing to help him.

Now, a week later, he was sitting in a small office, starring at the two men in front of him. Lysandra and Irene were standing behind him, both of them quiet. Aedion couldn’t let Yrene remain in that terrible place, so he offered her the same thing he had offered Lysandra: help me find my cousin. Yrene had immediately accepted, shocked to discover that the lost princess of Terrasen wasn’t that lost anymore.

“We need a guide.” Aedion said, shrugging. “You’re a famous detective, have travelled all around Erilea. You know people, and you know places. So, tell me, why wouldn’t I want you helping me?”

“It will be expensive.” The one sitting down said, his voice calm and cool. The man standing behind of him hand’t opened his mouth since they had come in, but he eyed Aedion, Irene and Lysandra suspiciously.

“Money is not a problem, I can assure.” Lysandra said for the umpteenth time. Aedion almost turned and thanked her for stepping in. If he had to say those words again, he might attack the man on the other side of the table. “We will pay you half now, half when we find her.”

“And who are we looking for, exactly?”

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Lys said, as Aedion was resting against the back of his chair. “We have concrete proof she is alive and well, but we do not know where.”

The man sitting down crossed his hands on top of the table, launching forward. He eyed Aedion, and then Yrene and then Lysandra with infinite and new interest. And when Dorian Havilliard smiled, Aedion knew he had gotten what he wanted.

“I never say no to an adventure, milady. And finding the lost princess sounds like a pretty good one for me.”

Aedion smiled at Lysandra, seeing her heart shaped face smiling back at her. She winked at him with her right almond shaped eye, and Aedion’s grin widened further.

This was going to be interesting and, when he got his cousin back, all of this would be happy.

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire​ @alyx801​ @ladywitchling​ @westofmoon​ @rolltide7​ @queen-of-glass​ @alifletcher2012​ @rattlethestarsdarling​ @rowanisahunk​ @bilkul-sharam-nahi-aati​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @chemicha​ @jlinez​ @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ @abookishfreak​ @courtofjurdan​ @acourtofglass​ @linshryver​ @punkassbookjockey26​ @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @sleeping-and-books​ @cantoallavita​ @annejulianneh111​ @wordsafterhours​ @elriel4life​ @lexflame​ @perseusannabeth​ @mu-si-ca-l​ @camilamartinezdunne​ @dank-queen7​ @minaidss​ @starborn-faerie-queen​ @booksofthemoon​ @loveofbooksandwine​ @jesstargaryenqueen​ @bluejaberry​ @multifandommessblog​ @maastrash​ @heirofthenightcourt​

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Nine of ??)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone (even if you don’t live in the US)! Here is the update for this week :) This chapter was a little self indulgent. I do talk a tiny bit about music theory and Jane Austen in this chapter. If you have questions about either, just ask and I can try to explain/direct you to some good sources on what I’m talking about 😅 

Edit: Totally forgot to mention! The whole Pride and Prejudice HC about Lucifer is not originally mine. I believe I read it on one of the Beel blogs. I think it was @taco-beel :)

For anyone new, here is the link for Part One. I hope you enjoy 😁 

Tags for the Lovelies:  @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan (If you’d like to be added to the tags list, just message me or comment below!)

Satan/ F!Mc

Trigger Warnings: possibly for depression?

Word Count: 2,322

After Mc shut the door, she slid down the door to the floor, head in her hands. Well, that couldn’t have gone worse. I would’ve rather had him ignore me or not remember me at all. I could’ve figured out how to interact with him in those situations. But what was with him being sweet in the beginning, and then just seizing up? Then he grabbed my wrist and seemed super worried about me leaving and then didn’t even say anything the whole walk?! That goodbye too! What was that?! 

The more Mc thought about the whole thing, the more upset she got. She leaned her head back against the door, her brain replaying the beginning of the conversation trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Remembering the look in his eyes as he had fervently declared he remembered her. The warmth of his voice.

Then the progressive unease as she had continued talking until the abrupt emotional cutoff. He had obviously been uninterested in talking with her any longer, though she really couldn’t figure out why. He had been so dismissive. But when I tried to leave… She looked down to the wrist he had grabbed. He sounded so… desperate. Like he truly didn’t want to let me leave. So, why didn’t he talk to me?

“Mc? Are you alright?” Michael asked, stepping into the entrance hall with Diavolo.

“I’m… I’m fine. Diavolo, do you have a music room?” Mc asked, standing up as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you have a piano, or similar instrument?”

“Yes…”

“May I use it for the rest of the day? I need to compose.”

“I… Sure. I’ll have Lil’ D No. 2 show you the way,” and as he said that, a small demon appeared and beckoned her forward, and she promptly followed.

“Oh dear,” Michael sighed, eyes following Mc.

“What’s wrong,” Diavolo asked, thoroughly confused by the whole encounter.

“She is definitely not alright. She can only compose when she’s really emotional about something.”

“I… Wait, is she going to let us hear it when she’s done?” Diavolo asked, eyes lighting up.

Mc sat down at the piano. It was an almost pure black grand, and the key colors were reversed, which was messing with her brain visually. The piano bench lid was made from a beautiful dark red wood, the rest the same black as the rest of the piano. The piano did not look worn, but it was obviously old. 

Mc started playing her normal warm up scales, but quickly stopped when she realized they didn’t sound right. She tried again with the same result. It’s in minor…

Trying out all the keys, she realized the whole piano was in minor. You could play major chords, but it was like making minor chords on a normal piano. Interesting.

Mc continued playing and getting warmed up, wanting to explore the amazing opportunity that had presented itself. She started playing some of her own creations, marveling at how different her songs sounded. As she was playing, she remembered a song she had abandoned a long time ago. Though it should have sounded correct, she had never been able to make it sound correct. I wonder…

She started playing the song, and was amazed to find just how perfect it sounded. It was the same song, but it now sounded perfect. Encouraged, Mc tried to continue composing, but she couldn’t get past where she had already composed, no matter how much she worked on it. Discouraged and a little frustrated, Mc look at her DDD and was surprised to see it was almost time for dinner.

Standing up, she promised herself she’d come back later, and work on it more.

“I’ve decided to throw a ball in Mc’s honor!”

Michael and Mc looked up from their dinner at the proclamation from Diavolo. Luke seemed unphased by the announcement.

“A ball? In my honor?”

“Yes! You’re my honored guest after all.”

“He also loves throwing balls,” Luke added.

“Also that,” Diavolo admitted.

“Well, I’d be honored. Thank you.”

“Perfect! It’ll be held a week from today. Barbados! Make sure invitations are sent and food is ready.”

“Yes sir,” Mc jumped, not realizing Barbados was in the room, turning around to see him exit. She was starting to notice the butler seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Is a week too fast?” Mc asked worriedly.

“Nonsense! This is a lot more notice than I usually give if I’m going to be honest,” Diavolo laughed.

“For a whole ball to be planned?”

“Yes! Barbados is one hell of a butler,” Diavolo grinned over his teacup, before taking a sip.

Mc sat in her room and mused over the events of the day. Now that she had calmed down enough to think rationally, she started analyzing Satan’s behavior, and found she really couldn’t make sense of it. Unless he thought I was someone else… Wait. That makes a lot of sense actually. Like not a ton of sense, because he should have realized I wasn’t them before I started talking about meeting him before, but more than anything else I can think of. He may have also been a little… unhinged. He did look like he hadn’t slept in three days…

Satisfied enough that her brain could rest, she snuggled down into her blankets. Every time she closed her eyes however, all she saw was Satan’s face as he had grabbed her wrist. She brought her other hand up to her wrist and grabbed it. Now smiling, she drifted off to sleep.

Mc snorted, shifting a bit as she read. The bed was comfortable, the scent of its owner making her feel safe and comforted. Classes had been long and when the demon that sat behind her had gotten up, they had accidentally hit her in the head with their bag pretty hard, which had made Mammon nearly kill them. She had narrowly saved their life by assuring him it had been an accident and somehow calming her guardian demon down. This then had resulted in her being called into talk with Lucifer about what had happened, and so she had missed her Devildom History course.

She had come to Satan’s room to grab the notes he had thoughtfully taken for her, but when he saw how worn out she was, he had offered a quiet evening of reading and tea. She hadn’t been able to refuse, seeing as how she relished anytime she could get with him. The scent of old books and their caretaker was a surefire way to help her unwind from the day, the stacks of books throughout the room making her feel like they were in their own little world. The outside world glittered in the perpetual darkness through Satan’s large windows.

“What’s so amusing?” Satan asked from the armchair he had moved over by his bed once their reading sessions became a normal occurrence.

“‘We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him’” Mc quoted.

“Ah! ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’” Satan said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Mc’s brain stopped functioning for a second, “Wai… Wha…?”

“Pride and Prejudice right?”

“Oh, hehe, right,” Mc laughed, trying to hide behind her book as best she could as all the blood rushed to her face, “It’s a good quote.”

“You know, when it came out, there was a rumor going around that Mr. Darcy was based off of Lucifer.”

“Wait… You’re joking.”

“No. He had been spending a lot of time in the human realm. Sometimes we wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Then, he just stopped going up as much. About a year later, Pride and Prejudice was released. After the rumor started, Lucifer would not allow it in the house for the longest time. He even went so far as to ask Diavolo not to allow it in the Devildom at all.”

Satan had Mc’s full attention at this point, “What was his excuse?”

“Something about a stupid romance novel ruining his reputation, and how we needed to be the voice of reason for the lower demons if they were going to allow themselves to be so easily swayed to believe the nonsense.”

“You had a copy though, right?”

“Oh, of course I did. I still do actually. First edition. I even went up to the human realm to get it.”

“Wow… That explains so much though. Lucifer is like the epitome of Mr. Darcy.”

Satan shifted in his chair, and looked down at his book, “You think so?”

“Yeah. Tall, dark, handsome,” Mc watched as Satan sunk a bit lower in his chair at each word, seeming to get fairly upset, “Standoffish. Rude. Conceitful. Overbearing.”

“Ah, so you’re not a fan of Mr. Darcy?”

“Hmmm… I wouldn’t say that. He is her most popular leading man for a reason. But…”

“But?” Satan was looking at her now, his eyes probably larger and more insistent than he meant them to be. 

“He’s far too prideful in the beginning for me. We probably wouldn’t have gotten anywhere,” Mc watched Satan relax visibly before continuing, “While I enjoy Pride and Prejudice, I’d rather read Sense and Sensibility or Northanger Abbey. I would rather have a Mr. Tilney or possibly even a Colonel Brandon. Someone who I could sit and make jokes with. Someone who would read to me. Someone I could go on adventures with and who could tell me all about this or that because they’re so well read,” Mc was looking down at the cover of the book now, and she could tell her face was heating up, “I’d much rather have someone like that.”

There was silence after Mc stopped talking, and she dared not look up. She’d basically just confessed to Satan, and she hadn’t even meant to. She kinda hoped her words went over his head, but also hoped they didn’t. The silence stretched longer than Mc would’ve liked before the bed shifted.

There was another few moments of silence before Satan spoke, a bit haltingly, “Mc, will you look at me? Please?”

Mc lifted her eyes shyly looking a little sheepish. She only had a moment of Satan’s shocked look before there was a flash of gold and his lips were on hers. She was so shocked she couldn’t respond for a second, but then she returned the kiss, melting as her body was on fire. Completely focused on the moment while soaring through the clouds. Perfect. It was perfect.

Mc came back to consciousness, her alarm playing soft piano music. She reached out her arms grasping. Searching. Coming up empty, she cracked an eye open, disappointment flooding her body when all she saw was her own arms. Her vision blurred as a strong wave of loneliness washed over her. She blinked a couple times to clear away her tears, feeling them slide down her face. She had had mornings like this in the Celestial Realm, though this was the first time she had remembered the dream that preceded it. She hadn’t really felt lonely since coming to the Devildom, and hadn’t registered it. Now though, it felt debilitating. She sent a text to Luke explaining she probably wouldn’t be down for breakfast and asking him to apologize to everyone for her. She then turned on some soft music, and dropped her DDD on the bed.

She lay quietly, the tears falling openly. This is what she had to do those terrible mornings in the Celestial Realm when she felt like she couldn’t face the day. Eventually her tears gave out, and she was left with an apathetic empty feeling. She continued laying in bed, not remembering a bout this bad in any recent history. After a while, she drifted off to sleep again.

“Hey. You awake?”

Mc groaned, sore from not moving in awhile, “Is that you Luke?”

“Yeah. I got a bit worried when you also missed lunch. You okay?”

“I think I’m okay now. I just got a bit too upset this morning.”

“Are you sure? I can tell Michael you’re caught up in an artistic frenzy or something.”

“Nah. Thanks though,” Mc smiled, still sleepy.

“Okay. As long as you're okay,” Luke was looking at her worriedly, but leaning down and kissing her forehead anyways, “I’ll make sure some lunch gets saved for you.”

“Thanks Luke,” Mc sighed, sitting up.

“Anything for my little sister.”

Over the next week, Mc continued trying to work on her song, though she didn’t get any further, along with her other art. She also read all about the Devildom’s history and visited some historically significant locations to put a name to a place. The whole time, her mind worked on the enigma that was her dream. She supposed it was a product of her brain trying to work through the disappointment of how her first meeting with Satan went, along with how active she had been since coming down to the Devildom. She tried to convince herself of this anyways. The truth was, it felt exactly like she was reliving a memory. It felt real, and nothing about it had been weird, all details clear, nothing out of place. It even felt familiar, she’d even go so far as to say worn, like some of her favorite memories did.

She blushed even thinking about the dream, clearly recalling the warmth and softness of his lips. The feeling of his hand on the back of her neck....

“Mc, are you almost ready,” Luke called from the other side of the door.

“Give me a couple more minutes. I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay. The guests are starting to arrive.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me know,” Mc took one last look at herself in the mirror before nodding and getting up, “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Like, comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love discussing Obey Me so feel free to chat with me 😁

Part Ten

[juminly]

Love Written in The Stars

Summary: When Leonardo only thought that he would look after you as a guardian, as a friend. He never expected to fall so deeply in love with you. Matchup story written for @meverilan​. 

Note from Leonardo: “I dedicate this song to you, mi amore. It made me think of you and I hope you enjoy it and always know, you are more than enough to me.” - You are Enough by Sleeping at Last. 

You were very lucky to find yourself in the mansion at a time where most of the residents were out and about except for a few. Arthur was in the city, playing detective; Vincent was in the gardens, painting away; Theo was doing some gallery scouting; Napoleon had managed to forcefully convince Jean to join him in teaching the orphans in the city some self-defense.

Comte always takes it upon himself to take good care of his guests and he always ensures to do so. Thoroughly. There’s also the fact that Sebastian also acts as his sharp eyes and ears so you had two guardian angels watching over you from the moment you arrived, without you even knowing it. While Comte showed you around, you discovered all the historical figures that were living in the mansion. It was all too surreal and daunting but obviously, you still managed to plaster a smile on your face.

While walking through the hallways with Comte, you heard a low husky voice calling out to him. “Didn’t you have something important to attend to, Mr. Le Comte?”

What was this tall man (quite respectfully flirtatious man, if I may add) talking about? Comte actually had something to attend to and he put it on hold and disregarded it because he wanted to be there for you. (Isn’t he just the perfect gentleman? Come on…)

The vampire had called you “a refreshing beauty”[in Italian] the moment he saw and the blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed. That was enough for him to register the fact that you were quite a shy one, in his mind.

Leo is quite the observant type and empathetic, so just a few glances at you, he was able to take a few mental notes on you [and they were 99.9% accurate, most of the time, if not, all the time]. He also noticed the slight wavering in your eyes that indicated that you didn’t truly believe what he said.

[Men had a way of whispering sweet nothings into people’s ears, only to use them as a means to an end. Was he that type? You didn’t really know him so you couldn’t tell, but it didn’t mean that these thoughts didn’t/wouldn’t cross your mind.]

Leonardo came to the rescue, sweeping in and picking up where he basically persuaded Comte to leave because whatever business he had was important and his best friend knew. After introducing himself to you, the Italian polymath took over and that’s where your story began.

At first, the smell of his cigarillo was quite strong but it had an inconspicuous sweetness to it that was quite delightful. He asked you if you were bothered by it, not knowing if you would be or not, since he found your eyes focused on the smoke he puffed from his lips. The scent was oddly comforting and added some sort of mysterious and alluring coat to his aura.

As you wandered the mansion with him, Leonardo took it upon himself to give you a thorough briefing about the residents, not that you didn’t know of them, but interacting with historical figures was a completely different story and he knew that (especially when they were all vampires).

He was able to get your attention by promising to let you in on the biggest secret of the entire mansion (after your tour ended). Even Sebastian didn’t know this secret.

The location of Theo’s stash of sweets was the biggest mystery in the mansion and Leo was the only person, aside from Theo, who knew where it was (and the younger Van Gogh was unaware of this fact). [Best ice-breaker ever!]

That man was probably the biggest sweet-tooth beast of Paris. Leonardo probably said something along those lines and it kinda reminded you of the cookie monster, which made you giggle when you met Theodorus for the first time, a day later (and the man was awfully confused and did not understand why you reacted the way you did).

Being part of the rowdy breakfast with the other residents was sometimes a little bit too much to take and draining as well, since a lot would be happening at the same time but it was a great opportunity for you to observe and understand more about the residents, piecing together the information that Leo had given you with your surroundings.

Arthur was his usual flirtatious self and getting on his bestie’s (Theo, obviously) nerves. Their banter was joined by the commentary of Dazai, the annoyance of Mozart and Isaac and Vincent, the angelic presence whose smile managed to brighten up your day almost instantly. Since you were the new person around, they couldn’t really hold back on all their questions to you, which was actually pretty overwhelming for you.

Leonardo was always there for you though, stopping them in their tracks whenever things became a little too much for you. [and this did not escape Arthur’s attention. He has a keen eye for human behaviour, being a former physician and he had vast knowledge about how the human body worked and coupled with his analytical side that came with being a writer].

You hadn’t given Leonardo any indication about how you felt or how you were but he didn’t have to. From the first few days, Leonardo became the closest person to you and you assumed that it was because he looked after you, the way he would with a little sister. He could only imagine how hard it was to be thrown in the past, into the unknown.

So when you confided in him and told him about having ADD, he simply nodded while you talked, giving you the space and time to explain whatever you were comfortable in telling him. He respects your boundaries and was fine with whatever you were able to tell you. He didn’t push for more. When you were done talking, he smiled and told you how he was curious to know about you and he wanted to make your time in the past, as pleasant as possible [until you had to go back to the present].

It was a vow that he declared to you, with the purest intentions. He was a pureblood after all, each and every human he came across was worth admiring and you were definitely one of them. Why did he think that way? He knew that you were shying away in an invisible cocoon and he was standing right outside of it, his hand outstretched, just for you to take it. Every second, every minute, every hour of a human’s life counted and he wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t regret not having done anything whatsoever during the time you had in Paris.

The more time you spent in the mansion though, you became a little more acquainted with the residents and felt a bit more comfortable around them, as they became a part of your daily life. Living in the same mansion made you all like roommates and somehow, they all looked out for you like you were family. 

Being a jack of all trades, most of the residents looked up to Leonardo as someone they could rely on, to go to when in need. He had such a carefree and laid back attitude, which made him approachable by all and many. You noticed that, not only with the residents, but also the townspeople.

Leonardo had told Vincent about a beautiful land he had discovered while wandering the outskirts of Paris one day and decided to organize a trip to spark the painter’s muse. Leo obviously invited you to come along and it was definitely a relaxing and insightful outing. You had the chance to watch, none other than THE Vincent Van Gogh, paint so masterfully, while being surrounded by the most beautiful of views in all of France: a large field of greenery, with tulips and daffodils.

It was like staring into a canvas, created by nature and Vincent wasn’t the only one that felt inspired. Leonardo brought along a drawing notebook just for you, where he gave you tips and instructions on how to go about sketching and analyzing the overall form of your sketch subjects before looking into the more intricate details.

He was an amazing teacher, his instructions were simple yet very clear and concise. He also gave you constructive feedback, even leaning in to adjust parts of your sketches while holding your hand, the sweet scent of his cigarillo would fill your nostrils, almost distracting you completely from your task. And even if it did, Leonardo would chuckle and tease you, bringing your attention back to the task at hand with a kiss on your hand.

The first time he did that, you couldn’t help but be completely surprised and taken aback. But you knew that he wasn’t the type to try to take advantage of you or anything, so you would laugh it out and throw in a sarcastic remark, which only made the vampire boom with laughter [which, if I may be frank, is such a wonderful sound, you wouldn’t be able to resist not laughing along with him].

That outing was more lengthy than you thought it would be and you ended up staying out until late at night, when Vincent was inspired by the night view of another area which you happened to cross while heading back to the mansion.

You were immediately captivated by the clear night sky, the stars twinkling and inviting you to simply marvel at them. And that only prolonged your time together even more. And right then and there, a new ritual was created.

For 12 consecutive nights, Leonardo recounted to you the story behind each horoscope and where their stars were located, telling you about the tales from Roman and Greek myths and started with the story of Scorpio and the Greek myth of Orion, the son of Posiedon and Euriale.

He didn’t mind repeating himself as many times as he had to and was not bothered by it, one tiny bit. If you flooded him with questions, he would answer each and every single one of them. Leo was not the type to get annoyed at all so you were always relaxed and comfortable around him.

He loved seeing the expression on your face as it lit up as the information and inspiration would sink in. Knowledge was a beautiful thing in itself, but it was even more beautiful when shared with others. With Leo, it was oddly intimate, especially with the mix of emotions that came with interacting with him.

Your night escapades of tales of myth and astrology (and art, because Vincent would sometimes join to do some painting) became even more interesting when Isaac began to join you as well. He looked up to Leonardo as a mentor and often wanted to dig and dive into the man’s brain. He was a genius of his time yet so humble about it.

Isaac would bring his telescope with him and give you an even better view of the stars blinking at you from the wide dark skies. Astrology was also one of his interests and despite being known for always wanting to be alone, the man secretly liked sharing his interests with those who were genuinely fascinated by it.

Soon after, Isaac also became close to you. He felt comfortable around you and just like Leonardo, didn’t mind it when you asked him questions or when he had to explain things to you that could be a little bit difficult to understand. [Leo was also there to translate since he would sometimes use overcomplicated terms]

Isaac was quite fond of you, especially when you would ask Arthur and Dazai to stop teasing him about apples. The physicist obviously told you that he didn’t really need you to stick up for him but he was definitely pleased about it, the hint of a smile touching his thin lips.

If you ever got a panic attack with Leonardo around, he would wrap his arms around you from behind, lacing his fingers with yours and placing your hands over your heart. Whenever you cried, he would be there with you until you cried it all out. Whenever you shook, he would be there to hold you together and find your center of gravity.

He never made you feel restricted, his hold was always loose so you didn’t feel suffocated. He offered you the comfort and the solace you needed without you having to ask him for it and would speak to you so softly, almost crooning, telling you all the words, all the things that you needed to hear, as if he could read your mind. He could tell that you were often very hard on yourself and he was prepared to remind you, time and time again, as many times as needed that… you are and will always be enough, just the way you are.

Towards the end of the month, everyone was suddenly counting down the days until you would leave. Nobody mentioned it but you could definitely feel it in the air, sense it in their gaze. Some of them actually asked you to stay but in the end, it was all up to you. You had already made up your mind but something deep down made you hesitate. Lots of emotions were building up inside of you and yet, you still managed to draw a smile on your face. However, you weren’t really fooling anyone.

The residents had planned a farewell party in your honour, a few days before the door would open again. Comte had arranged for you something to wear on that evening and you were more than flattered at the gesture. The man never missed a single detail and made sure that you always felt welcomed, even when you were leaving. As did Leonardo.

Leonardo came to find you, to escort you to the party only to open the door to your bedroom, his heart clenching hard in his chest at the sight of your tears.

You were crying your eyes out and he couldn’t think of any reason why you would cry. Maybe you were afraid of going back to your time? Going through the door?

He asked you whether there was something that bothered you in the design of the clothes that you were wearing. He noticed you were looking down at yourself, fisting the fabric hard in your hands. That was when you discovered that he designed the apparel just for you, to your exact liking, which made you cry harder.

When you told him that there was no issue with the clothes, they were perfect and beautiful, tailored, stitched and created just for you.

Leo: Cara mia, if it upsets you, you do not have to wear it. I promise, you would look beautiful in anything you wear. You: No, that’s not true. Look at me! How could you even say that? Leo: Lan… I am looking at you, cara mia. I have been looking at you ever since you arrived and you are absolutely and utterly divine.

You: Don’t say that just to flatter me. Please. I don’t need lies.

Leo: If I could give you my eyes so you could see through them, then, I definitely would. Unfortunately, I am not physically capable of doing that but I have something else in mind. You’re coming with me, Lan.

Before you even had the chance to say anything, he took your hand and whisked you away, finding yourself in his room. Letting you sit on his bed, he handed you a notebook and asked you to open it. They were all sketches of you and you couldn’t believe your eyes. You went through them one by one and realized that Leonardo was no liar and he proved it to you. As you looked up at him, he cradled your face in his hands and laid the lightest of kisses on your lips. He didn’t have to say anything. The notebook and that kiss were more than enough to show how much he loved you.

He would also come up with new nicknames for you just because he loved to see you blushy and get flustered (don’t forget all the Italian romance with “mi amore” and “cuore mio” that would literally make you melt with that voice of his). He adored seeing the flush on your cheeks and teased you about wanting to paint them red always, in every single way he can (wink wink).

This man had absolutely no qualms in whispering  suggestive notions in your ear whenever you were in public, challenging you and giving you a greater reason to get over with whatever you were doing, so you could relish in the love this man had to offer you.

He is fine with small displays of affection in public, however, not too much of it though. He always holds your hand or had an arm around your shoulders or your waist, keeping you close to him whenever you were out in town. He wouldn’t hesitate to tease you or just simply kiss you whenever he felt like it. However, the different expressions you would make when he would passionately kiss you, the small sighs and whimpers, those were all for him and he didn’t want anyone to hear them or see them.

Whenever he got jealous, you would immediately know it from his eyes and the tone of his voice. He was definitely not the type to let his emotions take over but whenever any other person was being a little too friendly with you, he did not appreciate it. And if you were the one to encourage such behaviour from another, he would have a “discussion” with you about it in the bedroom.

Kisses of affection: he loves to smell your hair and kiss your temple.

NSFW Ahead ~ 

Your first time, Leonardo would do everything possible to make you as comfortable as possible. How it started? You were cuddling in his room with Lumière and just having a calm night together, just chilling with the candlelight surrounding you as he held you in his arms while you sketched.

He absolutely loves having his hands on you, like almost all the time. He kinda gets clingy like that. You had been at it for a while and the man wanted some attention from his lover so he tickled you, making you laugh your heart and giving him your full attention. He was kinda like a cat, which was actually adorable.

Finding yourself on your back, you were met with his smoldering gaze and he locked your lips in a breathtaking kiss, his hands gliding over your form, making you melt under him. He could feel and see the hesitation in you but he didn’t let it stop him. Why? He knew exactly how to make your worries wither away.

Leo was a vocal lover, not in terms of moaning/groaning (and FYI: he is usually all rough grunts and groans), but in terms of communicating with you when he was intimate with you. He told you every single thing he loved about you, praised you and repeated it, over and over again, etching it into your mind that he saw only you, loved only and wanted/desired nobody but you.

He wanted to know, see and feel all of you so he could show you the depth of his love for you. As he undressed you, he kissed every bit of skin that he would expose, leaving you completely breathless, with unshed tears of happiness burning in your eyes by the time he had you completely naked under him.

He actually had no intentions of taking you that night. He went down on you, making you come multiple times, using those skilled hands of his and that silver tongue (literally and figuratively). It was only when you pleaded to him and told him that you were ready that he gave in, his vampire instincts completely overpowering him, his need to feast on your blood and claim you were the only things he knew, in that moment.  He took you slowly and as gently as he could. He could never bear the thought of hurting you.

In the beginning of your intimate relationship, Leonardo was very gentle with you but after a while, he became a little bit more rough with you, but not in a way that was uncomfortable for you. He was experienced enough to know when you were reaching your limit and assessing what you were able to take and what you couldn’t. He is a very attentive lover and is all about making sure you are satisfied before he is. To your dismay, as much as you tried to put him first, he valued your pleasure more than his.

He always made sure that you were thoroughly made loved to/fucked, a physical and emotional reminder that you were his and he wouldn’t think of any other.

What he absolutely loves doing to you: Light bondage. Just tying you up and maybe blindfolding you (only if you were comfortable), heightening your senses. He likes to make you a complete and utter mess, making you unable to talk and after a while, unable to even walk. He’ll have you forget everything in the world and remember only his name.

He talks dirty and it is completely filthy, it has you whimpered and flustered and he just lives to see you like that. He doesn’t play fair and he doesn’t play on doing it anytime soon. Your pleasure is his reward and he’ll tease you by saying that he’s a masochist, and he likes to draw out his own pleasure, and your pleasure is his. (believe me, it’s all worth it in the end)

Places he loved drinking blood from: your neck (especially when he’s making love to you).

Favourite positions: any position that you are most comfortable in. However, he loves seeing you a complete whimpering mess under him. That’s the most beautiful sight to him. 

[theatersanddemons]

I’m going to share with you all one of my favorite scenes I’ve roleplayed with my partner.

Notes: Dia is Diamond (Balan and Fia’s child) and Nightlight is Lance and NiGHTS’ child

Nightlight refers to NiGHTS as ‘Nidad’ and Lance as ‘Nibi’

Dia refers to Balan as ‘Papa’, Fia as ‘Dad’ and Lance as ‘Zizi’

It’s a running joke that Dia burns things/sets things on fire by accident, they are not a pyromanic.

My partner plays Balan, Lance and Nightlight

I play NiGHTS, Dia and Fia

And no, I don’t constantly capitalize NiGHTS because it gets tiring

The ‘run over by a tractor’ bit is a reference to one of the chapter trailers

Balan gets in trouble with his mate

"Stop acting like I'm a pyromaniac!" Dia whined softly. "I don't try to set things on fire!"

"No, it's just sometimes you don't realize how hot you've made things or how much power you're putting into something." Fia chuckled softly, taking a slice as well and trying it. "Mm~ Agreed, you've definitely improved~"

"Thank you..." Now they're blushing at their parents' and best friend's praise.

"You're welcome my dear! Keep it up and you'll be making cuisine's like Lance in no time!" He gave his lil bean a kiss on the temple before making the other half of his slice disappear.

"I believe my parents would love to try this as well, I'll save them some for later." Nightlight grabbed 4 pieces and placed them on a napkin before floating away to the kitchen.

"You think so?" Dia perked, smiling bashfully.

"That reminds me, Lance still owes me a cooking contest." Fia chuckled softly cause their child to groan playfully.

"Oh no, not again!"

"A cooking contest? I'm afraid I missed when that became a reality. Is this a new concept?" Balan questioned, his head tiling to the side just a tad.

"Eh... not really? It's just a little thing for fun Lance and I have done a couple times. We take turns choosing a dish to make and have others try them." He shrugged.

"Him and Zizi are tied 3 for 3." Dia huffed playfully. "But the kitchen is a war zone when they do it."

"I can tell it drives my nibi insane with the clean up they have to do afterwards." Nightlight chimed in after flying back to sit beside Dia. "Things get quite interesting during those contests."

"No more spicy things, last time I swear I was gonna have a hole burned through my tongue." Dia pouted before sniggering. "It was good though."

"We'll be sure to ease up on the spices." Fia chuckled softly.

"That would appreciated, my stomach was not happy with me after that...very uncomfortable evening."

"Huh! That sounds like fun! How come I was never invited to any of these?"

"Every time it happens you are in other realm kicking corrupted things and getting chased by flying rocks." They quietly explained, taking a sip of their boxed chocy milk. "It's quite humorous honestly."

"Oh...that explains a lot." The maestro replied, a bit shocked he actually kept missing out. And that Nightlight knew about the rock incident.

"We do try to arrange them for everyone to be available." Fia rested his hands on his hips as his lips pursed, "But Nightlight's right, you're always working during them." Such is the pain of having a workaholic partner. "And what's this about being chased by flying rocks?"

Dia covered their mouth to hide a grin, "Watch out Papa, Dad's got that tone again."

Balan flinched slightly as he glanced away somewhat nervous now, lightly pulling on his shirt collar. "Oh haha, about that! It was nothing I couldn't handle, just missed my mark that's all!"

"Uh-huh..." Fia squinted at the maestro before sighing and rolling his eyes. "One of these days you're going to get a concussion."

"...Dad, you say that like Papa hasn't had a concussion before." Dia looked genuinely confused.

"He hasn't, as far as I know?" Fia looked back at Balan with a raised eyebrow.

"...I have no idea what they're talking about." If he could sweat he would be drenched by now. "...." He grabs another slice of pizza and pulled the rim of his hat down to hide his eyes as he took small nibbles of it. For once he didn't want all the attention on him.

Nightlight snickered softly at the scene before them, they could only guess even partners didn't tell each other everything.

"That's not surprising, considering how out of it you were." Dia leaned on their hand with a grin, "You remember, right Nigh? Papa was sooo dazed from that hit."

Fia pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, "......"

"If I recall correctly, he walked into several walls thinking they were doors."

"Kids, could you please stop trying to get my head kicked off?" He squeaked out. It was embarrassing enough remembering his rare blunders but now he was in the hot seat with Fia and...let's just say you don't want to be in the hot seat with Fia!

"Sorryyyy Papa." Dia drawled. "But honestly, we thought Dad knew! I mean, why wouldn't you tell him?"

"Gee, I wonder." Fia deadpanned, shaking his head.

He's slowly sinking into the couch cushions now. His metaphorical goose is cooked no doubt about it now!

Nightlight just shook their head in fond dismay, their uncle was much too easy to tease.

Dia's giggling behind their hand, honestly it was just too funny to watch their papa and dad interact like this. That's why they saved those kinds of moments. And they and Nightlight weren't the only ones.

Rolling his eyes, Fia gently poked his mate, "Oh don't be so dramatic, Balan." Honestly, "trying to get his head kicked off", please!

He had better ways to "punish" his lover

"Didn't you know Fia, I'm all dramatic." He slowly lifted his hat to uncover his eyes again and pouted. "I run on the drama."

"You have never spoken a truer words, Balan." Well well, look who's returned from their lovely date!

"Nibi, Nidad!" They floated off the couch and flew over to their parents rather swiftly to hug and nuzzle them. "Welcome home."

Lance smiled warmly before nuzzling back. "Thank you lovely, were you good for your uncles."

"Yes, Dia and I made pizza. I saved you some slices in the microwave."

"Oh that's wonderful, dear." Nights chirped as he hugged them back, beaming.

"Yes, but there's your drama and then there's the over the top drama." Fia hummed, "Welcome back you two."

"Thanks~ What have you all been up to?"

"Putting me in the Tim house, that's what." Balan answered, somewhat glaring at Dia and poking them in the belly. "Otherwise not much else."

"I see, it sounded to me like they were spilling all of your little mishaps. Like that time you-"

"Lance! I am in enough trouble as it is do not making it worse." He warned while turning around, his death glare rather evident. "It is nothing I can not handle."

Dia squeaked and batted at her papa's hand, "It's not our fault you won't be honest with Dad!"

"No, no, by all means, Lance. Tell me what else I don't know." Fia took hold of Balan's hand gently to stop him from making Dia into a mouse.

"Gladly.~" They are grinning like the Cheshire cat as they floated over to the couch, with Nightlight following behind. "Before I had been interrupted, one of our guests had a fear of chickens. And during a bout he had been rolled over by a corrupted egg."

"Uuuuuuuugh........" Time to sink into the couch again.

"This happened before you arrived Fia. He once told me he had been run over by a tractor while observing one of our past visitors. It is a mystery that he didn't notice it before hand."

"Run over by a tractor." He repeated flatly.

Nights cough/laughed against his hand, "Oh goodness..."

Dia couldn't help giggling at the exasperated look on their dad's face.

"I was paying attention to other things, I guess it didn't pay it any mind."

"Did you not feel any vibrations Balan?" Lance questioned, raising an eye ridge.

"...If I recall correctly...I was flying so...possibly not."

"That is...rather amusing." Nightlight commented with a slight smirk.

"How did you get run over if you were flying?" Nights questioned, tilting his head. "Surely you were high enough to avoid it?"

Fia's just gonna pull the maestro to him, shaking his head.

"...Okay perhaps it was more like hovering...a few inches off the ground."

"That makes more sense."

"Uh-huh..."

"Oh yeah!" The Nightmaren hit his palm, "I remember you mentioning to me about that kid obsessed with flying and all the crashes that happened! Didn't he make you go flying by accident?"

They all are just trying to see who can get the maestro in the most trouble.

“...Yes. A rather enthusiastic child..." He pulled the rim of his had down and slumped. Had he really been that klutzy? How embarrassing.

"You seem to have a knack for getting yourself hurt, Balan." Fia mused softly, his tone neutral.

"And it sounds like you don't know the half of it."

"Are you alright Uncle Balan?"

"Fine, it was bound to come out anyhow." He began nibbling on the pizza crust quietly, just looking like a hat with two holes in it...and a pizza crust. "Mm...needs cheese." He murmured, who doesn't love a good cheese crust?

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Dia hummed lightly, stretching out with a sigh, "I'm gonna make something for everyone all by myself!"

"I'll have the fire department on speed dial."

"Daaaaaaad!"

"And the fire extinguisher on hand." Balan remarked, with a slight glance towards his child.

"I'll keep a close eye out for them as well." Nightlight chimed before laughing and poking Dia's cheek with their horn. "As a head chef of sorts."

[myulalie]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Malec fic on your ao3... Izzy and Jace find pictures in Magnus's work desk, of Alec in lingerie and heels? After after all did a photoshoot for Magnus' birthday? Thank you!

Hi anon! Thank you for your prompt! You can find it on AO3 or read here! I'll admit I was out of my comfort zone, but I had a lot of fun coming up with this story, hope you like it ♥

Talking bodies

One. Ops Center Alec squirms, uncomfortable in the leather chair, and tugs at the fabric of his black shirt. Cotton isn’t so bad, stark black against his too-white skin from locking himself away during the day, and only going out at night. At least his skin hasn’t erupted in rashes from the prolonged contact this time, he thinks.

The shadowhunter feels like he’s about to choke with the collar of his shirt leaning heavily around his throat though, and can’t help but feel wary. This is Alec’s battle gear. He usually wears these clothes when he leaves on patrol, but there is nothing to fight here, except the urge to slap Jace over the head.

Why do they have to get dressed in the Institute? Shouldn’t this Clary girl adopt their customs rather than demand they all get dressed to spare her from… from what, exactly? Alec has seen the way she blushed at the sight of Jace shirtless, Clary enjoyed the view. Is she jealous of Isabelle? She’ll look like Izzy, like them all soon enough, better start living like them too.

Hodge seems uncomfortable in his clothes too, his hair in disarray and his clothes as revealing as possible to let his skin breathe. The pink tinge of Hodge’s complexion clues Alec in on the fact that he’s not the only one that feels too hot right now.

Alec cannot see Jace squirm because the blond puts up a brave front for Clary, but the parabatai bond is taut with concealed frustration. There is a suspicious looking tinge at the back of Jace’s neck too, bright red on beige. No wonder the bond is so sour, Jace must be in pain, Alec muses.

Serves him right, Alec can’t help but express through the parabatai bond.

Alec looks up with a start when the screen lights up with pictures of a warlock, always surrounded by other downworlders. The man is beautiful, with luxurious clothes and Alec squints as he tries to catch sight of a scar, or maybe a defining trait on the smooth expanse of skin exposed by the High Warlock’s clothes.

Magic is nothing like shadowhunters battle skills and there isn’t much to learn from Magnus Bane’s outward appearance, except that he’s rich, and good at hiding everyone and everything. Alec doesn’t approve of the plan, but there isn’t much to do or say either way. They need Clary’s memories. He glances at Isabelle, propped on the edge of the table, and the back of Clary’s head, bright orange hair curling down her back.

“Can you two focus,” he interrupts the banter going on around him, “this is not a joke.”

“Someone needs to get laid,” Isabelle quips.

Alec rolls his eyes and makes a face in reply to his sister’s teasing. Isabelle got away with a sports bra. Her tawny skin — from lazing in the sun when she naps during the day — is left on display. Apparently this is alright with Clary, and Alec has to hide his envious look. He really wishes he could take off his shirt now.

As things are, he follows along with the plan, so there won’t be any getting out of his clothes until he’s back in his bedroom for some well-earned rest.

Two. Brooklyn Heights Magnus doesn’t give much away, even in person. Alec cannot find any tell-tale signs of age on this flawless face, and there are no scars marring this beautiful skin of sepia and magic. The sparkles of color dancing at Magnus’ fingertips always come too late for Alec to feel like he has a chance against the warlock; not that he wants to fight Magnus anyway.

Alec retreats by Jace’s side once he’s sure the loft is secure, and once again wishes the rest of the world, and Magnus specifically, would wear less clothing. The warlock doesn’t need these clothes anyway, Alec reckons. Even if Alec could read Magnus’ body like he does other fighters, magic would glamour anything of use to the shadowhunter. Magnus looks like a dancer, quick on his feet, and it makes sense with the way he wields his magic, this is not about strength.

The shadowhunter glances at his sister as she interacts with Magnus. Isabelle mastered mundane cues to look non-threatening, but Alec can read the danger in her muscular thighs and the few scars on her arms. She doesn’t get hurt often, because her opponents don’t have the time to do any damage.

Jace, in comparison, has many more scars — sometimes more than older shadowhunters — because he fights in close range. It speaks of recklessness, and survival.

Alec startles when Magnus gestures to boss them around, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”

Jace steps forward at the command, but stops abruptly as Magnus pushes him back to point at Alec instead. The blond steps back reluctantly, glancing between the warlock and his parabatai, and Magnus ignores Jace.

“I’m not talking to you,” Magnus corrects, “I’m talking to you.”

Alec blinks, the flicker of a smile playing on his lips because Magnus likes the way he looks, and Alec takes pride in his body, the work of an entire life, training to hone his skills. He doesn’t need to go hand to hand, because Alec can take his opponents out with his arrows alone.

Jace glances at him with a mock-offended frown, but the blond’s eyes sparkle with pride at the acknowledgment of his parabatai’s strength. Alec shrugs, adjusting his quiver on his shoulder and elbowing Jace. Their bond hums playfully as they get moving.

“Maybe you need to train more,” Isabelle whispers to Jace, teasing.

Clary looks at them like they’ve lost it. She wouldn’t understand, Alec imagines. Soon enough, she will be familiar with shadowhunters’ customs and read their bodies with new eyes. Hers speak of a sheltered childhood, and except for the stain of paint, nothing lingers on her skin. She’s a novice, and it shows in the way her shoulders drop when she sits, too. She has never been on guard, doesn’t need to stay alert.

Alec shrugs and pushes the unexpected compliment to the back of his mind as they get on with the summoning. He can’t wait to go back to the Institute and finally shed his clothes. It feels like he has been on patrol for the entire day.

Three. Training room Alec skirts the punching bag, the light of stained-glass windows fanning in red and purple over his naked back. The floor is comfortably cool beneath his feet and the impact of his knuckles against the bag grounds him. Alec punches once, then twice and thrice and exhales loudly as the clatter of heels echoes behind him.

Alec stills, surprised, as most shadowhunters walk barefoot, and he watches from the corner of his eye as Magnus comes round to face him.

The shadowhunter grabs the bag to stop its momentum, the leather slightly warm against his palm. He glances at Magnus with interest, at loss of what to think with the heavy ornaments the warlock chose to adorn his outfit with that day. There is barely any skin to see this time, and Alec tilts his head to the side. Maybe there is something to gather from Magnus’ clothes. Isabelle would know, he imagines, but this is a foreign language to Alec.

Magnus has zoned out, staring at Alec’s groin, and the shadowhunter frowns, confused. What is the warlock looking at? The parabatai rune maybe? Alec looks down at his chest, then his length, flaccid between his legs, and Magnus finally averts his eyes when Alec makes no move to hide himself. Alec even preens a little to show off the curves of his muscular frame, and Magnus gapes, shaking his head before speaking.

“I had forgotten about the customs of the Nephilim. Should I have undressed at the entrance?” Magnus asks with a wry smile.

“We do not impose our customs on our guests, but they like to deny us of our comfort,” Alec replies evenly.

Magnus’ eyebrows arch up, but he doesn’t comment, and neither does Alec. Clary has yet to adopt their customs, but she has taken to wearing sports bras like the one she allowed Isabelle to wear when they planned to meet up with Magnus, Alec muses as he moves to grab a towel. He wipes sweat off his chest and arms, glancing at the file in the warlock’s hands.

“I have the preliminary autopsy findings,” Magnus explains.

Alec accepts the file, but doesn’t look at it, admiring the colorful dance of the light pouring from the stained-glass windows and onto Magnus’ face instead. Magnus belongs there, Alec can’t help but think as he takes in the sepia of the warlock’s skin, and the royal blue of Magnus’ outfit, that aged like fine wine and shines gently centuries later.

It’s a beautiful contrast, and for a moment, Alec understands the appeal of such clothing. Then, Magnus shifts and the light falls to the floor between them. Alec throws the towel over his shoulder and finally glances at the file he dismissed a moment ago.

“Should I walk you out?” he offers.

“No, thank you. I should be alright,” the warlock gestures at Alec to get going.

Alec can feel Magnus’ gaze on his back as he leaves the warlock alone and walks out of the training room.

Four. Master bedroom For the importance mundanes and some downworlders put on clothes — and especially when to take them off or with whom — Alec finds it increasingly peculiar that Magnus and him keep them on in the warlock’s loft. It’s warm there, and most of the surfaces available are comfortable to lie on.

Alec particularly likes the couch near the window, and curls up there most of the time to catch up on paperwork. He can’t stop fussing today though, and keeps moving around instead of settling in. Alec would enjoy the comfort of the loft a lot more without clothes on.

He doesn’t mind per se. Alec understands that there is a time and a place to go around naked. This was the very reason for his annoyance when Clary insisted they get dressed in her presence at the Institute, Alec’s very home. Alec simply did not expect Magnus’ loft to be one of these places.

“Something’s bothering you, darling?” Magnus calls from the apothecary.

“Why do you love clothes so much?” Alec blurts out without thinking.

Magnus stills in the doorway and peers at him. Across the living room, it feels like the gap between them is too wide, and that Alec can never understand Magnus. He tries though, and stands up to cross the room, stopping a breath short of Magnus.

“Why do you hate clothes so much?” Magnus replies, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“They’re impractical and because of their clothes I can’t tell someone’s social status and battle experience just from looking at them,” Alec explains without thinking.

“To you, maybe,” the warlock nods, “but I love my clothes, I choose them with care. They show a part of me that I cherish, and nobody can ignore these statements I make. Yeah, sometimes I use my clothes to conceal how I feel or what I am truly capable of, but would you know how strong of an opponent I am just from looking at me anyway?”

“Magic is different,” the shadowhunter concedes, “how… do you feel good when wearing clothes?”

Alec fiddles with the collar of Magnus’ shirt, curious, but rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger doesn’t bring any answer. Magnus smiles instead, and takes Alec’s hand to lead the way into the master bedroom.

The warlock opens a drawer in his wardrobe there and pulls out a jet black garter belt. It comes with a set of matching suspenders, and a complementary bra, made only of straps to wrap around the chest. Magnus offers them to Alec with an encouraging smile.

“What I like about my clothes is how smooth they feel, and how they enhance my features.”

The shadowhunter nods slowly and takes the jet black set of satin straps. The fabric is soft and flows in his hands like ink, barely there. At Magnus’ instruction, Alec strips and slips on the garter belt first, adjusting it on his waist, and then the bra. The straps crisscross across his chest like a harness and the sharp pattern of geometric shapes reminds Alec of his rigorous nature.

He likes the way the garter wraps around his legs like thigh holsters, too. It follows the lines of his muscular frame in beautiful curves and Alec smiles a little as he realizes he can barely feel the lingerie on his skin.

“I think I understand now.”

+ one. Apothecary Alec fiddles with a letter opener in Magnus’ apothecary while his boyfriend entertains Clary’s curiosity about the potion he’s making. Magnus is patient, and Alec can appreciate how attentive Clary is. She listens intently and hands Magnus whatever ingredient he asks for, squinting to read the tiny scrawl on the various jars around them. Alec has long given up on deciphering his boyfriend’s handwriting (or so he told Magnus) and relies on a series of tips and tricks to read the most important words, while the warlock does his best to write in a more modern script for Alec’s benefit.

Isabelle hasn’t, and she browses through a handwritten grimoire left open on the cluttered desk, her tongue poking between her lips as she reads. She pushes a misplaced quill out of the way to flip the page, and a picture flutters out. It falls on the floor and Jace bends to pick it up, a smile lighting his face at the sight of the photograph. Isabelle peers over his shoulder, a curtain of dark hair hiding the picture from view. She grins as well, glancing at Alec to wink.

“Damn Alec!” Isabelle whistles approvingly, “Did you really need to wear heels too? You’re already so tall!”

Alec rolls his eyes and ignores his parabatai humming in agreement. He strides forward to grab the picture and have a look as well. Alec is pleasantly reminded of the photo shoot that took place in Magnus’ bedroom when he tried on the garter set and strap bra.

Black satin wrapped around him aesthetically, with matching heels. It was a beautiful pair of heels too, that tied around his calves with black satin ribbons, enhancing the curve of his muscles in all the right places. Alec smiles at the reminder, and moves closer to Magnus, showing him the picture too.

“I don’t want to see that!” Clary shrieks, hiding her eyes.

Magnus chuckles and takes the picture, pressing it against his chest with a dramatic sigh.

“An early birthday present from me to me!”

[the-gory-gardner]

Nightingale Part Six: Fragile

(The Meeting Between A Huntsman And A Lonesome Kitten One Year Ago)

Jonathan West x Katrina Evans

It took a moment for Jonathan to remember his suggestion to his little guest when he woke up. He probably only remembered so quickly because sometime during the night he’d turned over and draped his hand over the pillow divider. Waking up a bit more he realized that not only had he crossed the barrier he’d also rested his hand on Katrina’s head. 

He assumed she hadn’t woken up when he’d placed it there otherwise she would have woken up. Still as he processed his actions he couldn’t help but note how soft curls were. Then again everything about Katrina seemed soft and fragile. Jonathan moved his hand away carefully and he slowly scooted to the edge of the bed. He knew if it hadn’t been for the pillows he’d more than likely ended up holding the girl and he couldn’t imagine how startled that would have made her had she’d woken up first. 

Jonathan shook his head from the thoughts deciding he should get ready for the day. Though it’s not like there was much to do, still he grabbed some clothes from his drawers before heading to the bathroom. He took a quick shower that only lasted ten minutes before getting out and drying off. Once he was dressed he left the bathroom and headed back to his room just to peek in on Katrina. The small girl was still asleep and curled up in the blankets. Though at some point in the last ten minutes she’d taken one of the pillows from the barrier and pulled it to her chest. 

After watching her for a few more minutes, just to see if she’d wake up, Jonathan closed the door and headed off to the kitchen. He wouldn’t have much to do today except for some work on his blog. For now he could get started on breakfast since his stomach had began growing in the shower. As he looks inside his fridge debating what to cook again he thinks of how small Katrina is, how light, thin and just fragile she is. 

He decides that since she seemed better the night before that a big breakfast wouldn’t hurt. If it did he’d make her something else. So he pulls out eggs, hash browns, sausage links, bacon and a box of waffles. He’s not sure if Katrina can eat it all but hopefully she’ll eat what she can and that would be good enough for him. With all of the ingredients out he starts cooking deciding to make scrambled instead of fried, he cooks the sausage in the same pan as the bacon and throws the hash browns into the oven. 

Jonathan had just thrown two waffles into the toaster when Katrina comes off yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Morning”. Jonathan greets still a bit nervous at interacting with someone especially when he remembers the softness of her hair. “Good morning, are you making breakfast”? Katrina asked looking at the food he’d began to plate with only the waffles left to cook now. “Yeah I hope you don’t mind a big breakfast”. Jonathan answered before turning away from her slightly as the toaster dinging and the waffles popped out. 

“Not at all I usually don’t eat breakfast”. She’d admitted. It was true usually her parents rarely made breakfast and when they did it was never good. She could have eaten breakfast at school but usually she goes right to the music room to play for a bit until it times to get to class. “You should most important meal of the day and all”. Jonathan replies only half serious. He knows he skipped out on his share of breakfasts when he was young, mostly to avoid his dad if he was up that early and only if he didn’t think his mom might be in trouble. 

After a minute or two Jonathan finishes plating only needing to add the waffles now before setting the plates down. This time they sit at the kitchen counter to eat which already has a couple rather comfy stools set up. “Wow your a really good cook”. Katrina finds herself saying with a bit of chewed waffle in her mouth. The sight makes Jonathan snort loudly before thanking her. He’d learned some cooking from his mother but not a lot due to a usual lack of food since his dad spent the majority of their money on beer and gambling. 

“Really though I wish I could cook like this”. Katrina remarked. She’d loved to be able to make meals similar to when she was little before all her sisters had moved out. Before her parents had decided that they were done raising children even though one remained under their roof. She wondered if they were home yet, had they realized she was gone, realized she had come down from her room attempting to bond before being brushed off because they were busy with work. Had they realized that the house was painfully quiet without the light strumming of a violin filling it. 

“Katrina, Katrina”? She was startled at the sound of her name and looked up to see Jonathan looking at her with...concern? “Y-Yes”? She asked to let him know she’d heard him. “You zoned out a bit there you okay”? He questioned. “Yeah”. She said with a hesitate nod. “Just got a bit lost in my head is all”. She explained. “Okay if that’s all”. He stated like he didn’t fully believe but didn’t want to upset her. “But I said that maybe I could teach you a bit, probably not a lot but we have a few days until the roads clear up”. He told her. 

Katrina nodded with a strained smile. She was truly happy he offered to teach her to cook but there was an odd pang in her chest at the reminder that in a few days she’d be leaving. She shouldn’t miss the cabin or Jonathan she’d barely been here two days. But she couldn’t deny that two days here had felt warmer than almost two decades with her family. “Yeah I’d like that, might actually be tempted eat breakfast if I could make something half as decent as this”. She finally replied. 

“Oh trust me when you leave here your cooking will be more than decent”. Jonathan remarked. Katrina huffed a laugh before continuing eating. They don’t talk as they did the night before but the silence is comforting instead of awkward like it is with others. They find almost enjoyable and when they finish with their food Katrina insist on helping with the dishes. Jonathan tells her she doesn’t have to but she’s stubborn on the subject. 

Jonathan finds it a bit cute that the timid, shy and stuttering girl can be so stubborn. He wonders if she occasionally gets like this with others or if she’s just more relax here. He couldn’t imagine be relaxed so quickly after everything she’d went though. It made him feel slightly prideful that despite his lack of people skills he’d made her feel so safe so fast. 

After a few more minutes of his musings Jonathan and Katrina finish up the dishes before putting away what little leftovers there were. With that done they go to the living room with him telling Katrina she can chose something to watch. While she’s channel surfing he’d picked up his laptop debating if he wants to update his blog. When he finally opens it and logs in he sees that it’s still on the news website from yesterday. Still on the article on the ‘missing’ sex offender. 

Jonathan wonders if he should look at any updates. See if they’ve discovered the body, if there’s a chance police could be heading towards his cabin. If not if the back road is still covered in snow and too icy to travel than that means his truck has been found. If his truck hasn’t been found then the body might still be out there, stiff and covered in snow. He tells himself he shouldn’t worry that if the cops come he’ll tell the truth he attacked Katrina and Jonathan acted in self-defense. 

But even with the man’s obvious record the police would still ask for a statement and even though she’d be seen as a victim it would be hard for her. Jonathan can vaguely recall being questioned by the police while sitting numbly in the hospital numb and a bit doped up. He was seen as a victim from the start or at least as a scared boy but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard having to explain what happened that night and thinking any moment he’d break. 

He looked up from his computer to look at Katrina. She was sitting in the center of the couch now with her knees pulled up to her chest while she watched an cartoon on the TV. She was so small and his clothes only further showed that fact with how much they dwarfed her. He could almost picture her sitting curled up and meek in a hard plastic chair in a cold police station with two stone faced officer asking she questions as she explained what was possibly the worst day of her life. 

She’d break Jonathan was certain of it. 

And that, that was something he didn’t want. But how could he stop her from breaking. He knew she was fragile and no matter how much better she felt when she left she’d be hysteric if she had to talk to anyone about what happened. That’s when the idea came to him, it was crazy and very stupid but he just had this complete desire to help the small girl curled up on his couch. With a quiet sigh Jonathan went to an updated news page looking for any mention of the dead man. 

What he saw was nothing more than a simple mugshot that just stated the man was wanted. With a small nod Jonathan set up notifications to alert him if there were any updates on the news. If not Jonathan would go out and he’d make sure that the man couldn’t bother Katrina again, even in death. With a plan forming in his head he sat his computer down and walked over to Katrina. He gave her a small smile as he took a seat next to her. 

He was going to keep her safe no matter what. 

[superhusbands-superfan]

Stony/Below Deck AU

This is such a bizarrely specific head cannon so I don’t really know who it’s going to appeal to, but hear me out. Does anyone on here know/watch the show Below Deck? Basically, it’s a reality show about the crew of a yacht that gets chartered out by rich people. So anyway, I just had the idea of a Stony/Below Deck mashup where our favorite cast of characters is working on a yacht (we’ll just pretend Tony isn’t rich and got disowned by Howard or something) and that’s how they meet. 

(this got long, so the full head cannon is below the cut to spare others from my musings lol)

Tbh I think everyone’s positions could be kind of flexible, but I feel like this is probably what I’d go with if I were writing it:

Carol Danvers is the 161 ft. yacht’s Captain (duh). I’m going to refer to the yacht as “The Avenger” in my head unless someone contributes a better name because I find the idea of anyone saying “Hey, it’s the Avenger’s crew” incredibly amusing in this context. From there, her crew is as follows 

Deck crew: 

First mate (this isn’t a show position, but it’s real!): Steve

Lead deckhand: Sam

Deckhand: Clint

Deckhand: Bucky (he’s still kinda green, and Steve dragged him into this)

Interior Crew: 

Chief stewardess: Pepper

2nd stew: Natasha (she’s worked with Pepper before and the two are frighteningly close friends and also scarily efficient together)

3rd stew: Wanda

Galley:

Chef: Bruce (we’re drawing from circa 2012 fanfic where Bruce was a great team chef. Sometimes he gets a little heated about guests not being clear on their preference sheets, but for the most part he’s chill and inventive with the food).

Engineer crew (lmao no, these guys aren’t really on the show often either, but this is the only place I can make Tony fit):

Lead engineer: Rhodey

2nd engineer: Tony (if you’re wondering why he’s not in charge, I had him in charge at first and then I remembered how terrible he is as a manager. He cares about the mechanics, not the politics. And Rhodey is definitely better at the interpersonal workplace interactions, so this works for them)

(Keep in mind, this is just the crew of the Avenger. We’ve also got other yachts. I’m envisioning... The Valkyrie, led by Captain Valkyrie (and yes, she has everyone call her that) and Thor, her first mate. Her lead deckhand is probably Sif. Also there’s a yacht crew with our friends from Wakanda, of course. Captain T’Challa and first mate Okoye are basically running a state-of-the-art yacht everyone else is trying (and failing lol) to beat. Shuri is the lead engineer and Nakia is lead deckhand. Idk how all the crews fit together, but maybe there’s a big yachting conference or something.)

Anyway, now that that’s established, we can get to the reason this popped into my head: Stony. So Steve and Tony meet (beyond just the initial introductions) because there’s some catastrophic engineering failure that Tony and Rhodey are desperately trying to fix, but they need extra hands (and, you know, they’re trying to do all the fixing *without* alerting the oblivious rich charter guests) so Steve jumps in. 

Steve and Tony bicker a bit, but then when the crisis is averted they both start laughing cause, you know, they dodged a huge bullet. Now that the pressure’s off, everything between them is great again. Steve compliments Tony’s work and quick thinking and Tony’s basically immediately smitten. This kicks off Tony spending two or three charters obnoxiously, obviously flirting with Steve. 

Steve tries to keep a somewhat professional distance between the two of them at first, but he’s also secretly into Tony, of course. (Bucky is very aware of this secret crush, which leads to a lot of teasing that Sam & Clint eventually join in on). Meanwhile, Pepper, Natasha, and Rhodey have to deal with being constantly harassed by Tony and his massive crush. 

In the midst of all this, there are some truly *horrible* charter guests (think demanding, ungrateful, perpetually disappointed - even in the face of Pepper’s excellent service) who demand some type of “behind the scenes” tour that includes all the stuff down in Tony and Rhodey’s domain that the guests *never* see. Steve goes down to beg Tony to play nice with these guests who are making the rest of the crew’s lives a living hell (and of course Rhodey’s not around conveniently. Who knows if he’s sleeping or off the boat looking for an important part or something, he’s just definitely Not There). So Tony sees an opportunity to negotiate and he promises to play nice with the guests (“even whichever dumbass is convinced he’s god’s gift to engineering, Steve.”) if Steve will go on one (1) date with him during their next night off at the docks. Begrudgingly (or so he claims) and because “Bucky, I spare the rest of the crew the wrath of the guests,” Steve agrees. 

Naturally, the two hit it off, and they’re together (adorably) for the remainder of the charter season. And after, Steve brings Tony home to Brooklyn to meet his mom because he knows Tony doesn’t really have a relationship with his parents anymore. Sarah Rogers immediately adopts Tony as her son-in-law, and then her boys live happily ever after.

(This is much longer than I expected, but I’m not sorry. If someone wants to write this for real, please, by all means, go for it. Just be sure to tag me (and maybe DM me cause sometimes I’m bad about missing when I’m tagged) because I do NOT want to miss it if this ever becomes a fic. Also, feel free to take as many creative liberties with the idea as you like; I won’t be offended, but I will be entertained.)

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [1]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)  ::  Word Count: 8885  ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next two parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers. 

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Looking around the compound’s living room, you can’t help but openly stare. Everything is expensive, even the doorknobs seem to know their elevated worth.

You’ve circled the room three times so far, each time slower than the last as your keen eyes searching out every minute detail. You’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, which isn’t too much of a bother, and from what you’d heard from other reporters and writers isn’t that long of a wait for Tony Stark. Although your boss said that the article was supposed to cover all of the inhouse Avengers…

Happy, Tony’s chauffeur/bodyguard and right-hand man, had brought you into this room and at this point, your overthinking has begun to wonder if being made to wait here is a diversion so that he can get all the Avengers to clear out. After all, Stark Industries controls most of the press about the Avengers and they don’t do interviews...except Tony and every so often, the good Captain Rogers.

You wonder briefly if watching some YouTube would be extremely unprofessional or just a mild, millennial version of unprofessionalism.

Deciding against it, you sit on the plushest and buttery soft black leather couch, fishing around your large purse for your notebook. Carefully flipping past the first pages, you look over the list of Avengers you’ve compiled - along with basic stats, going over them for the umpteenth time since being assigned this article. And, being the person you are, you had arranged them by age, willingness to talk to you, and then on difficulty on opening up for the story.

Fishing out a pen, you make a few last-minute notes, only to feel that tell-tale prickle at the back of your neck alerts you to the three figures lingering in the large entryway that leads towards a hallway. You pop up, smoothing out your dress bottom nervously.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Y/N, writer for Undefined Muses. I’m, uh, here to interview you?”

“You don’t seem to know if you are or not,” Hawkeye, Clint Barton, says with a big smile - the last yellow traces of a bruise fading on his left cheek.

“I wasn’t sure who all had agreed to participate - and I don’t want to force anyone to do if they aren’t interested.”

“Normally, the reporters are kind of rabid about these kinds of interviews,” Natasha replies smoothly, moving into the room and perching on the arm of an oversized loveseat. She’s dressed impeccably, looking like a glamorous movie star from the thirties, with high waist black dress pants and a dark blue silk shirt with tiny red roses dotted all over.

“Well, my boss sent me because I’m,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Demure.”

“I honestly was waiting for you to say ‘unrabid’.” Clint chuckles out, tossing himself into the loveseat that Natasha is perched on directly across from where you stand.

“I’m not sure what writer would use the word ‘unrabid’. I’m also 90% sure that isn’t a word.”

“Only 90%?” Natasha queries, smiling so knowingly it makes you a little wary.

“Well, he said it, so thus it has been made a word. But you won’t find it in a dictionary. So yes, 90%.”

The large brunet, whom you knew as James Barnes, still stood by the hallway they must have come from, watching the interactions with storm blue eyes. Your shoulders tighten, straightening as you realize that they’d sent all the previous assassins in first. Quite the unsettling welcome wagon… Wait. Was this a weird sort of game? Like chicken? You very nearly chuckle, if that’s the case, because little did these people know you weren’t the bravest person - content with hiding behind your words, telling others amazing and heart wrenching stories.

“Will you all be participating?” You finally manage to get out with a smile without nerves making it forced.

“They will,” Comes the answer from behind you - Tony Stark himself, Iron Man in the flesh, says with a confidence you’d only seen on tv. “Miss Y/L/N. So glad you could make it. Plane ride enjoyable?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the use of your plane.” He waves a hand as he flashes a megawatt smile.

“No problem. No problem at all. Now, I know they’ve probably introduced themselves but that is Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and one of the 100 plus pair, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you all,” They all nod as Tony rubs his hands together then claps.

“Now, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, I’ll have Happy drop your luggage in there while I show you around -”

“I’m sorry - uh, staying?” You tilt your head a tad to the left, blinking at the illustrious Mr. Stark.

“Yes. Of course, you’ll be staying here in the compound. Rhodey, Steve, and Sam are headed home as we speak, should be here sometime early tonight. Wanda and Vision are on their way back, they were having brunch at a nearby vineyard. Oh, and Thor, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain Danvers should be in - oh, I don’t know - maybe 3 or 4 days. Everyone else is on site.” Logically, you know your mouth is open. You also know you should close it, but the shock…

Every. Single. Avenger.

Fuck.

“Um, I just...Sir, I didn’t mean...I only just brought...ALL OF THEM??”

“To answer your oh so eloquent questions, I did tell your boss I would be getting you as many as possible. I would have thought Mrs. Rodrigez, was it?, would have conveyed the seriousness,” He gives a little huff, smile firmly in place. “Anyhow, you’ll manage. FRIDAY will have a list of shops that will deliver here - we have a tab, just feel free to add to it.”

“Sir -”

“Tony,” He corrects.

“Tony. I will manage my own clothes, thank you. My boss did stress the importance of this interview block. I was told, however, that this was by choice for the Avengers or Stark Industries staff. Not that you’d make them come from outer space to be riddled with questions. And, Tony, I honestly don’t know why our little site was chosen to write these interviews to begin with, sir. How do you even know who I am…” You were so focused on Tony that you hadn’t realized that Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Pepper Potts (Stark?), Bruce Banner, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and a man of Asian descent you couldn’t place had entered the room. Tony moves closer, peering over the couch and down into your purse, finger pulling at one of the edges to see into it.

“Well, that’s simple. I asked for you.” Eyebrows shoot upward in shock before your forehead furrows. “See, Pep read a piece you did on library and book importance - specifically in young and all school-age children. It was lying around, so I read it. And you know what? I liked the emotion. The thoughtfulness behind it. Every word was picked with such care - constructed to paint a picture. And that’s what I want you to do for us.” He gestures for you to sit, which you give a gentle shake of your head at and takes up the seat you’d been in before. He leans forward, one elbow balanced on his knee as he looks up at you. “We get good press, bad press too, but I want people to see the big picture. We’re a team. We’re a family. We sacrifice a lot to be able to do what we do. Paint that picture for me.” The spell Tony seemed to have cast on you raised and you look around to see the whole room staring at you, waiting.

You swallow hard and nod a couple of times. “I’ll do my best, Tony.” He rises and gives a nod of his own, flashing you a smile tinged with sadness that he quickly hides.

“Good. Good. Let’s get you into a guest room and then the tour. But first, some more introductions.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

The voice in your room, in all the building you suppose, FRIDAY as she introduced herself, announced that dinner would be casual dress and served in an hour. Tony had been a gracious host, informing you he’d canceled your room at the winery - that, coincidentally, Wanda and Vision had been having brunch at earlier - before sashaying around the compound with Pepper, Scott, and Hope all in tow like a little tour group. Tony dutifully recited when it was built, remodeled, rebuilt. The layout and their functions. He adds little tidbits about visiting when he was little, making everything a little more real for you. You walk beside him, with him sometimes latching onto your elbow as you talk softly into your recorder, reminding yourself to get pictures of certain areas later with your camera.

It had been nice, Scott was witty and said aloud most of the smart ass comments you’d been thinking. Pepper kept Tony focused and Hope spent as much time as you did asking questions. The tour of the basic facilities ended back where it had begun in the living room, rain beginning to splatter against the massive wall of windows to your left.

You’d managed to find your way back to the room, 5th on the right, to find your overnight bag sitting on the end of the bed next to a plush white robe and a note from Tony stating he’d still asked for the stores to bring over things for you to pick out tomorrow and not to bother fighting him on it. Kicking off your shoes, you’d wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window in your room to watch the raindrops slide down the glass, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the very soft, thick carpet with your notebook and pen.

Amelina, your boss and best friend, had bought you a gray, faux-leather sunflower embossed one to butter you up. Your little addiction and she knew it. You’d accepted the notebook and the assignment with little hesitation. Only to look at the notebook lying on your desk later and think ‘What the hell have I just done?!’

The first page is an outline of what Amelina had said she wanted from the articles (she ideally wanted to break them into separate pieces with each Avenger getting their own spotlight), your notes on the Avengers from digging online and the preliminary dates the article, or articles, would be posted on the site. Taking a deep breath you flip past the Avengers you’d already made lists for, adding the Guardians, Captain Danvers, Doctor Stranger, Wong (whom you’d met earlier), adding Scott and Hope as well, since they are West Coast-based and you had a 50/50 chance of actually interviewing them initially.

Your recorder would hold the interviews, your verbal notes and memos to take pictures of certain locations...but your gray notebook, that was for your notes and thoughts on their habits, likes and dislikes based on observation, how they interact with you, and how they interact with each other.

The alarm on your phone drags you away from writing a few more observations on the page designated for Pepper Potts, letting you know that you need to get up and changed for dinner. You plug your recorder in to download the tour from earlier while you change and freshen up your hair and makeup.

Your hopping on one foot, trying to shove your foot into the stupid pump when your alarm goes off again. Tossing yourself onto the end of the bed, you unplug your recorder and wiggle your foot into the pump better before heading out the door. You shove the recorder into the pocket of your skirt, making your way down the hall when the intro to “7 Rings” begins playing from the phone in your hand. With a quick swipe you answer, stopping almost halfway down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Is that any way to answer the phone?”

“It is when I’m on my way to dinner and your long-winded call could make me late.”

“Harsh, dude, harsh.” Amelina barely takes a breath before continuing. “So, whatcha got so far?”

“First of all, that isn’t how I work. How long have you known me, Lina? By the way, I’m mad at you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here or that I’d be here for two weeks. I looked like an idiot in front of Tony Freaking Stark and Pepper Freaking Potts!” You hiss into the phone, tapping your foot in irritation as she chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Sorry! I honestly didn’t know how long you’d be staying -”

“Well, it’s nice that you let me know that!”

“Mr. Stark just asked how long he could have you on loan. I said a max of three weeks.”

“Oh my god, Amelina,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as you repeat in your head to breathe.

“You are such a -”

“You’re being a real bitch. I would have packed. I would have been prepared. But nooooo! Now I’m standing in a hallway wishing that your brother’s new puppy would pee in your expensive shoes!”

“Now that’s just mean!”

“I’m hanging up now. May Jedi maul all the shoes you hold dear.” You jab your thumb against the screen before taking a deep breath and continuing your trek to the living room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Apparently ‘casual’ at the Avengers compound is a broad term. Clint is sporting a sweatshirt with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the front with black jogging pants and loafers. Steve has a dark blue shirt that is miraculously being held together by mere buttons, which you’re afraid if he strains, will lose their valiant efforts to keep his shirt together. His is paired with khakis and the same loafers as Clint, which amuses you for some unknown reason. Sam Wilson has a red t-shirt with a black blazer over it, dark gray jeans and some well-worn boots. As you finish taking in appearances, standing like a wallflower half-hidden by the hallway arch still, you can’t help but wonder if you should pinch yourself to see if this was reality.

Sam spots you first, or is the first to acknowledge it, and makes his way over with a friendly smile painted on his face.

“I’m Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.” His hand extends and nearly swallows your own before giving it a firm shake. You liked that. He wasn’t treating you as delicate. You detested when men did that when shaking hands with women…

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you as well.”

“Heard Tony gave you the tour.” He’s got a smirk now, eyes bright and teasing.

“Oh yeah. He offered to let me try out a suit - but only when Pepper and Steve weren’t around.”

“Killjoys,” Sam gives a serious shake of his head, chuckling as FRIDAY announces dinner is ready to be served. “Let’s get you to dinner. We’re having it in the mess hall once everyone gets here - tonight we can still have it in the actual dining room.” He offers his arm, guiding you out of the living area. “You met Bucky, right?” You give a nod, very aware the aforementioned is right behind the two of you. “His article will be the shortest. Dude’s damn near a mute unless he’s lecturing Steve, so I wish you good luck on interviewing him.”

“And here I thought that your odd friendship was all made up…” You answer slyly, hearing a snort of laughter behind you - unsure if it belongs to Steve or Bucky.

“Hey Cap, you meet the reporter?” Sam flashes you a smile as he turns the two of you around, bringing you to a hard stop so you don’t ram into the super-soldier.

“Steve Rogers, miss.” He offers his hand and gives yours a firm shake, his blue eyes holding a wariness you weren’t expecting. Captain America, wary of you? Doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in you about this whole experience…

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.”

“Sit! Sit!” Tony orders jovially from down the table before pointing to the man at his right. “Rhodey. War Machine. Liar extraordinaire. I may need to sit in to make sure he gets all the facts straight.”

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stank over here, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, that’s why I’m here Mr. Rhodes.” Steve pulls out your chair for you, waiting until your seated to take his seat to your left. “Thank you.”

“I think we should all get to know each other,” Tony starts, only for Rhodey to roll his eyes and Bruce to scoff from the other end of the long table.

“May I record?” You ask, watching everyone sort of tense and shuffle.

“Of course!” Tony answers as you withdraw the recorder, clicking it on and sitting it beside your plate.

“I think it’s only fair since I’ll be bothering all of you for the next two or so weeks, that you can ask me whatever you’d like as well.”

“That’s fair,” Dr. Strange concedes from his spot to your right.

“Very fair, I think,” Scott agrees, giving you a big comforting smile.

“Okay, well let’s start with where you were born.” A handful of waiters come in, setting bowls and plates onto the tabletop before disappearing.

“Family style,” Pepper clarifies before looking expectantly to you.

“I was born in California. But moved to Seattle when I was little, maybe about 3. Right before I started kindergarten we moved back to California. Been there ever since.”

“And your business?” Pepper asks, dishing some green beans onto her plate.

“It’s more Amelina’s than mine. We’re partners in the site, but I do the money part, well I prep it for the accountant - and most of the writing - and she does the schmoozing, bossing around, the sports articles and the keeping up of the site. So she’s doing the lion’s share.”

“I would think you break even,” Hope pipes up. “Well, what with you having to travel and compile the information and then write it out. Plus anything to do with money is usually more stressful. Do you both hire and fire?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We tried to hire a sports writer after we’d had the site for a year, but it didn’t work out...”

“Wait. Wait. Was it that guy that kept inserting himself into the story?” Sam laughs out, peeking around Bucky who is beside Steve. You bite back a groan.

“Yes.”

“Bucky, Rhodey - it’s that article I sent you saying that Babe Ruth was only half the baseball player he could have been and that the writer could’ve been the next Bambino.” Rhodey is at least trying not to laugh, but you can see Bucky’s shoulders shaking as you lean backward in your chair.

“That was a huge mistake. All of his work we reviewed before hiring was impeccable. I checked to make sure it wasn’t plagiarized and we called all of his references. Apparently, he’d had some experience in coding and websites, so after he handed in his first final draft, he went in an hour after Amelina posted it, and changed it. We got so many emails - we were getting all these calls... Brian up and disappeared after he did that. To this date, still haven’t had as much traffic on the site as that day.”

“Brian sounds like a douche,” Wanda mutters with a smile, taking a sip from her wine glass. You look down at your plate, finding it overflowing with more food than you’d put on there. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugs and puts a forkful of potato salad in his mouth with a smile.

“Yeah. I blacklisted him.”

“Blacklisted how?” Clint manages around a mouthful of bread.

“Oh, um, well I emailed almost every single media outlet in California, Washington, Oregon, and Nevada. Then I asked them to forward it to their parent stations or owners. So basically, after a year of emailing people, most blogs, newspapers, tv stations, circulars, and YouTube hosts in California to Kentucky know not to deal with anyone going by his name. I helped a reporter from Pennsylvania with her story, and she began emailing people on the East Coast about it. All emails included his picture too, just in case he went by another name.”

“Effective. A bit ruthless.” Vision is seated between Wanda and Rhodey, nodding in approval.

“No! Not ruthless!” You defend, voice rising a little before the heat rises in your neck and cheeks. “Sorry. I just didn’t want anyone to get dinged as we did. We had to say a lot of apologies and lost a lot of work because of his pointless self-involved rant. And I mean, who goes after Babe Ruth?”

“Balls but no brains,” Scott adds, the two of you nodding. He points his fork at your plate. “Eat.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“That’s what you’re here for.” Tony chuckles out.

“What do you guys do in times like these? When there aren’t aliens or Loki or HYDRA? Like a big spa day for all of you guys? Karaoke?”

“To be honest,” Natasha begins. “There aren’t a lot of days like this when we are all free at the same time. But honestly, it’s more watching and waiting than action and aliens.”

“Kind of miss SHIELD to kind of take care of the day to day bad guy cartel and mafia stuff?” You manage around a mouthful of pasta. Sweet Jesus, it was decadent and cheesy.

“Sometimes I miss the help,” Clint admits.

“What Clint means is that he misses telling people what to do.” Sam teases, tossing a bread roll at him across the table, which Clint catches without even looking away from you.

“Hey! I didn’t tell people what to do. They just did it.”

“Did you buy a bar just to tear it down, Tony?” Tony smiles around a forkful of steak.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Ross just rubs me the wrong way.”

“To be fair, I think he rubs everyone the wrong way.”

“You’ve met him?” Steve sounds surprised, eyebrows raised in what you hope is astonishment.

“Unfortunately. I was in college and had to write a piece on something or someone whom you don’t agree with. Now I am all for soldiers but upper management sucks in the military, no offense Mr. Rhodes. But, everywhere, really... I just think the old guys in Congress and equally old guys in the upper ranks are calling the shots on things they shouldn’t be interfering in, as far as college me was concerned. Ross irritated me for the simple reason that he was the smartest person in the room and no matter what I said, what facts I had, what questions I asked, I would always be wrong. Never disliked being called ‘sweetheart’ so much in my life. Hard to have a conversation with the other side when they talk to you like that. Plus, I got a D on that paper, so he sucks in my book.”

“I told him to call me if he needed help. Then I left him on hold. In my own defense, I did warn him earlier I did like to watch the light blink.” Rhodey snorts into his glass at Tony’s admission.

“Like a tiny Christmas light of joy.” Steve comments, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

You shove a forkful of green beans into your mouth, giving a little sigh at how damn good it tasted before spearing a few more and eating those as Scott launches into the tale of him, Cassie, Luis and his ex-wife’s husband all hanging Christmas lights - only for the new husband to find he’d rewired and programmed them to blink in super slow motion with the fastest Christmas songs he could find and vice versa. And every 9 hours and 45 minutes, it played La Cucaracha, perfectly in time with the lights. There are a few chuckles around the table, but you’re laughing pretty damn hard.

“That’s brilliant actually! The deviousness lies in the amount of annoying that they could take. Having to time your exit must have been a bitch.”

“He and one of his buddies took it all down, bought new lights and hung those up. Cassie told me she missed hearing the Chipmunks, so I remotely programmed a timer so it would play the Christmas Don’t Be Late song right before her bedtime.”

“Cassie sounds like a wonderful girl. And very lucky to have you for her father.” Scott looks flustered but gives you the brightest smile before looking down at his empty plate.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course. Do you guys do Netflix around here? Movie night?”

“Your mind is everywhere…” Hope says with a grin. “That’s good.”

“And to answer your question - yes. We have Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime…” Sam trails off as the waiters reappear, clearing the table only to return seconds later with plates of beautiful personal assorted desserts. If this was how they ate, you’d hate to see their exercise regime. Oh god, you hoped you weren’t expected to work out with them...

“I was just wondering how you all decide on a show. Do Steve and Bucky have lists? Like are you all working through AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies? I think I’ve only seen 20 of them. Do you all binge shows together?”

“Pep started a rotation. So if it’s your Sunday night and you’re in the compound or tower, then you pick the movie or show. If you aren’t here, it goes to the next person on the list.”

“Sometimes after a mission, it’s usually just decided to watch tv shows just cause we all sort of zone out,” Steve whispers after Tony’s answer, taking a big scoop of his parfait.

“We’ve never been invited,” Wong pipes up, frowning at Tony.

“Oh, I invited both you and Strange right after Pepper made the schedule. If Strange didn’t relay that…” Dr. Strange just rolls his eyes.

“I mentioned it.”

“You didn’t say it was a regular occurrence.” Wong huffs out before biting into a ladyfinger.

“Like an old married couple,” Clint chuckles out, his desserts all gone as he leans contentedly back in his chair. You give your head a small shake at their exchange before reaching to stop your recorder.

“Well, thank you so much for that delicious meal. And thank you for letting me record. I hope I get less awkward as this goes on.”

“This was awkward?” Wanda raises an eyebrow, making you fiddle with the recorder before tucking it into your pocket.

“Okay, well, um then it will get more awkward before it gets less awkward.” You all rise, pushing in your chairs before wandering out of the dining room and back towards the living areas.

“You’ll find out we’re all awkward. Well, except me.” You nod seriously at Tony’s words, managing to see Bucky roll his eyes at Tony’s words. Huh. Who knew… “Nightcap?”

“Oh, no. Thank you. I’m so full I don’t think I could even manage that.”

“Then we’ll say goodnight.” A chorus of goodnights echoes around the large living room.

“Goodnight everyone.”

You totter off to your room, cursing the fact that you’re so sleepy right now. After washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your pajamas, you shuffle down under the covers.

“Well, that wasn’t the most awkward or silent dinner I’ve ever been to…” You mutter before sleep drags you under.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

In the morning, you wake up earlier than you usually tend to, sitting on the floor in your pajamas in front of the rain-splattered window with your headphones on - going over the recordings, transcribing them and making notes in your dotted notebook, since it better served to add afterthoughts to. Not the nice orderly layout of your new notebook. And you’re so involved in listening and typing, snatching up the notebook beside you to jot down memos, that you don’t hear Steve and Tony calling your name and you sure as hell don’t hear them enter.

The scream accounts for that, Bucky and Sam barrelling through your door as you look up at Steve and Tony with wide eyes, shoving your headphones off.

“We’re sorry.” Tony barely restrains a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I had FRIDAY see if you were awake, then came to get you for breakfast, but,” He laughs now, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You didn’t answer.”

“Maybe we should think about a different system!” You blurt as you stare up at the four men.

“Yes. Definitely,” Tony chuckles. “Next time I’ll have FRIDAY blink the lights to alert you.”

“Thank you!”

“Our pleasure.” Steve grins out, extending a hand.

“No, I’m fine here, thanks.” Steve shrugs, the smile not disappearing.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get dressed for breakfast. The shops are due to arrive after breakfast for you to pick some more clothes for your stay. Sam has also requested to be your first interview.” Sam winks at you from Cap’s left, sporting a wide smile as Bucky’s gaze goes from Sam to you.

“Thanks again.” You peer around Steve. “And thank you two for coming so quickly.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam delivers smoothly, Bucky rolling his eyes before making a swift exit. The other three leave with smiles on their faces.

It takes you several minutes to realize you were in your pajamas; a worn and oversized ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ shirt paired with sleep shorts that could barely be seen peeking under the hem of your shirt.

“Jeez…” You groan, rubbing a hand over your face before closing the laptop and tossing your notebooks on the bed.

Ten minutes later you have your teeth brushed and you’re dressed in adequate attire, shuffling nervously into the kitchen area on the other side of the bar in the living room. Clint and Bucky are cooking, Wanda weaving between the two expertly. You slip in the seat next to Hope, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in workout clothes.

“How long has everyone been up?” You whisper-ask, setting your recorder and notebook beside the empty plate that Natasha sets in front of you with a small smile. You return it as Hope cuts her pancake which is riddled with syrup, fruit and whipped cream.

“We all did a workout before breakfast,” She puts a big bite of sugar-laden pancake in her mouth, “Speeds up your metabolism.”

“Where’s Scott?”

“Here.” He mutters, slipping into the seat on the other side of Hope.

“Not a morning person?”

“I enjoy my sleep.”

“Thank god. Me too. Under normal circumstances.”

“Yes,” A new voice pipes up from the other side of the room, making you lean back to see who it is. “We heard about the intrusion this morning.”

“Holy - Princess Shuri!” After nearly tripping trying to slither out of your stool, you manage to get upright and extend a hand. “So lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you. It is lovely to meet you as well. I read your articles after Tony mentioned you were selected to do the interviews, and I must say that when you do scientific articles, there is a very nice flow and imagery that one does not usually get.”

“Thank you! I’m sure whoever I’ve interviewed in the science community doesn’t care for all the questions I have after the interview, so I’m glad that it reads well to a genius.”

“You will just make her head bigger, Miss Y/L/N.”

“King T’Challa, wonderful to meet you.” You breathe a deep breath of relief as he extends his hand, giving it a firm shake with a warm smile.

“Wonderful to meet you as well. Please sit, you must keep your strength up if you are to deal with all of us.” There is mischief in his eyes, the twinkle of a man temporarily unburdened.

“That bad?”

“Wait ‘til the Guardians are here!” A male voice pipes up, followed by a tossing sound and a huffed “Sorry!”

“Peter Parker, ma’am.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you automatically stick out your hand.

“Spider-Man,” Tony supplies as he walks by with a bowl of oatmeal. Honestly, your only thought is that he’s a baby and should be protected at all cost.

“Yeah, I think I saw a post on Instagram about someone in New York making Spider-Man ice creams...So you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter blushes, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t worry, kid. Pep had her sign contracts before she even came. She can’t reveal your identity.”

“Oh. Okay then.” His smile brightens at least a hundred watts. “Did you eat yet? Mr. Barnes makes the best pancakes!”

“Does he now?” Bucky’s back is to you, so you can’t see his expression, but there are already two hot pancakes setting on your plate next to several pieces of bacon. “I’m going to gain so much weight while I’m here…” You sigh, actually not the least bit bothered by it once you bite into the pancake, it’s buttery soft fluff filling your mouth, the second bite revealing a tiny melted chocolate chip to add to the deliciousness. Flipping open your notebook, you scribble down a note: Bucky Barnes = wonderful pancakes. Peter sees it and ducks his head as he takes his plate over to where Shuri is sitting, the two of them bent over a tablet when you glance over your shoulder.

Everything is terribly domestic. Normal.

And you want them to enjoy it. Cause honestly, after all that’s happened, they truly deserve a little peace and camaraderie.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

”Okay, so is this alright?” You ask, settling a little more into the plush blood-red chair in Sam’s bedroom, his desk to your right littered with your notebook, your phone, the recorder, and several pens.

“Great. I’m good to go.” You pick up the recorder, clicking it on with a nervous smile directed at Sam before you began.

“Interview One: Sam Wilson, known as Falcon. Okay, Sam, please tell me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Let’s just start with the basics - like speed dating.”

“I’ve never been speed dating.”

“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?”

“Wait - you’ve been speed dating?”

“Unfortunately. It was for an article but nothing really was romantic or fun about asking the same questions of men who aren’t looking you in the eye.”

“Don’t gotta worry about that here. Our mamas all raised us right.”

“Noted. Alright, so I’ll ask the nice fluffy questions first.”

“Working our way up to the heavy hitter ones.”

“Exactly. What’s your favorite thing to do in New York, besides save it? What was your childhood dream job? Favorite Disney movie? How do you like your coffee?”

“Eat. Man, I love food. They have a little gumbo place in Harlem,” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Best Southern food up here. As for my childhood dream job - man, I love birds. I wanted to train raptors, rehabilitate them...or I wanted to be a chef ‘cause I enjoy food. All kinds. Man, I haven’t seen a Disney movie in ye -- well, that’s not true because Spider-Nerd made us watch Toy Story 4 the other day...but probably a tie between Fantasia and The Rescuers. And coffee? That I take black with room so I can add cream and three sugars.”

“Good memory skills. Want more difficult ones now?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” He rubs his hands together with a smile spreading quickly across his face.

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” His laughter is loud and boisterous, his hands braced on his knees before looking at you.

“Whew - went right for it, didn’t you? Are you asking everyone this question? Can I be there when you ask Cap and Bucky? I bet you twenty bucks that Tony says he’s thought of it before and he wants December cause of the gift he is.” You lean over and make a note of it in your notebook.

“I’ll take that bet. I counter with he doesn’t want to do one but he’d like to be July.” He extends his hand and you shake it firmly, mustering up a serious expression as you did so before settling in to wait for his answer.

“Man, okay. Uh, I think I’d like to be August. Not as hot but not cold either, with those pre-fall feelings. And I’m getting the tightest red shirt I own, along with my favorite pair of jeans. But I could be persuaded to dress sexier - nice fitted suit and tie.”

“Why’d you join the Air Force?”

“I just wanted to help people. And I wanted to see the world. My mom was okay with it since she figured the Air Force weren’t the first to deploy and that I’d be mostly out of harm’s way. But I enjoyed the regimen, the camaraderie I had with the other guys. But when my wingman, my partner Riley, died -- you, you know I just didn’t want to be apart of that anymore after that. I decided I’d get more out of life if I helped other soldiers deal with their problems.” He pauses, searching your face for something before continuing. “I met Steve one day when we were both out running. I knew who he was, but I also knew he was just like any other soldier who had come home and was looking to adjust - looking to find his place.”

“So you did what came naturally - you offered a sympathetic ear and some words for him to think on.”

“Yep. And, honestly, I enjoyed getting to know Steve Rogers. I think we have a lot in common, just morals and being a good soldier, but it’s more important to be a better man than all of that.”

“You really admire him.”

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t trade what I had to go through - what we all had to go through - to have it done any other way. I mean, it was brutal in some places, but I’d do it all again -- I sure as hell don’t want to, but I would.”

“May I ask why you chose to follow Steve instead of, say, Col. Rhodes? Both military, both having friends who sort of go rogue, both just wanting to do the right thing…”

“Rhodey and I are good friends, don’t get me wrong. But he had a lot on his plate: The military. Ross. Tony. Still dealing with the fallout of SHIELD in the upper ranks. I would follow Rhodey for a lot of things, but I won’t fight against any of the other Avengers again unless they’re mind-controlled or some shit.”

“Peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese?” You ask softly, giving him a kind smile.

“Peanut butter and jelly.” He says with his own soft smile.

“Can I pet Redwing?” He perks up at that question.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show him to you.”

“Maybe the suit too?” You tease, gathering up your notebook and phone, shoving the latter into your pocket before the extra pens you’d brought got shoved right along in there. You carefully pick up the recorder, holding it aloft as Sam holds open his bedroom door.

Once you’ve petted Redwing, letting Sam fly it around you. Luckily you were smart enough to stop at your room first for your camera, most of the time focusing on the light in Sam’s eyes as he looks at his little buddy before Steve and Clint come into the hanger, Clint playfully throwing a few rocks as Redwing dodges them, the three of them joking as they stand in a semi-circle and watch. All the while you watch them through the lens, happily snapping pictures before you notice Bucky leaning against the hangar door a handful of feet away. He looks like he’s a model, a small smile on his face that’s half turned away from you with one hand - his metal hand - tucked into the pocket of his black, worn-looking jacket. You snap a few pictures before he turns his head towards you, the smile disappearing. You snap a picture anyway before lowering the lens and smiling as warmly at him as you can. He gives a little nod before pushing off the door and disappearing around the corner.

Clint drags you to the archery range after that, carefully digging through his arrows as he answers question after question.

“Okay, Clint, last one: If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” Clint snickers, his shoulders gently moving.

“Really? Well, alright then. I think I’d like to be January. And I think I want to be dressed in a velvet eggplant jacket with a black shirt and some black underwear.” You nearly snort when he wiggles his eyebrows and gives you a lazy smile, twirling an arrow.

“Boxers? Briefs? Thong?”

“I think some nice fitting briefs. Don’t want to make too many people jealous if I bust out my thong…”

“I certainly learned a whole lot about you, so thank you for that, Clint.”

“Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.” He leads you back to the living room for your last interview of the morning before you all break for lunch. “Wanda! I got your girl here!” Wanda is standing by the hallway, a cup in each hand with a smile gracing her too-pretty face. She gestures with her head, her red hair swinging slightly. Clint doesn’t let you go initially, pushing his cheek closer to you.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Sweet cheeks.” You concede, kissing his cheek before watching him saunter past the others, tossing himself down onto the couch beside Scott with a chuckle.

“Good luck!” Sam hollers, making Wanda glare at him for a second before you follow her down the hall.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Wanda is teaching you a few words in Romanian when you emerge from her room for lunch.

Lunch is already laid out as you repeat “Nu, mulţumesc” until she nods.

“And that means?”

“No, Thank you.” You answer obediently.

“Now, combine everything.”

“Ce fasi! Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază. Nu, mulțumesc. Aș prefera să fac un tort.” [Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I'd rather have a cake.]

Bucky and Natasha shake their heads with a smile.

“And that means?”

“What are you doing? Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I’d rather have a cake.” Wanda chuckles out, giving your arm a loving pat.

“It was something my mother always said to my father. He said little kisses to us all and she said she would rather have cake. Y/N said it beautifully. Very naturally.”

“I am a wonderful parrot.” You smile out before Tony pokes his head in and whistles.

“Lunch!”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bruce’s interview after lunch is filled with long pauses, his answers thought out and sometimes not what you expected. He takes you through his lab and then he suggests a short jaunt around the garden to finish the interview. When he excuses himself, you stay in the French-style garden, snapping a few scenic pictures and unwinding a bit from the interviews of today.

With four down, you’re feeling pretty perky about the whole series, trying not to think about the 25 or 26 more interviews you needed to do. Wandering through, your fingertips brushing over the perfectly trimmed hedges before spotting a few wild sunflowers towards the path leading into the woods. Carefully kneeling you take a picture, frowning as it’s just not quite right. You settle on your belly, one foot rising into the air as you refocus the camera and nail the picture you wanted!

You don’t even realize that Bucky is taking your picture as you grin at your camera, entirely too pleased with your results before you regain your footing and trek back to the compound.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You shoot for six interviews the next day, just trying to get them done before the Guardians, Thor and Captain Danvers arrive...Tony having casually mentioned recording a video group interview of sorts before you left. Which didn’t stress you out at all.

Not.

Hope’s interview was witty and broadening...how she described quantum physics (which just led to more questions) was outstanding.

Scott’s was quick-witted, dry and peppered with his pretty broad knowledge of electrical engineering, Captain America, and songs from the 80s. He was very open about his conviction and time in prison, his decision to be ankle monitored to be with his daughter, and how he feels all of this may affect her in the future. He’s an achingly good person and you add him to your “Protect At All Costs” mental list you’ve started.

Steve is stiff. He doesn’t see the humor in your calendar question (you have to show him the Australian firefighter one with the baby animals for reference) to which he begrudgingly requests the month of May and says a casual suit with flowers in lieu of a pocket square. You suggest him sitting slightly towards a camera, painting a field full of flowers...he seems to like the idea and it makes him relax a little - and you’ll have to thank Sam for that tidbit of information he’d given you. You ask Steve a lot about his life before Captain America, how he thinks it would have gone differently if Dr. Erskine had lived, and what he initially liked about the modern world. He tells you about art school and Bucky, getting beat up on a near regular basis in alleys all over Brooklyn, how he discovered Mr. Rogers’ TV show early one afternoon after moving into the compound.

Vision, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of life experience to draw upon but he’s a wealth of knowledge. He talks about JARVIS and ULTRON, the differences between the two of them and Tony, he talks about how DUM-E knows who he is and how loyal he is to Tony. He then shows you who DUM-E is, the bot jerkily “shaking” your hand as you marvel over how not just Tony has evolved but his creations as well. Do you coo how smart and handy the robot it? Of course. But it’s worth it to see the robot nodding as you talk about how smart his dad is. DUM-E then gives you a tiny circuit board before you leave, Vision remarking that he likes you very much to have done so. You scribble down a note to ask Tony if that’s okay that you have that.

Peter is your last interview before dinner, and holy cow, everyone in the compound is a fucking genius. Peter tells you about his web fluid, the neighborhood where he’s grown up, and it’s clear how much he admires Tony from how reverently he speaks. Their relationship, you notice, is a little more parent/child than a mentor/mentee relationship. It’s adorable with a tinge of awkward. Peter shows you pictures he’s taken swinging all over New York and you show him where he can get a Spider-Man ice cream. He asks you just as many questions as you do and you chuckle when he refers to nearly every movie before his date of birth as “a really old movie”. You show him a few Charlie Chaplin shorts to show him what exactly “really old” is. He, in turn, shows you Tik Tok videos that you both laugh over.

“Do you like serial killer stuff?” He asks as you both head to the dining room for dinner, tucking his phone back into his pocket, both sets of your sneakers squeaking ever so slightly on the expensive floors.

“I think most women do.”

“Why do you think that?” His little focused face is adorable, trying to link it up in his head.

“Women always think they can do things better. And they’re usually right, just to let you know.” He nods seriously. “We’re outraged by it but intrigued. Pretty sure women can get blood out of just about anything - I’ve gotten red nail polish out of khaki pants by sheer will alone. It’s different for everyone, I guess. But mostly I think it helps us to collectively learn how to plausibly commit the perfect murder while we drink wine from the couch and shove snacks in our faces. And possibly solve a crime in our heads.”

“Huh,” Peter’s brow is still furrowed but he’s nodding his understanding. Peter looks up to find Bucky studying you, and when you look at Peter, he’s just smiling. “Excuse me.” You nod, watching him high-five Shuri before you feel someone by your side. Dr. Strange gestures to your ever-moving seat, which tonight is between Okoye and Wanda.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, not noticing the quick clench of Bucky’s hand as he moves around Strange to his own seat opposite Natasha.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rhodey steals you after dinner, Sam teasing him as they disappear to his office.

“Come on, man. Just talk to her.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“She’s pretty nice. I was concerned she was just gonna go after us, with the questioning, but she eased into it and just didn’t focus on the darker stuff. She seems to want to get to know us as people.”

“It’s weird, huh?” Clint comments as Hope nods.

“It’s nice to be treated like a person. Not someone who’s infallible or holier than thou…” T’Challa remarks from his spot in the plush crimson chair across from them.

“Very inclusive, as well,” Okoye adds as Shuri and Peter come skidding into the room, Peter holding a tablet.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asks as he arches one blonde eyebrow high at the two.

“Nothing,” Shuri says smoothly, Peter nodding a few times too many when Tony comes into the room.

“Why is there a herd of deer in my hanger?” Both teens shoot off towards the patio door, laughing the whole time. “I don’t know what they did, but Redwing is acting like a herding dog with them, so you might need to go check that out, Sam.”

“Damn kids, I swear...I’m gonna need to squash me a spider…” He mutters loudly, heading briskly for the hanger.

“So, you gonna talk to our little journalist?” Tony smirks down at Bucky, which makes him scowl at the billionaire.

“I’m supposed to do that tomorrow,” He grumbles, making Tony smirk harder.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Tin Man.” Bucky wisely says nothing as he tries to calm his ramping up heart rate. “Even the kids have noticed you looking.”

“He has some competition,” Vision adds, smiling at Wanda who tilts her head slightly but returns his smile. “DUM-E.” Tony snorts, shaking his head as he turns away to gather himself.

“The robot? So the two are evenly matched then.” Natasha chuckles out, taking a healthy sip of her gin and tonic as she meets Bucky’s eyes.

“Nat, that’s not fair. The robot shook her hand and gave her a circuit board. He’s leagues ahead of Buck.” Clint teases, taking Natasha’s drink and taking his own healthy sip before handing it back. Bucky looks at his best friend, who is trying desperately to stop his shoulders from shaking with his laughter.

“40’s you would be ashamed. A robot who can’t talk?”

“Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba!” Shuri comments from behind Tony before making a break for it down the hallway with Sam hot on her tail. T’Challa, Okoye, and Bucky all point Sam down the hallway where she disappeared to when he comes panting into the living room.

“Now me is more inclined to hit your once-asthmatic ass for being the little shit you are,” Bucky growls at Steve, getting up from the couch turning to head to his room, only to freeze when he sees you and Rhodey standing by Peter in the door frame to the patio.

“Do you know there are deer in the hanger? And are you guys running a weird robot/human fight club?”

“Is that all you heard?” Tony asks, turning around and slinging his arm over the back of the couch with a smile flirting on his lips.

“We picked up the pace getting in here when we heard Shuri shout Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba. I mean, I’ve seen a raccoon with a machine gun, so that would have just been something else to add to the Weird Shit I’ve Seen list.” You press your lips together hard to keep from laughing at Rhodey’s nonchalant attitude and suddenly, Bucky isn’t as pissy as before. Well, he is - but at his friends - not at you.

Shit.

It’s been three days. Three fucking days and he’s smitten.

“Goodnight,” He says gruffly before retreating down the hall.

He’s nearly in his room, so he doesn’t hear you ask if you’ve done something wrong.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

NOTE: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters. 

[PART 2]

[kimsgoeun]

❤ rhys/calliope

@kaceyrps​

❤  five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.

one. 

Her mother points it out early on. From the very moment she sees Rhys and Calliope, it’s an endless string of questions and comments about them. Are you together? You clearly like him. He obviously has feelings for you. On and on, and Calliope is always quick to shut it down. “We’re just friends, mother.” Of course Emily Evans doesn’t believe a word out of her daughter’s mouth. So it makes things all the more awkward when Rhys is there at the hospital for her and Poppy when her father has a heart attack and all Emily wants to talk about is her relationship with Rhys. Again. 

“I know you, Calliope. I know there’s something going on between the two of you. I’m not blind.” 

Arms wrapped over her chest, she shakes her head once more. “Then get your eyes checked, mother. Because like I said before. We’re just friends. Now can we please focus on dad and not the state of my non-existent love life?” 

Her mother huffs, relenting for once over and turns to head back towards Richard’s room. Though Calliope should’ve expected the last remark she’d have to make just to be the last one to talk. “I cannot believe you’re in love with a man who owns a diner, Calliope. Might as well pick up a hitchhiker on the way back home too while you’re at it.” 

Calliope takes in a deep breath and holds her tongue. Rhys and she are just friends. That’s all. She doesn’t understand why she keeps having to say it.  

two. 

She stares at Rhys for a few seconds too long and Poppy points it out. “Don’t even think about it.” Her gaze flies towards her daughter, a question on her lips. “What are you talking about. He looks nice. Can’t I notice Rhys looks nice today?” Even before she finishes her questions, she knows the answer her daughter will give her. A big old N-O is given to her in response and Calliope tries not to prickle in defense at it. Before she can even make a retort, her daughter goes into a spiel about how if she even thought about Rhys in that way, things would be different. “Where would we get our coffee if things go badly? What about the town? You can’t do that to Rhys.”

The concerns are valid, but still it rubs her the wrong way. Sipping her coffee, she uses that as her way to hide the frown that form on her lips. It isn’t as if she had just declared her love for the man. But somehow saying he looks good today means she’s opening up a can of worms that no one’s ready for. Poppy nudges her, checking in most likely, and she sighs in return. “Fine. I promise to only say insulting things regarding him. Happy?” It earns an eye roll from her daughter, but the conversation seems to have ended which is a relief to her. Poppy goes on to tell her a story and Calliope tries to listen and drink her coffee without her gaze wandering towards Rhys.

three. 

Every time she reels Rhys into one of her stupid plans, she feels accomplished. Angrily he rants about how ridiculous this whole thing is and how he cannot believe how he got himself into this mess because of her. For a second it occurs to her to feel bad about it -- though how is it her fault that the the inn’s kitchen is out of commission and they needed a replacement kitchen for a the day? -- but every solution to her problems always seem to involve Rhys. 

Calliope places a hand on his arm and he pauses. Maybe she did feel the slightest bit bad about kicking him out of his diner’s kitchen and letting Sookie take over. “Rhys. Just say the word and we’ll leave.”

He grumbles for a second and she can’t say she’d blame him if he did ask them to leave so a million staff and customers weren’t hounding him for ingredients and food. But instead he tells her that they can stay and relief and a smile crosses over her face. 

“You are an angel and I definitely owe you one,” she exclaims. Something akin to a softened expression is on his face, but he’s quick to mask it with one of his Rhys' ‘whatever it’s no bother’ remarks. She squeezes his arm and would’ve considered kissing his cheek if things weren’t so so hectic because of her inn guests. 

She has no idea what she’d do if she didn’t have Rhys as her friend to depend on. 

four. 

“Well I was thinking that since you’re here already that maybe you can stay and eat with us. Poppy said she’d be happy to have you join and you know Sookie and Jackson will provide plenty of entertainment,” she chuckles. 

He shakes his head regretfully. “I can’t. I got plans with Rachel, so I got to get back.” 

She fights the swell of disappointment from her chest and hopes it doesn’t show on his face. “Oh, right. Of course you do. It is a Friday night after all.” 

It’s still weird seeing Rhys with Rachel around the diner. It wasn’t to say she didn’t like Rachel, because she did, but she feels as if she needs to rethink every interaction she has with him so she’s not overstepping boundaries. But sometimes it’s easy to forget, especially since she feels like she’s known Rhys longer than this mysterious relationship she hadn’t even known about until a few months ago.

“Sorry about that. Tell Poppy I say hi though.” 

A forced smile makes it way onto her face and now it’s her turn to shake her head. “No, it’s fine. Another time, maybe. Have fun with Rachel.” 

Calliope waves goodbye and watches him go. It isn’t until he turns away that the smile slips from her face. She tries not to think about the reason why exactly the idea of Rhys leaving to hang out with his girlfriend upsets her. 

five. 

Calliope rubs at her eyes, wishing her sniffling would magically stop. It’s bad enough that she’s upset, but to be upset and in front of Rhys while it’s happening feels absolutely pathetic. 

“I’m sorry. I know I’m weirding you out or something and I know I shouldn’t be complaining when the whole you and Rachel thing just ended...” Mentally she slaps herself in the forehead when she realizes what she’s said. Great, bring up the break-up and make it all the more pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. She utters out another sheepish apology, sniffling again. 

There’s a pause before he says something. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You pointing it out it’s weird makes it weird,” he says in an attempted half joke. But it works and she lets out a muffled laugh. 

She sucks in a deep breath and lifts her head away from his shoulder, but the hand on her back remains. There’s comfort in the way he continues to rub circles into her shoulder blade and she focuses on that and her breathing to try and calm down. “I feel like I’m never gonna have it. The whole package, you know? That person, that couple life. And I swear, I hate admitting it because I fancy myself Wonder Woman but... I really want it. The whole package.” 

Another pause. Another breath. Rhys finally speaks, still trying to comfort her “You’ll get it.”

She meets his eye, brushing another tear off of her face. “How do you know?” 

“Because I know, okay? I know.” 

The pair stare at each other and now her heart bumps in her chest for an entirely different reason. He rubs her back another second and then whatever tension between them dissipates like magic when he shifts back from her. 

Her gaze falters from him for a second before meeting it once more. A small smile is on her lips. “Thanks, Rhys.” 

six. 

She’s tucked against Rhys’ side, his arm curled around her. An easy smile is on her face and she presses a kiss to his chest that causes him to stir from his sleep. “Good morning,” she murmurs happily as his eyes open and finds her staring up at him. 

“It’s creepy to watch people sleep,” he says, earning an eye roll from Calliope. Such a spoil sport, she wants to say jokingly. But to make up for it, he leans towards her and presses a kiss to her temple. A flutter of butterflies go off in her chest when he does. Happiness is the only word that can be used to describe how she feels in this situation. 

Happy and comfortable. It feels nearly perfect, and even throwing out that word doesn’t freak her out the way it usually did in relationships. 

“It’s romantic. Shut up.” She feigns a glare and throws her arm around his waist, hiding her face in his chest. Peeking up at him, Calliope catches the smirk on his face. It hits her then what feeling that was lodged in her chest. 

I’m in love with Rhys.