#I tried to match the flowers to the characters but I’m still unsure of my decisions

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 4

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here and chapter 3 here

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

The following week, Azriel read Elain’s messages too many times to admit. He had answered her that “meat banjo” was, indeed, a vile word, and after that, they hadn’t really talked or texted.

He had saved her number as “Elain”, which had felt weirdly private. As if they were friends, which they were not. He was just her friendly helper, and she was his remedy for nightmares.

However, even though they didn’t know each other, Azriel felt an odd sensation in his chest when he thought about her. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was missing her, which was absurd. But the tight little knot in his chest felt very much like longing. He tried to tell himself that this was weird and stupid. He knew that he had a crush on her (even though he hated to admit it), but he could also see that it was a pointless crush. She was an internet sensation, he was a boring IT guy. She was light and happiness and flowers, he was dark and brooding. She made people smile, he made people uncomfortable. And then there was the practical side of things. They had met on the internet. She probably lived on the other side of the country. Hell, she could even live in a different country for all he knew. She might have a partner already - it’s not like he asked. And, last but not least, she probably didn’t have a crush on him.

Before talking to her on the phone, he had just thought that she was a pretty girl that deserved kindness. But after their phone call, he had definitely developed a crush. Which was another reason why he hadn’t texted her. He didn’t want to bother her and he didn’t want to have this crush. He wanted to stop feeling like this for a girl he would never see in real life. Yet, every night before bed, he found himself on her youtube page, watching one of her many videos.

She uploaded a new video to Youtube every Friday, so when Friday came around, Azriel was itching to get home so he could go to sleep (he told himself that he was looking forward to sleeping and not to seeing her face).

However, he had an entire workday to get through first. The office was mostly an open landscape and Azriel’s desk was next to Cassian’s. The only person with his own office was Rhysand, which was fair since he was the owner of the company. At two in the afternoon, Rhys poked his head out of his office.

“You guys are still coming for dinner this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Azriel and Cassian answered in unison.

“I told Feyre that I would help her with the food,” Azriel continued.

Rhys looked like he was going to kiss Azriel. “Oh, god. Thank you, man. I was scared that we would have to repeat the Christmas dinner,” he said and shuddered.

Feyre hated to cook and Rhys did most of the cooking at home, but for some inexplicable reason, she always wanted to cook for holidays or family dinners. To everyone’s dismay. Christmas had been no exception. She had burned the turkey, added salt instead of sugar to the dessert and somehow managed to buy the wrong berries for her cranberry sauce. Luckily, Rhys had been prepared and bought a few frozen pizzas and some ice cream, so the day wasn’t that much of a disaster, but nobody wanted to brave Feyre’s cooking again.

“Why don’t you just cook?” Cassian asked without looking up from his screen.

“You know that she kicks me out if I so much as go near the kitchen when we have these family dinners. And since she started the hormone treatment, she has been a bit bitchy when she gets mad, so I’ll just do whatever she says.”

Azriel chuckled. He could tell from Rhysand’s tone that Feyre had been more than “a bit” bitchy.

“I don’t understand why she lets Azriel help, though…”

“Maybe because she knows that I’ll tell her to sit down with a glass of wine and a magazine, and then she can take all of the credit for the food?”

“Fair enough.” Rhys shrugged. “Just burn the food a little bit, or it won’t be believable.”

Cassian snorted. “No one would believe that something edible was made by your wife. Sorry.”

“She does make a great green smoothie, though,” Rhys grinned and held up his glass.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other and had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. The smoothie looked vile and smelled even worse.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Rhys went back to his office for an important phone call. “See you on Saturday,” he reminded them before closing the door.

Azriel and Cassian worked in silence for the remainder of the day.

When Azriel came home that evening, he made a quick pasta carbonara to eat in front of the TV. He was re-watching New Girl. It was his comfort show and absolutely nobody knew that he watched it (and had watched it multiple times). He would take that information with him to the grave. But it was fun and cute and sometimes he liked to imagine his friends as characters in the show. Cassian was probably Schmidt, because Nesta was one hundred percent Cece. Feyre was Jess, which meant that Rhys was Nick. And then there was Azriel. He wanted to say that he was a very cool character, but most characters on this show weren’t cool, and also, he was definitely Winston. Alone with a cat - sounds about right , Azriel thought to himself as he finished his bowl of pasta.

When the episode ended he just waited for the next to start. He didn’t have any plans for the night and nowhere to be. His phone vibrated where he had left it on the kitchen counter. He ignored it, feeling too lazy to get up. But then it vibrated again. With a sigh, he got up. He expected to see a text from Mor telling him to bring wine tomorrow, or maybe a strange meme from Cassian. What he didn’t expect was to see Elain’s name on his screen.

He could feel his heart in his throat as he read her messages.

Elain Hey, Shadowsinger. I’m uploading a new video soon. You should watch it!

Elain I hope that message didn’t sound creepy? I just meant that I think you might like it.

Azriel’s hands were sweaty.

Azriel You didn’t sound creepy at all. Of course, I’ll watch your video. May I ask what I can expect from it?

Just seconds later, Elain answered.

Elain You can ask, but I might not tell ;)

Azriel Should I be worried?

Elain Haha, no! I think it turned out great. You were my inspiration :)

Azriel could feel himself blush. He had never been someone’s inspiration before.

Azriel So, I’m your muse? ;)

Oh god, was that too flirty? Was the winky-face too much? He wished that he could take back the message.

Elain For tonight, yes!

Azriel stared at his phone, unsure of what to answer. Luckily, Elain wrote to him again.

Elain What are you doing tonight?

Azriel Nothing. Just eating pasta and watching TV. How about you?

Elain That sounds amazing. I have been editing this video for hours so I’m just tired and cranky, haha. I have just ordered a pizza and I think I’ll just eat it in bed as soon as this video has finished uploading. What did you watch?

Azriel If I told you, I would have to kill you.

Elain Oh, intriguing! Is it trashy drama? I bet it’s Grey’s anatomy! Or maybe… Love Island?

Azriel stared at his phone. Did she really think that he would watch something like Love Island?

Azriel I watched New Girl, okay. Don’t tell anyone.

Elain Your secret is safe with me! Also, I love New Girl! Especially Winston!

It felt as if someone was squeezing Azriel’s heart.

Azriel Really? Which character would you be?

Elain My pizza is here so I am going to put all of my electronics in a different room and eat my pizza while reading a good book. It was great talking to you, Azriel! Please tell me what you thought of the video when you have watched it.

Elain Oh, and I would probably be Winston’s cat. lol

Azriel almost dropped his phone. If he had to be alone with a cat for the rest of his life, he would definitely want Elain to be his cat , he thought to himself. Which was a weird thing to think about someone you didn’t know. Azriel dropped his head to his kitchen counter and took a deep breath before replying.

Azriel It was great talking to you too, Elain. Enjoy your dinner and your book :)

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Azriel was going to be thinking about her for the rest of the night anyway.

30 minutes later, he got a notification telling him that Flower Girl ASMR had uploaded a new video. The video was called “ASMR for IT-guys”, which made him chuckle. He clicked the video and Elain’s beautiful face filled his screen again.

“Hello, my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered in her microphone. “This week’s video will be a bit different,” she continued, slowly moving her hands in front of the camera. “This video was inspired by my friend who recently helped me with some computer-related issues, issues, issues.”

Azriel loved it when she repeated words like that. And he liked that he somehow was a part of this video. It was something that connected them. Azriel paused the video and got into bed, knowing fully well that he would probably fall asleep soon if he kept watching this.

He pressed play again. “So, today, I thought that we would try a few computer-related triggers. I have a keyboard here,” she said and started typing on a keyboard that was out of view. “I thought that I would say a few trigger words while typing them.”

She smiled at the camera and pressed a few more keys. “I just wrote my friend’s name, but you won’t get to know who he is. But you know who you are. Thank you for your help!”

Azriel felt all warm inside.

She continued the video. “The first trigger word is IP address ”. Azriel laughed as she repeated the word multiple times while typing quickly.

“And then we have, laptop, laptop, laptop,” she continued, and Azriel felt shivers go down his spine when she popped the p’s.

Azriel had never thought that he would fall asleep to someone whispering “HTML coding” in his ears, but here he was. Relaxed and ready to sleep.

All thanks to Flower Girl ASMR.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

The next day, Azriel texted Elain that he had loved the video. He waited for hours, but no reply came. Maybe she just wanted to repay me for helping her? Azriel thought. Maybe she would stop talking to him now that he had seen the video.

The thought of never talking to Elain again made him feel a new kind of ache in his chest. An ache he didn’t want to feel. This stupid crush needs to end, he muttered to himself as he started to scrub his kitchen counter. He tried to ignore the feeling by keeping busy. He cleaned his apartment and did some laundry before heading over to his friends’ house.

Rhys greeted him by the door and ushered him inside.

“She started cooking like 15 minutes ago, please save whatever can be saved,” he whispered to Azriel. Azriel chuckled and made his way to the kitchen. On the way there, he passed the living room and stopped to greet his friends. He saw most of them on a daily basis because of work, but he was still happy to see them. Cassian and his fiancée Nesta sat close together on one of the green velvet couches. On the opposite couch sat Mor and Amren. Mor was one of the journalists at Velaris News, and Amren was an editor. They had known each other for years. Amren and Rhys had studied together at university, and Mor was Rhysand’s cousin. Once upon a time, Azriel had a crush on Mor. One night after one too many glasses at Rita’s he confessed his feelings to her and she had looked horrified. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t fancy him and leave it at that, but instead, she had blurted “I like girls!”

Azriel was the first person she ever came out to, and he had felt honored. He also knew now that they wouldn’t have worked out together in the long run (even if Mor had been straight). They were just too different. She was energetic and outgoing and fun, he needed peace and quiet. But she was still one of his very best friends.

Amren on the other hand, he didn’t know as well. She had always been very private, but she was damn good at her job.

“Where’s Varian tonight?” Azriel asked Amren, trying to make small talk.

“How should I know?” she answered quickly. “I’m not his mother.”

Cassian stared at her. “But you are his girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like to label things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. Amren had lived with Varian for the past two years, but she was still reluctant to tell anyone about their relationship.

Azriel made his way into the kitchen, and from what he could tell, he made it just in time.

“What are you making, Feyre?” he asked, because truthfully, he couldn’t tell.

Feyre turned around quickly as if he had startled her. “Oh, hi Az,” she said and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Something was burning.

“I was trying to make lamb chops with glazed carrots, roasted potatoes, and salsa verde, but…” she gestured to the stove, which looked like a disaster.

Azriel chuckled. “That’s ambitious.” He lifted the lid from one of the pots and could clearly see that she had overcooked the lamb 10 minutes ago. Also, why had she made them in a pot, and not a frying pan? It would be inedible.

The potatoes were still in the sink, unpeeled.

She gave him a strained smile. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Azriel put the grocery bag he had brought with him on the kitchen island. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” She sounded desperate.

“Please, for the love of god, let Rhys cook when we come over. You really don’t have to show off. You are good at many things, Feyre. But cooking is unfortunately not one of them.”

She nodded. “I know,” she sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and buried her face in her hand. “I just...I need to be able to cook when I become a mother.”

Azriel took her hand in his. “You really don’t. Nobody expect fathers to be good at cooking, so why should every mother be good at it? Honestly, just let Rhys cook while you play with the kids.”

She smiled at him. “That actually sounds amazing,” she sighed.

“Right?”

Azriel started to pull out some ingredients from the bag on the kitchen island. He held up the tomatoes and the spaghetti, “How about some pasta arrabbiata with burrata?”

“Sounds fancy.”

He shrugged. “Everything sounds fancier in a different language. It’s just pasta with a spicy tomato sauce, and burrata on top.”

“Whatever you make will probably be better than that mess,” she said and glanced towards the stove. Azriel couldn’t disagree.

“Probably,” he laughed and got to work. Azriel placed all the pots and pans in the sink and started chopping the vegetables for the sauce, and in just 30 minutes, dinner was served.

“You are my hero,” Feyre said and kissed his cheek as she carried the big bowl of pasta to the dining room.

Everyone had already gathered around the table, wine glasses in hand. As Azriel sat down, Mor poured him some wine.

“This looks amazing,” Nesta said and Cassian nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Az helped a little,” Feyre said and winked at Azriel.

“Just a bit,” Azriel said and took a sip of wine.

The conversation (and wine) flowed freely, as it always did. Cassian and Nesta told them about their wedding plans, Mor gushed about Emerie, a girl she was dating, and Feyre told them about life as a high school art teacher. Azriel would never understand how anyone could choose to spend their days with teenagers, but Feyre loved it.

After two bottles of wine, Nesta and Mor were in an argument about which animal was the cutest.

“No, I am telling you, Sloths are cuter than any animal ever,” Mor exclaimed. “Have you seen their dopey little faces?”

“Sloths? Really?” Nesta looked at her as if she had suggested that the sky was green. “Red pandas are way cuter! They are cute and cuddly, Sloths just look like every single stoner I went to high school with.”

They had been at it for 10 minutes, which Azriel found to be quite impressive.

“Can you both just shut up?” Amren gritted out. “The cutest animals are koalas. They’re even cute when they fight. I am right, you are wrong. Please stop this meaningless discussion before I die from boredom.”

Nesta and Mor looked at Amren, and then at each other.

“We obviously have to see Koalas fight if you want us to end this conversation,” Mor said.

Nesta nodded. “Obviously. Give me your phone, Az,” she said and reached for his phone.

“Why do you need my phone?”

“Because mine is dead and yours is right there on the table. Also, your screen is big and we need to watch this in full HD, for obvious reasons.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, unlocked his phone, and handed it to Nesta.

She clicked the Youtube app, and then her face fell. She looked at Azriel as if he was an alien, and then she showed the phone to Cassian who looked at him with the same facial expression.

What the hell had they found?

He didn’t have anything weird on his phone. And he sure as hell didn’t watch porn on it.

“What?” Azriel asked, and Nesta turned the phone.

Fuck. The last video he had watched was still loaded on Youtube, and of course, it was Elain’s latest video.

“What the hell is this?” Nesta asked, almost looking angry.

Azriel didn’t understand why she found ASMR so wrong, but he desperately wanted to explain himself.

“Well, it’s ASMR. It’s kind of… well, it’s hard to explain, but it helps me sleep and– “

Nesta interrupted him before he could finish. “I know what ASMR is. I am wondering why you are watching Elain?”

Azriel stared at Nesta in shock. Did she also like Elain’s videos? But that wouldn’t explain the anger and confusion.

“Do you...know her?” Azriel asked.

“Yes, we went to university together. She’s our florist for the wedding. She was the florist at their wedding, too,” Nesta answered and gestured towards Rhys and Feyre. “Surely you have met her?”

Azriel could do nothing but shake his head in confusion. If he had ever met Elain, he would have known. You didn’t forget a face like hers.

“Please tell me you’re not stalking her like some creep, Az. Honestly, her last boyfriend was the world’s biggest asshat.”

“I’m not stalking her,” Azriel blurted out. “I’m just watching her videos to fall asleep, I promise. I– I didn’t know that you knew her.”

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “So, is this just a coincidence?”

He nodded. “Weirder things have happened,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta glanced at Cassian, and then back at Azriel. “Fine,” she said after a small eternity. “You would probably be cute together anyway. Sorry for insinuating that you would be a stalker.” She really did look remorseful. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just very protective of her. She’s the nicest girl, but she has horrendous taste in men.”

Azriel couldn’t answer, because his mind was still stuck on the fact that Nesta said that they would be cute together. He wanted to ask Nesta why she thought that. He kind of also wanted to ask her if Elain lived here in Velaris, and what her favorite movie was, and if she, by any chance, had a boyfriend. But he refrained, he didn’t want to sound like a stalker.

“So, what the fuck is ASMR?” Cassian asked. “Is it like porn?”

Before Azriel could answer, Rhys said “It’s like porn for your ears, I guess,” and then the entire table was laughing.

“Nesta,” Feyre said when the laughter had died down. “Does Elain still have that cute, little shop on River Street?”

“Mhm,” Nesta answered and took a sip of her wine.

Azriel could kiss Feyre for asking. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could see her wink in his direction before raising her water glass to her lips.

Azriel walked home that evening with a million thoughts in his head.

He made a list in his head:

Elain lived in Velaris

River Street was literally a 10-minute walk from his home.

Nesta thought that they would be cute together

This meant nothing

She probably didn’t even like him back

Just because they were in the same city, it didn’t mean that they would ever meet.

This was still just a crush

And it was probably one-sided

She hadn’t even answered his latest text message.

And as if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Elain I’m sorry that I didn’t answer you earlier. I’ve been at work all day. We had a leak in the basement and everything was just chaos. I haven’t even checked my phone until now.

He mentally scratched number 9 from his list.

Azriel No worries! Did you fix the leak?

Azriel checked the time on his phone: 23.30

Had she dealt with this leak until now?

Elain Yes! But so many flowers were ruined (I’m a florist) and I had to remake a few arrangements for a wedding that’s coming up.

Elain I’m sorry. You probably don’t care. I’m happy that you liked the video :)

Azriel wanted to tell her that he did care. That everything she said was interesting to him. He would probably even find her Starbucks order fascinating. But that bordered on stalker behavior.

Azriel Again, no worries! Sometimes when you’ve had a bad day, you just need someone to vent to.

Elain Exactly! Thank you for letting me vent :) This day is finally over!

There was a selfie attached to the last message.

Elain was standing in front of a big window surrounded by flowers. She was wearing a white, oversized shirt and her hair was in a messy bun. She looked tired but happy. She was giving him ‘thumbs up’ in the photo and through the window, he could see the Sidra. They were indeed in the same city. It made him both happy and nervous.

Elain Sweaty but happy to be heading home :)

Azriel received that last message when he walked through the door to his apartment. What the hell was he supposed to answer?

But then he thought back to Nesta’s words.

You would probably be cute together.

So he took a deep breath and gathered all his courage.

Azriel You still look beautiful though

He stared at his phone. Would she answer? Would she block him? Would she tell him to stop being a creep?

Elain Thank you :) What do you look like? I might have forgotten ;)

Okay. That was flirty. Even Azriel could tell that that was a flirty text message, and he was usually oblivious to such things. He quickly walked to his bathroom (it was the room with the best lighting). He checked his shirt (no stains) and mussed with his hair.

“Good enough,” he muttered, and snapped a selfie.

Before he could chicken out, he sent it to her.

Within seconds, he received a reply.

Elain Beautiful!

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 11 - Friends

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Fluff

Summary: You convince Gojo to make up with your best friend and memories from the past come up. 

A/N: A wild ex-boyfriend appears! I am finally introducing the character and getting into some backstory. I got some smutty chapters coming up, which I am excited to share because I do love writing sexy Gojo X comments are always appreciated! 

- - - 

( Three Years Ago)

You cleared the plates in front of you as you made your way back to your kitchen. You packed the meal that you had taken the time to meticulously prepare, including the expensive steaks you bought this morning and the vegetables that you hand picked at the farmer’s market. As you opened the fridge to put away the items, you saw the row of vanilla cupcakes placed neatly on a pan, your shaky handwriting spread across each one that read “ Five Years ” with red hearts decorated on the extras. Suddenly, it all seemed silly how you took the time to prepare a surprise anniversary dinner for your boyfriend. You’ve both been together for so long but you still insisted on making every occasion special.

After you tidied up your dining table, you picked up the wine glass you have been nursing for the last hour and made your way over to your bedroom, where you sat on the chair next to your vanity. You removed the earrings that your boyfriend had bought you for your birthday, your favorite pair because they matched beautifully against your skin, and safely tucked them away in your jewelry box. You were disappointed that you made such a big deal out of tonight, feeling like a sentimental fool as you took a sip of your drink. Haru has been so preoccupied with work lately and the pressure of being in a highly competitive field was getting to him. Of course with the way things have been he wouldn’t remember that tonight was your anniversary dinner. You were trying to be mature about it but you couldn’t ignore that you were hurt. You glanced at your phone, reading 10:45 on the clock before finally giving up on the hope that he would show up.

You removed the dress you were wearing, a bold shade of orange that accentuated your body in all the right places - a dress that he bought you while you both went on a summer trip to Okinawa a few years ago. You changed into something a little more comfortable, throwing on a tank top and some loose lounge pants instead.

You heard your phone ping, a message popping up on the screen from Gojo.

Gojo : How did the dinner go?

You sighed to yourself, before plopping down onto your mattress. You tapped away at the keyboard, erasing each message a few times as you were unsure whether you wanted to vent or give him a brief explanation.

You : It didn’t…I think he’s still at work :(

Gojo : That sucks :\ Well, if you have any leftover cupcakes, I will gladly take them off your hands.

You: Nice try, idiot.

Gojo: I didn’t hear you say I couldn’t have any :)

When you didn’t respond to his message, Gojo followed up with another text that read:

Gojo: You okay?

You: I’m fine, I was just looking forward to tonight. I’ll get over myself. Tell me about your night, you can keep me preoccupied from my disappointment lol

Gojo merely responded with some eye emojis, a cheeky indication as to what he has been up to this evening.

You: At least one of us got some action...what’s her name?

Gojo: No idea, I was too distracted by her legs to care.  

You merely rolled your eyes at his comment.

You: It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?

Gojo: I’m a simple guy, really…

You: …

Gojo: …

You: In WHAT universe?!

Gojo : Pshh, so mean to me all the time :(

You: With reason :)

You smiled when you sent that last text, grateful that Gojo came in at the right time with a distraction. You tried your best not to dwell on the dismal way your evening ended and instead continued to list off the many reasons why the word “simple” and “Gojo Satoru” did not go hand and hand with each other. Your conversation made time fly but that was usually the case whenever you spoke with your friend.

You were so lost in the playfully heated debate you were having, you barely heard the knock coming from your front door.

You abandoned your conversation to see who it was, surprised to find a massive bouquet of flowers greeting you on the other side.

“What…”

Haru peaked from behind the flowers, his sweet smile spreading as he looked at you with sad eyes.

“Happy anniversary!” he chirped, but you could hear the anxiousness in his tone. “ I know I’m late, I know I missed dinner…”

A deep sigh escaped him, as he slightly slumped his shoulders, extending both his hands out to you to pass the bouquet.

“I know this is a meaningless gift in comparison to whatever amazing thing you prepared, I know my efforts don’t even come close to yours, you always put so much care into everything you do. By the time I knew I was late, I was running around the city like a mad man hoping that someone, anyone, would be kind enough to open their shop for me so I would at least not come back empty handed…”

“Haru, take a breath…” you replied, hearing how quickly he was blurting out his words, something he usually did when he was nervous.

You took the bouquet from his hands, admiring the selected assortment of your favorite florals, all picked out by your boyfriend. You traced your fingers along each petal, some a little bruised and you could tell that these flowers were from  the leftovers of the day.

Haru approached you, cupping your face in his hands as he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips.

“I’m so sorry . None of my excuses justify missing dinner tonight. I swear I am going to make it up to you…”

You tried to calm him down, running your fingers through his light brown hair and taking in every word he said as you remained focused on his hazel eyes. Your heart flutters thinking of him galavanting around the city in his disheveled work suit trying to knock on every florists’ door, a funny anecdote you will surely use against him in the future.  

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” You teased, noticing the way his brow raised at your question.

He pulled you closer into him, planting kisses along your neck before he brushed his lips against your ear to say, “I’m taking the weekend off, how does a nice trip to Hakone sound?”

“ Mmm, ideal… ” you replied, clutching the bouquet of flowers as he hugged you, “but if you keep holding me close, you’re going to ruin this lovely gift you bought me…”

“Then I’ll buy you another, and another, and another ...until I’ve given you enough flowers so that you can plant an entire garden,” he kissed you again, his fingers stroking the back of your neck as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry, baby…” he repeated, his voice wavering slightly from his second apology.

“It’s okay, work comes first. I know you have been busy and probably should have planned our evening with you instead of surprising you. But you’re here now and that's what matters.”

He nodded his head, finally untangling himself from your arms, relieved that you seemed to have forgiven him.

“ I love you so much.”

“ I love you too, Haru .”

You gave him a small smile, tilting your head towards the direction of your kitchen, “It might be too late for dinner but I baked you some cupcakes if you’re up for a little snack…”

Haru removed his blazer, carefully hanging it over his elbow before undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. He held your hand, following your footsteps as you led him into the direction of your kitchen.

“ I can’t wait to try them. ”

( Present)

“ You brought me here under false pretences …” Gojo grumbled, holding himself back as you tugged on his jacket.

It’s been four months since the two of you started hooking up and weeks since he and Rina have even spoken to one another.

After Gojo confessed that she knew about your relationship, you managed to find the time to sit down with your best friend for a heart to heart. The two of you had a ritual which included locking yourselves up in a room with snacks  and drinks until you came to resolve whatever conflict you were dealing with.

“I just don’t understand why you kept this from me,” Rina explained, before taking a sip of the mixed cocktail you both made.

“ You’ve been so overprotective ever since Haru and I broke up…it’s hard for me to talk to you because you start analyzing every little thing I do. Like when I told you I wanted to stop dating for a while, you kept insisting that I was making a mistake because I was running scared…”

“I also know you’re a hopeless romantic, and a few bad dates weren’t fitting this idealised version you have of love…” Rina pressed, “You got lucky with Haru, but diving back into the game takes time and work…”

“I know I was lucky. I know it’s not usual for the first guy you meet to be so… good ,” you replied, that word tasting bitter in your mouth, “But you keep pressuring me into something I am not ready for…”

“That’s not true!”

“Rina, you would take me out on “surprise” double dates when the two of us were just supposed to just be hanging out together. Whenever I talk about Haru, you shut down and change the subject immediately. I can’t even have a night out together without you herding every single eligible male and asking me my opinion…”

Rina sighed, “it sounds way worse when you say it out loud...”

“It’s like you can’t stand that I’m just… a little broken . I let Haru become a part of who I am for five years and losing him feels like I lost a part of me, and I am struggling trying to get that person back. You want me to be okay so badly it’s stopping me from opening up to you…”

Rina inched her way closer as the two of you sat side by side. A sigh escaped her before she spoke, “I’m not good at this…I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I just can’t stand seeing you so hurt. I know that he took a piece of your happiness and I am so angry that he did. I hate that he betrayed your trust, but more so that you haven’t been able to be yourself without him…”

She squeezed your shoulder before giving you a gentle reminder, “but he never defined you. You’re attaching yourself to the love you had for him. And you will find somebody else, somebody better …”

“Maybe but I can’t see myself falling in love again…at least not anytime soon…”

Rina rested her head on your elbow, “I don’t want you to ever think you can’t speak to me…we’ve lasted way longer than all the exes that have walked in and out of our lives…”

You were happy to mend this small fracture, one of the many that has tried to hinder your friendship.

You eventually explained your little arrangement with Gojo, watching Rina’s reaction closely and trying to pull the truth of what she  exactly  said to him.

“I may have thought you were dating, like seriously dating, and told him he wasn’t good enough for you. I am glad to know that you are not. We don’t need to trade one man whore for another…”

You laughed, “Gojo has always made it clear that he has no desire to commit to anyone. I’m not worried. Besides, we can stop our arrangement anytime we are over it.”

“Sooo, when might that be?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “right now, I’m having fun and I think he is too…”

Rina hummed, you could tell she was thinking about something but whatever ran through her mind in that moment she chose to keep to herself.

Even though you and Rina smoothed things over, you realised that neither she or Gojo tried to make an effort to speak to one another. He was avoiding her at all costs while she chose to ignore  the subject entirely. You still had no idea what was said that set those two off but you were over this cold game they were playing.

“Between your inability to handle any confrontation and her stubborn attitude, you two are going to drag this on for way longer than it needs to be…” you lectured.

You paused when you arrived at her store, staring up at Gojo with pleading eyes. “I don’t like being the reason why you two aren’t speaking… please just talk to her…”

Gojo whined, “throw it on my conscience instead, that way you have no reason to feel guilty…”

You furrowed your brows before letting go of him, but a thought passed your mind which gave you an idea, “Remember that thing you brought up the other night? Your little roleplaying idea…”

Gojo arched his brows from underneath his blindfold, surprised that you were even bringing this up. “ Yes… ”

You smirked, stepping closer to him without actually touching him at all. “If you do this for me then I'll happily return the favor…”

His eyes widened, his heart racing slightly as a wave of excitement rushed through him.

You could see he was contemplating your offer, finally scoffing in defeat. “You know saying no to you was a lot easier when you weren’t bribing me with sex…” he grumbled, as he begrudgingly walked passed you.

“You did tell me once that you were a man of simple taste…”

“And I vividly remember you disagreeing with me.”

“Thank you!” You called out watching him reach the handle of the entrance door.

“Just know I am expecting you to hold up your end of the deal,” he replied before making his way inside.

***

Gojo sat at the counter, the awkward silence hung heavy in the air as Rina waited for him to break the tension. When that didn’t happen, she sighed to herself before storming to the backroom of her shop.

Gojo waited for her return, his eyes widening when she finally reappeared with something in her hands.

“ I’m sorry for how I spoke to you,” she said, bowing in his direction and handing him some treats.

“Aww, Rina-chan, how did you know kikufuku was my favorite?” Gojo questioned, his tone softening his sweet words as he held the packet between his fingers.

“I heard it through the grapevine…”

Gojo couldn’t hide his pleasured grin.

You were always so considerate of everyone, going above and beyond to make them happy and paying close attention to the things they liked the most. You must have already spoken to Rina before he came here, playing the role of matchmaker between friends.

Rina definitely noticed his response.

“Thank you,” he replied as he opened up the packet, “I know your anger was coming from a protective place. I don’t fault you for it. Besides, you and I can happily agree on one thing…”

“What’s that?”

Gojo smirked, “she’s too good for me…”

Rina swallowed hard, mainly because of how sincere that statement actually sounded.

“I care about her…”

Gojo hummed to himself, taking a bite of the sweet snack. “And you think I don’t?”

“Can I be honest?”

“ Please. ”

“I am not questioning your care for her, I am questioning what your intentions are. I won’t apologize for not trusting you.  You promised me after she broke up with Haru that you wouldn’t make a move on her but here we are now…”

“I kept my promise.”

“You found a loophole…”

“It’s been three years…she’s allowed to move on.”

“Yes she is…”

“You know, I was surprised by how angry you got at her for keeping us a secret, especially since we both know that there are plenty of things you’re hiding from her right now. Then I started thinking that it wasn’t the secret that was bothering you, you just don’t want her moving on with me…”

Rina averted her gaze, completely surprised by how easily Gojo read her.

“Like I said, I don’t trust you…”

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter, “What did Haru tell you exactly?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I just want to know if you’re still adamant on convincing yourself that I am the bad guy or if you would like to know what actually happened between us…”

*** 

CHAPTER 12 - MUSE

[waywardimpalawriter]

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

With Marcus Pike? Maybe BFFs to lovers because I want it to end happy? Thank you 🙏

Love of his life

Pairing: Marcus Pike x best friend!Female Reader

Characters: Marcus Pike,

Setting: five years after the last episode Marcus was in.

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: 2,774

Summary: Conversation overheard leads to feelings of regret at the chance not taken. Will he take that risk and go for who he wants or let it slide away just like the past?

Word count:

Notes: Written for the lovely @hnt-escape asking for the prompt “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” Will be in bold in the story. I hope you enjoy sweetie.

Tag List:

Forever tags: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Pedro Pascal tags: @evyiione

Staring into the caramel colored liquid ceramic mug warming your hands, thoughts clouded by a certain brown eyed man and how to handle the feelings you’ve harbored since grade school.

“Trying to divine this weeks lotta numbers from you coffee sweetie?” Soothing southern accented voice breaks through the fog smile in the sweet lilt.

Head snapping up to look towards the blonde, grin firmly in place over her ruby lips, “I wish, would donate at least half to research the antiquities we have that no one’s cataloged yet.”

“Wow devoted,” chuckling, walking over to the Keurig k-cup spinner to pluck the last Colombian dark roast pod. “What or should I say who’s on that gorgeous your mind that’s got your brow furrowed deeper than the Mariana Trench?”

Not wishing to discuss your thoughts right now, you deflect to ask, “Those things waste so much Donna and bad for the environment. Why don’t you just buy the bulk grounds?”

“Great way to keep from answering the true question,” baby blues lock, sincerity written deep and meaningful. Knowing she’s only trying to help having confided many times your dilemma those feelings you’ve held on to for so long brings about. “I don’t know why you haven’t told him sugar I mean you came to DC…”

“For this job Donna, Marcus turned up later… not much later,” last few words muttered into cooling coffee you try to hide behind while taking a sip. “I didn’t upheave my life for a man,” not sure who you’re trying to convince more yourself or Donna.

Established in your position at the museum a month before Marcus’s transfer and at the time he’s heavily invested with one Teresa Lisbon. Memories flood through like film reel before your eyes. Of that very night he comes to you heartbroken bags in hand with no one beside him and no real place to go. Promising yourself to shove your feelings aside and help him get back on steady legs. Even letting him stay till his place became ready to move in.

Loud snort greets your ears, breaking you from memory lane. “You keep telling yourself that and while you’re at it keeping him friend zoned when your clearly in love with him does neither one of you any good. He ain’t gonna wait around forever sugar trust me on that one,” hurt coloring her tone speaking volumes of her own pain. She looks away to watch the final drops of coffee land in her mug. You know exactly why she’s not looking at your right now, the hurt she tries to hide behind the bubbly personality. Fixing her coffee up just the way she likes to hide her own pain she’s shared a few times.

“How,” licking your lips slowly, mug placed beside you on the counter to clasp your hands in front of you. “I’m not even sure how or where to start Donna. He’s my best friend knows me inside and out I don’t…”

“Do you love him?” Simple question with no easy answer as grey blue eyes land on and pierce you with their intensity.

“I…” wringing those hands her question chases thoughts around your head. Finally giving the heart answer, “I love him, just unsure if he loves me in the same way. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change the dynamics of our relationship and loose what we have for a what if.”

“Oh sweetheart I know it’s not easy to bank on what if’s but trust me when I say that man loves you in ways I’ve never seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Giving you a teasing wink then sobering, “Why do ya think I haven’t tried to snag him up myself?”

“Cause he’s not your type?” Joke sounding stupid to your own ears, glaze dropping to your shoes. “What if… what if I’m not his type? I mean you’ve seen the women he’s gone out with before. I’m hardly in the same league.”

“No your in a league of your own sugar.” Head nodding in understanding Donna comes over resting a hand on your bicep giving a gentle squeeze. “Compensating maybe even trying to replace the one he truly wants sweetheart. Don’t let a good man slip away especially since you love him.”

“I do, he’s,” head shaking at a loss for words to describe Marcus. “Amazing and sweet, the kind of man that’s so easy to love and care for. I’m lost truly without him.” Happy tears blur your vision for a moment thinking about him. How he’s always at your side just when you need him without notice at times. Sixth sense when you need those late night pancakes from the best diner in town. Watching old movies after a crappy break up, snuggled together with popcorn and beer, snacks of all kinds. Snap shot of his face filters across your vision, “I’m gonna tell him in fact,” glancing down at your watch finding end of day fast approaching. “Would you close down for me Donna I need to tell him now before loosing my nerve.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice sugar go get your man,” nodding towards the doorway you start for, coffee long forgotten in favor of someone more sweeter. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“There’s things you wouldn’t do?” Cheeky grin highlighting your features, the sound of crinkling plastic reaching your ears so you look down. Frown replacing the smile at finding a small bouquet of blue tipped carnations laying on the ground. Bending to scoop up the beautiful flowers knowing only one man would’ve brought these. “Shit,” curse flying from your mouth while your feet start to eat up the distance towards the back doors bouquet held firmly in your grasp.

Missing Donna yelling about your keys and belongings, to not forget about the storm rumbling in the background. Wide smile forming watching you go hoping you’ll catch Marcus just in time.

While you pray with each step taken you’ll catch him in time to explain. Thoughts running rampant wondering what he heard and didn’t. If the reason for the dropped flowers has to do with the fact he thinks you love someone else. That last thought spurs you on into a run, thankful for the flats you wore today instead of customary heels you normally wear. Eating up the distance you burst through the back doors into a curtain of rain meeting your eyes as more curses fly from your lips. You pause eyes narrowing through the gloom looking for Marcus’s car, his back, hair surely plastered to against his head. Something to point you in the right direction. At the right moment a flash of lighting illuminating the darken skies, makes you jump but press on determined to find him. While stepping out into the pouring rain, clothes soaked through low rumblings of thunder taking your calls out for Marcus away with the howling wind.

Tears form and slide down cool cheeks, still franticly looking around but coming up empty till you catch the flash of grey out of your periphery. Whipping around you head in the direction calling out his name praying there’s a break in the rain so your voice carries to his ears.

And for a moment that one split second he catches a sound other than the storm raging around him. Sweet desperate voice calling out his name, giving him pause in dragging footsteps. Looking around but seeing nothing but the driving rain, drops soaking his suit and blurring his vision. Before turning to resume his path the voice calls out again, nearer and stronger than the last time.

His doubts cloud the mind, accusing him of hearing things the wind brings from other parts of the parking lot. Till a vision dressed in black slacks, creamy silk blouse, hair and clothes plasters to your body appears in front of him. Hand raised in the vain attempt to keep the rain from your face as you search for him.

Eyes lock surprised deep chocolate orbs meet the relief in yours, “You’re gonna get sick sweetheart go back inside.”

“No,” single word yelled out as you near Marcus, gripping his bicep and moving closer to speak into his ear. Warm breath making him shiver despite the cold rain trying to drown the both of you. “Why’d you leave?”

“Saw you busy didn’t want…” shaking your head Marcus swallows catching sight of the flowers in your free hand.

“You dropped these why?” Hurt lacing the tone in your voice as you bring the small plastic wrapped bundle up between you. “Thank you.”

Eyes dart between the flowers and your eyes unsure how to answer your question as so many of his own chase around his mind. Wanting the truth Marcus gather’s his courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

Confusion coats your veins, drawing up your brows with the same emotion till it clicks. “Yes, very much in fact you just doesn’t know it.”

“I’m done,” pain etched into his voice heart aching behind its prison of bone and flesh. Misunderstanding the look in your eyes and the words your spoke. “I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction. I just can’t do it anymore it’s so much worse than any of the other.” Taking two steps back from your touch that sears the skin under heavy suit jacket and starch white cotton dress shirt. Gaze dropping to concrete unable to look into your eyes a second longer knowing he’s lost the chance. Internally cursing himself for waiting so long, letting other’s in his heart when the one woman he’s wanted all along stood by him through all life’s ups and downs.

Frowning at the loss of touch, his words sinking in you step forward he matches with one back. “Marcus,” soft achingly tender voice reaches out towards him. Heard now the rain has slowed to light drizzle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you? Not as a brother or best friend, but in love with you.”

“What?” Single word choked off on a gasp, eyes reaching your smiling orbs trying to find the jest. Only seeing genuine love backed by worry and fear that he doesn’t truly have the same feelings. “You never told me.”

“You didn’t tell me either Pike so we’re kinda in the same boat,” carefully reaching out for his nearest hand tugging him back towards you. “So many times I’d try to tell you, to explain, to see if there’s a chance for us. Every time someone else got my shot. I gave up almost for good this time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moving closer, warm palm coming up to cup your cheek from apple to jawline. Thump brushing slowly over soft delicate skin drowning in your eyes as you rubbing your cheek into his large palm. “Never would’ve guess you felt the same way.”

Not sure how to answer the first question, so you joke instead. “Not only good at picking out a fake piece of art but putting on a good show.” Trying to infuse a little lightheartedness into the tense moment. “Gonna call Oscar see if they’ll give me one of those little golden guys for my performance. Not Ingrid Bergman worthy but I can hold my own,” nervous little laugh leaving your lips that Marcus brushes his thumb over the bottom lip. Stuck dumb by the action breath shallow before held while trying to depict the emotions running through those sweet brown eyes. “Say some Marcus.”

The tremor in your voice shakes the shocked cobwebs from his mind to focus his thoughts. Picking up that you haven’t answered his first question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Which time?” Breathy sigh leaving your mouth as you try to gather the right words. “Not to mention your my best friend Marcus I didn’t want to fuck that up especially if you didn’t feel the same way,” taking a breath fresh rain mixes with the warm subtle cologne Marcus wears. “Couldn’t risk loosing you and changing our relationship for a what if.”

“And now?” Cupping the other side of your face, keeping your chin tilted upward, eyes searching the depths of yours. Finding the peace he’s missed out on with everyone who came before. Home written in your embrace, sweet light flora scent wrapping around his senses reminding him of just who he needs.

Swallowing, pink tongue coming out to wet your lips, a path he follows with rapt attention. “I recently became enlightened by a good friend reminding me sometimes you need to take those chances.” Both arms wrap around his neck, flowers still clutched tightly, free hand carding through rain soaked strands at the back of his head. Blunt nails scratching gently over Marcus’s neck receiving a shiver that vibrates through your body and has nothing to do with the cool air or wet clothing.

“And you want to take that leap with me?” Inching closer with barely a millimeter’s breath between your lips. Eyes still wide open assuring each other and finally showing the truth and need.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair,” cheeky smile splitting your face at the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. Knowing full well you’ve gotten the quote wrong on purpose.

“Here’s looking at you kid,” deepened voice sending tingles of excitement racing down your spine. Slightest brush of his chapped lips to yours bringing a sigh and parting your mouth that’s captured and devoured.

Angling your head just right as he licks into your sweet coffee tasting mouth mixing the minty freshness of his. Low groan whispers between your lips, which moves and changes. Nibbling his bottom lip, slipping your tongue over the bruised skin to sooth before sliding back into the warm cavern of his delectable mouth. Dreams having no merit on the real kiss that makes your toes curl a moan of your own existing to join with the groan he’s let loose. Air becoming much needed and you part to rest foreheads together.

“I love you to have for a long time,” admitting his feelings frees a part of him held back for so long. “I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities but if you’ll let me I’ll make them all up to you.”

“Start by taking me home to change then out for pancakes,” bright smile blooming over your lips that press into his. Unable to stop yourself from giving another tender kiss while wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter. “And kisses lots more kisses,” mumbling the words into his mouth while initiating another kiss for emphasis.

Only breaking when someone clears their throat you both turn to see Donna standing there with your purse in hand. “No making out in the parking lot you two take it home,” grinning extending your purse towards you. “Just remember don’t do anything I would,” before turning to start back towards the museum. “Congratulations by the way took y’all long enough.”

“There’s things you’d do I wouldn’t Donna,” you call after her shaking your head before looking back up at Marcus. Catching the look burning in his eyes, “I’m guessing pancakes won’t happen tonight huh?”

Soft smirk slides over those kiss swollen lips, “Later but right now I have other plans.” Tugging you against his chest for one last deep drugging kiss that leaves you weak kneed and panting.

“Care to share those plans?” Snuggling into his arms as you both head the last short distance to his car.

Opening then crowding you into the corner of the door hands braced on either side to lean in placing a soft chase kiss to your cheek. “Making up for all the missed time and then later,” pausing to brush his lips over your ear. Whispering the last words with gentle puffs of air floating across your skin. “I’ll make you those pancakes and lick the syrup from your lips afterwards and any other place you’ll let me.”

“Only if you’ll let me return the flavor,” mischievous smile stretching across your lips, ducking under his arms to slide into the car. Finding him still standing there, you tug on his jacket gaining his attention.

Darken eyes meet yours, “I’ll even paint you like one of my French girls,” sending you a playful wink while closing the car door and running around to the drivers side. Marcus slides in, key slipping into ignition, simple flick of his wrist the car flares to life and he’s backing out heading for home and a new start filled with promise.

[taliaromanovaswife]

Exothermic

Summary: Meet the original character, plagued by amnesia after an accident. But what if a certain deadly assassin is the cure for that? 

Warnings: softly NSFW... like, it could be worse? Little swearing

The sound of her own, slow footsteps was her only companion on this evening's stroll through the sterile, clean corridors. Though barely audible, the noise was almost deafening to her and yet it did not manage to stop her mind from reeling. Nothing around her seemed familiar, starting with her room and ending with the smell of the hallways. There was absolutely nothing that managed to jog her memory so far, and it irked her. Apparently, she was a member of the greatest team of heroes that walked the Earth, but every time she looked into their faces, her brain could not connect the dots. And worst of all, every Avenger had told her that they were not allowed to help her; that her amnesia had to fade on its own terms and that telling her the truth could make it worse in the end. So, here she was. Eight weeks after an accident where she had been thrown through a window on the first floor, discharged from the hospital because her wounds were healing nicely, yet she still did not remember anything from her past. Nothing, except for her name, age and powers, but even that information was given to her.

Alexandra, twenty-five, defender and healer – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Pressing her palms against her temple, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at herself. Nothing happened, just like nothing had happened since the day she regained consciousness. She had no clue how her powers actually worked, but if she was a healer, then why was she unable to heal her own brain? “You're so stupid”, she cried out, banging the balls of her hands against her already aching head. “Why can't you work? I just want to know who the fuck I am?!”

She rounded another corner, walking past half a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows when she stopped dead in her tracks. Something in the corner of her eye had caught her attention, something she was unsure had been there before. Nevertheless, it was something that spoke to her and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of familiarity warming up her insides.

Taking a chance, the tall blonde tried the door handle, happy to find it unlocked. After light brown eyes had scanned the area to make sure that she was alone, tentative feet slipped through a small gap, still wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her now. She had been walking these halls since she was brought home, but had never noticed a piano up here, or anywhere for that matter. Not even downstairs in the bar. ‘Too expensive’, the man who introduced himself as Tony Stark had said when she had asked. ‘The last one got destroyed by Ultron’, a muscular, tall, blond guy had added before receiving death glares from the rest of the group. Alexandra had no idea who Ultron was. How could she, if she was still unable to put the pieces of her own past back together? And what about her present? Did she even go by her full first name or did she prefer it was shortened to Alex? Or even Lexi? Did she like being an Avenger? How strong was her power, how strong was she? She did not know and they did not tell her. But she felt drawn to the piano, as if it was calling out for her and that feeling eased some of her frustration.

Carefully lifting the fall board and locking it in an upright position, shaky fingers pressed down a combination of keys that her brain did not remember, but her muscles certainly did. Muscle memory, she sighed. How could she remember this but not even the bare minimum of her life? Her most important muscle was not working the way it should. Slender hands pulled the matching black piano bench out from under the instrument and she sat down, her fingers gliding over the keys like second nature as her feet hit the pedals.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to a different time. A different piano was in front of her and perfectly manicured short, red-painted fingernails produced a tune she could not hear. But if Alexandra had to guess, she was reliving a tiny bit of her memory. Maybe, hopefully, this was the pivotal ingredient that she had been missing.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to work the way they knew how to, her vision not providing much help anyway. And as the melody filled the air and cautious fingertips became more confident of their skill, so did her feet. Alexandra was no expert in how muscle memory actually worked, but she could not explain what was happening right now any other way. Her mind drew blank on the names of the songs that she brought to life, and yet, somehow her brain knew what belonged together and when she transitioned to a new melody. So she kept playing, kept her eyes shut tight and let her emotions rage freely like a wildfire.

Alexandra was so lost in her creations, she did not register the other person entering the room, nor did she feel their presence. Her upper body leaned into the music, swayed with every crescendo and diminuendo. The music consumed her entire system, every nerve ending was accommodating to her trance as the cells in her brain sprang into action. Still, her fingers danced over black and white keys in the most beautiful pattern she had ever heard.

Natasha Romanoff was utterly captivated by the sight before her eyes, as mesmerizing and enthralling as ever. From the moment she had stepped into the room, she stood still and quiet, simply listening to the melody with a sad smile on her face. There was something magical about the way that Alexandra commanded the keys under the pads of her fingers and she was glad she had suggested buying a piano for the younger woman. It was minutes later that she slipped her ballet shoes on and tied the ribbons around her ankles, green eyes never leaving the figure behind the piano. Even as she pulled her red hair into a neat bun – years of practice making the need for a mirror unnecessary – her gaze was fixed on the musician, waiting. The assassin had noticed the slight change in the other hero's posture, the deeper breaths and the parted lips. She knew what was coming, long before Alexandra herself had figured it out.

Words formed in her head. If one were to ask her, Alexandra would say she did not know where they came from, her brain not remembering the song. But her heart did, even if it did not understand the meaning just yet. “Dancing around in the rain again.”, she sang, finding the lyrics to the accords she played. Her voice was soft and quiet, trembling with insecurity at first. 'Cause you said that I was my only friend. Playing with the flowers that I picked myself. Because I know they won't come from anybody else. Wrap myself up to warm my hands. From the biting ice that you made them stand.”

As her favorite voice filled the room, velvety and clear, Natasha began to stretch her tired muscles. Last week's mission had been tough on all of them, and the ache from multiple hits and countless falls still lingered in her bones. It could have been worse, but it also could have gone a lot smoother and with less injuries. Still, there was no pain that could stop her from being here, from dancing to Alexandra’s song. Not her bruised ribs and most definitely not her bandaged wrist – just a sprain, she told everybody.

Tears began to form behind her closed eyes. How could she remember songs but not her life? What kind of sick and twisted condition was this retrograde amnesia and why would it not let go of her? And while her fingers moved across the keys without any mistakes, and her feet operated the pedals below them, the first tears spilled down her cheeks. She just wanted to remember. “I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.”

Natasha's heart broke for the person, as it did every day since the accident. She had thought that the first few days had been the hardest, when no doctor was giving a clear statement whether or not she would wake from the coma. Then, when Alexandra did wake up but did not know who she was, did not recognize her, the agent's entire world fell apart. Adjustments had been made before the young Avenger had been released from the hospital, hushed conversations that would make everybody feel left out had become the norm around the blonde hero. But every look into Alexandra's sad eyes chipped away at the – usually put-together – assassin. Natasha shook those thoughts from her head as she carefully pushed herself onto her tip toes and raised her arms above her head, extending her index finger and pinkie into perfect position. Out of everything she had been trained in on her way to become one of the deadliest assassins in Russian history, ballet had always been her favorite and to this day, she still used dancing as a stress reliever.

Brown, teary eyes fluttered open and the music abruptly stopped. Her fingers halted over the keys, her mouth remained agape as she stared at the woman who was introduced to her as Natasha Romanoff. She thought she was alone, but there stood the beautiful Russian, dressed in tight black leggings, a matching form-fitting black bodice and a white silken skirt. “I’m-“ She pulled her fingers in, forming fists that slowly clenched and unclenched with every passing second, her heart rate speeding up to the same rhythm. Nervously chewing on her own bottom lip, she stared at her own hands and then back at the other woman. “Was I not supposed to be in here?”, she asked anxiously, Natasha’s intense green eyes seemingly staring right into her soul.

“Please don’t be scared”, the assassin replied. “This is your home, you can be in every room you want to be in, use everything you want or need.” Graciously lowering herself back onto her entire feet and resting her hands on her hips, the redhead tried reassuring her. “You should feel at home here.”

The words were mumbled, but Alexandra still caught it and scoffed. “And yet, everybody stops talking when I walk into a room”, the woman shot back, smoothing her palms over the long, honey-blonde braid and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy being me right now, whoever I am. But you did not deserve this.” Everybody around here had been nothing but amazing towards her, despite her condition. Sure, their conversations stopped or changed, but that did not mean that she was not included in whatever topic followed after. “I can go, if you want to-“

“Please don’t”, Nat said in a haste, stopping herself before she could say the name that lingered on the tip of her tongue. She took deep breaths, reminding herself that Alexandra’s memory was yet to come back. “Would you play for me?”, she asked quietly, her lips curling into a smile. “Your song was very beautiful and I would like to dance to it.”

The blonde eyed the assassin apprehensively. Was this a regular occasion? Did she used to sing for other people? “Damn it, you stupid brain”, she cursed under her breath, eliciting a light chuckle from Natasha. Thinking about the request for a moment, she finally agreed. “Only if I am allowed to watch you dance.”

“Always”, the redhead smiled, her body protesting slightly as she pushed herself into the releve pose. She steadied herself before finding Alexandra's eyes. “Ready when you are.”

As if nothing had stopped her in the first place, expert finger tips roamed over the keys, picking up where they had left off. Once again, the melody resonated in the air, but this time, Alexandra only had eyes for the gorgeous woman dancing for her. Every part of Natasha’s body appeared to be in sync with her music and somehow the blonde knew that this was not the first time she had twirled to this particular song. “Dancing around in the dark again. But I'm happier now than I ever was then. Feel my heart as it is ablaze. Making room for another in these better days. Days, days.” Forcefully pressing the keys into the instrument as the music became louder and more spirited, brown eyes followed Natasha’s every motion doing the same. She did not notice the two figures standing on the other side of the glass, staring and smiling at her.

Wanda sighed in content, listening to the sound of Alexandra's beautiful voice. She and Natasha always begged the young hero to sing for them, or at least play one of her favorite compositions for them. It helped with the stress after a long day of work. It eased their minds and both women knew that the same applied to Alexandra. “Do you think this will help her?”, the witch asked aloud, her Sokovian accent less prominent now that she was spending most of her time around Americans. Cocking her head to the left but never averting her eyes, she added, “Natasha could use a sliver of good news.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Steve observed as one of his oldest friends danced. He let out a long breath. “I really hope so. I don't know how long Nat can keep going like this. It's ripping her apart.” The super soldier truly admired the redhead for still walking tall. He was not sure he could do the same. “If this doesn't work, then I don't know what could, besides telling Alex the truth. And the doctor's strictly recommended not to do that. But-”

“But at this rate, our most deadliest and finest assassin is no use on missions”, Wanda finished his sentence with a soft nod while watching the Black Widow dance with an elegance unmatched by anything she had ever seen.

“I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.” Alexandra's vocal cords vibrated deep within her throat as her voice reverberated with every word she sang. Louder and louder. The keys molded to her every tap and she had to focus on keeping her eyes open. She never let Natasha out of sight, but as the song went on, it was harder and harder not to give in to the music and let her feelings take over. “Oh, watch me exo, o, o, o. Watch me exo burn this. I deserve it, ohh. I deserved this. I deserve it, oh! I deserve this, woah!”

The Russian's feet hit the parquet floor in a faster pattern now, her body spiraling with every pirouette. The position of her hands was immaculate, the satin skirt wafted with every turn and yet, every time she spun around, her eyes locked on Alexandra's. Watching the other woman play with such intensity, like nothing had changed in the past weeks, made her want to cry. But Natasha swallowed her emotions and danced until the blonde stopped playing. She came to a stop, her breathing ragged and the pain from her bruised ribs jabbing into her sides. Still, Nat regretted nothing.

Neither of them said a word or dared to move. The last notes had long since faded away, but they still felt connected through the music. An invisible bond both held onto, fearing that breaking the silence would involuntarily end this moment of peace.

It was Alexandra who moved first, carefully closing the fall board and rising to her feet. “This was nice, we should do this again.” The comment came with a smile. She had not felt this free in weeks and even though her memories did not return – she had hoped they would – the blonde felt a lot better. “Thank you for the dance, Natalia”, she said out of a habit she did not understand. Hearing the sentence, but specifically that name, falling from her own lips caused a chain reaction. She froze on the spot and went stiff as her brain was flooded with millions of memories from her past. Missions and fighting. Loki, Ultron. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America. The Hulk. Clint and Wanda, her brother Pietro. Vision. Her healing a gash on Natasha's temple. Natasha. Everything came back to her, and all at once. And as her brain completed the puzzle, everything began to make sense again. The last image she saw showed Natasha – her Natalia – in a simple white dress and with white flowers in her red, wavy hair as she was waiting for her on the grass behind the Avenger's compound. And then finally, she remembered her full name. Alexandra Romanoff.

Natasha gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She had waited so long to hear her wife say her name again. No one ever called her Natalia, no one but Alexandra. “Sasha”, she whispered her lover's nickname, eyes filling with tears. With hesitant steps, she closed the gap between them. Soft hands cradled the blonde's face the second she was close enough. “I've missed you so much.” Her lips brushed against a tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you, for coming back to me.”

Gently taking a bandaged hand in her left, Alexandra carefully lowered their limbs. Her wife appeared tough on the outside and would never admit to anyone how much pain she truly was in. But brown eyes saw right through the facade. It had been those very same eyes that had torn down Natasha's walls, stone for stone, when they had started dating all those years ago. A mellow light radiated from her, encasing both women in the warmest, white gleam. Her powers searched for every single one of Nat’s injuries, healing them one after the other. “I will always come back to you, моя любовь. Always”, she promised.

Just as she leaned in for a kiss, Natasha saw the two people outside of the room move slightly – of course her trained senses had picked up on their presence earlier, but she had chosen to ignore them. “FRIDAY? Please close the blinds”, she asked the Artificial Intelligence in her sweetest voice. A swoosh sounded through the room as the shades dropped from the ceiling almost all the way down to the floor, effectively blocking every curious onlooker. “Now we are alone.” Her voice was husky now, even lower than the usual rasp that was just so distinctively hers. “You didn't notice?”

Alexandra shook her head. “I was watching you.” Pale cheeks blushed a dark shade of red when their lips were mere millimeters apart, their foreheads touching. She chuckled. “Even when my brain was all chaotic and weird, I could not stop looking at you.” Nudging her partner's nose with her own, she inhaled Natasha's perfume. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

The motion was barely visible as the red-haired woman shook her head. “It doesn't matter”, she whispered softly, stroking a few loose curls out of Alexandra's face and behind her ear. “What matters is that you remember now.” Finally pressing her lips against her wife's, she was immediately engulfed by the familiar warmth and love she had for the other woman. God, how much she had missed her.

Pale hands rested on either side of a slender hip, thumbs stroking the bone over the soft material of the dancer's outfit. The cutest little moans escaped her throat. This was what coming home felt like. Natasha was home. One of her hands slid lower, fingers fanning out over a firm bottom cheek as she smiled into the kiss. Tears of happiness ran down her cheeks.

“Don't cry, Милый”, Natasha whispered, wiping her lover's tears away with a gentle brush of her knuckles. “Please, don't cry.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, the blonde reconnected their lips. A dire need to be as close as possible to her wife was all she experienced in this moment. “Happy tears”, Alexandra assured between kisses, pulling the assassin even closer into her body. She relished in these moments, remembering how the redhead never let her guard down around anybody but her. It made every moment of intimacy even more special. “I love you.”

Her wife's breathless confession caused her heart to pound even faster in her chest. “I love you, too.” Strong hands moved to her lover's behind, cupping a cheek in each of them to hoist her up. She felt legs wrap around her waist as a squeal left Alexandra's mouth, followed by the most precious giggles. Natasha had to crane her neck now, due to the change in height, but it had always been one of her favorite things to do. “I love you so much.” A couple of quick steps later, a slim back collided with the wall behind the piano.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues danced to an unsung melody. Their hearts beat in sync, wanton lust overtaking both women. It took all of her willpower, but when she felt full lips suck on her neck, Alexandra let out a frustrated groan. She knew she had to put a stop to this for now. “I think we have a more suitable... room for this, Natalia”, she moaned, her voice dripping with desire. “Our room.”

Natasha hated to admit it, but her wife had a point. Their reconnecting deserved more than a quickie in the newly appointed music room. She pressed their lips together in one last heated kiss before carefully lowering the blonde back onto her feet. Both inhaled deeply to regain some composure and smoothed over their clothes. “Ready?”, she asked, reaching out her hand for Alexandra to take, her other one holding her sneakers and sweater that she had picked off the floor.

Fingers intertwined, they exited the room with mischievous grins tugging on their lips as they walked past Wanda and Steve who were engaged in a conversation in the middle of the hallway. But the couple did not pay any attention to them anyway, too absorbed in each other's presence. Throughout the entire way to their room, neither spoke a word. Yet, the silence was not uncomfortable.

“Everything is still as I remember it”, Alexandra spoke when she entered their suite and took a look around. “Even my slippers are still where I kicked them off before we had to rush into the mission.” Her leather jacket – a birthday gift from a time when they were engaged – was still draped over one of the chairs. She smiled lovingly at Natasha when she noticed another detail. “I see you've been sleeping in my shirts.” She was not mad about this; she could never be mad about this. Because if the roles had been reversed, the blonde would have done the exact same thing.

Natasha blushed lightly, shutting the door behind them and locking it with a twist. “They kept me sane”, she explained. “Some of them still smelled like you.” And if they did not, she always imagined her wife's unique scent on them. Coming up behind the blonde, the dancer looped her arms around a slim waist. “You are what keeps me grounded, but you were not with me. So this was the next best thing.” The truth was, nothing could ever compare to the real thing. She tightened her embrace. Delicate fingers moved a honey-blonde braid out of the way before soft lips began to caress the back of a creamy neck.

Turning in her wife's arms and instantly missing the touch against her skin, Alexandra nuzzled her nose against her lover's cheek. Her fingers found their way to the hair tie, pulling lightly so red curls could fall onto almost bare shoulders. “I missed the feeling of your hair between my fingers”, she breathed, burying her hands in silken tresses as she claimed crimson lips in a fierce kiss.

The air was full of sexual tension as both women tugged and tore at each other's close until either of them was left in only their underwear. Natasha unhooked her own bra first, knowing how much her partner enjoyed the view. When the garment landed on the floor, nimble fingers fiddled with the clasp of the necklace that held her wife's wedding ring until she finally slid it back onto its rightful place. She smiled brightly. “Much better.” Wasting no more time, the red-haired woman unceremoniously undid Alexandra's bra before moving on to the matching pair of panties. “I missed all of you”, she husked seductively in her wife's ear before nibbling on the shell of it. “Every. Single. Inch.” And as her hands were busy getting reacquainted with the blonde's naked skin, she maneuvered them towards their bed.

Alex could not stop the moans as they spilled past her lips between kisses. She tried dipping her hand into her wife's underwear but remained unsuccessful before she was pushed onto the mattress. As brown eyes opened, the irises shone with a passionate hunger. “Come here”, she beckoned, ogling her lover while Natasha stripped herself of the last article of clothing. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. “Natalia”, she groaned, growing impatient.

Knowing that teasing was not an option right now, and that it would ultimately cause both of them to suffer, the assassin climbed into the bed. Dainty hands wandered upwards, over pale ankles and satiny legs. Skipping her wife's sex on purpose and provoking a growl when Alexandra noticed what she was doing, the redhead did neither budge nor stop until she was once again face to face with the love of her life. “Hi”, she breathed against kiss-swollen lips as the pads of her fingers playfully fondled her wife's round breasts. Skillfully tweaking rosy buds into pebbled peaks, Natasha licked the blonde's full bottom lip, asking to be granted access.

Her mouth parted on its own accord, as did her legs to welcome the warm body on top of her between them. She let her hands rove over the smooth skin of Nat's back while the assassin played her body like an instrument. When wet lips encased one of her nipples, Alexandra arched even further into the touch, her own caresses never stopping.

Natasha hissed as she kissed a path from one boob to the other, certain that her lover's fingernails left crescent shaped marks on her right shoulder blade and neck. Her wife's nickname followed the next gasp, “Sasha.” Grinding her body into the one beneath her own, her slick center was mere inches away from Alexandra's. “Promise to never leave me again”, she pleaded, her voice barely audible against full lips.

“Not willingly”, the blonde assured her and wrapped her arms around her wife, holding her close. She could not even begin to imagine how hard the last weeks must have been on the other woman. “Never willingly, my love.” With a gentle nudge – in a moment of Natasha's inattentiveness – she flipped them so that she was now on top. “My promise to you will always stand, my beautiful Natalia. I will always love you and I will always come back to you”, she said, reciting parts of her wedding vow as she kissed along a creamy neck and toyed with hardened pearls. “If you're lost, I will find you.” Natasha's body bowed below her when she let her fingers dance over her ribs. “I will forever be yours.” When she looked up, she found Natasha's watchful gaze staring right back at her. “And you will forever be mine.”

Sneaking her left hand between them as Alexandra's traveled past her stomach, both women moaned vociferously when delicate fingers flicked each other's clits the way only they knew how. The Black Widow relished in the fact that the blonde had ruined her for anybody else and that she had returned the favor with pleasure. “Let go for me, Sasha”, she whined just as two of her lover's fingers slowly entered her. Mimicking Alexandra's action, the redhead eagerly swallowed her wife's whimpers.

The blonde's orgasm was approaching quickly and she could feel the walls around her digits tightening as well. Rubbing her thumb over her wife's engorged, needy bundle of nerves, she quaked when the assassin did the same. “I'm close”, she warned, her voice merely above a whisper as she pressed her forehead against Natasha's.

“Me too.” She loved their slow dance of passion and lust. There was no moment that she got to spend with her wife that she did not cherish. But tonight weighed a lot more as both women felt like they were coming home after being gone for weeks. “Come with me”, Natasha groaned, capturing full lips with her own seconds before she tumbled over the edge and Alexandra followed suit right after.

As both came down from their climax, the blonde felt the light strokes of fingertips as they pushed loose strands of honey-blonde hair out of her face. A satisfied smile spread across her lips. Her body revelled in the afterglow, tingled all over with bliss and adoration for the other woman. Lifting her head, she got momentarily lost in her lover's green eyes. “I am so in love with you, Natalia.”

“You will never know how much I love you, Sasha.” 

[the-delta-42]

Adopted

Adopted

Ms. Mendeleiev was unwell, which meant the class had a substitute teaching them. They covered genetics, despite the class being physics. The substitute was sat behind the desk, lazily pointing around the board with a laser pointer.

“So, to recap, everyone in this room shares at least one trait with their parents or a family member.” Said the Sub, as Marinette frowned, “If you don’t, then I suggest you look at the local milkmen.”

“Sir,” Said Marinette, raising her hand, “I don’t resemble any of my family members and-”

“Then you’re adopted.” The Sub cut her off, making Marinette sit back, “If that’s everything, then class dismissed.”

Everyone was in a rush to get out of the room, Marinette trailing behind at the back of the group, her mind going over what the Sub said.

A

Marinette idly pushed her food around her plate, her mind still on what the teacher had said, her parent shared a look.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Asked her mother, making Marinette stop and look up.

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” Lied Marinette, her parents silently calling her bluff, “Ugh, fine, we were learning about genetics in class and the teachers said that we all share at least one trait we have with family members,” Tom and Sabine shared a worried look, “and when I said I didn’t share any with my family members, he said that I was adopted, which is crazy, right?”

Marinette let out a nervus laugh, as both her parent looked uncomfortable, her father rubbed his eyes, while her mother sighed, “Marinette, we really didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“W-what?” Stuttered Marinette, her eyes wide and her body slowly going numb.

“Shortly after your father and I married, we got into an accident,” Said Sabine, grasping one of Marinette’s hands, “the result was that we weren’t able to have children.”

Marinette trembled, her mind swirling with what her parents told her.

“The news destroyed us,” Said Tom, “it nearly ended our marriage.”

“Then, we saw you,” Continued Sabine, “we saw you with one of the nurses at the orphanage and you were screaming your little head off, for some reason the nurse passed you off to us and you just stopped. I’ll always remember that moment, when you stopped crying and just stared up at us.”

Marinette looked at her mother, her adoptive mother, and asked “D-did they say who my birth parents were?”

“They didn’t know who your birth father was, but,” Tom scowled, clearly angry about something, “they knew who your birth mother was, and she wasn’t a good character.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Marinette, looking up at him.

“Marinette, when we adopted you, you didn’t have a name,” Said Sabine, looking in Marinette’s eyes, “your… mother was trying to sell you, saying your father was a rich man from America.”

“Why would she try to sell me?” Questioned Marinette, making both Tom and Sabine stiffen.

“Marinette,” Said Sabine, slowly, “She was trying to sell you for drug money.”

A

Marinette didn’t sleep that night, deciding to go on patrol, in an attempt to clear her head. It didn’t work. Marinette stood on the school steps, unsure if she should go in, a hand on her shoulder jerked her from her thoughts.

Adrien looked at her worriedly, trying to gage her emotions.

“Marinette,” Asked Adrien, slowly, “are you okay?”

Marinette nodded, Adrien frowned, quickly seeing through the fake smile the girl had given him.

“Are you sure?” Prompted Adrien, making Marinette’s shoulders slump.

“You know what the teacher said yesterday,” Said Marinette, hugging herself, “about me being adopted?”

Adrien nodded, “If you’re worried that you’re adopted, I’m sure your parents prove the teacher wrong.”

“Adrien,” Said Marinette, looking at the ground, “they told me that I am adopted.”

Adrien stared at Marinette, as she shivered, “They told me that my mother, my birth mother, tried to sell me for drug money, and that my father was some high flying American that stayed for a one-night stand and then jetted off for somewhere else.”

“D-do you want a hug?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette tearfully nod.

“Why?” Sobbed Marinette, into Adrien’s shoulder, “Why didn’t they want me?”

A – 12 Years Later

Damien scowled at the people at the party, Grayson had wandered off to talk to some random person, Todd was looking for something to shoot, Drake and Brown were busy introducing themselves to random strangers and his father was speaking to the host.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Said the host, Adrien, to Bruce, “after everything my father did, your contribution and assistance in this really helps all of his victims.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Said Bruce, taking a champagne glass from a waiter, “given how the Justice League didn’t take the information seriously, we thought it’d be best if we helped with the healing of the city.”

Adrien smiled and nodded, just as a little, blonde-haired girl toddled up to him. She tugged on Adrien’s trouser leg twice, making the man scoop her up in his arms.

“Emma!” Said a woman with dark hair, walking towards Adrien and the little girl, Emma, “Emma, I haven’t finished cleaning you up.”

“Mari, what happened?” Asked Adrien, making the woman, Mari, look at him.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, this woman, Mari, looked like his late mother, Martha Wayne.

“She spilt her juice down her front,” Said Mari, gently prying the girl from Adrien’s arms, “I managed to get it off her and to get her changed, however, she ran off before I could finish.”

“What needs doing?” Asked Adrien, as Marinette fixed a little flower to Emma’s front.

“That.” Said Mari, looking at Emma and Adrien.

“Papa, Maman told big meanie off.” Said Emma, getting a chuckle from Adrien.

“Well, that’s what happens when someone misbehaves.” Said Adrien, as Emma took a cuddly toy from her mother.

Marinette turned her eyes on Bruce and stuck out her hand, “Marinette Agreste, Founder, and owner, of MDC Designs.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Bruce, shaking her hand, “Owner and director of Wayne Enterprises.”

Marinette smiled, “Ah, another orphan.”

Bruce nodded, “True, but I was under the impression that your parents are still alive.”

“My adoptive parents are,” Corrected Marinette, as Adrien placed an arm around her, “I never knew my birth parents and the one time I spoke to my birth mother ended in a screaming match and a restraining order.”

Bruce winced, one of the women he’d met was like that, taking a gamble, Bruce removed his phone from his pocket, and pulled up a picture of the woman who’d turned up a few years ago and turned the screen to face Marinette, “Is that her?”

Marinette froze and nodded.

“Her name’s Bethan,” Said Bruce, putting the phone away, “I met her about 28 years ago.”

Marinette stiffened, before she turned to face Adrien, “I think it’s time for Emma to go to bed, I might do the same.”

Adrien nodded, as he passed a half-awake Emma over to Marinette. The strides Marinette took when she left the men long and fast.

Damien had been listening in on them and discreetly followed the mother and her daughter, he saw her enter the girls’ room and leaving it half-an-hour later, before she headed into another room, either her and her husband’s bedroom or a study.

Damien could hear the mother talking to someone, before a portal opened up beneath him and he fell onto a soft, plush chair, while the mother glared at him.

“I thought it was made clear, that guests are not allowed upstairs.” Said the mother, a pair of reading glasses in her hand and a massive tome in front of her.

“I thought you were hiding something.” Said Damien, scowling.

“Whether I’m hiding something or not is none of your business,” Said the mother, coldly, “what is your business is entertaining yourself downstairs, where you’re supposed to be.”

Damien felt she was like a wolf when her pups were threatened, “Why did you leave when my father told you about his stalker?”

The mother glared at him, before Damien suddenly found himself back at the party, behind his father.

“Father, the host’s wife is using magic.” Said Damien, making Bruce turn and look at him.

A small, red creature was floating in front of his father.

“I know.” Said Bruce, his voice strained, “I also know something that would change this, significantly.”

“What?” Asked Damien, as Bruce ran a hand down his face.

“Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “She’s your older sister.”

A

“Recognised: Batman: 02.” Came the computerised voice from the Zeta tube, as Batman stalked onto the Watch Tower.

Hal was on monitor duty, not trusting Lagoon Boy after his screw up with the Miraculous and Paris situation.

“Hey, Bruce.” Greeted Hal, not looking away from the monitors.

“I have a daughter.” Said Bruce, in response.

“Yeah, we all know about Stephanie and Cassandra.” Said Hal, as Batman sighed.

“Lantern,” Said Batman, making the other man turn, “I have a daughter who was living in Paris, that I didn’t even know about.”

Lantern was silent, before he uttered the immortal words of “Holy shit.”

A

Marinette sifted through paperwork on her desk, Adrien not too far away as he graded his student’s physics homework. The office door opened, as Alya let Emma into the room, the toddler going directly to Marinette and letting herself on her mother’s lap.

“I heard that one of the guests last night wanted an DNA test.” Said Alya, looking at Marinette.

“Yes, the director of Wayne Enterprises wanted several pieces of DNA from me, from hairs to body fluids.” Snarked Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Alya, frowning, “but why now?”

“Because he’s never met me before?” Said Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“I can see the headlines now,” Said Alya, leaning against Marinette’s desk, “’Top Fashion Designer MDC Bruce Wayne’s Long-Lost Daughter.’”

“I hope not.” Laughed Marinette, getting to her feet, “We need to go outside, we’ve been cooped up in here all day and, quite frankly, I could use the fresh air.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Marinette.” Said Tikki, making everyone jump.

“For fucks sake, Tikki,” Gasped Marinette, as Emma looked up at her, “don’t do that!”

“What does ‘fuck’ mean?” Asked Emma, making everyone in the room go still.

“It’s a bad word and Maman is bad for using it.” Said Marinette, kneeling in front of Emma.

“Hmm.” Said Emma, frowning, “Maman, you’re told off.”

Emma skipped away, leaving Marinette crouching next to her desk.

“Did your daughter just say that you were told off?” Asked Alya, as Marinette groaned, “Anyway, where has Tikki been all week?”

“She’s been speaking to the Wayne’s on my behalf.” Said Marinette, making Adrien and Alya stop cold.

“You revealed your identity to them?” Demanded Adrien, rushing to catch up with his wife.

“I figured out that the Wayne’s are Gotham’s Heroes and, frankly, I prefer this to be on even footing where Batman is concerned.” Responded Marinette, scooping Emma up off the ground.

“Bruce Wayne’s Batman?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette smile.

“I had my suspicions, especially since Batman arrived to help us shortly after Bruce Wayne got settled into his hotel.” Said Marinette, looking at the flowers, “Besides, I had Max helping me figure it all out.”

“Didn’t you yell at him last week because your tropical fruit, carrot, popcorn and almond expresso was too hot.” Asked Adrien, making Alya gasp.

“Marinette, have you been having cravings?” Asked Alya, making Marinette freeze.

After a moment, Marinette nodded, getting a squeal from Alya and a gasp from Adrien.

“You’re pregnant?” Asked Adrien, his wife nodding.

A split second later, Adrien had Marinette in his arms and was laughing loudly, “That’s wonderful!”

“Ooh,” Said Alya, leaning back and smirking, “I can just imagine the fights those two will get into for our attention.”

Both Marinette and Adrien glared at Alya, while Emma looked at her parents, “I’m gonna be a big sister?”

Marinette nodded, smiling. Emma scowled and folded her arms, “Now I’m gonna have to share Maman and Papa.”

Marinette and Adrien laughed.

A

Bruce fidgeted as he waited to hear back from the scientist. Diana frowned, before getting up and walking over to him.

“It’s alright to be nervous,” Said Diana, sitting next to him, “I’ll admit, it was a shock to see Tikki again, but if she’s certain about her holder being your daughter, I see no reason to doubt her.”

“I don’t doubt she’s my daughter, Diana” Said Bruce, leaning forwards, “She figured out my identity shortly after I arrived.”

“She has your brains.” Said Diana, as Bruce’s shoulders slumped.

“When I attempted to broach the topic, she just shut down.” Said Bruce, staring at his hands, “After twenty-eight years of not hearing or seeing me, probably thinking that she was unwanted or wasn’t good enough.”

“She still scared the living shit out of me.” Grumbled Damien, still fuming over the portal in the floor trick.”

Diana looked over at Damien, the boy had come a long way from the weapon the League had made him. He was now a normal, well, as normal as Damien can get, teenager. Damien still had trouble getting over the fact he had a sister a decade older than him.

“Since she’s older than Grayson,” Said Damien, glaring at the ceiling, “Does that mean she’ll inherit the company and everything?”

“No, from what Tikki told us,” Said Diana, getting Damien to look at her, “She opted to dissolve Gabriel Agreste’s assets and connections, she then either sold off the remaining stocks or gave them to charities. I know the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation is one of the charities that has a constant supply of money being donated into it.”

“Probably because she thought she was an orphan.” Said Damien, going back to glaring at the ceiling.

“I’m a grandfather.” Said Bruce, after a moments silence.

Damien stopped glaring at the ceiling and gave his father a quizzical look, “You know, now that you mention it, you do look kinda old.”

Bruce glared, before throwing a pillow at Damien.

A

Marinette watched Emma playing with her dolls when Bruce and Damien sat down in front of her.

“I can’t stay long.” Said Marinette, looking at them.

“Why, because you hate us and don’t want anything to do with us?” Demanded Damien, making Marinette slowly turn and look at him.

“No, Emma has a doctor’s appointment.” Said Marinette, getting a frown Bruce and Damien.

“Ah.” Said Damien, getting a short glare from Marinette.

“Ah, indeed.” Said Marinette, as Emma toddled up to her.

“Maman, lookee.” Said Emma, holding something out for her mother to take.

Marinette looked at the frog her daughter dropped into her hands, before it hopped off.

“No! Bad Froggie! Come back!” Emma went to chase after it, only to trip and fall flat on her face.

Within moments, Marinette was cradling her wailing daughter, and starting to calm her down. Damien and Bruce watched Marinette, eventually, Emma’s wails died down into sniffles and the odd hiccup. Marinette held Emma, while the toddler took to sucking her thumb and cuddling up against her mother.

“We’ll have to meet up another time,” Sighed Marinette, picking her bag up, as Emma tightened her grip on her mother’s coat, “I think this little one needs to be seen to before anything else.”

Marinette gave a short whistle, and a dog bounded over towards her. Bruce watched his daughter and grandchild walk away. Damien watched something he’d never experienced.

A

Emma snored quietly, while Marinette watched from the doorway, her thumb going into her mouth as she slept. A plush toy of Chat Noir was held tightly in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Adrien, approaching Marinette with a cup of tea.

“All this time, I thought both my parents were mindless drug addicts who only care about themselves and having the fear that I’d turn out like them,” Said Marinette, taking the cup, “And in the past week, I’ve found that not only is my father alive, but he’s the biggest playboy in the world and able to buy literally anywhere and not have a dent made in his bank.”

Adrien was silent, before wrapping and arm around Marinette’s shoulders, “You know, when I lost my mother and my father started to become closed off to everything, I was terrified of waking up and finding myself like him. Then, you came along, as did Nino, Alya and everyone else. Your parents don’t define you, only you and who you are as a person can do that.”

Marinette hummed and continued to watch Emma.

“Are you going to talk to them tomorrow?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette look at him.

“I was thinking of inviting them to dinner, let them meet Maman and Papa.” Said Marinette, before downing the drink and leading Adrien to their bedroom, “But, frankly, it’s been a stressful day, for both of us, it seems.”

Adrien grinned and swept Marinette into his arms.

A

Damien felt like an intruder, as he watched Mr. Dupain and Mrs. Cheng playing with Emma, while Marinette, his sister, quietly quizzed Greyson on something to do with the circus. Agreste was ferrying plates of food from the kitchen to the table, a red husky and a black cat following him around. Bruce stared at his granddaughter, it felt odd for him to call the toddler that, he felt Dick sit next to him.

“Well, that was intense.” Said Dick, leaning back in the chair.

“She’s not much older than you.” Said Bruce, making Dick look at him.

“She’s what?” Asked Dick, frowning.

“She’s twenty-eight,” Continued Bruce, his arms folded, “and she’s practically built an empire.”

“That empire,” Said Marinette, looking at the two, “was built on the crumbling remains of Gabriel’s own company, I just took the reins, rebranded it and removed all trace of him as a final middle finger to him.”

Bruce and Dick stared at her, “The room’s built like an echo chamber, really helps when looking for a certain rascal.”

Emma squealed as Sabine tickled her. A loud thud emanated from the upstairs, making Marinette frown.

“I’ll be right back.” Said Marinette, disappearing up the stairs.

There was a silence.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” Yelled Marinette, making everyone jump. Marinette returned with a Vietnamese man and a young woman with pick hair, “These morons though it’d be a good idea to climb up the side of the house and in through the window.”

“The door was locked.” Said the man, making the woman hit him.

“Kim didn’t want to use the bell.” Said the woman, folding her arms.

“The last time I was here, there was a power cut that almost killed Adrien’s mum!” Said the man, Kim, raising his arms above his head.

Marinette gave a sharp whistle, making them flinch, “Kim, ringing the doorbell isn’t going to cause a power cut, Alix, you knew this and still decided to climb up the side of the house.”

The woman, Alix, winced, before adopting a hurt look.

“Don’t even try the wounded rabbit act with me.” Said Marinette, pointing at Alix, “I trust Kim to be the idiotic one out of the two of you, I really don’t need you deciding the prove me wrong.”

Both mumbled out a sorry and looking at the floor.

Emma stomped, more toddled, up to the two adults, “You’re very told off!”

There was a snort, before Mr. Dupain fell over, laughing.

Marinette looked at her daughter, chubby cheeks and pigtails, trying to look intimidating. Scooping the toddler into her arms and gently bouncing her, “I think someone needs a nap.”

“Nuh-uh,” Yawned Emma, rubbing her eyes, “Not sleepy.”

Marinette just shushed her and took Emma back up to her room. Kim and Alix awkwardly shuffled their feet, before Adrien cleared his throat and jerked his head into the kitchen.

“This is a big house.” Said Dick, looking around the dining room, “Not as big as Wayne Manor, but still big.”

“It’s not as big as Gabriel Agreste’s house,” Said Sabine, looking at him, “but, Adrien gave the house to the Heroes of Paris as a base of operations.”

“Considering what he did to it, I’m not surprised.” Said Tom, standing up, “He made a secret bunker underneath it and in the attic.”

“Clearly, something only someone with some serious issues would do.” Said Sabine, frowning, while Bruce and Dick shared a worried look.

“Foods ready.” Said Adrien, as he, Alix and Kim ferried the food in from the kitchen.

A

Marinette had gone to bed directly after dinner, saying she had a headache, Damien quietly followed her, believing she was still hiding something. Damien was disappointed when she got changed and actually went to bed.

“What’cha doin’?” Asked a toddler’s voice, making Damien jump.

Behind him, stood the toddler that his sister, it felt weird calling Agreste that, had been carrying around in the majority of instances he’d seen her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Said Emma, a blanket and toy trailing behind her.

“That’s none of your business.” Snapped Damien, making Emma take a deep breath.

Panicking, Damien grabbed the toddler and held her mouth shut, “Your family is hiding something, and I’m going to find out what.”

Emma suddenly looked scared, making Damien smirk, “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“Put. Her. Down. Now.” Came Marinette’s voice, cold and sharp.

Damien froze, before slowly turning and facing Marinette. The dog from before had her teeth bared and a snarling at Damien. Damien dropped Emma onto the floor, with Marinette quickly scooping her up and glaring at Damien, non-verbally instructed him to follow her.

She found Adrien, Kim, Alix and her parents speaking with Bruce and his crowd.

“You need to leave. Now.” Said Marinette, as she entered the room.

Bruce opened his mouth to asked why, before he spotted red marks on Emma’s face and Damien trailing behind Marinette.

“What did he do?” Asked Bruce, already feeling that any progress that had been made was lost.

“I just caught him manhandling my daughter.” Snapped Marinette, as Damien just scowled, “If the rest of you are like him, then I don’t want any of you around.”

“Mrs. Agreste,” Said Dick, standing up, “I can assure you, none of us are like Damien, we actually thought he’d been making progress.”

Damien just stood by the door, scowling at the ground.

“Well, Jason can be a bit rough around the edges, but that’s because he almost died.” Said Dick, making Marinette’s eyes fall on Jason.

“I’ll take that as an explanation as to why he has a hunting knife stuffed in his boot.” Said Marinette, making Jason take his foot off the table.

“It seems that I need to speak with Damien,” Said Bruce, standing up, “perhaps I can find out what he was thinking.”

Marinette frowned, before nodding, “In all honesty, he’s the only one I keep having a problem with.”

Bruce gave a strained smile, before walking past her and grabbing Damien’s arm and pulling him into another room.

“I’m going to grab a dressing gown,” Said Marinette, handing Emma over to Adrien, “and some pain killers.”

In the other room, Bruce pulled out a chair and sat Damien down, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“She’s hiding something!” Protested Damien, making Bruce groan, “Don’t tell me I’m being paranoid, she’s clearly moved things from their designated places before we arrived!”

“Of course, she’s hiding things, Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “do you remember what Diana called her?”

“The Guardian on the Miraculous.” Said Damien, before a look of realisation appeared on his face, “Oh. Shit.”

“If that’s why you’re creeping about the place, you should’ve just asked.” Said Marinette, making both Bruce and Damien jump.

“How do you do that?” Demanded Damien, “First your daughter does it and now you!”

Marinette froze, before waving her hand, making a window open into the other room.

“What do you mean, Emma’s done it?” Asked Marinette, zeroing in on Damien.

“Just before you told me to drop her, she appeared out of nowhere.” Said Damien, Marinette’s frown deepening.

“Emma isn’t tall enough to open her bedroom door, and I made sure to have all the Kwami accounted for tonight.” Said Marinette, just as Emma appeared in the room, giggling.

“Oh, fuck.” Swore Marinette, making Emma frown and toddle over.

“Naughty word.” Said Emma, pointing at a jar on the side.

Marinette sighed, before pulling a couple of euros out of her pocket and depositing them in the jar. Emma nodded, satisfied, before toddling over to Damien, “Naughty.” Emma pointed to the jar again, getting a snort from Bruce.

Damien looked at his father and sister, before sighing and pulling a roll of euro bills from his pocket and dropped it into the jar.

Emma beamed up at him, before running over to her mother. Marinette sighed, before picking her up and walking back to the rest of the group.

A

Clark looked at the newspaper, nearly spitting his coffee over the front of it.

MDC IS A WAYNE!

Clark groaned and hoped Bruce hadn’t adopted a grown woman. Connor looked up from his book.

“Is everything okay, Kal?” Asked Connor, frowning as M’Gann, Garfield and Bart read the headline.

“Bruce has adopted a grown woman.” Said Clark, starting to stand up.

“Actually,” Said Bart, looking up at him, “Marinette is Batman’s biological daughter.”

People from several blocks away heard the loud what coming from Clark’s apartment.

“Smallville, if one of your super friends has another kid, you don’t need to act surprised by it.” Said a groggy Lois, rubbing her eyes.

A

Ra’s Al Ghul glared at the headline; he knew of the girl. He also knew of the Great Guardians; the League had capitalised on the power vacuum that had been left in their absence. He let out a sharp sigh through his nose and started reading.

A

Marinette looked around the Watchtower, frowning at the sight of the Justice League.

“I’m not even going to start on how impractical some of your costumes are.” Said Marinette, before looking at the trees, “How’d you get the birds up here?”

“You know, we still have no clue.” Said Flash, as a bird landed on Marinette’s head.

[yummyinmytwistedtummy]

Draconic Instinct: Malleus x Reader vore

So... this was originally going to be posted on the 7th for @twistedtummies2′s birthday, but I saw that they were having a rough time recently and decided to post it a bit earlier. I’m a little unsure about how this one came out but I’m gonna post it anyways. I hope ya’ll like it, and happy early birthday/happy easter @twistedtummies2.

I swear I didn’t mean to make it so romantic. It just kind of happened.

   There were hardly any words to sum up how you felt at this moment, but to say the very least you no longer envied ant man's power of shrinking on command. You supposed fictional characters couldn’t get vertigo but you certainly did and it wasn’t pleasant.

   Groaning, you sat up and held your stomach and head. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out what happened. The only thing you were left wondering was how and why it had happened.

   With awe and slight fear you gazed at the world around you and how different it was to when you weren't the perfect size to soak in a teacup.

   Everything was 10 times the size it had once been. Maybe even bigger. Bushes loomed over you, flowers were bigger than your hands, grass was like walking through a corn field, and when you looked up at the trees they were larger than skyscrapers. In comparison you were roughly the size of someone's palm. 

   Being shrunk definitely wasn’t on your bucket list, but NRC never really seemed to care about what you wanted. “Great, how am I gonna get back to the dorm now?” You huffed and placed your hands on your hips. 

   Several ideas came to mind yet none of them were actual solutions. You couldn’t walk, it would take forever. You couldn’t call anyone since your phone had cracked when it fell from your hands before you shrank. You also couldn’t ask Grim for help since he was already back at the dorm.

   The one day you actually needed his help he was sick because the little furball ignored your advice and ran out into the cold rain the night before. You sighed and looked at your surroundings again. 

   It was rather odd that you were shrunk today. Not that being reduced to a few inches tall was ever normal, but today was a particularly peculiar time to fall victim to more troublesome magic. 

   Today was your birthday. 365 days in the year and today was the day that something like this happened to you. At this moment your gorgeous beau was waiting for you back at the ramshackle dorm with some movies so you could cuddle up and relax together after a long day of school.

   Although you doubted Grim would let you have any alone time with the prince since he was so sick. A sick Grim was a clingy Grim. You didn’t mind as long as he was comfortable but you had been hoping to watch your boyfriend indulge in some ice cream later that evening. You still loved Grim but you were a bit bitter about the fact that your favorite bonding activity with your boyfriend was cancelled.

   Now you couldn’t care less about it as it seemed that you might miss the evening all together. A frown decorated your features and you grumbled unhappily about the situation as you began to walk in the direction of the dorm.

    You would never make it home in time, but there was no use in standing around and pitying yourself. As you walked you tried to recall anything out of the ordinary that had happened during school. Besides the birthday wishes and occasional presents, everything checked out.

   Maybe it was someone’s unique magic. You hadn’t seen anybody around as you were walking home but then again you weren't really paying attention either. Apparently you weren’t paying much attention now either as you hadn’t noticed the giant teen approaching you until it’s shadow fell over your very tiny figure.

   You looked up and gasped. A very large hand was reaching down to grab you, which had been the cause of the shadow. You did what any sane person would do and tried to book it. The giant hand was faster.

   “Let me go!” You shouted angrily, but stopped when you were swung upwards in a way that made you worry that you were going to lose your lunch. “Oh boy…” Even after the ride was stopped you felt dizzy.

   “Well, well, well, lookie here. The high and mighty prefect of the ramshackle dorm!” A smug looking face appeared in your vision and you had to hold back a scream.

   The giant in front of you was the owner of the hand that had plucked you from the ground. He was dressed in a Savanaclaw uniform and resembled a bear. His smirk displayed two rows of sharp teeth that in any other situation would make you swoon. Right now though your fear conquered your kink.

   “Got ‘em good there Bazz. Aw look at ‘em all tiny and trembling. Hahaha!” Another student who you didn’t recognize came from the side and sneered at you. “What a weakling. Hardly fit to be called a prefect, especially without any magic.”

   Oh… That’s what this was about. You glared at the two men and started struggling. “Put me down you oafs!” It had been a while since you first arrived at NRC but it seemed that some people were still insistent on bullying you about your lack of powers. 

   This wasn’t the first time that other students had decided to pick on you. People sneered and called you names in the hallways all the time. It wasn’t hard to ignore them after a first few weeks and soon you began to think that they were just words. 

   No one had tried anything like harming you so far, but it wasn’t entirely out of the question. At a villain school it’s generally to be expected. It was why you so often only travelled with others. Your fellow students that you had established relationships with and trusted accompanied you back to the ramshackle dorm most days. And if they weren't around, Grim was usually there to take care of you.

   Except for today.

   You were in no way a weak individual, however it was much harder to defend yourself when you were 5 inches tall.

   The second student, a Scarabia student from the looks of it, had a curly mop of red hair and cheeks spotted with hundreds of freckles. His eyes were a light blue color and his crooked smile revealed good dental work. He would have been more attractive had he not been leering at you or practically peeling apart at the seams from sunburn.

   Bazz, the bear manimal, had dark skin and medium length black hair. His eyes glowed yellow as he smirked with teeth so disgusting they almost matched his eyes.

   Several more students, from nearly all the dorms, crept out of the shadows and surrounded your initial two captors. The color drained from your face and you willed yourself not to tremble as a series of horrific opportunities entered your mind.

   “Oafs! Ha! We aren’t oafs, you're just a shrimp!” The group laughed and you glared at them with as much malice as you could muster. “Not that name calling ever does anything.” Bazz drew your attention back to him. “We had hoped that by telling you that we didn’t want you here, you would get the message and scram. But some herbivores just don’t get it, so us predators, both physically and magically, have to teach you where you belong on the food chain!”

   You gaped and let your eyes widen. Did these buffoon’s know who you were? That you had saved their arses on several occasions, both from others and themselves. You weren’t super buddy buddy with Leona, (cause he’s a pain and doesn’t like you very much anyways), but he still seemed to care about you enough that he didn’t want you to die. At the very least Ruggie could still get some free chore help out of you.

   And if Kalim and Jamil found out what one of their students was doing they would both be unhappy, angry even if he actually managed to hurt you. There was also the deal with Azul, situation with Riddle, and the show Vil put on as well. Truthfully there were so many reasons that they shouldn’t hurt you. It was almost shocking that they still wanted to hurt you after everything.

   One thing you did notice was that there wasn’t a single Diasomnia student in the bunch. That comforted you a minor amount. At least no one in your boyfriend’s dorm disliked you enough to go behind their dorm leaders back in order to get rid of you.

   “G-guys, let’s just t-talk this out.” You held out your hands in hopes that you could calm them into a negotiating state. “Listen, you don’t want to do this really. So if you could just turn me back I’m sure we could work somethi-”

   “Shut it, meat!” the savanaclaw barked at you. The noise made your ears ring and you held your hands over them to muffle the loud shouts. “Heeheheehe… is the little herbivore scared. That’s alright no need to be shy, I like it that way.”

   The circle of boys surrounding you, howled with laughter and you cringed from the stimulus. 

   As the laughter died down, Bazz looked at you closely. “Scrawny thing like you would have barely made a meal full-sized. Guess we’ll have to kill you the old fashioned way instead.” You gasped and began to thrash in his grasp as some of the students whistled. 

   “Bazz, you should feed her to yer snake!” “Bazz! My little sister’s been looking for a new doll to dress up!” “Bazz, hey! My dog needs a chew toy and that thing is the perfect size.”

   Threatening ideas that all promised a painful demise bounced around the group, each one more horrific than the last. The scarabia boy looked like he was about to lose it with laughter and Bazz watched you struggle as if it was the most entertaining thing in the world. No one noticed the clouds above head slowly circling and becoming denser. 

   “Alright alright! Hey everybody shut up!” Bazz, who you had concluded was the leader by this point, shouted at his lackeys. “I’ve decided how I wanna kill ‘em.” he said darkly with a smirk. An almost crazy look came to his eyes and he turned you so you were on display for the whole group to see. 

   “This little magicless shit and their raccoon thing have been plaguing this school for too long. I saw we knock out two birds with one stone and get rid a both of ‘em at the same time.” he paused for dramatic effect. “We’ll coat this one in tuna and leave it for the racoon to eat, and when he’s finished we’ll tell the headmaster and he’ll be expelled!”

   The group cheered and you moaned in utter exhaustion with a dab of hopelessness. Why was this school so ridiculous. You swore one day these imbeciles were gonna set the school on fire and when they turn to you for help, you were just gonna roast marshmallows and watch them panic. 

   A part of you was scared of course, you knew how Grim got when it came to food, but there was no way he wouldn’t notice you. Besides you weren’t really all that nervous anymore now that you noticed the sky.

   Dark clouds swirled around and flashes of green lit up the sky momentarily before dying down. Malleus was obviously looking for you and he was obviously not happy. Moments after you realized he was coming a massive lightning bolt struck the ground only feet away from where the pod of students stood.

   You screamed and shut your eyes as pain lit up behind them. You were swung around as the bear man protected his eyes as well and nausea took over you temporarily. 

   Even after you opened your eyes, only blackness filled your vision. Luckily you could still hear pretty well and relief flooded your veins when you picked up the voice of your boyfriend.

   “Hmm… it appears a bunch of scoundrels have decided to pick on my darling. Unfortunate as it seems, I am at fault for letting them walk home alone. Please return them and I won’t harm you.”

   Malleus was a frightening person to be up against, however the number of other students seemed to give them hope. “Not happenin’” You heard Bazz growl. “I caught ‘em so their mine!”

   The dark fae stiffened and you inhaled sharply. Thunder boomed and some of the students appeared frightened for a moment before attempting to return their expressions to confidence. They failed miserably.

   Malleus’ eyes widened before slanting dangerously. His pupils which were already slits, thinned out in an even more reptilian like way. His cape billowed around him as the wind picked up as a result of his rage.

   Being possessive doesn’t even begin to cover how Draconia feels about you. To him you were the most magnificent treasure in his entire hoard. The shiniest most beautiful precious gem he owned and his mate. After many many years of near solitude, Malleus had come to appreciate your company more than he could describe with words. Hearing another try to claim you ignited the fire in his belly and drove most logical thought from his mind. 

   The only thing he was thinking about was getting you back to him, completely unharmed. You supposed this might be the reason that the next events were so seemingly out of character for him. 

   He growled threateningly and the students took a step back. Two of them ran for it and one looked like he was just about to. Bazz and the Scarabia student stood stiff and nervous but didn’t back down. 

   Your eyes finally adjusted and you watched as a pomefiore student foolishly took a step forward. As first years they had practically nothing to use against the dark prince, who waved his hand and a gust of wind blew the student over like he was made of cardboard. 

   Malleus obviously wasn’t in the mood to play, yet he didn’t take out the students just yet. He decided he would show them something. “Bring my treasure here!” he snarled. Bazz shook but didn’t comply.

   “Fine, be that way.” the half dragon snapped his fingers and you were effortlessly teleported into his hands. You knew from experience that he could only do that to smaller objects so you supposed it was a good thing that you were shrunk.

   “Malleus!” You cried out and looked up at him with relief. His eyes momentarily flashed with the familiar adoration that he used when he gazed at you everyday. They turned dark again when the Scarabian boy shouted, “Hey! We caught that little rat so it’ ours. You're gonna have to fight us if you really want to take them!”

   “I will.” his voice was eerily calm as he stared them down. “In due time, but first,” he raised a finger and you squealed when he lifted you suddenly. “I need to tuck my treasure where it will be safe. I wouldn’t want my mate getting damaged or having to see the gruesome mess I am going to turn you into.”

   Confusion etched itself on your face but quickly shifted into understanding. Scared understanding, but understanding no less. “Umm… Mal… I don’t think-” 

   “Shh…” he quieted you and smiled at you softly. Despite your fears you nodded, giving him permission to continue. 

   The two of you had discussed this before, as he was well aware of your interests, however you had both decided that it wasn’t the time yet. Now, apparently was the time as you found yourself hovering over him in anticipation of what was to come.

   You glanced to the side and saw the last 4 students’ faces undergo the same transition yours did except they appeared much more horrified. Squirming, you looked down and gulped when Malleus gave you one last comforting look before stretching his jaws wide beneath you. 

   A flush crept onto your face as you gazed down into the open maw of your boyfriend. His teeth were sharp like spikes waiting to clamp down and tear through anything that he decided to consume. Each dip and crevice of pink pulsing flesh was oozing with clear slime. The back of the throat was illuminated by a strange green glow that came from below. Hot, stale breath washed over you and blew your hair slightly.

   Nervousness and anticipation spread through you as you were lowered into the large mouth that you realised resembled a sort of odd cave. His long forked tongue curled around your torso tightly as it carefully pulled you past the sharp fangs and into his mouth. The action was weirdly comforting as you picked up on his concern for your wellbeing. 

   Soon you were pulled completely into the slimy maw and watched, mildly afraid as the jaws shut, sealing off your exit. The tongue unwrapped itself and slid over you instead, prodding and feeling as it tasted you. It particularly enjoyed any part of you that wasn’t covered by clothing. And as your shirt was pushed up slightly so the tongue could lap at your midsection, you felt and heard Malleus humm in delight.

   You squirmed and giggled as the tongue continued to tickle you as best it could. It pulled back suddenly when a loud groan echoed up from below, telling Malleus that it was time to eat. He had never been one to deny himself of food if it was within appropriate terms so he tipped his head back and you felt gravity shift as he began to swallow you.

   The fae grunted and swallowed thickly, using a finger to trace your form in his throat. He scrunched his face as you sank slowly down past his chest, which he thumped in order to speed up your journey. And finally he felt you plop into his stomach.

   You panted for breath as the ride down had been far too tight for your liking but almost immediately gagged when you were hit by the horrid stink of whatever meat and sweet dessert Malleus had eaten last. 

   The gut around you was fairly large and spacious compared to the size you currently were. The walls pulsed and throbbed as they sensed you in their space. It was almost as if they were trying to locate you. That’s when you realized they were. 

   A high pitched whining sort of sound alerted you to the fact that your boyfriend was checking to make sure if you had made the journey safely. Quickly you trudged through the sludge, which tingled your skin when in contact, and placed two hands on what you assumed was the front wall of the stomach. 

   You could see due to the eerie glow in the stomach but you weren’t quite sure which direction you were facing. You received an answer when a handprint pressed against you in a comforting manner. 

   “I’m alright!” you called, “Don’t worry about me!” The stomach lining tensed and you heard Malleus growl, “Impossible!” You blushed and smoothed your hand over the slimy walls in appreciation for his undying concern for your wellbeing. 

   Outside, the remaining two students who had failed to flee when they saw Draconia swallow his lover whole, trembled in their spots. Both whimpered when his gaze turned towards them and fixed with a cold and dangerous stare that promised pain. 

   “You!” the dark prince seethed, “attempted to take my mates life!” His voice raised and lightning flashed behind him. “And for that, you will pay dearly!”

   You were flung backwards into the sludge as you felt Malleus jerk swiftly as the fight began. He pointed his staff at the two buffoons and muttered an incantation under his breath before a large jet of light blasted towards them. 

   Both jumped out of the way just in time for the laser to scorch the ground where they had previously stood. 

   They looked at each other fearfully and then back at Malleus. Scrambling, they attempted to stand up and fight back, but neither were successful as they were suddenly blasted by another powerful spell. 

   Your boyfriend smirked wickedly as he watched the two students deform and shrink until there was nothing left but two large rats screeching panickedly in the grass. “You’re lucky my mate disapproves of murder. Otherwise you would be in hell right now!”

   Lightning struck again and Malleus vanished from his spot, leaving the, now rodents to scamper off into the woods, hoping the spell would wear off. 

   Flickering lights flew around the room as its owner appeared out of thin air, transported home with magic. He sighed and leaned his staff against the wall with a huff. You were quiet as you listened to the dark mage begin to undress enough to leave his midsection exposed. 

   He gently sat down on the bed and you gripped the stomach wall to remain balanced. He leaned back and grunted, placing a palm over his stomach. “Darling, you are still alright?” his voice sounded slightly strained and you raised an eyebrow.

   “Um, yes, yes I am.” he sighed in relief. “That’s good. In that case please do excuse me but-” you didn’t hear him finish his sentence before the air around you thickened momentarily before rushing upwards in a loud blast.

“GRRRRWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRP!!!!!”

   You gasped and felt your legs weaken beneath you. The large eructation bellowed around you and seemed magnified from you being inside of him. 

   Malleus moaned softly. His eyebrows drew together and he sat a bit straighter on the bed. “My apologies, darling, it appears you gave me quite a bit of gas.” He muffled another burp, which rumbled deeply in his throat and blew the fetid air out the corner of his mouth.

   “N-no need to apologise.” you said hesitantly. You were very aware of your boyfriend's aversion to rudeness, however, your interests didn’t care much and you always found yourself shaking at the knees when he let loose a bit. 

   He smirked and rolled his eyes at your reaction and wished he could see your no doubt adorably blushing face. His hand rubbed large circles over his stomach and a low purr like sound began to rumble through his chest.

   You trudged over to the wall again and placed your hands against it. He pressed back lightly in conformation that he knew you were there and you smiled fondly as you began to rub the stomach lining.

   He let out a low croon and you felt him sink into the bed. You could almost see the look of pure delight that would slip onto his face anytime you massaged his belly. If only you knew how much better it felt to him now that you were applying your ministrations from inside.

   Malleus hummed softly and peered down at his stomach with a loving and satisfied gaze. You were safe. Away from those bullies who he would further deal with later once you weren’t around to stop him with morals, as most humans had. Safe, warm, delicately tucked away inside of him, where nothing and no one could get to you. 

   His most valuable possession, most treasured jewel, most worshiped treasure. His mate. HIS! The instinctual possessiveness and protectiveness had died down a bit now that he was back in his ‘nest’ with his mate, safely stowed away in his stomach. Now feelings of regret and guilt began to fester within him as he thought about how he hadn’t really asked for permission before swallowing you.

   “Darling?” you stopped rubbing and looked up, not that you could see him, “I… I wanted to say I’m sorry…”

   You made a confused face and pressed against the lining a bit. “Why?”

   “I’m sorry for several reasons, actually.” he sighed. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you in the first place. I’m sorry that I didn’t prevent such an event from happening. I’m sorry that you were scared and in danger while you were under my care. I’m also sorry that I ate you…”

   He paused and you cocked your head. “It’s… it’s a dragon's instinct to protect their valuables no matter what. For you… in such a position… I felt that you were too exposed, too vulnerable. Even if I had placed you in a pocket there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t get hurt. What I was sure of was my ability to protect my own body, so I decided to temporarily add you to it.”

   The dark fae wrapped his arms around his midsection and frowned. “Oh darling, I hope you can forgive me.”

   You stepped back from the wall and swung your fist at it as hard as you could. He was unable to stop a magnificently large belch from erupting past his lips, which you were quite delighted about but shoved those feelings to the side. You had caught his attention, so now it was your turn to speak. 

   “Malleus Draconia!” you said sternly, “If you think for one minute that I am going to let you blame yourself for something entirely out of your control then you’ve got another thing coming to you.”

   The half dragon stared in shock at his gut and let his jaw drop. 

   “It is in no way your fault that those jackasses decided to pick on me. In fact it was bound to happen sooner or later so it was only a matter of time. Besides you can’t be with me 24/7. It’s just not possible. So you stop being sorry about it this instance or I am going to give you the gut ache of your life!” You kicked his stomach again to prove your point and he released a deep burp into his fist. 

   “HHHHRRRRRMMMMMMMRRRRRLLLLPPPHHH!!!!”

   “Oh and another thing,” you started, “I have no idea why you would be sorry in the first place, since you saved me.” He paused and knit his eyebrows together as he thought about it. “You saved me Malleus. I’m safe. I’m safe and I’m not scared or unhappy or hurt in any way. I’m safe and in fact I’m also quite content.”

   The half dragon sat up in surprise. “Yes, that’s right.” you continued, “I am enjoying this experience deeply. True it would be a bit nicer if you could stop repressing, but I know how you feel about that. So don’t feel bad that you swallowed me to keep me safe. You probably could have swallowed me just to add some fat to your thighs and I would still be in heaven.” 

   He growled at the suggestion of him killing you, even if you would appreciate it due to your twisted sense of what's arousing and such.

   You chuckled and restarted rubbing his stomach lining. “Malleus, I love you. I trust you and your decisions. If you need to do something to keep me safe, even if it did make me slightly uncomfortable. I would still love you just as much.” 

   He began to purr again and sighed. “Thank you darling. I… I suppose you’re right.” he paused. “I love you too. So very much, and because of that, along with the fact that it is your birthday… I will indulge you as much as you like.”

   You paused and gasped. As much as you’d like…? You almost shook with excitement and Malleus chuckled, sensing your joy. “Shall I start with the usual?” You nodded vigorously, then realized he couldn’t see you and blushed in embarrassment. “Yes I would like that very much.”

   Malleus smiled at your enthusiasm and waved his left hand, conjuring a bottle of soda. He much preferred to drink from a glass and have his beverage stored in glass bottles, but for simplicity's sake he decided it would be alright to drink from a regular two liter.

   Another wave and he had sound proofed his room. Something he found himself doing often since you had begun to come over. 

   Carefully he unscrewed the bottle cap, wary of it potentially exploding. You heard the hiss of air being released and backed up against the wall in anticipation of what was coming next. The next sound you heard was a series of thick squelches and some fizzing accompanied by the noise of liquids rushing downwards. 

   Soon enough a waterfall of sweet, sugary soda cascaded through the open valve above. You squeezed your eyes shut and hissed when it splashed you as it hit the stomach bottom and mixed with the acids that pooled there.

   The liquid level around you rose steadily and you heard it bubble and hiss as it frothed incessantly upon exposure to the heat in Malleus insides. The pressure in the air doubled until it became almost too thick to breath. 

   By the time Malleus had finished the bottle, the liquid level had risen past your hips and rested just below your waist. He pulled the rim of the bottle away from his mouth and panted. Almost hesitantly he replaced the cap on the now empty bottle and placed it on the bedside table. 

   “Alright darling,” he grunted, “I’m HURP!- hah… I’m ready. Give it a good kick.” Almost immediately he felt a sharp pain in the side of his middle as you gave the inside of his gut a fierce blow. His stomach groaned loudly and the air pressure thickened harshly before Malleus opened his mouth and let out one of the loudest, deepest, longest belches you had ever heard.

“BWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRP!!!!!!!!!!!! - HACK!!!”

   It came to a close after a sheer 14 seconds of filling the room with its hellacious stench. The paintings on the walls had rattled and shaken in its wake and the bottle fell off of the table it was placed upon. 

   Your ears rung and you were sure your nose was bleeding by how intensely hot you felt. Your whole face turned a lovely shade of crimson almost as dark as Riddle’s hair. 

   Malleus gasped and moaned, letting his head fall back on the pillows. Despite his favor for elegance and manners he could never deny how simply incredible it felt to release a large amount of pressure from his stomach. 

   He puffed out his cheeks as he felt another massive burp roll up his throat.

“HHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRP!!!!!”

“BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPP!!!!”

“BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLCH!!!!”

“BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOORRRP!!!!!!!!!”

   Several more belches, all magnificent in size, erupted past his lips and echoed throughout his bedroom. You moaned and listened as your boyfriend continuously burped without restraint. This was a once in a lifetime experience and you intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

   Finally the burps tapered off and Malleus groaned, rubbing his throat which stung a bit due to the power behind the eructations. He looked down and realized that while busy emptying his stomach of gas, he had also hacked you up. 

   The ride up had been short and tight but you hadn’t been paying all that much attention when it happened so you couldn’t say for sure if it had been uncomfortable. Rolling over on his stomach where you happened to end up, you smiled loopily up at him and he flushed looking you over.

   It made him feel nice, seeing you so small and content. While you were in danger he hadn’t gotten the chance to appreciate how simply adorable you looked, being this tiny, or how delicious.

   Malleus’ stomach growled disapprovingly at having lost its new favorite snack but he ignored it in favor of muttering a short incantation which quickly cleaned you of gut gunk. Now clean, you stood shakily since his midsection was bloated a bit, and tried to walk over to your boyfriend's chest. 

   You ended up falling over, since it was slightly like walking on a waterbed that wasn’t totally full. Malleus chuckled and you saw his eyes flash a bright green before your perspective changed rapidly. 

   It was only moments later that you found yourself, full sized once more staring into the captivating eyes of your beau. 

   “Hello darling.” he spoke softly. “Did you enjoy yourself?” You nodded rapidly and he sighed wrapping his arms around you. His hand gently runs over your hair and you let your head sit on his chest. 

   The sound of his heartbeat fills your ears and you sigh. It was quite a relaxing sound, but you still preferred the low burbles that his stomach provided. The two of you lay this way for a while, simply enjoying the presence of each other. However Malleus eventually shifts underneath you and whispers your name.

   Curiously you look up at him and he beckons you closer. 

   Closer. 

   Closer.

    Your lips touch in a brief kiss and he pulls back with a smile. “I have a birthday gift for you, but first.” He loosens his grip so he can sit up, positioning you in his lap. You shiver in anticipation when he gazes down at you greedily. Finally he leans forward enough to lick a stripe up your cheek and bite your earlobe teasingly.

“HHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMLLLLLPH!!!! - Phoosh”

   As he pulls back he suppresses a thick belch and blows the leftover fetid gas into your face. Your eyes water and you cough while inhaling deeply at the same time. You opened your eyes and Malleus could have sworn he saw hearts in them.

   “Thank you…” you breathed and he smirked. “Mmmm… as delightful as it is teasing you and getting to see...” he flicked his tongue along your lips, “taste your sweet blush. I do have an actual gift for you.”

   He moved so you could see the table where he had previously placed the soda bottle, and lifted a hand in a swift motion and whispered a few words. Suddenly a large ice cream cake appeared with a scrawled “Happy Birthday” on top. 

   The ice cream appeared to be chocolate vanilla swirl, and the frosting on top was vanilla. Decorative chocolate thorns encircled the cake’s base and had been arranged to appear as if they were climbing the dessert. Just above the wording a candle in the shape of a spinning wheel sat delicately. The spindle part was engulfed in a small green flame that danced almost eagerly as it waited to be blown out.

   You gasped and turned back to look at your boyfriend in surprise at the complicated cake he had (ordered you presumed) gifted you. The overly large size and ice cream part didn’t slip your notice and you had a feeling this night's adventures with your interests were far from over.

   “And one more thing.” Malleus spoke hesitantly, as if nervous by the next gift. He waved his hand and a small box appeared. He handed it to you and you opened it carefully. Inside sat a silver ring that had been made so detailed it looked as if it had literally been woven together with several tiny vines of thorns. Right in the middle of the ring was a small emerald which flashed in the candlelight.

   Your eyes widened and you glanced up at your beau who looked as if he was holding his breath. “It’s to signify our relationship. It’s not an engagement ring, it is meant to be worn on your right hand.” You watched as he gently slipped the ring onto your right hand. 

   In the valley of thorns we have something similar to the gallagh ring that you told me exists in your world. Instead of wearing it a different way depending on your relationship, the gemstone in the middle turns black when you are single. It turns the color of your partner's eyes when you are in a relationship, and when you become married it permanently changes to that color and the band turns gold.”

   He explained how it works in a quiet voice while you admired the pretty ring and your hand held in his. Malleus pressed a kiss to the ring and looked at you nervously. “Do you like it?”

   You threw your arms around him and smiled wide. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. Thank you so much Malleus.” You pulled back still smiling, he sighed in relief and smiled back. “That’s good to hear.” he looked like he was about to say something else but was interrupted by a loud growl that came from his stomach.

   “Sounds like you’re hungry. Why don’t we eat some cake?” he smirked and tightened his grip on your waist just a bit. “Hmmm. you mean, you eat some cake and I eat all the rest, only to end up with a big bloated tummy for you to rub?” You blushed fiercely. 

   “Yes, I do believe that sounds like an appropriate way to end the evening.” He leaned forward and kissed you once more. “Although you will always be the sweetest treat I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.” You giggled. “I love you too, Malleus.”

[cummingforkylo]

The Prince Of Alderaan Chapter II

Chapter Summary: Lady Whistledown’s latest papers leaves you quite indignant and unsure of your next steps. Hyde Park is beautiful at this time of year but when you venture out with your Mama, you have anything but flowers in mind. 

Chapter One | Read On AO3 | Send me a Ko-fi

Rating: Explicit...eventually

Word Count: 5,309

Warning: None as of now

Pairing: Kylo Ren x reader

Notes: Okay, Okay, I KNOW if you’ve seen Bridgerton you know that I pretty much took this one key element from the storyline but I promise i’m going to do it differently.This story is inspired by the netflix show/book series Bridgerton. It’s kind of a crossover because I do use some themes and characters from the show but it is mostly a Kylo x Reader fic. Remember: historical accuracy is not the goal!<3 

Dearest Lords and Ladies of London,

After the first event of the season last night I’m sure we are all wondering what scandal or excitement awaits our hungry appetite! This writer has heard from her sources that while the ball seemed to be laden with the typical talk(Miss Philippa Featherington danced with no one, Lady Browning indulged far too much in champagne and had to be removed from the party by her son, Lord Linfield was rejected by countless ladies for a dance…despite his sizable fortune-perhaps it is the lingering oder of cabbages and onions that accompanies him wherever he goes) there was one bit of excitement that stood far above the other more typical anecdotes. The most scandalous young lady of this season so far, Miss Huntington, seems to have caught the eye of the most coveted (and reluctant) bachelor of the season, the Prince of Alderaan.

Prince Kylo Ren of Alderaan spent much of the evening avoiding the dance floor and was seen to scurry away from many very suitable young ladies including Miss Bridgerton-Queen Charlotte’s choice of the season. While he resisted strongly(and some might even have called his actions rude) most of the young ladies he encountered he seemed to be unable to keep himself away from Miss Huntington. Miss Huntington, still fresh off of her family’s embarrassing gambling scandal last year did not do herself any favors at the Danbury Ball. She danced with a number of men who would have been perfectly adequate for her, but she seemed to have had nothing but contempt for them. Showing no more interest in them then a horse shows a fly and this mare perhaps should not be brushing flies away too quickly, no matter how much their buzz annoys her.

But perhaps the Prince sees something in Miss Huntington that society as a whole does not, because after ignoring the Queen’s choice of the season all night, the Prince and Miss Huntington came together for, by all accounts, a most heated dance.  I will be interested to see if Miss Huntington has a royal caller today and what that could mean for her prospects later on. Perhaps the Queen has chosen the wrong girl for the diamond of the season this year, perhaps we have all put our eggs in the wrong basket. But—perhaps not. Only time(and this writer) will reveal.

Yours most sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

“Contempt?” You gasped as you paced back and forth in front of the piano in your sitting room. Mama was sitting in front of a table holding the latest Lady Whistledown, a quickly cooling cup of tea completely forgotten sat on the table in front of her. “I didn’t show any of those men contempt! I was perfectly polite, Mama!” You complained. You were affronted to hear what that wretched Whistledown had written of you, written of you and the Prince.

“I understand that, but the members of the ton might not now that they’ve read this.” Mama sighed. Nerves clenched at your stomach, how could your status seemed to have gotten lower since the Danbury Ball? “Not all of what she wrote of you was terrible, dearest.” Mama said, trying to perk up. She set the paper down next to her tea on the table. “Don’t you agree, Ella?” she continued, looking to your lady’s maid who stood nearby.

“Oh, yes, not all of it was-“

“She compared me to a horse.” You said, turning around to face the two of them, frustration and irritation plain on your face. Ella’s face dropped and she nodded, looking away. “Sorry, Ella. I do not mean to take my own frustrations out on you.” You said.

“She did mention the Prince being taken with you-“

“Yes, what was the word she used to describe our dance?” You asked, “Oh yes, heated. That’s a scandalous word if ever I’ve heard one.” You said. You strode over to the table and picked up the copy of Lady Whistledown Society Papers that now sat on the table beside your Mama. You found yourself wanting to rip it into a million pieces, that of course would not be a proper display, even just in front of your mother and lady’s maid.

Your Mama reached out and took your hand, running her thumb along the backside of  it in a comforting way that only a Mama knew how to do. You looked down at her and found yourself for what felt like the millionth time, wishing things were different. Wishing things had not exploded for your family last year. How much easier would life currently be if your father had not indebted himself to so many people, not made a mockery of your lives? You tried to brush away the thought but anger pulsed through you. A most unlady-like feeling, anger. It caused you to think of actions you wanted to take but never could, words you wanted to speak but never would allow yourself to. It made you long even more for a different world wherein you could do and say those things. And longing wasn’t ladylike either.

“Dearest, she also compared you to Daphne Bridgerton and said the Queen herself may have been wrong in her choice. That the whole ton might have been wrong in thinking the diamond of the season was Miss Bridgerton, and she means that it could be you.” As your Mama spoke a whole knew vista of opportunities, and chances seemed to open up before you. You could, no, you had to prove this true. That you were more eligible, more likable and just…more than anyone else. The Prince could call on you and he could court you, and ask for your hand and marry you. Then all this worry, all this anger and pain and scandal would be for naught. It would be forgotten about because you will have made the match of the season. Even if he was rude, cruel and you became irritated at the mere memory of his mocking voice, you would still become a Princess when you married him and that was exactly what your family needed. Yes, that was the goal and you were heartened by it.

“My guess is you will have quite a lot of callers today, suitors ready to vy for your hand.” Mama said and you smiled because you really did agree with her.

*

Your mood dissolved as the day went on, you spent the entire day in the sitting room awaiting on callers. You paced, and no one called. You sat on the sofa and tried to read, and no one called. You  played piano and no flowers or gifts arrived. You talked to Ella about other things to try and distract yourself and no one called. You picked out fabric for your next dress from the swatches the Modiste had sent and no one called. Not one suitor. You had been so  convinced that the Prince would call, or at least send flowers that in the afternoon when there was a knock at the sitting room door you were sure it was the Butler there to tell you that he was there but instead the door opened and your eldest brother walked in with his wife and your niece and nephew close behind. Matthew was jovial as he greeted you and your Mama,

“Did you read Lady Whistledown today? That woman has a knack for writing compelling stories does she not?” He asked as he grabbed a biscuit and sank down at the table. His wife, Rose sat down next to you at the piano as the children ran about already causing havoc. You rolled your eyes, had they not read the same thing this morning? Why would he think it compelling?

“She compared me to a horse, Matthew.” You found yourself saying once again, turning to look at your elder brother who attempted and failed to hide a smile.

“I told him not to bring up Lady Whistledown.” Rose sighed, reaching over to take your hand in the sweet and gentle way that she did.

“Ella, can you call down to the kitchens for more tea, please?” Mama said, looking to Ella who said,

“Of course, Ma’am.” She curtsied and left them. Matthew watched her go from the room, and leaned back against his chair.

“She may have made a few brash statements, my dear sister but she also reminded everyone that their choice of Daphne Bridgerton for the diamond of the season could be false and it could be you.” Matthew said, delicately selecting another biscuit from the tray in front of him.

“That is precisely what I pointed out out to your sister earlier.” Your mama said approvingly glancing from Matthew to you over her teacup.

“That was before absolutely no suitors came to call this morning,” You reminded your mother, irritation coloring your voice once again.

Your nephew sped past the table his father was at, grabbing a biscuit as he went.

“Simon, where on earth are your manners?” Rose asked. Simon stuck his tongue out at his mother and continued his game of chasing his sister around the couch with the biscuit in his mouth.

“You had no suitors this morning? None at all?” Matthew asked, and the shock in his voice made you want to shrivel up and die. It was unfair, unfair that Matthew was there to bare witness to  your suffering, unfair that he should be here with his happy wife and children watching you fail at your only duty in life. Your mama shook her head to answer for you because you were looking anywhere but at your elder brother. Rose squeezed your hand and your chest flooded with sudden emotion. The tiniest gesture made you feel as though you were not alone. Had she once felt like this? Had she too wondered if anyone would want her? Had she wondered if she would amount to anything more than the hated title of ‘spinster’? No, Matthew had been there from the start, he had been interested and active in seeking her out.

Matthew was  frowning as if in thought, “Does father know?” he asked, trying now to hide some of his shock by asking pointless questions. Of course Father didn’t know, Father wasn’t home, how would he know? Mama answered in a more polite fashion than you would have,

“Not yet,” She said.

“Hm. Well. There is still time.” He said shot you a quick smile, perhaps you weren’t entirely useless. Your mood did not improve, even when you retreated to your room to get dressed for walking in Hyde park. You knew you could not get discouraged. You knew you had to prove yourself as the best. Lady Whistledown might have helped along the No Suitors Situation but she herself had also said you could be the rightful Diamond of the Season and not Daphne Bridgerton. Everyone had already said this to you today and now you had to remind yourself. You had to convince yourself because it would take that confidence to pull it off. As Ella helped you dress you found your mind floating back to the night before, at the Danbury Ball and how flat every dance had felt, every look between you and a man had had no significance, every touch was dull and expected. It had all been nothing. All except one—the Prince. The rude, cruel, infuriating Prince Ren who had called you improper, even though he had been the one staring at you. Kylo Ren, who had…touched your skin. Your heart pounded at the mere memory of his fingers grazing against your back. It made you ashamed but not nearly as much as it should have, because it also was the only memory from the Danbury Ball that exhilarated you. He had sought you out, and you alone, it had to have meant something. And yet when he danced with you it seemed as though all he wanted from it was to humiliate you. You wished it wasn’t possible. You wished it hadn’t worked. And you very much wished you still weren’t thinking about it.

***

Your thoughts of Prince Kylo Ren didn’t abate when you left your house for the short carriage ride to Hyde Park. You were still thinking about him as you strolled along the walking paths with your Mama and your Lady’s maids. You were trying to work out what exactly he had meant by his behavior, why choose you to be the only young lady he danced with and then be nothing but rude to you? Perhaps he did not think himself rude? Perhaps he just spoke his mind very bluntly. You considered this as the best option for a while, barely noticing where your feet were carrying you as you walked alongside your Mama. But a memory resurfaced from that night, that made it very clear to you that this could not be the case. It was the memory of the smirk that seemed to hang even in his voice as he said, “You stared at me, my lady.” Your insides twisted at it. That and the way his eyes burned. He knew precisely what he was doing, he knew he was trying to humiliate you, trying to make you feel as if you had done something wrong. “How improper,” those words sent a spark through your body, something akin to anger and embarrassment. His voice had been dark and intense, your mind was absorbed in it…accompanied with the feeling of his gloved fingers against the bare skin of your back. It wasn’t the correct place for him to place his hand while leading a dance, it was slightly too high. Yet, he had done it. Accidentally? It must have been. He just had not been used to dancing with someone quite that much shorter than him, perhaps. Those fingers blazed through your memory, leaving little room for anything else in your brain. You could imagine his fingers there again as you looked out across the Serpentine River, which was little more than a shallow man-made pond that cut through this section of Hyde Park.

Your mind was so wrapped up in the feeling of those fingers, and the burn in his eyes that it took you far too long to notice you were staring directly at the real thing. It took your mother taking your arm and hissing in your ear,

“Staring at the Prince is not very lady-like.” She squeezed your arm and you blinked. She, of course, was right. Across the lake, the prince was standing arm in arm with the Queen Regent of Alderaan, his mother. Someone he had not been seen with years. As you took him in you realized he had not noticed you yet,  you should look away, being caught staring at him yet again would surely end in more humiliation. He paused in his walk with his mother, his expression was irritated, lips tight, body stiff and upright as she spoke to him. His eyes flicked up and you were very suddenly caught in his gaze. Caught wasn’t quite the right word to describe it, trapped was probably more accurate. A shiver ran up your spine, it was that same blazing glance, a whisper of the memory of a hand on your skin. You watched as humor suddenly joined the irritation on his face, recoloring it. He turned to look at his mother, spoke and then pulled his arm away from her. He began to walk to the foot bridge nearby. She called something after him but he ignored her, she turned to her Lady’s maid who was standing nearby but your eyes were following his Grace as he walked over the bridge.

“The Prince is headed in this direction,” Mama hissed to you quite unnecessarily. You were about to hiss back that you knew but you started to feel not only his eyes on you, but many eyes on you. Everyone who had gone for a late afternoon stroll through Hyde Park seemed to be looking at you.  All because Prince Kylo was stepping off the foot bridge and striding over towards you. You found yourself having the insane desire to run away. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t face him after he had caught you staring, or perhaps it was because of your disastrous dance at the Danbury Ball…or perhaps it was because of the persistent and scorching thoughts of his hand in yours, his fingers on your back. You wanted to hide from all of that and hide from his gaze but he walked up to you a moment later and inclined his head respectfully,

“Miss Huntington,” He said and then he turned slightly towards your Mama. “Lady Huntington,” He said.

“Your Grace,” Your Mama said, dropping to a curtsey. When you finally remembered how to move, and curtsied as well.

“Your Grace,” You mimicked your mother.

“What a pleasant thing, to meet you here.” Mama said, smiling almost adoringly up at Kylo. “Were you escorting your mother?” She asked. Something shifted slightly in his face, the subtle shift was enough to make his face go from mildly polite to the beginnings of irritation.

“Yes.” He said. “But I happened to see Miss Huntington across the Serpentine and thought she looked as though she could use a companion this afternoon.” He said. He offered his arm to you. You didn’t move. You were unsure if you should take it, unsure if you even wanted to take it. You knew you should and something inside of you did long for it, longed for his gloved hand in yours so that you could again revel in the memory of it against your bare back. Shock swept through you  at your own thoughts, and with that shock was the realization that the prince had his arm held out to you still, “Would you care to walk with me, Miss Huntington?” He asked. You took the proffered arm as gracefully as you could manage while you still recovered from your own thoughts and the longing that still drove you to consider his hand at such length.

“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” You said. You watched him give your mother a tight smile and nod, before he turned you away form her and began walking.

It was quiet except for the sound of your steps as you walked along the Serpentine, you listened to his heavy footfalls and your lighter ones keeping pace. Was he going to mention the rude things he had said when you had last spoke? Should you bring them up? You were about to ask him if he planned on insulting you again on your walk when he spoke,

“I thought you might have learned your lesson about staring the last time we met.” He spoke casually as though he wasn’t attempting to wound your pride. “That does not seem to be the case.” He said. You looked about, wondering if anyone was within earshot, but no, Mama and her Lady’s maid were the closest people to the both of you and she was at least twenty yards back.

“First of all, Your Grace, I did not realize I was looking at you this afternoon.” You said, turning to look up at him. He was so much bigger than you that it felt as though you had to lean back to see his face. “Secondly, I maintain that the last time we met, I was only looking at you because I had caught you looking at me.” You insisted, and again the memory of that evening filtered into your head. The way you had felt his eyes upon you and how you looked back with curiosity.

“Hm.” Was his answer, and for a long moment it seemed as though he was going to leave it at that, then he spoke with no humor in his voice, “You presume to know better than I?” He asked. Your body felt tight and if you had not been holding on to his arm, your hands would have been shaking. Was it just because he was a prince that he was this intimidating or was it more? No, it had to be more, there was something about him that screamed at you to be nervous, to be afraid. You had to take a deep breath before you spoke to him again,

“I presume to know when I am being looked at across a ballroom, Your Grace.” You said, turning your face away from him so you looked forward at the path in front of you instead.

“Do you know so acutely what that feels like?” He asked, you felt his eyes on you again, that intense gaze that had burned into your across the ballroom at the Danbury estate. He was mocking you again, because he knew you did not know what it felt like.  You swallowed and your eyes flicked up to him and then away again as you tried to recover.

“Perhaps not, but I knew I could sense your gaze.” You insisted.

“Perhaps I could sense yours.” He said.

“That’s impossible because I was not looking at you yet.” Your voice was colored with anger now and you wished you could take back the words, your frustration only seemed to spur him on.

“I think you might have been.”

“I was not.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You almost ripped your arm away from him but you knew deep down that you could not. Not only was it impossible because you knew it would cause a scandalous scene but you could not because your body would not allow you to pull away from him. It felt like you were glued to his side.

“You seem unreliable to me,” His voice was humorless, irritated at your refusal to accept his version of events. You walked in silence next to him, not wanting to give him more fuel to flame his suspicions that you were an unreliable source, or a hot tempered girl. “Did you have many callers this morning?” You were so surprised by the question that you stopped walking, or you tried to because with your arm in his he simply towed you along with him.

“Excuse me?” You asked, breathless. It wasn’t an entirely unreasonable question for a friend to ask but you would not consider him a friend or even a potential suitor at this point. He had made it quite clear that he thought of you as nothing but an improper, unreliable, little girl.

“Lady Whistledown wrote that you might surprise everyone by making the match of the season,” He explained as he continued to tow you along with him. You turned your head to gaze up at him again, he was shocking in so many ways. Not only did he follow no real social protocols, but he spoke his mind and was too handsome to be reasonable. You wished you did not think it true, but as you looked at him you couldn’t help but notice again every pleasant thing about his face. Full lips, dark eyes with their fire-gaze, straight nose, and skin that was kissed with beauty spots in all sorts of delicate places. You blinked a few times, trying to beat back all the feelings that rose with appreciating his beauty,

“You read Lady Whistledown?” You asked, hating how stupid you sounded.

“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked. Your brow knit, you didn’t like being reminded of that fact. It must have shown on your face because he raised an eyebrow and his lip twitched towards a sardonic smirk, “I thought you would appreciate most of the things she wrote of you, Miss Huntington.” He observed. The idea that you would appreciate the things she wrote of you, of your family irritated you more than anything else he could have said. You let out a long, slow breath, trying to not let the anger towards Lady Whistledown effect the way you spoke to him. You were about to answer when he continued, cutting you off yet again, “You should appreciate that she’s willing to speak of you at all,” The frank way he put that boiled your blood and again you found yourself wanting to rip from his arm and march off but your body betrayed you once again and you remained stuck next to him.

“She…I can’t believe- that woman…she compared me to a HORSE!” You exclaimed, your voice dripping with contempt as you tried to not speak too loudly. Kylo frowned in thought a moment,

“I had not recalled that.” He said easily ignoring your fuming. “So, did you have callers this morning?” he asked again. You felt deflated, you had been so angry only seconds before and it was like it had been a soap bubble that he had burst. You swallowed and forced your eyes down, away from him. You felt your cheeks burn and you hoped your embarrassment didn’t show too much,

“No.” You said in the most dignified voice you could manage, lifting your chin. You weren’t sure why you were telling him the truth, but lying about it made it seem more shameful.

“No?” He confirmed, sounding surprised.

“No.” You said again, “No callers, no flowers, nothing.” He had walked you down the Serpentine to the next footbridge and now you were beginning to cross it. As you reached the middle of the bridge he stopped and looked down towards the water, you paused and stood on your tiptoes to look over the railing on the bridge as well, there was nothing but shallow dirty water below. Nothing of interest, but it was a good way to avoid his gaze.

“That surprises me. You danced with others at the Danbury ball I presume?” He asked.

“Yes,” You finally did look back towards him and again were struck by his handsome face. Your heart started to thrum faster in your chest. “I did think that perhaps you would call,” You admitted in a rush. The silence that fell seemed like the longest silence in your life. You wished you had not said anything. The words hung in the air and you wished they were physical so you could grab them and press them back inside of you, into your chest where he could no longer know them.

“Why would I call on you?” It was the emphasis on ‘you’ that hurt more than the sentiment itself. You let out the breath you had been holding and tried to replace the hurt with the frustration you had felt towards him earlier.

“I was the only young lady you danced with at the Ball,” You said, “And now you’re standing here, walking with me and asking if I had any callers. Forgive me, for thinking that might mean some form of interest, Your Grace.” You said.

“I am not interested, Miss Huntington.” He said so easily that you felt that same hurt as before. Why was he here then? Why was he walking with you now when you could have been walking with someone who was truly interested. Perhaps it was rude but at the moment you didn’t care,

“Why are you here then?” You demanded, you were finally able to pull your arm away from him now. “If you want so little to do with me, why walk with me?” You placed both hands on the railing of the bridge and turned fully towards the water once again. You tried to even your breathing, it was unbecoming to be gasping for breath even if it did feel like you had been kicked in the stomach.

“To irritate my mother,” He answered. Now it was easy to replace the hurt with anger, he was using you for his familial issues and it was at the expense of the rest of your life. How were you to have any suitors if he took up all your time with stupid walks that were only to his benefit.

You turned slowly towards him, feeling like anger was swelling up inside of you like the soap bubble from before, only you doubted it would be as easy to burst this time.

“To irritate your mother?” You asked, your voice dangerous and quiet. He was unapologetic. “How dare you? You think just because you’re some…some Prince that you can use me however you would like for your petty problems with your mother?” You gasped out, you were shaking now. Your whole body was responding to the indignity of what he was doing to you. His face darkened slightly and he stepped towards you, towering above you. Anyone watching might have mistaken this for something romantic if it hadn’t been for the loathing that was apparent on your face.

“You speak to a Prince like this?” he growled.

“When this Prince has acted anything but gentlemanly and has insulted me repeatedly-“

“Even when what I’m doing will help you in the long run as well?” He asked, his voice lowering even more.

“-by blatantly disrespecting me and my—what?” You pulled up short when he asked you that. “How on earth could this help me?” You paused, and then added with as much sarcasm as you could muster, “Your Grace.”

“Have you not noticed how many men have been watching you since I took your arm for this walk?” He hissed, leaning down closer to you. You could smell him now, and his scent with the overwhelming power of that dark gaze was enough to make you lose your breath for a moment.

“I-What?” You asked again, hurriedly looking around towards the other groups of people in the park.

“Don’t look now, stupid girl.” He growled. “Yes, my interest in you has piqued the interest of quite a few other men. You need suitors. I need my mother to stop pushing for me to marry…and I also need some peace from the idiotic Mama’s who push their daughters on me at every event I attend.” He said.

“I…I don’t understand.” You said softly, but you were beginning to, you remembered the way you had felt eyes on you when he had first come over to you. It hadn’t just been the eyes of gossiping old ladies, no, it had been the watchful daresay jealous eyes of men. He was proposing something to you, not something you would have thought of…but something almost as helpful.

“If you and I are seen together…seen as an item. Seen as if we were courting, you would become the most appealing girl in the ton. You would also become a challenge and men love nothing more than a challenge.” He said.

“And you…”

“Well, I would get exactly what I want as well-“ His eyes flicked to the other side of the river and down back where they had come where his mother was still walking with her Lady’s maid. You felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest, if he was right, if this worked it could very well get you a match by the end of the season.

“Do you think it would work?” You asked.

“If Lady Whistledown believes it. The whole ton will follow.” He said. “You just need to stop making scene of us in public.” He said. “Now take my arm again,” He instructed. “And walk back with me.”

You did as he said, hoping against hope he was right. He had to be right, your future was relying on it. You had to maintain that you were courting, you had to maintain it realistically and you had to do it while not thinking too much about his hand grazing your skin or the way his fire-gaze scorched your insides, burning excitement into your veins.

[petalbrooke]

ace fic ace fic!

I want to thank @runawayface for inspiring me to write some ace content and actually post it! This is a very short and self-indulgent fic where Elliott discovers he’s ace - I have a lot of headcannons around that possibility and maybe I’ll dig into them one day.

Here is the link if you want to give me kudos/comments on ao3, which are always appreciated, and the full fic is below.

Thanks for reading :)

Elliott had wanted desperately to fall in love. He’d read and written about it in so many ways, had seen it in blossom like flowers in the couples around him, but had yet to experience it – truly experience it. The heady feeling of falling for another, of long nights and early mornings with that person by his side. Of years and years of getting to know them better than he knew himself. In a town comprised of about thirty or so people, half of which were married or otherwise committed, Elliott had always thought that it wouldn’t happen to him.

At least, until the new farmer rolled into town.

Everyone was interested when they heard the local farm was being taken over by the previous owner’s granddaughter. A new face would be interesting under any circumstances, but one who was going to transform the weed-ridden farm? Well, that was something else entirely. He hadn’t met her until about a week after she’d moved in, when she’d gone to visit Willy at the docks. Elliott had been on the docks, bare feet dangling over the side as he scratched out several lines from a poem he was trying to write.

“Are you… Willy?” the woman had asked, hesitating outside the door that would actually take her to Willy. Elliott was immediately struck by her appearance – chestnut hair she had pulled back in a messy bun, dirt streaked on her slightly burnt face that matched the hue of her eyes. She was, he supposed, beautiful, though not in the same way as the heroines he often read about.

“No,” he laughed, gesturing towards Willy’s home. “He’s in there. My name is Elliott, and I live in that little ramshackle shack on the beach. You must be Elona, the new farmer?”

She beamed, and Elliott tried to imagine how he would write her if she was someone in his novel. He’d make sure to mention that slight gap in her front teeth, and the way her cheeks flushed when she smiled. Or perhaps that was the sunburn the work on the farm must have given her.

“That’s me. Well, it was nice to meet you. I really need to talk to Willy, but… I’ll see you around?”

“I hope so.” Elliott returned to his poem, changing one phrase five times until finally settling on the one he had originally chosen. Later – he wasn’t sure how much later, but the back of his neck had started to feel rather toasty – she had emerged, a new fishing pole in hand, and had joined him. They sat in companionable silence, each occasionally asking the other a question, until dark.

This was how it had all begun. Elona would come by every day, usually just after noon, with some products from her farm and fishing rod in tow. They would sit and talk and Elliott found himself craving every moment he would get with her – every minute spent with her was the best of that day. Afternoons turned into evenings turned into nights, and Elliott was finally beginning to understand the feelings of the characters in those romance novels he so loved.

Well. He was understanding most of them. There was one aspect he still didn’t understand was hoping might change with time, and it was the… intimacy aspect. He’d always tiptoed around the idea, even in his novels; all his knowledge had come from other authors and not from experience. After months of time together, he felt sure he loved her. Reasonably sure. What else would this feeling in his chest be, his desire to spend his life with her? To grow old with her? But there was still one thing – the marriage bed – that he couldn’t figure out how to navigate. (Well, not always the marriage bed, but he’d always been a bit of a traditionalist.)

He’d always thought that the swell of desire would come when he fell in love. That was always how it seemed to work in the novels. Sometimes it even came first. But even with Elona, even with everything he felt about her – he just couldn’t see beyond the fact that she was pretty. Elliott could tell when a person was attractive, objectively speaking. But it didn’t make him feel anything. He thought it would come with the right person. But Elona felt right in every way, and still, nothing.

She hadn’t brought it up yet, and neither had he, but tonight was the night, he had decided. It wouldn’t be fair if she had expectations he couldn’t meet. Or perhaps he was just completely broken, and could never love, not the way he was supposed to.

They were having dinner that night, at his cabin. Not homecooked – Elliott was never meant to be a chef – but seafood from the Saloon on his own plates worked just as well. It was quiet dinner, and Elliott’s hands betrayed his nervousness.

After three unfruitful attempts at conversation, Elona slammed her fork on the table, startling Elliott. “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all night. Barely talking, you’ve hardly touched your lobster, and I know that’s your favorite.”

Elliott glanced at the aforementioned lobster, unable to meet her steady gaze. “Yes, well, there was… there was something I wanted… something I needed to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath, suddenly at a loss for words, despite having rehearsed it endless times. “I don’t think I can be what you need me to be,” he said, the words tumbling out, unbidden.

Elona’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Clearly, whatever she’d expected him to say, this hadn’t been it. “What… what do you think I need?” she asked.

Elliott cleared his throat. Yoba, why was this so hard to say? “I don’t think I can… I mean, you’re beautiful, and I hope you know that, but I’m not… I don’t feel…” he stammered, unsure how to say what he wanted without wounding her. That it wasn’t her, it was him, it was that he couldn’t make himself feel that attraction he thought all couples had.

Her eyes softened, and she reached out and took his hand in her own, her fingers small and rough from hard labor. “Elliott, honey, I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Unless I’m wrong – and I rarely am,” she laughed, “you’re trying to tell me you don’t feel any sexual attraction towards me. Is that right?”

Elliott could feel heat creeping to his cheeks with how outright she was about it. “I, um, I…”

“And let me guess,” she continued, giving him a knowing smile and a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve never really figured this out about yourself and you feel broken. You see what everyone else has and you don’t understand why you don’t.”

“Yes,” he whispered. He could feel tears forming behind his eyes, though he couldn’t explain why.

“Honey, that just means you’re asexual. Or somewhere on that spectrum. It’s fine.”

“What… I don’t…” Elliott’s head was spinning. He’d never heard the term before, though he could figure out what it meant. “You mean… it’s okay?”

“More than okay,” she said, giving him that huge smile, the one that reminded him of the rays of the sun. “I was going to talk about this with you soon, because I wasn’t sure. But it had never come up, and I was nervous to be the one to do it… I’m the same way. I don’t feel that kind of attraction. But I still feel love. And I love you.”

The tears flew unbidden now, though he was smiling as they did. “So… so it’s okay?” he asked again, not quite able to believe it.

Elona stood and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “More than okay. Let’s finish dinner up and we can talk about it some more.”

Elliott swept her tiny frame into a massive hug, so overcome he was with emotion. He had agonized over this conversation, had been so sure it would lead to the loss of this woman he loved, and instead it had proven that nothing was wrong with him, with them. He was whole. They both were.

Never had he been more excited for his future.

[ellewords]

you know those posts of people saying to send a wedding invitation to celebrities because sometimes they’ll send gifts congratulating the couple? and you know how sometimes the celebrity will actually show up? this is my head cannon of who would end up showing up just because.

(little bit of a warning: these are very half-baked and mostly just stream of consciousness because my brain is fried and i’m in need of a distraction from writing essays, but the thought hasn’t left my head, so now you have to deal with my brainrot, mwahahaha!)

i think oikawa would show up to a bunch of weddings for he people he doesn’t know. it starts in argentina when a fan sends him an invite, and he’s stupid happy about it and no one really knows why. he just really enjoys weddings, they suppose. it’s in the area, too, so he buys a gift for the happy couple and he shows up. he genuinely tries to be really low key because he doesn’t want to ruin their big day, so he stays in the back for the ceremony and he is the perfect wedding-goer. at the ceremony, though, he has a much harder time remaining out of the spotlight. when the bride and groom notice that there’s a tiny bit of a commotion happening, they lose their minds when they realize that it’s because oikawa actually showed up!!! they thought he was kidding when he accepted the invite, or maybe that he’d send an assistant or something!!! but nope, there he is, looking both enthused at being the center of attention but also kind of uncomfortable. when the couple lose their minds in front of him, though, being utter fanatics and hyping him up, he eases up and finally begins to have fun, dancing on the dance floor with different people, drinking responsibly, talking to people, bashfully signing autographs. he doesn’t lose steam for even a second, and when the party seems to lull just a little bit too long, he goes out of his way to make sure everyone gets back to enjoying themselves to the fullest (which the bride and groom appreciate). nearly everyone in attendance gets his attention for a short portion of time, and if they don’t, he tries to snag a picture with everyone on the way out. at the very end of the night, he records a short video for the couple telling them how lovely they are, thanking them for the invite and the great time, and wishing them the absolute best. it’s the highlight of their lives, besides, y’know, the whole getting married thing.

it’s gets out that oikawa actually went to a wedding he was invited to by strangers when someone posts a picture of the wedding online and he was spotted in the background, so now he gets invites all the time. he doesn’t go to all of them because he’s busy and some of the places he gets invites from are across the world, but if the location intrigues him and he has the time, he’ll usually be there.

kageyama would definitely go, too! but it would be mostly because he can’t remember for the life of him if he knows the couple, and it stresses him the hell out. he’s definitely gotten a lot more confident since he was in school, but at the root of him is still an awkward kid who questions everything about himself if it’s not volleyball. so he panics about it for weeks before the wedding, wondering what they’ll want as a gift, accidentally tricking himself into believing that he does in fact know the couple and buying a gift that he assumes they’ll like based off of thinking it’s one of his old classmates from school and buying something that they’d like. and when he doesn’t recognize either of them at the ceremony, he gets so distracted trying to place anyone’s face as someone he knows and he just can’t for the life of him figure it out. he’s half a beat behind everyone when they start cheering for the couple as the kiss and leave because he’s so deep in thought. it isn’t until the reception that he finds out that he doesn’t actually know anyone and he gets so pouty about having stressed over it for so long that he broods in a corner, trying to avoid everyone. he doesn’t start to enjoy himself until someone recognizes him and rambles for nearly ten minutes about how amazing he is and about this one play that he did that they practiced for weeks after seeing it but they still couldn’t nail and that he was their inspiration. imagine everyone’s surprise when they find them in the hallway of the reception hall with a volleyball kageyama had in his car, kageyama teaching the person how he did it. a small game breaks out in the obnoxiously big hallway with a scrappy set up of chairs precariously piled on top of each other until they were high enough and a bunch of coat jackets tied together along the top and bottom of where a net would be so they can see through. the noise is just barely softer than the music, but they gather a bit of a crowd until the game is over, and as much as kageyama enjoyed it, he apologizes to the bride and groom afterwards for feeling like he took away their spotlight. they laugh and say they don’t mind as long as the groom can play the next match.

a picture of kageyama smiling and cheering as his impromptu teammate makes a good play goes viral days later and kageyama does everything in his power to get the pictures taken at the wedding so he has the memories of that night forever. he even sends an awkward thank you card to the couple after.

ushijima accepts an invite, too; mostly because he feels it would be rude not to accept when they spent the time and money going out of their way to send him one. he spends a lot of money getting them a gift, and he cleans up super nicely, and he’s almost distracting for the entire ceremony. the quiet mysterious type suits him well, and everyone notices as he stays in the back, politely applauding when necessary and offering tissue to anyone crying and helping when it’s needed. at the reception, he mostly stays in his seat, but he stops to have conversations with anyone that comes by. most of them are very to the point, and don’t get longer than a few minutes because ushijima doesn’t beat around the bush much, but as off-putting as it sounds, everyone absolutely adores him. some people are trying to size him up, but he’s just too straightforward about how they are perfectly good on their own without having to compare themselves that they wander off shocked that he was so... nice? no, he is, but that’s not quite it... honest? about it all that they feel validated and off-kilter by the time they walk away. others come over to ask him to dance, which he politely accepts and he’s just so earnest in his attempt that they can’t even be upset that he’s a little stiff and bumbling. if anything, they fall for his charm even more. as he leaves, everyone insists that he take a few plates to-go and that if he ever needed anything, all he had to do was ask. he was very confused by this proclamation as he didn’t know anyone well enough. in his bag of to-go boxes, however, he finds a ton of business cards and stuff that he stores away just in case he does need any of their services.

at his next interview, he gets asked about the entire experience, and as always, he’s super honest: “i had a wonderful time. everyone was very kind. that being said, i felt as if i was intruding on a very personal moment meant to be shared by those you hold dearest, so as much as i appreciate the sentiment, i do not plan to attend anymore weddings if i don’t know someone involved. it should be their big day, after all, and i would hate to distract from it.” if he gets anymore invites, he politely declines and instead sends them a gift and his congratulations.

i’ve been gone for a few days because of school, but i’ve been itching to send something in ever since i saw the wedding prompt. plus, all of the hc coming in from it have been so good! you have so many talented followers, and your additions are great as always, elle!

anyway, i have to get back to school. hope school is going well for you, elle! and make sure you’re taking care of yourself! -🌙

— from elle ! wait, hold on i love this >_< but hello moon anon !! i hope all those essays are working out well for you and i hope you’re able to take breaks in between :) anyways, this definitely made me love and i like that it’s true to the characters (esp. kags). my quick lil scenarios (under the cut as usual) is kind of an amalgamation of what you sent in because i'm just thinking of what would happen if the couple took a shot in the dark and invited all three of them. and they all attend :>> thank you for this and i hope you are having a wonderful day ! <3 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“yohoo, tobio-chan!” kageyama heard, a figure sliding into the empty seat next to him. the voice is airy, familiar, one that he had heard several times in the past. the ceremony was due to start in five minutes, everyone from the guests to the wedding party already taking their respective place.

he narrows his eyes towards the figure, recognising the man just after a couple of quick beats, “oikawa-san?”

“ah! i'm glad you could still recognise me.” oikawa grinned, squinting his eyes at the vast amounts of sunlight that entered through the windows, “too bright in here, isn’t it?” 

“what are you doing back in japan?” he asked, eyes growing wide as he’s unsure if the sight in front of him was actually real. 

 “visiting family, taking a little vacation.” oikawa replied, leaning back in his seat, “so how do you know the happy couple?”

“i...i'm not sure.” kageyama admitted, looking down at his lap in embarrassment.

“can you keep a secret tobio?” oikawa leaned in to whisper, waiting for him to nod before continuing, “i don’t think i know them either.”

__

it was about halfway through the ceremony and oikawa was getting just a little bit restless; he loved weddings, truly, but this one was dragging on much longer than the ones he previously attended. his gaze was lingering everywhere — from the loved-up gazes of the couple, the flowers that lined the aisles, to the guests who hung onto every word of the vows. one of the guests in particular was more familiar than most.

“pst, tobio.” he spoke, nudging kageyama’s shoulder, “doesn’t that guy look familiar?” 

he tilted his head towards the man who sat at the very back row, trying his best to keep a relatively low profile. kageyama followed with his eyes, attempting to be as discreet as he could. he recognised the man immediately, “that’s ushijima-san!”

maybe kageyama had exclaimed a little too loudly, earning himself a few shhhhs from the people who sat around him. he bows his head slightly as an apology while oikawa bites his lip to hold in his laughter.

__

the three of them were able to meet up during the reception, opting to sit at the same table — the one farthest away from everyone as to not draw any attention to themselves. well, oikawa insisted that they did and kageyama and ushijima didn’t really know anyone else to be comfortable enough to sit with them.

“what did you both get the bride and groom?” oikawa asked as an attempt to make conversation, taking a sip from the glass in front of them.

ushijima was one to spare no expense when it came to gifts, but he wasn’t one to brag about the cost of it either, “just a simple tea set. nothing much.”

what he failed to mention was that simple tea set cost several thousands of yen. but of course, oikawa took it as a bit of an opportunity to one-up ushijima and brags about his gifts. yes, gifts. plural.

__

ushijima was in the bathroom and oikawa had gotten the attention of a couple of bridesmaids — flirting with him while he tried his best to subtly deflect their advances — leaving kageyama all alone at the table.

he felt a hand tap on his shoulder, soft and hesitant, “kageyama tobio?”

“yes?” kageyama asked, turning to face the source of the voice. he’s met with a teenage boy, possibly not older than sixteen, looking at him with complete nervousness in his eyes.  

“i'm sorry to bother you. but i've just been such a huge fan of yours for the longest time and i wasn’t even sure if i should approach you but i really needed to let you know how much you have inspired me and i still have so much to learn but...uh, yeah.” the boy finished, looking at everything but kageyama at that point.

and a light flush colors kageyama’s cheeks, completely flustered. it was the first time anyone had approached him like that before, and he’s unsure how exactly to take the compliments. but he noticed the way the fan’s hands trembled, and he recalls all the times he’s approached the players he was a fan of when he was his age. “is there anything you need help with?”

__

needless to say, oikawa and ushijima were surprised when they found their table completely devoid of kageyama’s presence; only to find him in the incredibly large hallways with a makeshift volleyball court with chairs haphazardly stacked on top one another.

“where did you get that?” ushijima asked, pointing towards the volleyball that kageyama held in his hands.

“my car.” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well then,” oikawa smirked, eyes lighting up as he looked around the halls, especially at the gathering crowd, “how about a friendly little match?”

kageyama and the fan he was meant to be teaching stood on one side of the makeshift court while oikawa and ushijima stood opposite them, getting into position. most of the guests had their phones out, recording everything and posting it on social media.

“at least i will finally know what it’s like to finally play with you in a team instead of against you.” ushijima commented, briefly glancing at his teammate for the night.

oikawa choked on air, taking a few seconds to compose himself before responding, “should have come to shiratorizawa, huh?”

it was barely even noticeable, barely lasted a few seconds, but ushijima cracked a smile. 

__

the night ends with the newlyweds approaching the three of them, expressing their gratefulness for their invitations but also apologising for stealing their thunder on their wedding, going so far as to offering to pay for their honeymoon.

“as tempting as that may be,” the bride smiled, “it really is no problem. we’re surprised that you even attended in the first place.

the groom nodded in agreement, “we had a lot of fun watching you play tonight, so we feel like we should be thanking you more. you didn’t have to bring gifts too.”

oikawa waved a hand as if to say it’s nothing, while kageyama and ushijima offer tickets to their next match in exchange for photos from the wedding — particularly that of their little volleyball match.

the three of them finally make their way out into the night and into their respective cars, but not before oikawa lets out one more question.

“the three of us should hang out more,” oikawa smiled, not a trace of teasing or malice in his tone, just a genuine offer, “at least once before i get back to argentina.”

years ago, none of them would even consider such a thing, but all three liked to think that they moved past such trivial things.

kageyama gave him a small smile, “alright.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what would the hq characters be like at a wedding?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot​

join my hq taglist here. <3

[toraashi]

Can you do you ship your moots with a HQ Character and assign them a Taylor Swift lyric/son? :D

yes absolutely 😭♥️

also note: i only did the moots i actively talk to since i know their personalities best but like- if anyone wants to be friends hmu i’m lonely

Ree (@u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum) + Iwaizumi Hajime

→ Thoughts: Listen, I love AtsuRee as much as the next person, but the one fact that makes me pick Iwa for Ree over Atsumu is that Iwa is definitely way more emotionally mature than Atsumu. I’ve known Ree for long enough to know that that she probably would need someone more on the mature side to fulfill her emotionally, and while I think Atsumu can fill that void to some degree, no one in Haikyuu would be able to do it like Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi is a little grumpy boy, but he’s very observant I imagine he’d be very focused on self improvement in all aspects of his life. That’s just him. He’d make sure Ree’s needs were being met in all departments. He’d take her feelings and wants and dreams very seriously. He’d be patient and understanding, but urge her out of her comfort zone to reach for improvement. If he made a mistake, he’d be the first to apologize (maybe after some grumbling, but he’s very quick to recognize his own faults and not too proud to admit to them), and he’d be incredible understanding of Ree’s perspective during arguments. He has a very strong moral compass, though, and he won’t shy away from calling her out on her mistakes, but I think Ree would appreciate his honesty in that department, especially if he expects that on her end. He has a bit of a temper, but I think he’d actively work on that if Ree brought it up. He’s just very sweet and loyal and committed and I think he’d be perfect for Ree-bee :).

→ Song + Lyric: Call it What You Want: "All my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm, he built a fire just to keep me warm"

→ Honorable Mentions: Paper Rings, Fearless, I Don't Wanna Live Forever

Mo (@smolmo) + Sakusa Kiyoomi

→ Thoughts: Okay, I tried to go out of the box with this, but I just can't think of anyone in Haikyuu that would fit our Mo better than Sakusa. The power dynamics are delicious and they would just play off each other so perfectly. Mo's good at flirting and pressing people's buttons, and I think though Omi might get a little irritated, she does it in a way that would absolutely intrigue him. His just overall demeanor is enough to fluster Mo as well, and that dynamic is just so sexy. I also think that they emote very similarly (it manifests in different ways, but still they think similarly), and I think Omi finding someone that can empathize with his thoughts and feelings in a validating way would cause him to latch onto her. They're so strong and independent/confident that they don't need help from the other, but they're still always each other's backup. Omi knows Mo can handle herself, but if someone crosses her, he isn't hesitating to stand behind her with folded arms and a stone-cold glare. Mo would be the same for him. They're both stubborn but so whipped for the other, and I think they'd be perfect.

→ Song + Lyric: False God: "I can't talk to you when you're like this. Staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town, I'm New York City."

→ Honorable Mentions: I Think He Knows, End Game, King of My Heart

Lizzy (@mindfulvenus) + Kuroo Tetsurou

→ Thoughts: I am very aware that Lizzy is in love with Oikawa, and while I completely support the LizzyKawa agenda, with some extra thought, I think she and Kuroo would be so sweet together. In my time talking with Lizzy, I think she's a little more on the reserved side (not shy, just a little quieter), and she's very aware of other's thoughts and feelings. I think Lizzy hesitates a little to come out of her bubble, and while I do think it's an age thing, I think that Kuroo would be good for her because he'd urge her to step out of her comfort zone. Like with Kenma, he does it in a very skillful way that challenges her without overwhelming her so much. They are both very observant individuals and I think they'd be so in tune with each other's feelings. Kuroo would cross the emotional boundaries she's a little bit unsure of with his extroversion and she'd introduce him to sensitivity and gentleness. I just love how they'd contrast each other, and I think with their collective observations, they'd be able to understand and comprehend the other's boundaries. I chose Kuroo over one of the quieter characters because I think Lizzy is drawn to people with more confident energy (i.e: Oikawa), so yeah. I think this would be a cute match.

→ Song + Lyric: Everything Has Changed: "All I know is we said hello, your eyes lookin' like coming home."

→ Honorable Mentions: Treacherous, Mine, How You Get The Girl

[elderbloodlore]

Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS? 

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS 

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often: 

 “As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny. 

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal. 

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong. 

THE DEMEANOR 

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...]  'Hochebuz,'  said Calante, looking at Geralt,  'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.'  The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE 

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves: 

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said: 

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT 

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH 

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had: 

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride. 

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH 

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe: 

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as: 

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories. 

[taliaromanovaswife]

Exothermic - SFW version

Summary: Meet the original character, plagued by amnesia after an accident. But what if a certain deadly assassin is the cure for that?

The sound of her own, slow footsteps was her only companion on this evening's stroll through the sterile, clean corridors. Though barely audible, the noise was almost deafening to her and yet it did not manage to stop her mind from reeling. Nothing around her seemed familiar, starting with her room and ending with the smell of the hallways. There was absolutely nothing that managed to jog her memory so far, and it irked her. Apparently, she was a member of the greatest team of heroes that walked the Earth, but every time she looked into their faces, her brain could not connect the dots. And worst of all, every Avenger had told her that they were not allowed to help her; that her amnesia had to fade on its own terms and that telling her the truth could make it worse in the end. So, here she was. Eight weeks after an accident where she had been thrown through a window on the first floor, discharged from the hospital because her wounds were healing nicely, yet she still did not remember anything from her past. Nothing, except for her name, age and powers, but even that information was given to her.

Alexandra, twenty-five, defender and healer – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Pressing her palms against her temple, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at herself. Nothing happened, just like nothing had happened since the day she regained consciousness. She had no clue how her powers actually worked, but if she was a healer, then why was she unable to heal her own brain? “You're so stupid”, she cried out, banging the balls of her hands against her already aching head. “Why can't you work? I just want to know who the fuck I am?!”

She rounded another corner, walking past half a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows when she stopped dead in her tracks. Something in the corner of her eye had caught her attention, something she was unsure had been there before. Nevertheless, it was something that spoke to her and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of familiarity warming up her insides.

Taking a chance, the tall blonde tried the door handle, happy to find it unlocked. After light brown eyes had scanned the area to make sure that she was alone, tentative feet slipped through a small gap, still wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her now. She had been walking these halls since she was brought home, but had never noticed a piano up here, or anywhere for that matter. Not even downstairs in the bar. ‘Too expensive’, the man who introduced himself as Tony Stark had said when she had asked. ‘The last one got destroyed by Ultron’, a muscular, tall, blond guy had added before receiving death glares from the rest of the group. Alexandra had no idea who Ultron was. How could she, if she was still unable to put the pieces of her own past back together? And what about her present? Did she even go by her full first name or did she prefer it was shortened to Alex? Or even Lexi? Did she like being an Avenger? How strong was her power, how strong was she? She did not know and they did not tell her. But she felt drawn to the piano, as if it was calling out for her and that feeling eased some of her frustration.

Carefully lifting the fall board and locking it in an upright position, shaky fingers pressed down a combination of keys that her brain did not remember, but her muscles certainly did. Muscle memory, she sighed. How could she remember this but not even the bare minimum of her life? Her most important muscle was not working the way it should. Slender hands pulled the matching black piano bench out from under the instrument and she sat down, her fingers gliding over the keys like second nature as her feet hit the pedals.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to a different time. A different piano was in front of her and perfectly manicured short, red-painted fingernails produced a tune she could not hear. But if Alexandra had to guess, she was reliving a tiny bit of her memory. Maybe, hopefully, this was the pivotal ingredient that she had been missing.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to work the way they knew how to, her vision not providing much help anyway. And as the melody filled the air and cautious fingertips became more confident of their skill, so did her feet. Alexandra was no expert in how muscle memory actually worked, but she could not explain what was happening right now any other way. Her mind drew blank on the names of the songs that she brought to life, and yet, somehow her brain knew what belonged together and when she transitioned to a new melody. So she kept playing, kept her eyes shut tight and let her emotions rage freely like a wildfire.

Alexandra was so lost in her creations, she did not register the other person entering the room, nor did she feel their presence. Her upper body leaned into the music, swayed with every crescendo and diminuendo. The music consumed her entire system, every nerve ending was accommodating to her trance as the cells in her brain sprang into action. Still, her fingers danced over black and white keys in the most beautiful pattern she had ever heard.

Natasha Romanoff was utterly captivated by the sight before her eyes, as mesmerizing and enthralling as ever. From the moment she had stepped into the room, she stood still and quiet, simply listening to the melody with a sad smile on her face. There was something magical about the way that Alexandra commanded the keys under the pads of her fingers and she was glad she had suggested buying a piano for the younger woman. It was minutes later that she slipped her ballet shoes on and tied the ribbons around her ankles, green eyes never leaving the figure behind the piano. Even as she pulled her red hair into a neat bun – years of practice making the need for a mirror unnecessary – her gaze was fixed on the musician, waiting. The assassin had noticed the slight change in the other hero's posture, the deeper breaths and the parted lips. She knew what was coming, long before Alexandra herself had figured it out.

Words formed in her head. If one were to ask her, Alexandra would say she did not know where they came from, her brain not remembering the song. But her heart did, even if it did not understand the meaning just yet. “Dancing around in the rain again.”, she sang, finding the lyrics to the accords she played. Her voice was soft and quiet, trembling with insecurity at first. 'Cause you said that I was my only friend. Playing with the flowers that I picked myself. Because I know they won't come from anybody else. Wrap myself up to warm my hands. From the biting ice that you made them stand.”

As her favorite voice filled the room, velvety and clear, Natasha began to stretch her tired muscles. Last week's mission had been tough on all of them, and the ache from multiple hits and countless falls still lingered in her bones. It could have been worse, but it also could have gone a lot smoother and with less injuries. Still, there was no pain that could stop her from being here, from dancing to Alexandra’s song. Not her bruised ribs and most definitely not her bandaged wrist – just a sprain, she told everybody.

Tears began to form behind her closed eyes. How could she remember songs but not her life? What kind of sick and twisted condition was this retrograde amnesia and why would it not let go of her? And while her fingers moved across the keys without any mistakes, and her feet operated the pedals below them, the first tears spilled down her cheeks. She just wanted to remember. “I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.”

Natasha's heart broke for the person, as it did every day since the accident. She had thought that the first few days had been the hardest, when no doctor was giving a clear statement whether or not she would wake from the coma. Then, when Alexandra did wake up but did not know who she was, did not recognize her, the agent's entire world fell apart. Adjustments had been made before the young Avenger had been released from the hospital, hushed conversations that would make everybody feel left out had become the norm around the blonde hero. But every look into Alexandra's sad eyes chipped away at the – usually put-together – assassin. Natasha shook those thoughts from her head as she carefully pushed herself onto her tip toes and raised her arms above her head, extending her index finger and pinkie into perfect position. Out of everything she had been trained in on her way to become one of the deadliest assassins in Russian history, ballet had always been her favorite and to this day, she still used dancing as a stress reliever.

Brown, teary eyes fluttered open and the music abruptly stopped. Her fingers halted over the keys, her mouth remained agape as she stared at the woman who was introduced to her as Natasha Romanoff. She thought she was alone, but there stood the beautiful Russian, dressed in tight black leggings, a matching form-fitting black bodice and a white silken skirt. “I’m-“ She pulled her fingers in, forming fists that slowly clenched and unclenched with every passing second, her heart rate speeding up to the same rhythm. Nervously chewing on her own bottom lip, she stared at her own hands and then back at the other woman. “Was I not supposed to be in here?”, she asked anxiously, Natasha’s intense green eyes seemingly staring right into her soul.

“Please don’t be scared”, the assassin replied. “This is your home, you can be in every room you want to be in, use everything you want or need.” Graciously lowering herself back onto her entire feet and resting her hands on her hips, the redhead tried reassuring her. “You should feel at home here.”

The words were mumbled, but Alexandra still caught it and scoffed. “And yet, everybody stops talking when I walk into a room”, the woman shot back, smoothing her palms over the long, honey-blonde braid and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy being me right now, whoever I am. But you did not deserve this.” Everybody around here had been nothing but amazing towards her, despite her condition. Sure, their conversations stopped or changed, but that did not mean that she was not included in whatever topic followed after. “I can go, if you want to-“

“Please don’t”, Nat said in a haste, stopping herself before she could say the name that lingered on the tip of her tongue. She took deep breaths, reminding herself that Alexandra’s memory was yet to come back. “Would you play for me?”, she asked quietly, her lips curling into a smile. “Your song was very beautiful and I would like to dance to it.”

The blonde eyed the assassin apprehensively. Was this a regular occasion? Did she used to sing for other people? “Damn it, you stupid brain”, she cursed under her breath, eliciting a light chuckle from Natasha. Thinking about the request for a moment, she finally agreed. “Only if I am allowed to watch you dance.”

“Always”, the redhead smiled, her body protesting slightly as she pushed herself into the releve pose. She steadied herself before finding Alexandra's eyes. “Ready when you are.”

As if nothing had stopped her in the first place, expert finger tips roamed over the keys, picking up where they had left off. Once again, the melody resonated in the air, but this time, Alexandra only had eyes for the gorgeous woman dancing for her. Every part of Natasha’s body appeared to be in sync with her music and somehow the blonde knew that this was not the first time she had twirled to this particular song. “Dancing around in the dark again. But I'm happier now than I ever was then. Feel my heart as it is ablaze. Making room for another in these better days. Days, days.” Forcefully pressing the keys into the instrument as the music became louder and more spirited, brown eyes followed Natasha’s every motion doing the same. She did not notice the two figures standing on the other side of the glass, staring and smiling at her.

Wanda sighed in content, listening to the sound of Alexandra's beautiful voice. She and Natasha always begged the young hero to sing for them, or at least play one of her favorite compositions for them. It helped with the stress after a long day of work. It eased their minds and both women knew that the same applied to Alexandra. “Do you think this will help her?”, the witch asked aloud, her Sokovian accent less prominent now that she was spending most of her time around Americans. Cocking her head to the left but never averting her eyes, she added, “Natasha could use a sliver of good news.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Steve observed as one of his oldest friends danced. He let out a long breath. “I really hope so. I don't know how long Nat can keep going like this. It's ripping her apart.” The super soldier truly admired the redhead for still walking tall. He was not sure he could do the same. “If this doesn't work, then I don't know what could, besides telling Alex the truth. And the doctor's strictly recommended not to do that. But-”

“But at this rate, our most deadliest and finest assassin is no use on missions”, Wanda finished his sentence with a soft nod while watching the Black Widow dance with an elegance unmatched by anything she had ever seen.

“I'm still moving cities and I'm still causing storms. I don't know if you know this. But when I shoot I score. Took this pain inside of me, turned it into gold. I made this exothermic. Now watch my heart explode.” Alexandra's vocal cords vibrated deep within her throat as her voice reverberated with every word she sang. Louder and louder. The keys molded to her every tap and she had to focus on keeping her eyes open. She never let Natasha out of sight, but as the song went on, it was harder and harder not to give in to the music and let her feelings take over. “Oh, watch me exo, o, o, o. Watch me exo burn this. I deserve it, ohh. I deserved this. I deserve it, oh! I deserve this, woah!”

The Russian's feet hit the parquet floor in a faster pattern now, her body spiraling with every pirouette. The position of her hands was immaculate, the satin skirt wafted with every turn and yet, every time she spun around, her eyes locked on Alexandra's. Watching the other woman play with such intensity, like nothing had changed in the past weeks, made her want to cry. But Natasha swallowed her emotions and danced until the blonde stopped playing. She came to a stop, her breathing ragged and the pain from her bruised ribs jabbing into her sides. Still, Nat regretted nothing.

Neither of them said a word or dared to move. The last notes had long since faded away, but they still felt connected through the music. An invisible bond both held onto, fearing that breaking the silence would involuntarily end this moment of peace.

It was Alexandra who moved first, carefully closing the fall board and rising to her feet. “This was nice, we should do this again.” The comment came with a smile. She had not felt this free in weeks and even though her memories did not return – she had hoped they would – the blonde felt a lot better. “Thank you for the dance, Natalia”, she said out of a habit she did not understand. Hearing the sentence, but specifically that name, falling from her own lips caused a chain reaction. She froze on the spot and went stiff as her brain was flooded with millions of memories from her past. Missions and fighting. Loki, Ultron. Iron Man, Thor, Captain America. The Hulk. Clint and Wanda, her brother Pietro. Vision. Her healing a gash on Natasha's temple. Natasha. Everything came back to her, and all at once. And as her brain completed the puzzle, everything began to make sense again. The last image she saw showed Natasha – her Natalia – in a simple white dress and with white flowers in her red, wavy hair as she was waiting for her on the grass behind the Avenger's compound. And then finally, she remembered her full name. Alexandra Romanoff.

Natasha gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She had waited so long to hear her wife say her name again. No one ever called her Natalia, no one but Alexandra. “Sasha”, she whispered her lover's nickname, eyes filling with tears. With hesitant steps, she closed the gap between them. Soft hands cradled the blonde's face the second she was close enough. “I've missed you so much.” Her lips brushed against a tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you, for coming back to me.”

Gently taking a bandaged hand in her left, Alexandra carefully lowered their limbs. Her wife appeared tough on the outside and would never admit to anyone how much pain she truly was in. But brown eyes saw right through the facade. It had been those very same eyes that had torn down Natasha's walls, stone for stone, when they had started dating all those years ago. A mellow light radiated from her, encasing both women in the warmest, white gleam. Her powers searched for every single one of Nat’s injuries, healing them one after the other. “I will always come back to you, моя любовь. Always”, she promised.

Just as she leaned in for a kiss, Natasha saw the two people outside of the room move slightly – of course her trained senses had picked up on their presence earlier, but she had chosen to ignore them. “FRIDAY? Please close the blinds”, she asked the Artificial Intelligence in her sweetest voice. A swoosh sounded through the room as the shades dropped from the ceiling almost all the way down to the floor, effectively blocking every curious onlooker. “Now we are alone.” Her voice was husky now, even lower than the usual rasp that was just so distinctively hers. “You didn't notice?”

Alexandra shook her head. “I was watching you.” Pale cheeks blushed a dark shade of red when their lips were mere millimeters apart, their foreheads touching. She chuckled. “Even when my brain was all chaotic and weird, I could not stop looking at you.” Nudging her partner's nose with her own, she inhaled Natasha's perfume. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

The motion was barely visible as the red-haired woman shook her head. “It doesn't matter”, she whispered softly, stroking a few loose curls out of Alexandra's face and behind her ear. “What matters is that you remember now.” Finally pressing her lips against her wife's, she was immediately engulfed by the familiar warmth and love she had for the other woman. God, how much she had missed her.

Pale hands rested on either side of a slender hip, thumbs stroking the bone over the soft material of the dancer's outfit. The cutest little moans escaped her throat. This was what coming home felt like. Natasha was home. One of her hands slid lower, fingers fanning out over a firm bottom cheek as she smiled into the kiss. Tears of happiness ran down her cheeks.

“Don't cry, Милый”, Natasha whispered, wiping her lover's tears away with a gentle brush of her knuckles. “Please, don't cry.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, the blonde reconnected their lips. A dire need to be as close as possible to her wife was all she experienced in this moment. “Happy tears”, Alexandra assured between kisses, pulling the assassin even closer into her body. She relished in these moments, remembering how the redhead never let her guard down around anybody but her. It made every moment of intimacy even more special. “I love you.”

Her wife's breathless confession caused her heart to pound even faster in her chest. “I love you, too.” Strong hands moved to her lover's behind, cupping a cheek in each of them to hoist her up. She felt legs wrap around her waist as a squeal left Alexandra's mouth, followed by the most precious giggles. Natasha had to crane her neck now, due to the change in height, but it had always been one of her favorite things to do. “I love you so much.” A couple of quick steps later, a slim back collided with the wall behind the piano.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues danced to an unsung melody. Their hearts beat in sync, wanton lust overtaking both women. It took all of her willpower, but when she felt full lips suck on her neck, Alexandra let out a frustrated groan. She knew she had to put a stop to this for now. “I think we have a more suitable... room for this, Natalia”, she moaned, her voice dripping with desire. “Our room.”

Natasha hated to admit it, but her wife had a point. Their reconnecting deserved more than a quickie in the newly appointed music room. She pressed their lips together in one last heated kiss before carefully lowering the blonde back onto her feet. Both inhaled deeply to regain some composure and smoothed over their clothes. “Ready?”, she asked, reaching out her hand for Alexandra to take, her other one holding her sneakers and sweater that she had picked off the floor.

Fingers intertwined, they exited the room with mischievous grins tugging on their lips as they walked past Wanda and Steve who were engaged in a conversation in the middle of the hallway. But the couple did not pay any attention to them anyway, too absorbed in each other's presence. Throughout the entire way to their room, neither spoke a word. Yet, the silence was not uncomfortable.

“Everything is still as I remember it”, Alexandra spoke when she entered their suite and took a look around. “Even my slippers are still where I kicked them off before we had to rush into the mission.” Her leather jacket – a birthday gift from a time when they were engaged – was still draped over one of the chairs. She smiled lovingly at Natasha when she noticed another detail. “I see you've been sleeping in my shirts.” She was not mad about this; she could never be mad about this. Because if the roles had been reversed, the blonde would have done the exact same thing.

Natasha blushed lightly, shutting the door behind them and locking it with a twist. “They kept me sane”, she explained. “Some of them still smelled like you.” And if they did not, she always imagined her wife's unique scent on them. Coming up behind the blonde, the dancer looped her arms around a slim waist. “You are what keeps me grounded, but you were not with me. So this was the next best thing.” The truth was, nothing could ever compare to the real thing. She tightened her embrace. Delicate fingers moved a honey-blonde braid out of the way before soft lips began to caress the back of a creamy neck.

Turning in her wife's arms and instantly missing the touch against her skin, Alexandra nuzzled her nose against her lover's cheek. Her fingers found their way to the hair tie, pulling lightly so red curls could fall onto almost bare shoulders. “I missed the feeling of your hair between my fingers”, she breathed, burying her hands in silken tresses as she claimed crimson lips in a fierce kiss.

[settersloveletters]

— good luck charm; oikawa tooru

⤷ july 20th; y/n feels insecure about her birthday gift for oikawa

➳ pairing: oikawa x shyfemale!reader

➳ additional characters: mentions of iwaizumi

➳ genre: fluff

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳ warnings: none!

➳ written by: kiri ♡

— notes; happy birthday to the pretty gremlin himself oikawa tooru <33 ty to @sunshinesatori for being my beta for this !

You push through the doors of Aoba Johsai, playing with the cuffs of your uniform sweater. The nerves were getting to you as you continued your way through the halls. Around you, you could hear the buzz and chatter amongst the student body. More specifically, the female student body. As you made your way through the halls, your ears caught the various conversations that were being shared.

“Hey hey, what did you end up getting for Oikawa-san?”

“Ah, I could never match the kind of gift his big fan club of his planned on giving. I just got a card for him.”

“Did you guys hear what Oikawa’s fan club got him?”

Rolling your eyes, you thought to yourself, ‘They probably got him some designer jacket again. Or maybe something even more grand.’ Sighing to yourself, you reach into your school bag to make sure that you remembered to pack the small mesh gift bag before you left your house. You felt the fabric and breathed a sigh of relief. However, a heavy thought weighed on your shoulders.

‘Would Tooru even like something like this?’

You and the pretty boy setter of Seijoh had been going out since the two of you met back in first year. At first you were confused as to why someone as good-looking and popular as the Oikawa Tooru was, to take an interest in you. You were the quiet, shy type who didn’t like having the spotlight placed on them. You preferred to stay in the crowd rather up front. Since you were the introvert you grew up to be, you hadn’t expected anyone to take an interest.

But that changed after one small encounter that led you to almost being hit in the face with a volleyball. You had been asked by one of the office attendants to hand some paperwork over to Nobuteru Irihata, the head coach for Seijoh’s volleyball club. Being the good and helpful student you were, you agreed and made your way over to the gym that the volleyball club used to practice. However, the moment you opened the gym doors, a volleyball went flying past you, nearly hitting your face. You stayed frozen in place as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Oi! You dumbass watch where you’re targeting those serves!” Iwaizumi Hajime yelled out.

Blinking a couple of times, your eyes landed on the coach and you quickly rushed over and handed him the paperwork before bowing and making your way out of the gym. Not even two seconds after you exited, a voice called out to you, “Wait one second!” You turned around to see Oikawa.

“Let me make it up to you,” he suggested.

“No please, you don’t have to,” you replied, your eyes widening.

Oikawa placed a hand on his hips, the other pinching the bridge between his nose. “No that’s not right. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t properly make it up to the cute girl I almost hit in the face with a ball?”

Even after insisting that he really didn’t have to do anything for you, you gave up, agreeing that the two of you would grab lunch — his treat. That same lunch, however, became lunches and dinners and all of a sudden Oikawa was asking you out as his girlfriend.

Though his fangirls and fan club wasn’t too keen on learning that their precious setter was now off the markets. You also were not used to the newfound spotlight placed on you, since becoming the girlfriend of a beloved volleyball player. But their jealousy and your shyness didn’t stop you from loving Oikawa.

���(Y/N)-chan!” you looked up to see your boyfriend walking towards you with Iwaizumi next to him. You smiled at the two and was about to take a step forward towards them, when a bunch of girls rushed past you, running up to Oikawa. The hallways started to become louder as the girls tried to talk over each other.

“Oikawa-kun! Happy birthday!”

“Oikawa-san, I hope you like this gift!”

“We got you this Oikawa-san. Happy birthday!”

You start to see the various gifts that the other girls got him, and you start to feel insecure and unsure about your own gift. The gifts that his fans got him consisted of cards, chocolate, flowers and even stuffed animals. You bite the bottom of your lip, thinking too hard about how your gift would stand out from the rest. ‘It’s nothing compared to these gifts.’

You spoke too soon it seemed, as Oikawa’s fan club in the school — that consisted of mainly the richer girls — made their way through the crowd. The girl at the front of the crowd, who you guessed to be the leader, was carrying a large bag in front of her. “Oikawa-kun! Happy birthday!” she cheered, handing the bag to him. Oikawa opened the bag to pull out a jacket with Seijoh’s colours. The back of the jacket had his last name embroidered, along with his jersey number.

“The girls and I had it customized made in Italy,” she boasted. Everyone stared in awe at the jacket.

You however, turned around and started to walk off when the Oikawa’s fan club leader called in a shrill voice, “(Y/N)-san! What did you end up giving Oikawa-kun for his birthday?”

You bit your lip at the sudden call out. Standing still, and not turning around, the same girl said, “Oh no, did you forget to get Oikawa-kun a gift, (Y/N)-san?”

You turned your head around, “A-Ah, I’m sorry Tooru-kun,” you smiled sheepishly. “It turns out I forgot to grab your gift before coming to school.”

The girls around you started to whisper and sneer at you the moment you said those words.

“Ara, ara,” the leader of Oikawa’s fanclub said, stepping out. “How could you, Oikawa-san’s own girlfriend forget her birthday gift for her boyfriend.”

Her words started to cause the other girls to whisper at each other. You started to feel uncomfortable under everyone’s stares and their soft murmurs to one another. You gave a glance to Oikawa, who showed no emotion on his face, before excusing yourself and running off.

“Wait! (Y/N)-chan!” you heard Oikawa call out your name, but you didn’t turn around.

Not realizing that you ran off mindlessly, you looked around and noticed that you went up to the rooftop of the school. Catching your breath, you didn’t hear the rooftop doors opening. Flinching at the sudden pressure on your shoulder, you look over to see your boyfriend standing beside you.

“Tooru?” you give him a questioning look, “What are you doing here?”

‘“I’m here to get the gift that you got for me.” he gave you his award-winning smile.

“Didn’t I tell you downstairs?” you look off to the side, “I forgot your gift at home.”

“You’re a terrible liar (Y/N)-chan,” he winked at you. “Can I please see the gift you got for me?”

Unable to resist Oikawa when he uses his pleading voice, you sighed and reached into your school bag and lifted out the small mesh bag that held his gift you planned for him. Reaching out your hand, you offered the gift to Oikawa, avoiding his gaze. Oikawa opened the small bag and took out the anklet you had put together for him. The anklet was made out of thread rather than a metal material, and consisted of Seijoh’s school colours, as well as your favourite colour.

“I-It’s not much, but I wanted to get you something that came from my heart,” you looked down at your feet, your fingers playing with each other. “I know you’re not allowed to wear any jewelry during games, but I thought that this anklet would’ve been perfect. You can wear it under your socks, and the thread makes it feel as if it’s not there.”

Oikawa stared at the anklet you made, not saying a word.

“I also have a matching one but as a bracelet..” you whispered. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I wanted to get you a good luck charm for all the games you played, but none of the ones I saw at the store caught my eye.”

“I love it.” he muttered.

“Eh?” you look up at Oikawa.

“I love it!” Oikawa exclaimed, as he gave you an eyed-smile. “Now I have two good luck charms (Y/N)-chan~”

“Eh? What do you mean by two?”

Oikawa chuckled and said, “Well I have this anklet that you made for me,” he moved over to you and lifted your body up in his arms to spin you, “And you’ve always been my good luck charm my beautiful girlfriend!”

“Tooru! You’re such a dork!”

---

[Oikawa after you ran off]

“I appreciate the gift you all got me,” Oikawa started off, “But I don’t wanna accept anything from those who hurt the ones I love.”

His usual smiling face dropped into a death glare that shuddered the girls around him.

[buckyjustbelikethat]

The Flower or the Thorns

Title: The Flower or the Thorns: One-shot

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky overhear someone saying that you don't deserve him.

Warnings: angst but eventual fluff, vulgar language, mention of drinking, insecurity, mentions of nightmares. 

Word Count: approx. 2500

A/N: Hello everyone 💕I’ll be finishing “Stuck in the Past” soon but I saw this prompt as I was scrolling through fanfiction the other day and I had to write it. I hope you guys like it, it is my favorite fanfiction category which is a shit ton of angst that leads to a shit ton of fluff. 

Stark was having a party and you were kind of excited. As Bucky’s totally normal, not superhero, girlfriend you didn’t get many occasions to hang out with all of the avengers. Sure, you had met them all, and they knew you well considering Bucky never stopped talking about you, but you didn’t get to see them often, besides Sam and Steve. The team loved you, even though the constantly teased Bucky about how he seemed to not speak on any subject unless it included you, they really were grateful for how happy you made Bucky. They could see the change in him once you started dating, him “gushing about his crush” (as Tony once put it) was definitely better than the depressive state he seemed to be in post winter soldier.

Bucky came to pick you up at your apartment for the party and you couldn’t help the blush that formed on your cheeks at the way he looked at you all dressed up. Bucky always made you feel beautiful, constantly trying to convince you you were a flower when you assumed your life was doomed as the thorns. You taught each other what love is. Bucky wanted to make you feel as happy as you made him, and you constantly wanted to make him as happy as he made you. Sure, you didn’t have as terrible of a history as he did, but your souls understood each other’s pain. You may have had different causes for your insecurities, but fire is fire no matter if it was a match or lightning that caused it.

“You look beautiful doll, God I can’t get enough of you.” You still weren’t good with compliments, but when they came from Bucky you wish you could bottle them and keep them forever.

“You look handsome yourself.” Your eyes held so much love that Bucky would never doubt whether your returned compliment was genuine or not.

“Ready to go ma’am.” Bucky teased as he extended his hand for you to grab.

“Of course sir, but would it be inappropriate of me to ask for a kiss first, I don’t think I’ll be able to move until you do so, it’s a very serious condition you see.” You played along with Bucky’s joke. He laughed and grabbed hold of you tightly and gave you what you requested.

When he pulled away, he still had a smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours “Fuck doll, I don’t think I can handle how much I love you.”

“Language sir.” You replied back. You gave him another quick kiss and then pulled away while grabbing his hand to lead him out of your building. Your energy was infectious, Bucky now felt himself become so excited for the party he was previously dreading, he doesn’t typically like to be around a lot of people, but your excitement made up for his worries.

When you got to the party you and Bucky immediately walked towards where most of the avengers were sitting (except for Tony, he was always who knows where during parties).

“Hi guys!” You say when you see them.

“Hey, it’s good to see you y/n.” Steve says.

“Are you gonna drink with me or will I have to do this alone.” Natasha says, immediately getting to business.

“Sure, I’ll have a drink, but I’m not really in the mood to drunk. So, if that’s your intention, you’ll be on your own.”

“Why is your girlfriend no fun.” Natasha says to Bucky in a fake pout.

“Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that.” Bucky replied back in mock seriousness, and even though Bucky and Natasha were both joking, your heart still fluttered when you heard him call you “my girl.”

You gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek and followed Nat off to the bar to grab a drink. While you were waiting for the bartenders to finish your drink two girls walked up to you. “Are you the winter soldier’s girlfriend?” one of the girls asks you.

Though they appeared to be genuinely friendly, there was something about her tone that was already putting you off even though the conversation just started. You weren’t entirely good at being in the public eye, which didn’t bother Bucky, because he didn’t like it either.

“Yes, Bucky and I are together.” The girl narrows her eyes at you, but before she could say anything Natasha cut her off.

“And speaking of Bucky, it looks like our drinks are here, so we are going to walk back over to him, it was great meeting you girls.” Natasha says to both of the women, not even attempting to make her tone all that friendly. As soon as she hands you your drink she practically pulls you away from the bar.

“I didn’t like them, and I trust my instincts.” Natasha says to you once you are far enough away.

“I felt the same way, I hoped I wasn’t being judgmental.” You reply back honestly.

“You weren’t, I don’t think those girls would have been even as friendly as they were to you if I wasn’t standing there, they kept side eyeing me the whole time.”

“Well thank you Black Widow for coming to my rescue.” You tease her, trying to change the conversation to a lighter tone.

“That’s what superheroes do.” Nat replies back to you. You were surprised she could call herself a superhero even in jest, but it is definitely what she is even if she has a hard time convincing herself of it.

By the time you reach the rest of the avengers again Bucky was sitting down on a chair, but there weren’t many available, so Bucky gestured over for you to sit on his lap, and you easily obliged. Bucky wrapped his arm around you once you sat down, and though it appeared to be casual, you knew that both of you felt more at ease when you were close. You weren’t always in an environment where this level of PDA was appropriate, but when you were able to hold each other close, it helped ease both of your social anxieties.

You both enjoyed the rest of the party, but it was getting late, and you both decided you were ready to go home, as you were walking to exit the building you saw the two girls from earlier standing by the exit. And both you and Bucky froze when you heard your name leave one of the girl’s mouths.

“I don’t understand what he sees in her, he’s been my Shield trainer for weeks and every day when I try to flirt with him, he ignores me. I don’t get it, she’s not even attractive. Did you see the way they were sitting earlier, I honestly feel bad for him, he probably is really embarrassed of her in public, I would be if that were my girlfriend. And to top it all off, your telling me that THAT is better in bed than I would be, ha, I doubt it.”

You felt frozen as you spoke. You felt as it their words are planting briars within your mind, latching on to your previous insecurities as if they were sustenance. But for now, you bury the thorns, only delaying their destruction. You can feel Bucky beside you make a movement to give them a piece of his mind, but you stop him with your hand, giving him a silent look that you wanted to handle this. The girls finally realized they weren’t alone from your movements, but you could tell it didn’t faze the girl that spoke, while the other you could tell wanted to leave the uncomfortable encounter.

“Look, I don’t know you, but I understand you are upset because the person you like doesn’t like you back, that never feels good, but you won’t get what you want from tearing other people down. Like you said, you are beautiful, and one day you will find someone great who will see that, but unless you let your character match your outer beauty, you won’t ever get the thing you want. I’m not the one in your way, from the looks of it, you are in your own way.”

With that you grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him out of the building, feigning confidence as you walked past the girls. As you reached Bucky’s car to go home, you avoided eye contact with him. Bucky didn’t know what to say, trying to gauge your reaction, but he was at a loss, you were trying to distance yourself from him, guard your emotions, but he knew that despite your confident display, those words didn’t come without pain, and it pained him that he couldn’t stop it.

Once you got in the car Bucky tried to meet your gaze, bringing his hand to gently caress the side of your face. “Hey, doll, are you okay.” At that question he could see your eyes become cloudy with tears.

“I’m fine, I just… its fine, can we just go home.” Bucky gazes at you warily.

“Of course, but I just want to make sure you know that none of what they said was true.” He waits a moment for your acknowledgement of his words, but you just look out the window. The drive home was in silence, Bucky didn’t want to push you too hard, but he could tell the conversation didn’t end there. Once you reached your apartment you silently went to your room. Bucky followed after you and sat on the bed as you changed into comfortable clothing. When you were done, Bucky patiently asked if you could sit with him, you obliged but you felt trapped, knowing that the closer you were to him, the more he pried, the more inevitable it was that he would see when you inevitably self-destructed. He grabbed your hand when you sat down. “I just want you to know you are beautiful, you are the light of my life. You have made me so happy, please don’t believe what she said, because it is the furthest thing from the truth.” Bucky eyes started becoming glassy, but you could tell from his shaky grip on your hand he was also battling with his anger at what that girl said.

You once again didn’t reply, unsure if you should release the words suffocating you.

“Please, y/n, you have to understand that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Bucky,” you said your voice shaky with emotion and apprehension, “maybe you feel that way, but she’s still not wrong, and deep down you know it even if you don’t want to acknowledge it, I’ve always known it but I was selfishly trying to ignore it so I could be with you, because you are everything I’ve ever hoped for, but you deserve so much better than me. God, you deserve the fucking world, and I am… deficient. I can’t give you the perfection you deserve, I am not what you deserve.” The tears were streaming down your face, your words tasting like a goodbye, but one you’ve tried to suppress for so long, but that has haunted you from the day you met him.

You weren’t looking at Bucky, you couldn’t see the pain on his face, or the utter shock at your words. But when he spoke, you could tell that he was crying, “How could you believe that y/n. I don’t understand, if anyone isn’t deserving, it’s me who isn’t deserving of you. I only want what you can give me, just one kiss from you is enough happiness to last me a lifetime, and you have brought me so much happiness already. You are everything I could ever hope for and more. Please don’t leave me over this, because I would spend the rest of my life trying to find someone that would compare to you.”

You finally look at him, and the sincerity and pain on his face crumbled you. Your instincts and your heart were tearing you in two. Your words were now laced with uncertainty rather than its previous resolve, “But I’m a mess Bucky, I have problems, and you should be with someone that doesn’t burden you.”

“Doll,” he says with his voice soft, “you are the furthest thing from a burden, everyone has problems, and I want all of you, not a sanitized version of you or anyone else. You are the person that helps me through my anxiety every day, you are the person that is there to hold me or make me feel better after a nightmare, you are the person to make me laugh more than I did for most of my life. I wish you could see how I see you. I love you so much. You leaving me isn’t what would save me, you being with me, your smile, your wit, your laugh, your eyes, your intelligence, and your compassion, are what save me every day. Please don’t do this.” His words were gentle but pleading.

Your lip trembles, “I love you so much, I don’t want to leave you, I just am afraid one day you will wake up and believe that everything she said was the truth. I’m sorry.” Your voice cracking at the end of your words as your tears continued to fall.

He finally reaches out to you and pulls you into him, cradling you in his lap, and he holds you tight. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, and I swear to you that day will never come. I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

You continued to cry in his arms, but the tears felt more like relief. He whispered loving words as you began to calm down, and when your crying finally stilled, Bucky felt like he could finally breathe again.

When your heartbeat returned to a normal pace, you pulled your face away from where it was buried in his shirt. “I think I might have ruined your shirt with my makeup.” Your voice was still slightly scratchy from crying but held your familiar lightness, and it brought a smile to Bucky’s face.

“I don’t care about my shirt doll, all I care about is that you feel better, I don’t know what to do with myself when you are upset. I’m sorry that all of this happened, I’ll speak with Tony about getting her switched with a different trainer.”

“Okay, do what you are comfortable with, but it’s not really her fault that I’m upset, my insecurity has always been there, she was just the one that brought it to light.”

“Doll, if you ever are feeling insecure again tell me, and I will do whatever I can to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

“I love you so much.” You say as you pull Bucky in for a bruising kiss, and your heart melts when you feel his smile as he kisses you back with just as much passion.

[damienthepious]

im..... aaaaaaaaa

A Moment As An Optimist (chapter 2)

[ch 1] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love , (alas…….), miscommunication followed quickly by communication

Summary: It is one of Damien’s favorite events of the entire year, all revelry and romance and joy, and he cannot wait to share it with his lovers. Or- with one of them, at least.

Chapter Summary: He promised he would not spend his evening moping. However, Arum is a notorious and consummate liar.

Chapter Notes: This is too soft even for me. I literally can't read it again or i'll fucking evaporate. byeeeeeee.

~

Arum tries to sleep. He does. Not particularly long after they leave him, in fact, Arum sighs and sags and gives up pretense, gives up any illusion that he is doing anything at all besides thinking about the humans, thinking about the celebration he cannot possibly join them in, thinking about the dance they cannot share, thinking about how- how beautiful they always look, together, how beautiful they look without him-

He gives up the pretense, and he curls up in bed.

Sleep fails to find him, though.

How many more such nights will there be, in his future?

How many more celebrations, how many dances, how many embraces will he be summarily excluded from? It is none of their faults-

He curls his arms around his own chest, a tangled parody of an embrace.

It is none of their faults. But the world, such as it is, will always hold Arum away from so large a part of their lives. When already Arum is a new and awkward third to their years of familiarity and knowledge and understanding-

Arum cannot resist the slow bleed of helplessness in his chest, the distinct sensation of inevitability. It has been some time since he has felt the feeling so sharply. Not since the early days, when their relationship felt so tenuous and fragile and Arum himself felt so certain of failure, not since those days has he felt so... resigned. His bond with the both of them can never possibly measure against their bond with each other, least of all while they are busily creating new memories and new bonds with each other while Arum-

While Arum curls and waits, wide-eyed and sleepless, for them to return to placate his hurt.

A recipe for resentment, if ever Arum has heard of one. He, resenting their happiness without him and despising himself for it. They, despite their kindness, their understanding- certainly they will tire of expending their energy in the pursuit of his elusive comfort eventually. His ill-nursed wounds will become their burden, with time, and one day they will look at him and they will sigh and their frustration with him will outweigh their affection.

Damien nearly chose not to leave at all. Nearly insisted upon staying, in fact, because the little poet is more compassion than good sense, and he is kinder by far than Arum deserves.

Arum cannot stop thinking of that. Of the cruelty in his own hands, the potential to dig his claws into the pair of them and drag them down into the dark with him, of how easy it would be to ply Damien with guilt and keep the pair of them all to himself-

An obvious cruelty. He would never forgive himself, of course, and he is certain as well that such efforts would only cause their resentment towards him to fester even more, in the long term.

He curls into an even tighter ball, hissing between his teeth.

Amaryllis would scowl at him and flick him in the nose if she knew how ridiculous he's being, at the moment. But then, she is not here, is she? The entire issue is that he is alone, and they are hand in hand somewhere beyond his reach, and Arum does not believe in fate but this certainly feels like what is meant to be.

Foolish. He squeezes his eyes shut, and then he wastes what feels like nearly an hour attempting not to think at all.

He gives up on sleep at long last, as he gave up on working earlier in the evening, and he drags himself from the bed with a heavy sigh. The Keep accommodates gently, no hint of teasing in its voice as it opens the way to his greenhouse, giving him soft bioluminescence to light his way.

He walks slowly, carefully, picking his way between the foliage and distracting himself with all the numerous marks of Amaryllis' hands upon this part of his home, the little labels she has affixed to sticks stuck like miniature flags in the dirt beside the less easily identifiable herbs, the cartoonish unhappy faces she has used to demarcate the more... deadly of his floral charges, the even rows of newer greenery she has introduced-

It only hurts a little, her fingerprints in his soil without her presence in fact. He is unsure whether or not he should feel lucky, that Damien's presence here is so much more ephemeral. If Arum allowed himself, he could still his mind enough to hear the echo of honeysuckle's poetry, whispering between the leaves. He has spoken so many lovely words here, between the trunks and bramble, Arum is certain that they must still be flitting in the shadows like moths and motes.

At least, he thinks, their mark will remain upon his home, upon himself, even after they have grown tired of humoring him.

He is unsure how long a time he has expended in this melancholy observation before he feels the Keep hum, before he feels a small spike of delight from the structure. After a moment, however, it goes oddly quiet. Suspiciously so, perhaps.

Arum raises an eyebrow, frowning vaguely upward.

"What?" he grumbles. "What are you up to now?"

It hums noncommittally, hedging, and Arum's frown deepens.

"What do you mean, nothing? You cannot hide from me, you enormous fool. What are you up to?"

It pauses for a long moment. Arum feels the silence as if the creature is holding up a metaphorical finger, and his impatience spikes, his frill fluttering as he gives a warning snarl, but the Keep ignores him for nearly another minute before he feels it pulse with a strange little shiver of excitement and-

He scowls. Something like mischief. Never a good sign, where his Keep is concerned.

"Do not give me that mood. I demand you explain yourself, you gigantic meddling-"

It opens a doorway before he can finish the sentence, and Arum is surprised first of all to realize that it is only showing him the way to the other side of the greenhouse, to the section dominated mostly by thick-trunked trees (which Amaryllis insists on labeling as the orchard), and as Arum stomps through with a snarl half formed into further complaints, the words disappear from his lips.

His Keep has strung vines among the branches above, lighting the wide, leaf-strewn space with blooming bursts of warm orange bioluminescence, and standing together beneath that canopy, Arum's humans are smiling, hand in hand.

He has never seen them dressed so elegantly. The rich blue and soft brown of Damien's kurta ripples in the light as he turns, smiling, the subtle weave of the silk only barely catching the eye with a near-imperceptible floral pattern. Amaryllis glows just as brightly, draped in a warm brown that matches the accent of Damien's clothes, glittering with carefully woven beads in an asymmetrical river curling down from her shoulder to her waist.

Arum remembers, when the portal closes at his back, to breathe, and then he remembers after another moment how to speak.

"I... y-you are... you have returned much... much earlier than I expected," he manages. Eventually.

Amaryllis grins a little too wide, visibly pleased with herself, and then she pats Damien's arm and the knight, his own eyes gleaming and soft, steps closer to Arum himself as Amaryllis tugs lightly on one of the nearby vines.

"I'm glad that we have found you still awake, my lily," Damien says softly, his tone utterly earnest, and Arum struggles to think beyond the pounding of his heart. "I feared that we may have left you alone for too long."

"O-oh?" Arum blinks, and then shakes his head quickly. "I- rather. I told you, honeysuckle, I have been perfectly- perfectly fine. What are you-"

"Just trust us for one sec," Amaryllis says, flashing him a sharp, striking smile, and Arum's words vanish yet again. Her smile softens at whatever look she has stunned onto his face, and then she reaches up, placing her recorder in the bell of a large pale flower the Keep has provided, gently amplifying the whirring sound of the machinery kicking on throughout the space as the Keep lowers the bioluminescence even further, slipping towards the quality of candlelight without the flicker.

There we go, Amaryllis' voice says mildly on the recording, and Arum can hear the sound of footsteps on stone, the light chattering of people, the laughter of hatchlings- children, rather-

All the gentle, rumbling murmur of a festival in the evening dimness.

"Amaryllis," Arum says, soft, and the humans step closer. "Did you-"

"Shh," she says, wrapping an arm around Damien as they slip close. "Trust us."

"Would you care to accompany us tonight, Lord Arum?"

Arum feels himself go still, the warmth of the attention of these shockingly gorgeous creatures almost too much to bear, and with a rattle in his chest he manages, just barely, to nod.

They reach, both in the same moment, and take Arum in their arms.

Amaryllis leaves one hand settled at Damien's lower back, the other she slips up over Arum's shoulder, her fingers brushing light along the back of his neck. Damien leans closer, letting his cheek rest on Arum's other shoulder as one hand wraps around his back, the other still clinging to Amaryllis on the other side, a tangled little triangle of limbs further complicated when Arum instinctively lifts his own arms to embrace them in return.

They hold him, they hold each other, and Arum blinks, both pleased and confused, but he does not have time to worry deeply as chattering on the recording quiets only a moment before the music begins.

The song is slow, gentle strings and rumbling drums and something bright and chiming, low murmurs from the crowd overlaying the instruments as the two humans hold him close, and this is- Arum is warm, and held, and he feels overwhelmed in perhaps the best possible way.

"Wh-what are you-"

"Close your eyes," Damien murmurs, his fingertips pressing against the scales of his back.

Arum blinks again in surprise, but after only a breath of pause he obeys, trusting their hands to hold him as he ducks his head.

They begin to sway with him, just slow, and after a long moment of music and murmurs, Damien begins to speak, his tone melodic, reminiscent of a spell.

"We arrive just after the sparring has finished, the feast midway through. The stalls have been cleared from the market square, and the wide tawny and peach flagstones beneath our feet look nearly golden in the light from the lanterns that have been strung in a gleaming, delicate web above our heads, as if the stars themselves have descended to grace us with their light from an orbit we can nearly, nearly touch. They've hung lanterns on the darkened buildings surrounding as well, and the flickering flames touch everything with fingers of light so diffuse and mellow that all within their glow take on the quality of dreams. It is the sort of light that plays across features, that makes movement from stillness, that echoes and accentuates a dance.

"A dance, such as the one we intend to share with you, this night. The musicians enter, smiling and shaking hands with the sparring performers as they pass, and the crowd stills with anticipation and delight as they tune their instruments and confer low about the piece with which they should begin. But then- I suppose you've heard that part already, have you not?"

Arum keeps his eyes closed, feeling their hands, feeling the beat and the way the humans are swaying him along with it, and when he realizes that he cannot make his voice catch he simply nods, certain that Damien can feel the motion.

"They begin with something soft. Our Rilla rolls her eyes, having hoped for a bit more excitement-"

Arum's mouth pulls into a helpless smile as Amaryllis makes a noise of mock-betrayal, jostling the three of them as she swats a hand at the knight, but Damien's voice only goes warmer as he continues.

"But she smiles nonetheless as I take her hand, and we both take yours. Perhaps you frown as well, reluctant to be drawn into the romance of such a moment, but- will you... will you allow us to take your hands, my lily? Will you dance with us?"

His throat is too dry, his heart beating far too fast, but-

"Of c-course I- always, I- you know I will-" he manages, his eyes still dutifully closed, and Damien breathes a laugh.

"Thank you. Thank you for indulging me, my loves-"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"So," he says, and Arum hears the edge of laughter in his voice before he drifts back to his sonorous, enchanting tone. "So, we draw you out into the center of the square, and no one is bothered a single whit, not a single creature looks at us twice. No- this is my story, my lily, and I will tell it how my heart has made it. We are long past such concerns here, in this moment, in this space. The flames paint Rilla's eyes rippling liquid dark, your scales gleam beneath the soft twirl of your cape, and none look our way except to note how beautifully my partners glow. We lift our hands, my love, we take you safe within our arms, and... and together, my love, we dance."

They sway with him, slow and measured, warm and close, and Arum-

Arum can see it. Can see this gleaming fantasy that Damien has woven around them, and the sting is so much duller when Arum can feel their embrace, can feel their hands and their hearts, and he could almost believe himself truly there. Truly included in this part of their lives, their celebration and joy. He could almost believe that if he opens his eyes now, he will see the swirling crowd, miraculously safe, and his humans safe as well in his arms, bathed in billowing lamplight.

I miss him, Damien says on the recording, his voice so terribly small, and Arum's breath catches as he holds the poet tighter.

We left him like an hour ago, Amaryllis says, practical and mild. And we'll be back home as soon as we're done here. She pauses, and then after a moment she sighs. But... yeah. Me too.

Perhaps... Damien says, so soft that the edges of his voice crackle through the mechanism, perhaps, someday...

Someday, Amaryllis agrees, and then Arum can nearly hear her smile. But we'll worry about someday when it's a little closer. Let's just keep working on tonight.

Arum breathes slow, struggling to keep the drumming of his heart under control, struggling not to hold them tighter and tighter and tighter, struggling not to collapse entirely under the weight of his affection, and Arum could still dig his claws into his fear, could still worry over every frayed edge and every moment of potential friction, could set his eyes on the uncertain future and fixate his fear on the idea of these creatures tiring of such beautiful, meaningful efforts for his sake, but-

But Amaryllis is always so much more clever than he, with such a gift for economy of language. Let us keep working on tonight, he thinks, another string of words with the strength of a spell, and then he finally opens his eyes again.

They are still the most beautiful creatures he has ever, ever seen.

"I love you so dearly," he rumbles, and his voice is unsteady, catching on every sharp edge as it comes up, but he cannot bring himself to care. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I cannot love you in the light, as you deserve. It is not right for you to be relegated to solitude and darkness with me while you both burn so brightly-"

"Don't you dare," Damien says, sharp and fierce, and Arum smiles.

"It sounds... beautiful, honeysuckle. It sounds like a dream." He inhales slowly, still feeling the scene that Damien described dancing around him like fireflies in the air. "I- I cannot help but be sorry that I am the cause for you both to have pulled yourselves away from such beauty."

"It is far more beautiful for the sharing," Damien murmurs. "If we wished to stay there, to simply drink in the evening for ourselves, rest assured that we would have done just so, my love."

"We'd rather be right here," Amaryllis says softly, smiling as she brushes her thumb over his cheek, lifting his chin. "With you."

She leans up the rest of the way, kissing him slow and thorough and certain, and when she pulls away Arum feels breathless for more reasons than one.

"Your presence in our lives does not diminish us," Damien says, his voice wavering with feeling. "Do you think I would have looked so closely, remembered so clearly, drunk in the evening with such fervor and care, if I did not wish for the memory to crystallize, if I did not intend to set this gem for you? Arum-" Damien leans back, enough to kiss Arum's cheek once, soft and sweet. "Arum, love is a living thing, nourishing as it is nourished, and even if circumstances are such that we cannot share every moment we wish with you in truth, in the most literal sense, that does not mean that we cannot share our lives. It does not mean that we cannot give ourselves to each other. If our love must exist in the shade to survive, that only means that we must attend to it with more care, that we must nurture each other and our love with every ounce of passion it deserves."

"We love you," Amaryllis says, and her own tone is shockingly full, unsteady, her eyes bright when Arum blinks in her direction. "We love you, and we're better for loving you. And we're gonna keep loving you until you're completely sick to death of us."

Arum barks a laugh, short and surprised, and then he gives up any remaining mirage of self-control and squeezes his arms around the pair of them, lifting them into the air. "You won't be rid of me that easily," he growls, burying his snout in Amaryllis' neck as she yelps a laugh. He spins, still holding them, a slow turn to the rhythm of the song still playing beneath all of their words. "I... I am-" He swallows, nuzzling closer, feeling their laughing breaths and their sturdy hearts beating, safe against him. "I love you. I pity the creature I was before I met you. You- you make me wish to be better, you make me wish to make the world better, for your sakes, and- and I can no longer imagine the shape of my life without you."

"Good thing that won't be a problem, then," Amaryllis says, breathless but still unbothered as she cradles his head in one hand, pressing a kiss to the scales just beside his frill. "Because we aren't going anywhere."

"No," Damien agrees. "Not so long as you will still have us."