#Where are the people? resumed the little prince at last. It's a little lonely in the desert...

[treebeardnerd]

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…” “It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.”  ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, (The Little Prince)

[cowboysandpilots]

For the line game, would you be able to write for Steddie using inspiration from this dialogue in The Little Prince?

"Where are the people?" resumed the little prince at last. "It's a little lonely in the desert...”

"It is lonely when you're among people, too," said the snake.

(Yes, of course! This is amazing. Thank you so much for asking ❤️ I hope you don't mind that I snuck a little reference to ronance in there. 😅)

Wandering around in the upside down is cold and quiet, and Eddie hates the way this place makes the hair on his arms stand up. "Where are all the people?" Eddie asks, trying to keep his voice steady even though he's kind of glad they haven't run into anyone in Hawkins that has gone missing. He was terrified of what they'd find. "I mean, it's a little lonely down here."

"It's lonely when you're among people, too," Steve scoffs quietly. Okay, so maybe he's still a little hurt by Nancy's rejection. Was it so wrong of him to want those things with her? To have love and have a family?

Eddie can't help the roll of his eyes. "Okay, I'm gonna be blunt here," he states, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Steve's arm to make him stop as well.

"Do you have any other setting?" Steve asks with a frown because when has Eddie ever not been blunt.

Seemingly not noticing Steve's tone, Eddie just barrels on with his rant. "You need to get over Nancy, okay? Let her go. Because you're way more awesome than anyone gives you credit for, even the kids who worship you. And I know, I know, I'm one of those people too; I thought you were just another asshole jock, but I was wrong, okay, dude? You're cool, and you care about those little shrimps even when they're insufferably annoying. Nancy deserves to be happy. With Jonathan or Robin or whoever she wants, but it's not gonna be you, okay? So first, accept that.

Steve's frown only deepens. "Robin? Why would Nancy want— she's not..."

Eddie just keeps going like he hadn't even realized that Steve had interrupted him. He had; he just had to get the rest of this out, or it would be forgotten forever in favour of the rant about why he knows that Nancy is bi and Robin is a lesbian and how gay people just know these things about other gays. Living small town means that it's pretty much a survival skill, to have a good gaydar, to be able to know who the other gay people are without outing yourself to the people who aren't and putting yourself in danger.

"And you do, too, okay? You deserve to be happy with whoever you want, but it's not gonna be Nancy, so just... you have to move on." Eddie tries to keep his own feelings out of it, keep his crush on Steve under wraps because he's nothing if not a coward, and he doesn't really want to be punched in the face when they're already in this creepy alternate universe. He keeps walking after that, and it takes him a few minutes to see that Steve is still frozen there, not following him.

"Look, I'm sorry if that hurt you, but it needed to be said; you're not gonna feel any less lonely moping and pining after Nancy." Eddie sighs after he makes his way back to Steve. Eddie thought Steve might actually punch him or maybe just yell, but what he actually did is something he never thought would happen.

Steve pulls Eddie in by his shirt, and Eddie is clutching onto his own vest that now lived on Steve's shoulders when the younger man kisses him. It's not soft or unsure, it's hard and full of passion, and Steve puts his all into it just like everything else, and neither man pulls away until they're breathless.

Maybe they weren't lonely, and maybe the only people they really needed were each other, upside down or not.

—

(Hi, if you've read this far, I'll assume it's because you liked this little fic at least a little bit? I would be so eternally grateful if you could hit that little reblog button. It costs nothing, and it REALLY helps. Also, if you can, please think about commissioning me, maybe? 🥺 I have lots of fandoms to choose from. You could also just support me on Kofi from this link as well. 💕)

[darkacademia-stuff]

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…”

“It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

[acguthrie]

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…” “It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.” - The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry https://www.instagram.com/p/ChM4nNnr1eb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

[evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn]

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

(Logince with a bit of denying and pining) Read on AO3

My first fic, based on my Logince drawing (If someone ever wants to make anything based on my art, feel free to ask. Making content is hard and people fleshing out concepts is always fun.) Word count: 3641

Tw: Cursing, Food mention, Balloon popping, Remus being his authentic self

Character’s: Remus, Virgil, Janus, Logan, Roman (At the end), Patton (Mainly implied)

~~~

He had everything ready.

"Ahem."

Three heads turn to look at him.

"Logan, I really don't understand why you're doing this. You know I'm literally the Lord of the Lies, right? I can tell when you're lying."

"Falsehood. I am here specifically to prove to you three, the ones that have doubted me the most, what I think of Roman, so that you'll stop teasing me about emotions that aren't even there." Logan says, standing in front of a long classroom table. Virgil, Janus and Remus sit there, each maintaining their own postures and looking at him with disbelieving expressions.

"Logan, we can see your heart boner from here. You really think you can convince us with a slideshow presentation?" Remus picks his teeth, seemingly bored of the idea.

"That's exactly what I'm doing- What? Why would my heart have a boner? It doesn't have the proper parts to do that-" Logan looks lost, clutching the presentation button in his hand.

"It's an expression, Pocket Protector. It means you've got feelings for him." Virgil sighs.

Logan squints at him. "Of course I have feelings for him." Logan looks behind him, to the SmartBoard behind him. The board turns on, displaying the presentation title. "And those feelings are feelings of irritation. My name is Logan Sanders, and welcome to my Ted Talk."

There is a collective sigh from the others.

Logan takes a pointer stick (the one with the little hand on one side) from a holder on the wall, and points at the words on the screen. "This is 5 reasons why Roman is infuriating. And unlike your cognitive distortions may suggest, I DO NOT have a crush on him." He gestures with the stick where the same thing is written. "So, let's begin."

~~~

1. He likes to insist that he's the most handsome side, despite us all looking like Thomas.

It's ridiculous. All of their traits are reminiscent of Thomas's.

There are some mild changes they go through when they aren't summoned, but they are just slight shifts. For example, Janus and Remus both have different long hairstyles, and they all have a bit of a hair color change. Their features do shift too, emulating ones Thomas has seen over his lifetime that he'd associate with their personalities.

However, in person and in the mindscape, Roman really thinks 'he's the sh*t' (Virgil taught him that expression). He flaunts his beauty over everyone else's, strutting like the prettiest peacock in the flock. Sure, he's good looking, but the same level of good looking as all the other sides.

"You're all so handsome. But not as handsome as me." Logan recalls him saying in an episode.

He tries to use it to one-up the other's, even though they all know they look the same. He also enjoys flaunting his ego, attempting to emulate a lifestyle of the rich and famous when he feels like it.

It's rather ridiculous.

"You think he's good-looking?" Remus coos.

Logan glares, and changes the slide of the presentation.

2. He fights everyone all the time. (Except for Patton)

It seems that Roman has made the most rivals out of everyone.

He's rivals with his brother, he's got a rivalry with Janus but with more betrayal behind it, he's got his past rivalry with Virgil, even though now they're the closest friends, and despite making up several times, Logan is also his rival. Patton seems to be fine, despite their post-wedding event. Logan believes Roman is too worried of defending what he believes in against the literal embodiment of Thomas's morality.

"So, you two have tried making up, but have you considered... Making out???" Remus pitches, his smile all teeth.

Logan sputters a bit. "Puh- Wha- I don't think that would work."

Logan has in fact not thought of making out with Roman, thank you very much. Not even when they're so close, passionately arguing about who-knows-what in the spur of the moment, where it would be so easy to move just a little bit closer and connect his lips to the soft pink ones of the prince.

He has not thought about making out with Roman, because he does not have a crush on him. Period. End of story.

The two of them argue a lot. Whether it's how Thomas should spend his day, to the Chicken or the Egg dilemma (Logan knows he's right, by the way, Roman just won't see that the egg came first), to the ideal temperature for a heating pillow, to the best Crofter's flavor. They can range from productive, to stupid, and by the end of it they may just be fighting about nothing at all.

They jab at each other, come up with clever arguments, and although they're technically fighting, it sometimes feels more like a duel.

"Or a mating ritual." Virgil says under his breath.

"These points don't sound very negative." Janus adds, twirling some of his hair with his finger.

"It is negative. We fight a lot. He fights people a lot. Every issue seems to be a battle to him that he can outmatch, despite being better suited as a civil discussion." Logan stands taller, trying to defend his point.

"Well, that makes sense. I understand this point now. Go on." Janus waves his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Alright." Logan clicks his presenter button, and the slide changes.

3. He's loud. Super loud. All the time.

From singing to dancing to bantering, there never does seem to be a dull moment when Roman is around. Some may call it nice, but Logan would say that's a very polite description. It certainly isn't nice when Logan's trying to get work done, or watch a movie, or enjoy a peaceful breakfast, or most of the time really.

Logan has stopped working outside when he's trying to be productive because Roman will, without fail, come in singing, and then start a little fight with Logan that distracts him from his work and renders him unproductive for a long time because all he can think about is Roman.

"Hm... Wonder why that is." Janus interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you don't need to wonder. I said it was because of our fighting." Logan nervously adjusts his already immaculately placed glasses, resuming his point to his slide presentation.

It's odd, because sometimes even without leaving his room, he can still hear the sounds of Roman's voice in his head. He theorizes the absence of all that noise is making him subconsciously fill it in ( even though his mind also provides him with clear images of Roman's smile).

He can't escape the noise on movie nights. Roman will sing along to any song, scream at the most poorly-timed jumpscares, and no matter what, criticize the movie. Logan does participate in that last step from time to time.

During dinners, it depends. Sometimes, Roman will come in and do his thing, sometimes he'll make a dramatic entrance, grab a plate and then go off to work on something, and sometimes he won't show up at all, off on a quest in the imagination. Those particular meals are peaceful. Sometimes they feel empty, but so far, no one else has complained. Especially considering with Remus' and Janus' seats added to the table, dinner can be a wild event.

Sometimes, when Logan gets lonely, he'll bring his work outside. Every time, he can guarantee that Roman will be there eventually. He provides a healthy distraction, and he always feels much lighter after a bantering session.

But most of the time, he just can't stand it. How can one be so flamboyant for so many hours of the day? Logan had theorized it had something to do with overcompensation, his need for validation and attention, but then thought it was strange theorizing about his friends and went back to work.

Overall, not the worst trait, but it being applied to every scenario adds to the fact that he is infuriating.

"Hold on, can we circle back to the part where you said you thought of him smiling-" Virgil begins, only to be interrupted by Logan pointing his pointer at him.

"No, we will not. Next point."

4. He makes up stupid nicknames.

And he makes a lot of them. Even during serious talks, you'd think he had forgotten your name and was too scared to ask, so he supplies an abundance of back-ups to make you feel special. And they are quite varied, though all slightly jabbing. There are play-on-words, references thrown about... It would have impressed Logan, had all of his designated nicknames not revolved around him being a nerd.

"Hey Microsoft Turd."

"I need your help, Egghead."

"Listen here, Erlenmeyer Trash-"

"Calculator Watch."

"Oh Book Geeeerm~"

"Sure thing Specs."

Logan actually didn't mind specs, but his point still stands. All insulting, clever, but still stupid nicknames. Sometimes, he wonders if Roman keeps a book of them around. Somewhere in his room, filled with all the names he'll unleash onto his unsuspecting companions. Logan may have tried to come up with a list of his own in retaliation, but he couldn't think of anything Roman would think was clever. He spent almost a full night on it, hair a mess, glasses askew, head resting on his desk as he tried to come up with something at least remotely good enough. It interrupted his perfect circadian rhythm. Never again.

Except for the next night, where he tried the exact same stunt again, but that doesn't matter.

What does, is that all of those factors cause aggravation. He always feels weird when Roman gives him a nickname, varying from annoyance to a strange tingling.

"Are you saying he should stop?" Virgil interrupts, frustrated. "This point is going nowhere."

"I-" He's not sure. Although some of the insults are quite jabbing, Logan does want to support Roman's creative process. Not to mention, the nickname ‘specs’ oddly does hold a place in his heart.

"OoOoOoohhh, I have an idea!" Remus cackles. Although Logan is hesitant, he gestures to continue. "Okay, so pinky swear I won't try anything on you, but just close your eyes, and imagine how this nickname would make you feel if Roman said it."

Logan apprehensively closes his eyes, and Remus does nothing but lean slightly forward in his seat, and puts on his best Roman impression. Which is pretty good, considering they're twin brothers.

"How are you today, my love?"

Immediately, Logan flushes bright red from head to toe, covering his face in his hands and squirms. Remus's cackling intensifies by a tenfold, and the other two are poorly failing to contain their laughter.

"That's- That's- That's... N-not a nickname. Th-That's a p-pet name."

"Awww, but you're blushiiiing!" Remus squeals in amusement.

"Falsehood. N-no." Logan says, not enough bite in it to hold value. "We are going to move on now. That just... caught me off guard." He says, adjusting his tie several times, trying to compose himself. "The point is, his nicknames are stupid, and I don't like them- No, don't look at me like that Remus even that one- so it adds to his infuriating nature." Logan grabs the presentation button and clicks it aggressively to the next slide.

"And now, for my concluding point."

5. He is incredibly and willingly dumb.

Sometimes Logan thinks he wouldn't be surprised by the illogical things Roman would say. And then he gets proven incredibly wrong.

"Much like your... 'illogical feelings', mayhaps?" Janus drawls.

Shush, Logan is talking.

Granted, both Creativity twins have proven to be rather illogical, as they are embodiments of creativity, a force that knows only slight bounds to logic. Only with a defying mind can people push boundaries in the advancement of society. That doesn't mean however that those defying minds need to be intelligent.

"I believe Virgil specifically had called Roman a.." He takes out his special cards, flipping through them. " 'A Himbo'. Judging from his past and present behaviors and from the definition itself, it is safe to assume that yes, he is in fact a Himbo."

One instance he can remember is during a picnic in the imagination. It was Patton's birthday, and Roman wanted to do something special, so he set up a picnic for them all to attend. Logan doesn't enjoy visiting the imagination as much, as when he's there, things become more realistic and that makes him feel like a burden. Regardless, it was for Patton's birthday, and so he decided it would be polite to come along.

Everyone was guided by a trail of flowers to an opening in the forest, where a giant picnic blanket was laid out, pillows thrown around, and a large picnic basket stood in the center. There were many balloons of pastel pink and blue tied around, and the birds were chirping in a joint melody. It sounds almost like Happy Birthday.

Logan, as he approaches, hopes that his influence won't cause ants to emerge, because although that would be realistic, it would also be quite the nuisance.

He and the other's are just dressed in their usual attire, but as Roman emerges from the trees, he is wearing a shiny red party hat to go along with his prince outfit.

Roman immediately goes to serenading Patton and placing a party hat on top of his head, light blue with a little pompom on the top. He ushers him to sit on one of the largest pillows, and then goes around giving everyone else party hats. Logan stills when Roman gets to him last, a dark blue party hat with little stars in his hand.

"Do I have to wear that?" He asks. Although, sure, it does look nice, he doesn't want to seem ridiculous.

"Come on, you're in good company. Please? For Patton?" Roman bats his eyelashes at Logan, who sighs and lets him put the party hat onto his head.

Roman runs off to the birthday boy, and they all sit down. The time passes peacefully, songs being sung and Roman releasing a horde of puppies to the joy of the guests. By the time the food is out, everything seems to be going well, until they're all eating, and Roman pulls out an orange. As he's about to peel it, Logan speaks up.

"Roman, I would advise against that." Which may sound ridiculous to most people, but Logan is an expert on many logical things. ( Orange peels have a flammable liquid in them called limonene, and as both it and a balloon, made of latex, are non-polar, the liquid can dissolve the balloon, thus causing it to explode.)

"Against what?" Roman asks, but he does stop his attempt.

Logan adjusts his glasses, ready to explain. "Eating an orange near a balloon. As I cause the imagination to become more logical, doing so will most likely cause-"

"Oh puh-lease! I'm sure whatever wacky science things you're going to say don't actually work here! I mean, there is plenty of influence to go arou-" Roman, the spiteful side he is, gets even closer to the balloon, starting to peel it. Lo-and-behold, he can't finish his denying before the balloon right beside him explodes with a loud POP. The sound sends him jumping back in fear, screeching to the nine hells, and then falling backwards onto another balloon, scaring him again. Several sides laughed out loud at his pain, while Patton watched him, worried. Logan smiled internally at the karma, before getting up and making sure he was okay.

Roman did spend the rest of the party in a sulky mood, but the party was still a huge success. They had some good food, and while Logan made Patton a flower crown, he fed him forfulls of cake. It was a nice bonding moment. When everyone separated to return to the mindscape, Roman waved them all off from the imagination door. Logan turns back to look at him, but Roman makes no move to follow them all out.

"You're not coming back yet?" Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

Roman sighs. "No, not yet. I'm afraid this dashing prince has a little bit of cleaning to do. And perhaps an adventure. You never know." He leans on the doorframe, smiling.

"Well, that is correct. I in fact do not know what you'll be doing." Logan nods to himself. "Do you need any help cleaning? I doubt I'll be much help with the adventure, but I do have hands." He gestures to his hands.

Roman looks quite surprised. "Oh, thanks for the offer, specs. I think I've got it all covered though."

Logan offers a hesitant smile. "Alright then. Let me know if that changes."

Roman quickly smiles back, a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and turns back into the imagination and shutting the door. Logan stands there for a moment, but not sure why. It's clear that Roman was not feeling all that great from the balloon moment. Even Logan, terrible at deciphering emotions, can tell that much. Perhaps he needs to let off some steam.

He just can't understand Roman most of the time. They do have so many similarities, being too proud for their own good, but it's almost like they're in two separate worlds. Logan, the learner he is, wishes he could explore Roman's own. Understand it. Understand him, and his way of thinking. Even though Roman is mostly dumb, he does make good points, and Logan tries to prioritize his input, as it's usually what Thomas is hoping and dreaming for as well.

~~~

The last slide shines back at them all. A concluding statement that makes the three watching sides snicker a little bit.

"And I believe he just doesn't understand how much we all think he's great. I swear, he's just so dense! It's so aggravating! How can he not tell that he's worth everything? Why doesn't he understand that we all care for him? That I care for him? He's wonderful, for god's sake! And that I don't mean to hurt him with my critiques. I want him to thrive! I-"

Everything stops. Logan takes a moment of silence. The three sides look at him, each with different degrees of anticipation. One looks pretty much ready to pounce out of his seat.

"...Oh."

And all at once, everything gets strung back into motion. Confetti literally falls from the ceiling as Remus jumps for joy, circling a very mortified looking Logan. Janus, the tired soul, rolls his eyes and lets out a slow, long clap. Virgil just rests his head in his arms.

"I can't believe this. You sit us all down for a presentation you probably double-checked and proofread, like a nerd, and only NOW you realize you were wrong all along? Why didn't you say anything, snake-face?" Virgil complains, sitting up just to glare at him.

"Wo-ow, it isn't as if I was saying that this whole time? No, it couldn't be." Janus deadpans, sarcasm spilling from his mouth like an old, worn, broken dam.

Logan doesn't move from his stand-still spot beside the projector, but Remus manages to bounce in circles around him, cooing. "Lo-lo's got a cruuuush! A crushy crush! A crushed crust of a crush! A crevice cracking ‘cause of the crushed crust-" He was going to continue, throwing expired banana peels around to substitute rose petals, until the sound of the door opening catches everyone's attention.

"Hey losers, Patton wanted to know if you-" Lo and behold, Roman walks in, regal as ever, smiling until he takes in the sight before him. The boring classroom look, contrasted by the amount of confetti that stopped falling as soon as he walked in. Janus and Virgil, wide-eyed and looking at him, completely still. Remus, caught mid dance, frozen in place with a smile. Logan, looking at him in the way one may look milliseconds after being caught stealing government secrets. Roman's eyes flicker to each of them, before settling on the projector.

"Roman. I-I can explain-" Logan starts, but Roman is already reading the words on the screen.

"... 'In short, he saddles me with unnecessary... feelings'? 'Unease, and uncertainty'? Who... Oh my god! Logan!" Roman looks at him, smiling in disbelief and amazement. "I know what this meanssss!" Filled with giddy delight, he sidesteps the table.

Logan gulps as Roman approaches, turning beet red as Roman takes his hands in his two own. "Y-Yes?" He practically squeaks as Roman looks him right in the eyes.

"Yes! Ohhh, this is so exciting!" The three bystanders watch, once again in anticipation, as Roman swings their interlocked hands.

"Yes?" Logan offers a small, tentative smile.

"You have a crush on someoooone! Oh Logan, you should've told me!" Roman smiles, completely oblivious to the internal facepalm of several present members.

"I-I'm sorry..." Logan looks down, slightly disappointed but still too flustered to say anything.

"God save the dense." Janus mutters, inspecting his gloves fingers.

"Don't be sorry! Come, we must make plans! I shall be your matchmaker! This is going to be perfeeeect!" Roman, sings, dancing out of the room and dragging Logan along by their still intertwined hands. The other sides watch them go.

After a moment of processing, Virgil sighs. "Well, I thought that was going to be resolved. Turns out they're both as dense as... dense people." He can't seem to think of any other similes.

"Welp, I'm just happy that they're one step closer to getting. it. on. romantically." Remus punctuates every word with some rather immature hand gestures. “And that they stop dancing around each other.”

"Who do you think Roman thinks Logan has a crush on?" Virgil asks, cogs turning in his brain.

Janus lounges backwards. "Well, let's see... Soooo many options. Either he thinks it's someone outside of Thomas's head, or the simple answer..."

Remus and Virgil both look at him, both with looks of realization.

"Patton."

~~~

[jimlingss]

Moirai [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 5k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Anastasia.”   Lucienne sits across the rounded table from you, oblivious to the blossom petals that have drifted down and tangled itself into her hair. The tea party invitation rests beside her teacup, neat and crisp like she held and opened it with the utmost care.    “Yes, thank you.” The other lady beside her pipes up. “It’s an absolute honour.”   “The Royal gardens are lovely this season,” another adds. “I’m glad I can enjoy it like this.”   “It’s not a problem, everyone.” A friendly smile stretches across your face. “It can get quite lonely being the only lady in the castle, so your company is welcome.”   More like Lady Devon and your other tutors was pretty damn insistent that you build a good reputation and inner circle, but whatever. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.   But you do remember that in the original game, Anastasia used this opportunity to shame the heroine. She invited her to a tea party and made snide remarks about how she danced with the Prince. Of course it seems petty now but it’s understandable that Anastasia resented the heroine so much. Even if she didn’t intend it, she humiliated Anastasia by stealing her fiancé.   And the fact of the matter is that you’ll also become the laughingstock for what she’ll do.   “If I may ask, have you started the wedding arrangements yet, Lady Anastasia?”   You nearly choke on your tea, sputtering for a moment until you’re able to set the cup down on the saucer and cough into your napkin. The ladies around the table appear concerned, but you plaster on another smile. “Well, there’s been no discussion yet. The Royal family and the Devereux house are in no rush. There’s still quite a bit of time, so who knows what could happen.”   “What could happen?” One of them catches on quick and you cordially nod.   “The engagement was made when both Prince Jungkook and I were very young, but now that we are older, we can voice our own opinions on the matter.” You choose your words carefully and your smile widens. “I am not opposed if changes are made. If the leaders of the empire cannot exercise their own freedoms, then how can the people?”    They nod in agreeance, a few in awe at your deep thought process. “That is very mature of you, Lady Anastasia.”   You laugh stiffly and lift your tea cup for another sip.   “Oh, but the Crown Prince is so wonderful.”   You choke. Again. You wonder if you’re going to die at this tea party from the warm liquid constantly going down the wrong pipe.    “I am sure he wouldn’t change his mind with how lovely you are, Lady Anastasia.” The girl beside you smiles, laying it on thick to win your favour. “You two are a very fitting couple.”   “I agree.” Lucy smiles softly. “Prince Jungkook is very courteous.”   “And very majestic.”   You remember when you dueled with Jungkook, he lost within a minute. He threw a tantrum in the following days and gave you the silent treatment. Or that time you went horseback riding, you decided to race each other and he fell off his own horse into mud and started crying.   Uh-huh. Majestic indeed.   You chalk up your wheeze to nothing and dab the corner of your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. “Yes, well, Jungkook will make a fine King someday.”   “And you’ll make a fine Queen,” a soft-spoken voice pipes up and your eyes connect to Lucy’s. Unlike the others surrounding you, you know her words are genuinely spoken and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.   “I’m not so sure about that,” you honestly admit as you fidget with the edge of the porcelain saucer. “A queen must be kind and generous and know the suffering of the people. I’m afraid I have a lot left to learn.”   Your gaze meets Lucy’s again.   Her smile is all too gentle for high society and its naturally cunning, heartless nature. She’s awfully naive, but that aside, you know her benevolence will make her beloved in the empire.   //   Once the tea party is over, you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief. Christ, thank god that’s over.   You escort most of the ladies towards their carriages, bidding them goodbye with polite waves as the palace servants clear the dishes, chairs and table away from the garden. And you turn around to head back to your room to sneak in a break, but your name is frantically called—   “Lady Anastasia!”   You turn and a girl in her purple, simple gown comes barrelling down the open hall. Her chest rises and falls, completely out of breath even when she only ran two meters. It makes you laugh unabashedly. “Is everything okay? You don’t need to run.”   She hunches over, lungs probably burning, but she fixes her posture a moment later. “S-Sorry, my lady.”   “Anastasia is fine.”   Lucy nods. “I...just wanted to thank you again. I was very excited when I received your invitation. It’s an honour….Anastasia.”   “There’s no reason to thank me so much.” You walk alongside her. Your hat with pinned pink peonies, matching your gown, shields the sun away from your face.   “It’s just that I don’t get invited to these sort of events often considering….considering I’m just a baron’s daughter and adopted one at that.”   She doesn’t need to tell you — you know her backstory well. You’ve played through it from her perspective. Her father abandoned her mother who died of illness when she was five and she was picked up on the streets by the sympathetic baron. It seems like every character in this game has some tragic backstory. They are defining moments that make that person.   But you suppose life itself is like that.   “Can I give you some advice, Lucy?” you ask after a quiet moment and she nods. You stop walking and the girl halts beside you. “Your humility makes you likeable, but be careful not to self-deprecate yourself. Your worth is more than what you consider yourself to have.”   Her eyes widen and you add, “Plus, it’s not good to thank a host more than once like they’ve done you a big favour because they’ll start to think you owe them for it.”   Lucy nods and you smile, resuming your stroll. “I’ll be inviting you to more tea parties in the future.”   “Thank—” She catches herself. “Yes, I will be looking forward to that.”   A grin spreads into your cheeks. “On a different note, I never got to ask you how your dance was with Jungkook at the debutante ball.”   “Oh, yes, the Prince was very kind. But I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, I know he’s your fiancé—”   This time, your laugh is unrestrained. She looks up at you in surprise. “Do you think I’m getting jealous?” Lucy opens her mouth and then closes it, not sure what to say and you bat the air with your hand. “Jungkook is like a little brother to me.”   If she was surprised before, now she looks entirely off guard. “It thought the Prince and you were the same age.”   You laugh stiffly. “Yes, we are, but I guess that’s what childhood friends are like.”   “Oh, I’ve never had a childhood friend.”   “Have you ever had a friend?” Your eyes meet her’s and you smile. “Because I’d be happy to be your first.”   The conversation soon ends and as Lucy walks away, you breathe another sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at the positive interaction. Even if she’s just a countryside girl, it’s nerve-racking when you’re supposed to be the villainess. You like her and you even offered your friendship, but with each interaction, your demise is always lingering at the back of your head.   “I didn’t take you for being such a mentor.”   You whirl around, nearly startled to death by the voice and you discover a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the marble pillar with a sly smile.   “How long have you been there?”   Taehyung grins. “Not long. I was just passing by. It was a coincidence.” He turns in the direction where Lucy went. “I heard you had a tea party, how did it go?”   “It was exhausting.” You stretch your arms over your head and walk over to lean against the stone ledge next to him. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for the palace life.”   Taehyung smiles and you look up at him. “Are you going to the garden again?”   He nods and there’s a strong urge to ask him if you can come along. Just for a small break before they find you and you’re swept up in another lesson. But you’re not sure if you should—   “Would you like to come?”    Taehyung asks the question for you and your eyes meet one another’s.   There’s no one around. Not a soul in sight who could stop you from going or leaving.   You know you should keep your distance from him. You know. But…   “Okay.”   You take him up on the offer, following after him, just for a moment of indulgence.

With the arrival of Spring also comes the Hunt. It’s a rather eventful time in the castle considering it's generally symbolic of the harvests of this year, thought to prevent famine if those attending can bring back large game. An irony that isn’t lost on you. But it’s an undoubtedly lively time and one that you don’t mind.   “You better bring back a whole moose,” you mumble as you tie the blue ribbon on the belt of Jungkook’s armour, making sure it’s tight and secure. The ribbon is a gift of good luck and one of affection. You’re obligated to tie one for Jungkook considering you’re his fiancée.    “I’ll bring back a dragon,” he declares brazingly and you lightly scoff.   This is his second time participating after winning last year, but you remember he was practically shaking back then out of fear and pressure.   “Okay then. Just make sure you don’t fall off your horse this time.”    “That was only once!”   You take a step back when you’re done tying the ribbon. “I should be the one going on the hunt instead of staying back for idle chit chat. I’m pretty sure I would be able to catch something bigger than you.”   “Probably.” Jungkook grins. “You’re good enough with your sword to be a knight.”   “They’d never let me.” You sigh. God knows your mother would be mortified and probably faint and die.    But while staying back and waiting for the men to return with their kill is boring as hell, at least you’re removed from the pressure of having to hunt large prey in the first place. It’s a competition after all and one that can get quite competitive from your knowledge.   You follow Jungkook to his prized white horse and watch him caress its muzzle.    “If you win, you should give the prize to Lucy.”   His brows furrow and he turns his head to you. “Lucienne? The girl I danced with at the ball? Why?”   You shrug half-heartedly. “Because she has no one and I feel bad for her. I already have a few knights who are going to dedicate their game to me.”   Jungkook hums, not thinking much about it. “Fine by me.”   He puts his foot on the stirrup and swings himself over, sitting on top of the majestic horse.   Preparations almost complete, you turn to the King who’s seated at the top of the stands in a throne-like chair. He looks across the field with an approving expression.   Your parents are beside the King and you spare them a mere glance before turning away. You haven’t spoken to them since the end of the debutante ball and you don’t plan to. It might be childish to give them the silent treatment, but you wonder to what end they’ll try to force you.   The attendant steps up. “Is everyone ready?”   At that exact same moment, as if he was called upon, a familiar dark-haired man with eyes the hue of deep honey enters your peripheral vision. Taehyung emerges onto the field filled with knights on horses and soldiers in armour. His navy cape draped over his left shoulder sways with each movement, twinkling in the sunlight as if there were stars sewn into the fabric. He’s grasping onto a steel pole, a magical staff and his presence garners whispers from all.   “Isn’t he the bastard son?” — “The first son of the King.” — “The one born from the maid.”   They’re all startled to see him — the nobles sitting in the stands, women murmuring underneath their breaths, men watching with their eyes wide, knights and guards. And most of all, you’re stuck at a standstill.   Heart thunderous in your ears — blood drained from your face — you can’t look away when all Taehyung is looking at is you.    He comes close and his expression melts into a tender smile, a softened gaze when he reads your eyes’ fixation on him.    Jungkook, on the other hand, grins and mounts off his horse. “Taehyung?!” The Prince welcomes his brother warmly — an action not unnoticed by the crowds watching. He hugs him and lets go a moment later. “What are you doing here?”   “What can I say? I’m here to steal your victory.”   The younger laughs and you can tell he’s genuinely excited. Jungkook’s cheeks are practically pink and bulging, and his eyes have brightened. “Do you want to put a bet on that?”   “How much are you willing to wager?” Taehyung quips back.   “My pride and dignity.”   He scoffs playfully. “How about your private library collection?”   “Deal. And if I win, I want you to come to the feast tonight.”   Taehyung grins. “Looks like this year’s going to be difficult for you, Your Highness.”   “I’ll keep up.” Jungkook laughs again and gets back on his horse.   A stable-boy comes rushing over with a horse for Taehyung and before the King can utter a single word or you have a chance to speak to him, the games have begun. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at you for a single beat and then he’s off into the woods with the rest.    In the original game, Taehyung never participated in the Hunt.   He looked on from the window of his tower and even sabotaged Jungkook.    In the original game, Jungkook became injured but still conscious enough that before he fated, he declared he would give his prize to the heroine since Anastasia was so overbearing. It sparked the girl’s jealousy and was the reason why she decided to conspire with Taehyung. It was the first domino in the chain — the beginning of the villains working hand in hand.   But none of that is happening.   You wonder how far your choices will continue to deviate from the story. How many more mistakes—   “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   You jolt, torn out of your deep trance by a worried gaze. Lucy has leaned in towards you, her brows knitted together and you smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” You quickly change the subject. “Have you given your ribbon to anyone yet?”   The pair of you are walking down the castle hall, heading towards the dining hall where you know the noble women will be having tea and making small talk while waiting for their sons and husbands.   Lucy shakes her head and unties the blue ribbon she had around her wrist.    “Why not?”   She stares at the soft satin for a second and then looks up at you, mustering a small smile. “I wouldn’t know who to give it to.”   “Well, you still have time to decide. You can give it to someone when they get back.” You hum to yourself. “How about giving it the Crown Prince?”   Lucy’s eyes are as large as saucers and she blinks thrice.   You’re a bit endeared with how surprised she seems at your suggestion. “Don’t you admire Prince Jungkook?”   “I...I do,” she admits quietly and peeks at you again. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep—”    “Not at all!” You reassure her. “Prince Jungkook likes the admiration. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind whatsoever. He might actually appreciate it.”   The girl smiles to herself and nods.   Evening sets in after meaningless conversations, cordial expressions and polite responses. The only interruptions are the horns that ring as each participant in the Hunt slowly arrives back.   Jungkook returns sweaty and out of breath, but with a whole moose like he promised. There are cheers and applauses, but more importantly, silent gasps when he beelines straight to Lucy to give her the prize. She blushes, a stuttering mess full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘it’s an honour’, and you discover Jungkook’s bashful behaviour at her sincere gratitude.    He scratches the back of his neck, diverts his vision, mutters ‘it’s fine’. It’s fascinating to watch considering he’s always been arrogant and bratty to you since the day you met him.   But you don’t get to observe their moment for long.   Not when the horns ring again and a figure appears over the horizon.    This time, no one moves. Truly stunned. Breaths hitched. Holy shit. Taehyung arrives back with a bear and he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.   “Wow!” Jungkook is the first to react, moving out of the crowd to his brother. He’s genuinely amazed and impressed, jaw dropped and brows shot to his hairline. “You did this?!”   “Didn’t I say I would win?” Taehyung grins languidly.   “This...is incredible!” Jungkook’s admiration for his brother causes the unsettled crowd to finally calm. It starts off slow, a clap here or there and then it’s applause, cheering and murmurs of acknowledgment.   “Has anyone ever brought a bear back before?” — “Did he use magic?” — “Why didn’t the eldest son participate in the Hunt before?”   And you know that it’s the first time people have clapped for Taehyung.   The attendant rushes forward, sputtering on his words. “T-The winner for this year’s Hunt is His Highness, Prince Taehyung!”   Taehyung wins a chest of gold, worth more than fifty commoner’s lifetimes and you watch as he bows his head as he receives it. You watch as he holds it and strides towards you. You watch until his arms have extended and a smile draws upon his features.   “What are you doing?” you ask, a whisper that’s befallen off your lips, spilled past the astonishment.    His gaze and smile never wavers. “I’m giving my prize to you.”   The crowd’s stirred to silence, watching the two of you, and you receive the wooden chest.   The attendant quickly announces the feast in the hall and servants begin ushering the people inside. But you continue watching Taehyung, your eyes connected to his, both grounded in the private bubble.   No one notices the King sitting on top of the stands, his brows tightly knitted.    //   The dining hall has shifted.   No longer are there laced tablecloths, towers of pastries and teapots from the afternoon. It’s large plates that have stretched along the surface, meats and cheese, breads and butters that have begun the feast. There are grandiose chairs all around three different tables, arranged based on importance and connections, conversations that have filled the enormous room.   The darkness of the night is casted away by the chandeliers overhead, illuminating the room in a golden hue. Yet, while each is high on the atmosphere, drunk by the wine, you can’t swallow the food down.    The tapping of utensils on glass has you looking over. The room simmers down.    By the coaxing of Jungkook beside him, Taehyung rises from his chair and clears his throat. It’s customary for the victor of the Hunt to give a speech and you’re guessing this is it.   “Thank you all for coming.” Taehyung appears unfamiliar and awkward addressing the crowd, quickly rushing over his words as if to get it done and over with. “I have never participated in the Hunt before this year and it was only because of beginners luck that I won. That—”    Suddenly, Taehyung looks right at you. “—and the support of those most important to me.”    Then, as quick as he stole his glance, he turns away. “I hope the harvests of Ashea will prosper this year.”   There’s thunderous applause and the feast resumes.   You’re overwhelmed, dizzy, the celebrations of the room getting to your head — laughter, questions, comments louder by ten decibels until it feels earsplitting.   You look over at Jungkook, finding that he has two blue ribbons pinned on his left side. He’s smiling widely, oblivious. Then, your head whirls over to your parents sitting down the table. They might have friendly smiles plastered on their features, but you can tell through their eyes that there’s seething anger. They’re unhappy, most likely with you, most likely with what happened earlier.   “Anastasia.” Lady Devon, who sits beside you, calls you out of your thoughts, disapproving at how your listening skills could be so poor.   You blink, pretending you were in deep thought about her discussion of silver forks and the corner of your mouth tugs. “If you’ll excuse me…”   After a delayed moment, she nods and you push your chair back, blurring into the massive paintings on the wall as you slip out to the terrace.   The night is cold.    Each exhale of yours is visible and you tug the soft pink shawl around your shoulders closer to your body for some warmth as you lean against the railings. You look up at the star-filled sky, finally able to calm yourself from the noise inside. You’ve always been glad that no matter where you are, what universe it is, there’s always the same sun, stars and moon. A constant.   One thing you don’t have to worry about.   “Is there something wrong?”   You know who it is before you’ve even turned around.    It’s a relief. You’ve waited all day to be able to speak to him, to be away from prying eyes and in a private moment. It’s easing. Your nerves take comfort in the familiarity, somehow finding his very presence soothing. Yet it’s unsettling at the same time. You have too many questions, too many suspicions and you don’t know if you want to uncover the truth.   But you gather your strength and face Taehyung. “I’m just thinking.”   “About what?”   Taehyung approaches your side. The warm light from inside the palace spills out and your shadows cast onto the grass beneath the terrace. There is not a soul in the hall when they’re all inside the dining hall, celebrations and conversations muffled through the many walls.   You inhale a breath. “Why?”   Taehyung frowns.   You ask again, “Why did you give me your prize?”   “Should I not have?”   Half of his face is illuminated, the slope of his nose and dip of his cupid’s bow sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, reminiscent of the chiaroscuro of a painting.   “That’s not it. Just…..” Why does he treat you so kindly, why does he want to go out of his way to talk to you, why does he look at you like that— “Why?”   In the original game, Anastasia was Taehyung’s chess piece and nothing more.   “Does there need to be a reason?” The corner of his mouth tugs gingerly. “I wanted to, so I did.”   “But there’s so many eligible bachelorettes you could’ve them them to, like Lady Myoi or Lady Paxton—”   “None of them matter,” he injects without needing to blink or think twice. “Not like you do.”   Your head snaps up and your eyes meet. Taehyung gazes at you tenderly, searching your irises with a small smile and he swallows hard. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you cold?”    Oddly enough, even with the chilly wind whisking through the branches and swaying the leaves, you aren’t cold if he’s here.    Yet suddenly, Taehyung snaps his fingers and you’re engulfed with the warmth of an embrace. It’s the heat of a winter fire crackling underneath the mantle, the Summer sun casting down on your cheeks, and it travels from your toes to your head, and you can’t help the giggle that spills from you.    “What did you just do?”   He grins and leans closer to you. “It’s a simple warmth spell.”   Your brow cocks. “How much magic do you exactly know?”    He even managed to get that bear without looking like he had to fight. Your efforts to get him not to tap into magic all those years ago were in vain, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.   Taehyung looks away, smile easing. “It doesn’t matter how much magic I have. It’s not enough for what I really want.”    Your breath hitches in your throat. The implications of his words welcomes the tension back into the air that had snuck itself away for a simple moment. But it isn’t uncomfortable. It isn’t the kind of tension that comes when you’re speaking to the Duke and Duchess, not the stiffness that arrived when you were being scolded by Edith. No. It’s different. It’s….intimate.    Especially when he sneaks a glance at you and you hold it, eyes fixated into his.   None of you speak, breathe, bat a lash. Not when Taehyung starts to lean in close. Not when you begin to feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin, when you can hear the thunderous noise of his heartbeat bruising his rib cage. His lash tickles yours. But before your lips can brush—   You push him away.   Taehyung stumbles back, nearly falling over, but he grasps the railings.   Your breath heaves and you stare at him in shock, in horror with what was about to happen. And before anything can be said or done, you turn away.   “Wait! Anastasia!” Taehyung calls after you. “I’m sorry!”   “I….I need to leave.”   You can’t deviate from the story more than you already have. This is a mistake.   In the midst of your panic, you return to the dining hall and cut through the room. It’s the quickest way back to your chambers, so you don’t hesitate to move your steps, never once looking behind your shoulder. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t follow after you. He can’t.    But while each is celebrating and distracted with their company, a certain girl notices your distraught and frantic form beelining to the massive doors.   Something doesn’t sit right in her, so she immediately stands and bows her head to the woman she was speaking to. “If you can excuse me, thank you, I’ll be right back.”   Lucy follows after you, eyes pinned on your backside.   The only people who pay any mind is your mother, the Duchess of Devereux. Her senses are sharp and she taps your father on the shoulder until he follows her line of sight to the girl.   The castle grounds are dark, the moon waxing but not yet full enough to provide a bright light. But enough is shed for you to see. It’s enough for shadows to cast along the stone walls. You would never walk outside at this time of night, but you need air. More of it. Something you can breathe in and hope will clear the cloudiness inside your mind, the noise that’s earsplitting.   A gentle tap on your shoulder has you screaming.   “It’s me!” Lucy puts her hands out, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”   You catch your breath, steadying it and you swallow hard. “W-What are you doing outside? I thought you were still celebrating the feast.”   “I saw you walking by and I thought something was wrong and I got worried, I’m sorry.” She looks at you when the silence is ongoing. The concern is evident through her knitted brows. “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   It seems like everyone is asking you that question today.   A question you don’t know how to respond to yourself.   But you manage a nod and a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. I was thinking of retiring to my room early.”   “Oh, okay.”   You step towards her and grasp her hands within your own. “Can you do me a favour, Lucy, and keep Jungkook company tonight? He might be looking for me too and I don’t want him to be worried.”   “I will.” She nods. “But do you want me to escort you to your room? I could call someone—”   “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll be fine.” You smile and let go of her. “You should go back now before someone goes looking for you.”   Lucy nods for a second time and she bids you a goodnight as she walks back.   You’re left by yourself and you turn to tread your own way. The weight of so many decisions lie upon your shoulders and slow down your steps. You wonder why you have to bear the heavy burden of knowing your future, of knowing all of theirs while trying to escape your own fate.    It feels like you’re a pawn trying to control the whole chess board.   You exhale a breath, watching the cloud dissipate and unbeknownst to you, there’s a rustle in the garden’s bushes.   “That’s her, isn't it?”   Two shadows emerge from the darkness and before your ears can pick up on the noise, before you can turn around and meet the figures, a cloth is clamped over your mouth. Your shout is muffled and arms begin to drag you in the opposite direction of the castle.   What the fuc—    Immediately, your elbow juts out and the man behind you sputters, cowering over with a curse. You manage to slip out of his loosened grip, about to sprint and yell. Until another overtakes you and grabs hold of your wrists, yanking you back.   “Wench!” A cold blade sits at the juncture of your throat and you freeze, breaths tearing out of your throat frantically. You can fight him. Years of swordsmanship didn’t render you useless after all. But his threat delays you— “Shut your mouth if you don’t want Baron of Liza dead too.”   What?   Your mouth is stuffed with cloth and you’re roughly ripped into the darkness.   At the same time, Taehyung, still at the terrace and about to leave, turns around.

[paperbrains]

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…” “It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.”

-  Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

[yesokaythatsfine69]

The Prince of Her Heart (Bounty Hunter!reader x Firelord Zuko)

Description: y/n was just a simple bounty hunter until a very important person and his equally important friends come knocking. Takes place during the first comic book and after the final season of atla.

Pov: third person

Warning(s): blood. fighting. Fluff.

A/n: Hello! It took me a bit to get onto the Zuko-crush train but with that being said I do think he's a total cutie and I hope y'all like this :)

*none of the gifts I use are mine. Full credit goes to the maker.

Y/n cracked her knuckles out of anxiety. The Earth kingdom colonies tended to do that to her and she treaded carefully with her shirshu, Rhian. The colonies had been the height of tension during the war and even with it's end you could still feel it buzzing in the air.

Y/n herself held no fear of the people. She was a certified badass and considered the best bounty hunter in the Earth kingdom and fire nation respectively. However, that doesn't mean the energy left from a hundred years of warring didn't rattle her.

Y/n wasn't truly a native of any nation, kingdom, or tribe and in most cases she was thankful for that. She needn't worry about only serving fire nation or Earth kingdom clientele. It also made it easy to escape the possibility of choosing sides.

But now that the war was ending she was destined to serve both anyway, and now having no nation just felt lonely.

Rhian made a small noise breaking y/n from her thoughts. They had arrived right outside a small earth town. It looked as her cousin, June, had described. Old, dirty, and significantly empty. Her new clients were waiting for her in a tavern towards the edge of town.

Usually she didn't take personal jobs, they paid much less than finding criminals did, but her cousin had gave them her name specifically. If June had thought it important enough to give the job to the best bounty hunter in the world, then it had to be important. With that being said, June had a terrible sense of humor and this could all for be some missing house pet.

She past a few people on the way to the tavern, but none looked like they were her client. The stopped at the tavern and gave a quick pet to Rhian. "I'll be back soon, girl," she turned to walk away, but paused. "And I'll bring you the biggest steak you could dream of!" Rhian cooed happily, and y/n made her way to the tavern.

Inside, the gaang sat at a round table. Zuko's leg bounced with worry. "What time did June say he'd get here?" He said, his voice strained with impatience. "The same time we gave you the last time you asked." Toph said dryly. The blind bandit had taken to picking her toes while they waited.

To Zuko's left was Sokka, who kept fidgeting with his boomerang, quite obnoxiously. Beside him was Azula, who had been tied to her chair. She seemed equally annoyed by Sokka or maybe that was just her current state after being dragged along on the mission to find his mother.

Aang put a calming hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Don't worry Zuko, they'll be here. Besides you have us to help." He gestures to the group and Zuko's shoulders only lowered at he glanced at his friends. All seemed preoccupied with either picking their feet, playing with weapons or glaring. "Aang's right Zuko. Your mother will be found. Then you'll have all the answers you'll need." Zuko nodded but his amber eyes still flashed with doubt.

Then, suddenly the door slammed open. The gaang immediately sat straight up and Zuko held his breath. An old man swayed in and staggered towards them. They watched with wide eyes as he raised his index finger in the air, opened his mouth, and...burped. Zuko's nose scrunched in disgust before he groaned and threw his head into his hands. The man staggered to the bar and Sokka watched him pointedly. He stroked his chin before turning to Toph. "Maybe that was a code for something. Quick, Toph, give him a response burp."

Katara glared at her brother and opened her mouth to reprimand him when the door opened once more. This time a young girl entered, wearing a black stealth suit and heavy boots. Immediately Zuko felt his heart stop- not because he felt she was the bounty hunter but because she was so pretty. She her stride was confident and her eyes seemed to look into your soul. As soon as their gazes met goosebumps sprouted on his usually warm skin.

It didn't take very long for y/n to see her clients. They sat at a round table in the back, a position that gave them an easy opening to see who was entering and leaving the tavern. Their were several of them and they were all very young. It caused her to narrow her eyes. Then she met the gaze of the one who sat in the middle, and she relaxed slightly.

He was extremely attractive, stunning even. A scar was over his right eye, and yet it only seemed to make him more attractive. It worked for him like a new style or a new haircut. Despite the scar he seemed rather soft and his big doe eyes were full of worry.

Slowly she crossed the threshold to the group. "You sent for me?" Zuko felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the sound of her voice. It was like honey. "Yes, we did. We need your help in finding out friend's mother." A girl with smooth coca colored skin spoke. It suddenly dawned on y/n who they were.

"You're the Firelord and you're the Avatar." She whispered, eyes wide. The bald one stood up, apparently worried she would no longer help them because of who they were "Yes, but please we-" she waved him off.

"My name's y/n. So june told you about me, Firelord?" He nodded. "Yes, she did. Said you were the best." Y/n smiled. Despite himself and the fears that consumed him, he mimicked her small smile.

Y/n resumed her questioning. "What do you know?" The firelord's shoulders relaxed immediately. "She made a deal with my father to kill my grandfather and leave. It was inorder to save my life." Y/n frowned softly at his tone. Azula suddenly spoke and her voice caused tension. "Our father was never really fond of old zuzu... especially since zuzu wasn't even his." Zuko flinched and Y/n's eyes widened.

"if that's true... How do you know Firelord ozai didn't just kill her?" Zuko swallowed, keeping eye contact with y/n. "My father was many things...but he always delivered on his promises." Y/n nodded. "Do you have anything belonging to your mother?"

The Firelord nodded and pulled from his pocket a note. "She wrote this." Y/n lighted reached for it and briefly their hands touched. Zuko's breath caught and his reaction slowed. Y/n felt the warm of his hand and when he pulled away she missed the gentleness of his touch. "This will be insteumental. Okay, Firelord, Let's find your mother."

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

"You want me to...ride with you?" Zuko watched the shirshu skeptically. Y/n climbed into Rhian with ease before turning to the Firelord. "The best way to track is through her. There's enough room for one other person and I figure I'll be needing you." Zuko flushed at the thought of her needing him. "Yeah, yeah okay."

He moved closer to the shirshu but paused. The last time he rode one of these creatures the ride had been anything but fun. He took a breath and climbed in behind y/n. "You might want to hold on, the ride can get bumpy." Zuko frowned. "Hold onto what, exactly?"

"Me." Zuko froze for a second. When he didn't move y/n turned to look at him and tried not to smile at his flustered expression. "Oh don't tell me the Firelord is afraid of-" "I'm not afraid!" Zuko snapped promptly wrapping his arms around her.

The moment was so sudden it caused her to move into him, even as she was still turned. Within seconds they were inches from each other's face. Zuko immediately regretted his act, but he made no move to loosen his grip and y/n made no move at all.

This close she could count the freckles on his face. He squirmed slightly under her piercing stare and she blinked. Slowly, she turned back to face front but kept her close proximity to him. His warmth was too intoxicating to willfully detach from.

"Are you ready?!" She called up to the gang. "Ready!" The Avatar replied cheerfully. "Okay, Rhian." Y/n placed the letter in front of the shirshu allowing it time to sniff. Pulling it away y/n patted the beast. "Find his mother." With a grunt Rhian went into action.

Both were jolted forward. Zuko's grip stayed steady as they were off rushing through the town and to his mother.

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

It was beginning to get quite hard to focus with how oblivious Zuko was to his own cuteness. Throughout the ride Zuko would lean on y/n, realize he was leaning abruptly apologize, sigh, wait a little bit, and then do it all over again.

"I heard that you helped train the Avatar. What did your father think of that?" She asked after a bit of silence. "He shot lightning at me." Y/n clicked her tongue. "Parents, what are you gonna do?"

Night was falling soon and y/n knew Zuko was sore (no matter how many times Zuko said he wasn't.) So she pulled the group into a small camping area.

"we need to rest for a bit. Rhian won't lose the smell, so don't worry." She turned and gave Zuko her hand, wanting to help him down from Rhian. He hesitated but when he looked at her amused face his resolve and heart melted. He took her hand and she helped him down.

"See, not so bad." Y/n spoke softly, her eyes twinkling against the starry night sky. "Not as bad as it could've been, at least." Zuko answered, hand still clasped in hers. Y/n glanced down at their hands still intertwined and Zuko noticed, clearing his throat and finally pulling away.

They turned to see the group watching them curiosly. "Let's set up some tents over here and then over there we set a fire." Y/n moved forward, her voice breaking whatever tension had arose.

Soon they pulled up some tents and started a fire. Y/n had delightedly told the group stories about times where she was almost killed by a criminal she was hunting. In return Aang, Katara, and Sokkka piped in times where they too were almost killed.

Zuko sat mostly in silence, listening to y/n and his friends talk. He enjoyed how animated she was, and how she made sure he was involved. It gave him a warm feeling and he found himself scooting closer to her.

Slowly each person found their way to their tents for sleep and it was only Zuko and y/n by the fire. She smiled at him. "So, Firelord, do you have any stories you'd like to share?" Zuko thought for a second. "My uncle, Iroh, is the family story teller." Y/n's grin grew.

"Then you must be the family hottie." Zuko's cheeks flushed. "I-I mean I-" He was cut off by y/n's laughter. "Zuko, you are too easy." Zuko frowned and crossed his arms. "So I've been told." His eyes lifted to Azula's tent. Y/n followed his gaze.

"So, what happened to her? She couldn't have been like that when she 'killed' the Avatar." Zuko nodded. "My father happened. He...he forced her to be perfect." Y/n nodded and moved closer to him. "He wanted a perfect child and he definitely got one. But, perfection comes at a price."

"What was your mother like?" Zuko's eyes widened and he turned to y/n. She was much closer to him than she had been before, and the reflection of the fire danced in her eyes. She waited patiently for his answer and he swallowed.

"She was kind. He didn't deserve her." Y/n nodded. "She understood you." Zuko stared into the fire. "For a long time I wished she would've taken me too. I always wondered why and...and sometimes I blamed her for what my father did to me. I realize now the only person who deserves blame...is my father."

For several moments they were silent. "My father once told me that the greatest thing a person can do is forgive. I believe you've done that." She put her hand on his shoulder. Zuko leaned into her touch. He turned to her and they shared a look.

They were mere inches from each other, and the thought of closing the gap became imperative to y/n. Slowly she tilted her head, pulling forward slightly. When Zuko didn't move away from her she placed a hand his cheek.

Zuko again leaned into her touch, his breath hitching. Y/n again moved closer to him, and he felt her lips ghosting over his own. His eyes shut and he let out of shaky breath. "Y/n." He whimpered softly.

"How cute. My brother the Firelord and y/n the bounty hunter." Zuko's eyes shot open but before he could move lightning was hurdling towards them. Y/n acted quickly, throwing them to the left barely dodging the strike.

Azula stood on the other side of the fire. It light up her face menacingly and she grinned manically, her fingers ablaze in blue. "Thought you could just...tie me up and forget about me?" Zuko had jumped up swiftly. "What are you doing Azula?" "Isn't it obvious brother!? Killing you!" She hurdled fireball after fireball, each one caught by Zuko.

Y/n scurried away, into the darkness of the night. Azula laughed, watching the bounty Hunter's fleeting form. "It looks like lover girl's left you to the wolves, Zuzu." Zuko only gritted his teeth. "I don't want to hurt you, Azula."

His sister only cackled. "But I do want to hurt you!" She collect her energy into lightning and went to strike her brother once more when suddenly a long tongue wrapped around her, causing her body to go limp.

She gasped in outrage as she hit the ground. The gaang had heard the commotion and had ran from their tents in time to see Rhian and y/n standing over a cursing and unmoving Azula. Zuko put out the fire in his hands and moved to where y/n and his sister were.

Y/n slid down from her shirshu carefully, walking over to Azula's struggling form. Zuko had glanced at her briefly but the two remained at a distance, different thoughts swarming their heads.

As the others pressed for information and the two calmly answered, y/n realized just how close she was to kissing the Firelord. Her, a measly bounty hunter that lived off coins given to her in exchange for criminals.

That night she didn't sleep, her mind too focused on how close she was to Zuko. Too focused memorizing every inch she saw and the sound of her name on his tongue ringed in her ears.

She cursed herself for the action. She had definitely ruined things now. Soon, he'd be gone out of her life and to the palace where she was sure he find some pretty princess or Lord's daughter and get married. She wasn't worth it.

Zuko didn't sleep much either. When he did he dreamt of her pulling more sounds from his mouth till he awoke in a cold sweat. He figured that she had been tired and whatever happened had to have been some sort of trick. Y/n was stunning and clever. She was funny and witty and he- he had an ugly scar and a brooding and off-putting personality. The more he thought the more he convinced himself something else had happened.

She couldn't have wanted to kiss someone like him. It was... impossible. Silently he wiped a tear from his eye and turned onto his side.

Finally day broke once more and the events of the past night were forgotten. Or at least but the gaang.

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

Y/n and Zuko had rode in tense silence throughout their journey. Neither commented on what happened the night before. Y/n felt unworthy of Zuko and Zuko felt unworthy of her. Finally y/n broke the silence- but not in the way Zuko yearned for her to. "We're close. Rhian's moving slower." Zuko forced a weak sound of acknowledgement before they were silent once more.

After a few more minutes Zuko spoke. "After...after this is over...i hope we can still...erm, I want to still be around you." y/n stiffened. "Like, still be friends?" Before Zuko could answer Rhian stopped. Y/n turned and slide off, turning to Zuko.

Again, she held her hand out. Zuko looked at her hand and glanced at her before taking it. She yanked him forward a bit harder than she meant- sometimes you don't know your own strenght- and he fell into her. This time it was her breath that got caught in her throat as she looked up at him. A few hairs had fallen into his eyes, and he looked so beautiful.

Then, like that the others arrived and he pulled away, leaving her shivering slightly. "So this is where Zuko's mom is?" Aang asked y/n, keeping a weary eye on the small desert town before them. Y/n nodded. "She's here, or at least that's where her scent has stopped." Y/n frowned. "I can't take you any further though."

The group all turned to her. "Why?" Zuko immediately asked. "I've done my job. I've led you to her. It's your job to go to her now." She turned back to Rhian. "It was nice working with you guys-" Zuko raised up his arm and followed her.

"Don't we need to pay you?" Y/n smiled. "Just tell the other nobles about me. a good word of mouth or something like that."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him in surprise. "Uh...thank-thank you. What I said before- I-" She cut him off. "Don't worry about it Firelord. I'll miss you." Before he could respond her shirshu lurched forward and turned around. He watched her go untill he could no longer see her.

"Zuko?" Aang put a hand on him. Zuko said nothing and marched into the town.

--------------------------------------------------Y/n gripped onto Rhian's reigns. "God's, he was perfect...wasnt he?" No one answered. It wasn't like she needed one anyway. Everytime she closed her eyes she saw him and somehow she still feel his gentle grip on her waist as she rode. She had meant what she said and even though it had barely been five minutes, she missed him.

She'd be okay. There was always a criminal somewhere that needed to be caught.

He'd be okay. He'd go to his palace and find a pretty fire nation girl and-she sighed. She made one last turn back, some sort of final goodbye. Then her form was melting into the sunset.

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

Zuko had found his mother, had his happy and heartfelt reunion, and then he was back at the fire nation palace. Iroh had noted that something was off in his nephew almost immediately. Zuko seemed more withdrawn (yes, that's possible.) And more somber than usual.

So Iroh being Iroh put on a pot of jasmine tea and knocked on Zuko's study door. "Come in." Zuko's raspy voice called from behind.

When he entered, Iroh immediately noticed his nephew sitting by the fire, rather dejectedly. Iroh was silent as he went to the table which sat in the middle of the room, putting down the tea cups and kettle.

"I've brought some jasmine tea for you." Zuko nodded slowly. "Thank you, uncle." Iroh watched his nephew carefully. "We got a letter from an Earth kingdom noble. Their daughter is rather interesting, I think. She's very pretty-" Zuko had stood up and waved his uncle off. "Please uncle. I'd rather just have some tea." His uncle made a humming sound.

Zuko picked up a cup and drank slowly. His uncle allowed him a few moments of silence before he spoke once more. "You've been off since your journey. Did something happen." Zuko paused. "No. Nothing besides finding my mother." Iroh watched him carefully. "Is that what has been troubling you?"

Zuko said nothing. "The Avatar told me you met somebody. The bounty hunter, uh..." "Y/n." Zuko said softly.

The room was silent for a moment and Zuko looked up at his uncle. Iroh was smirking down at him with a knowing smile. Zuko knew he had been caught. "I haven't felt such a strong connection before. She's...she's...I miss her." Iroh nodded.

"well Zuko, you are not getting any younger. Why not go find her?" Zuko shook his head. "it's complicated." Iroh crooked an eyebrow. "Is it complicated? Or are you scared?"

Zuko looked at his uncle, who was watching him sternly. "Zuko, fear has ruled your life for too long. If you don't overcome it now, it'll overcome you." Iroh placed his own tea cup down.

Zuko said nothing, but took another sip of tea.

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

Y/n counted the coins in her hand. It'd be more than enough to get by, and she stuffed it into her pocket. "If you need anything again, you know where to find me." She said to the client before leaving his shop. She made her way into the street of the small earth kingdom town.

Rhian was chewing on a steak that y/n had given the shirshu earlier and y/n smiled. Then she felt the ground underneath her begin to shake slightly. She turned to the entrance of the town.

She blinked in surprise, watching as her cousin and her own shirshu entered the town. "June?!" Nyla, the shirshu came to a stop and Rhian got to her feet. "June what are you-"

Zuko slid down Nyla from behind June. "Hey." Despite her complete shock she mustered a response. "Zuko, hi." Y/n turned to June. "He really must like you, y/n. He payed me to find you." She turned to Zuko, who was blushing.

June and Nyla rushed off, leaving Y/n and Zuko to gawk at each other. Zuko spoke first. "I'm sorry I-" before he could finish y/n had pulled him into a tight hug. "God's, Zuko. I've missed you so much."

He instantly melted around her and embraced her back. "I've missed you too, y/n."

He pulled back from her, and she placed a hand on his jaw. "I should be the one apologising. I just...you're you and I'm me." Zuko's eyes sparkled. "You being you is exactly why I like you." Y/n keened.

She thumbed his cheek softly. "I'm glad you found me. If you hadn't I wouldn't have been able to do this."

She pulled him to her, and their lips met. Zuko sighed into her mouth, all the tension he had accumulated since meeting her melting away. She pulled a hang through his hair, pulling out his bun and letting his hair fall on his head.

At the moment Zuko would've let her do whatever she wanted, and her move made no difference to him. Y/n bit his lip and he whimpered softly, allowing her to slip her tongue gently in.

She pulled away, slowly. Zuko tried to follow her mouth and she put a hand on his chest, laughing at the change in him. His mouth was red from kissing and he shivered in her grasp. "I think we should do that more often in general." She grinned at him, and placed her lips over his in a chaste kiss.

"Whatever you say, Firelord."

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A/n: thanks for reading, pls feel free to leave criticism and requests!

[flying-nightwing]

The Wish to Make on a Dying Breath

Heyyyy people. It’s been a while! So this isn’t what I had promised but I wanted to experiment with words a little bit and this is what i came up with. Apparently I do love death as a central theme because this is about death again. Sorry!

Masterlist pinned/in bio

Pairing: Jason Todd x Death!Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 2422

Warnings: Jason Todd dying a few times but don’t worry it’s not a tragic story, fatal injuries, talk about the afterlife

Summary: You are the powerful entity of Death, keeping watch on the Earth and making sure souls are properly transitioned into the afterlife. One night, you are called in person to a specific death, where you meet the one and only Jason Todd

You have seen a lot of things.

People being born and dying, the rise and fall of empires, the best and the worst of humanity, sometimes co-existing side to side closer than they would even know. There was not a lot that could impress you anymore, but sometimes there were circumstances, lone stars of events that still drew your curiosity. After all, human kind has always been an unpredictable species that managed to take you by surprise from time to time. Your work had changed since you had first been needed. There were too many people on the Earth now for you to handle personally, and you didn’t quite know what factor made you select some people over others. 

The night grew silent as you appeared outside an abandoned building on the outskirts of the big city casting a bright light in the distance. You went in, navigating the filthy hallways slowly. It wasn’t long until you reached a bigger room filled with dynamite crates and gasoline puddles on the uneven concrete. In the middle laid someone bloodied and battered and a countdown frozen on the precise moment the last second flipped to zero. 

You walked to them and crouched, noticing how it was just a boy. Young, yet wearing a haunted expression that added years to his traits. There was a single tear that had been rolling down his cheek, a tear of defeat and heartbreak, a tear that was too emotionally charged for a teenager. With a heavy sigh, you reached to him and gently cupped his jaw. 

In less than a second, you felt his entire body tense like an electrical shock went through it and he leaped back, away from you. His eyes were wide as he frantically looked around, aggressively wiping the tear from his cheek. You stood up slowly, observing him. He sniffled, sending you a wary glare, until his eyes found the countdown. Incomprehension was written all over him in verses and his breathing was ragged. 

“Am I dead?”

You have seen a lot of things. Good people pleading to live another day, children not understanding what was happening to them, painful unwilling resignation to cross to the other side. But as he spoke, his voice cracked and scared, you couldn’t help but feel a slow sadness creep inside of you. He was one of these cases that just didn’t feel right, but that had to happen. 

“Not yet” You replied softly. 

“But I will be”

It wasn’t a question. You smiled sadly.

“Yes” You sighed, glancing at the countdown. “Once this reaches 0, I can only suppose this place will blow up with you in it”

He wiped another tear, smearing blood on his cheek. “Why can’t I feel pain?” He asked. “I can’t move, how am I moving?”

You gave him another smile. “I froze time, and by doing so, created a temporary plane of existence on which you are right now” You explained. “I can bend the rules a little more freely here”

His eyes turned critical. He understood what you were saying, easier than most people you remarked. He was just not sure whether to take your word for it, and his confusion turned into suspicion. “Who are you?”

You didn’t flinch at the harshness of his voice. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

“I dealt with enough meta, I don’t keep track of who can do what” He scoffed weakly, but you could see the fight in him. You admired the courage mask he had hurried to put on, because not a lot of people had the guts to stand up to Death itself like that. 

“I see what you mean” You said. “But I am not a meta. I am Death”

His eyes narrowed before he looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah sure” He drawled out, setting his glance back on you. “And I am the crown prince of Denmark”

You chuckled. “You have quite the temper” You pointed out as you began walking around, stopping in front of a crate. A clown face had been spray painted on it, on every one of them. Then, you turned to the boy again, looking him in the eyes. “But I think deep down you know I am telling the truth”

He shifted on his feet. “You don’t look like Death”

“You mean the gravely old man, or the skeleton in the black robes with a scyther?” 

He scoffed again.

“My form does change a lot, but those are myths” You answered. “I will appear to you depending on who you are and what you’ve done. Only terrible people are faced with terrible reapers”

“You look like an angel” 

He seemed surprised by the words he blurted out as a blush crept onto his face. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, that was clear. You looked down, trying to rein back the smile that wanted to break out on your lips. He was truly a unique case, and you began to understand why you had been called to him. 

“It means you deserved an angel” You nodded your head slowly. “You should be proud of your time on Earth. You were a good person, and you did good things”

“Will it hurt?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It’s going to be quick, once I restart the time” 

“What will come next?”

“I’m sorry” You apologized. “This is something I can’t tell you”

“What if I don’t want to come?”

“I’m afraid that is not up to you” You sighed. 

He seemed disappointed, but nodded nevertheless. “Do your thing”

“Everything’s gonna be okay” You reassured with one last smile, gesturing for him to return to his initial position. He kneeled down, then let himself fall into the ground as he regained the plane of existence he belonged to. And just like that, he was once again frozen along with everything else. You took a moment longer to look at him before you resumed time.

The explosion took everything in its wake, everything but you.

--- 

The alley was dirty and wet, and even with time stopped, you could just hear pipes leaking and rat rummaging through the garbage. 

Gotham hasn’t really gotten better since your last visit. 

You walked deeper into the alley until you saw not one, but two figures frozen with the rest of the world. As you approached you noticed a leather jacket covering a red bat, even redder with a torrent of blood drowning it. Then your eyes trailed up to a defined face, scarred but beautiful, dark hair with a white streak hanging on his forehead. His eyelids were half closed as he stared up at the red haired man kneeling beside him, who seemed to be searching his pockets for anything to stop the bleeding. 

Even without seeing his eyes completely, you knew who it was.

You approached him, and just like you did the first time, you reached for his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, finding yours quickly. You watched as they widened, letting you see the bright blue that had marked your mind forever. This time, he didn’t jump back. 

“It’s you” His voice was no louder than a breath caught in the wind. 

“It’s me” You smiled, watching as he sat up straight from the pile of old cardboard boxes he was leaning on.

You had heard of his comeback to life, of course you did. It wasn’t the first time it happened in history, and most times you had to find a way to tip the dominos so the balance could return to the normal. But you couldn’t hide to yourself you sometimes played favourites and let him be for the time being.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon”

“The feeling is mutual” There was a small scoff in his voice, but nothing mean or sarcastic. He was looking at you with wonder and curiosity, being way calmer this time around. “Multiple bullets to the chest is not how I envisioned my second death, to be honest”

“Rarely anyone expects that” You hummed. 

“Touché” He sighed, looking you up and down. He then frowned. “ I don’t get it”

You waited for him to express his thoughts. You doubted he meant death, or the bullets for that matter. 

“You still look like an angel,” He said, blinking. “How do you still look like an angel?”

“Nothing has changed, Jason” You replied. “You are still a good person, who has done good things”

His expression changed. There was a calculating look in his eyes, and emotion brewing under. “You know my name”

“I know most things in the universe” You chuckled. “That includes the names of the souls I reap, and you are hardly forgettable”

A familiar blush creeped on his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “And you think what I’m doing is good?”

“I don’t think so, I know so”

He looked down, letting yet another sigh. He took a moment to collect himself, then nodded slightly. His eyes met yours, a newfound determination in them. “I won’t hold you back anymore, I’m ready. Do your thing”

You smiled again. “I’ll see you again, Jason Todd” You reached for his chest, placing your palm flat on the bullet holes. “Just, not so soon, okay?”

“Wait, what does that mean?” He called as you backed up from him. His body moved itself to retake its position on the right plane of existence, staring at you expectantly. Your lips reached just a little higher, but you didn’t talk. Instead, you unfroze time and let yourself become invisible to the living again. 

A second later, you watched as Jason gasped, his eyelids no longer heavy but instead wide open his blue eyes looking around for something that wasn’t there. You didn’t stick around for too long however, going back to work. 

You have seen a lot of things. Reapers that ignored the natural balance, granting favors left and right to humans. Reality being bended at will, the balance being upset to the point of an almost reset. However, you knew the balance would be just fine this time. You were Death and Life, you had seen the world change and grow, and you believed it would be better off with Jason in it. 

--- 

It was a sunny day when you found yourself on the porch of a small house in a small town, and you would have been sure you had somehow made a mistake if it hadn’t been for the sense of familiarity that echoed through the call that bekonned you there. 

The wind was paused, but you could almost feel the breeze gently blowing through the trees, or the sun rays hitting your face. You looked at the house, then at the door and the knob. You went in. 

You navigated slowly through the hallways, observing the lively wallpaper and the pictures hanging on the walls. Smiles and love stared out the frames, giving it back to the world. It was peaceful there, which was a nice change of pace for once. You ended up at the end of the hallway, where you could see through the open door multiple people gathered around the bed, their eyes teary and sad, but not in pain. You found an open space on the bed and sat down, looking at the man laying down.

His face was wrinkled, the traces of old age fusioning with the faded scars in a portrait of his experiences and adventures. His greying hair was mostly hiding the silver streak on his forehead, but you could still see its contrast. His eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. You gently put your hand on his cheek, waking him up for what you knew would truly be the last time. 

His blue eyes opened, and he smiled. 

“Hello, Jason” You could see the spark in his eyes, one that was the witness of a happier life. In that moment, you knew he had made the best of it. 

“My angel” His voice was a little bit frailer than last time, another sign of time making its mark on him. A warmth spread inside of you as you gently took his hand in yours. “I hope you don’t plan on sending me back out there”

You let out an airy laugh at his playful expression, shaking your head. “No, I can assure you this is the end of the road, for real this time”

“Good” He let out a content sigh. He wasn’t tense, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his body. All you could feel radiating out of him was peace. “I’m tired. What a life it has been”

“A great one” You nodded. “I hope you’re proud of it”

“So you don’t regret sending me back into the world that night forty-five year ago?”

“Not for a moment” Your smile widened. “I believe it’s the best decision I’ve ever made”

He looked down, like he didn’t think himself worthy of this praise. You gave his hand a squeeze. 

“I’ve never thanked you” He began after a moment, and you tilted your head. “For helping me out the first time. And for letting me live the second time. You’re the reason I didn’t fear Death as much as I used to”

“I’m glad I could change your mind about me”  You chuckled quietly. The sun was hitting him in a perfect angle though the window, painting a golden halo around him. He said you looked like an angel, now he was one too. “And I’m glad this death seems better than the last one”

He let out a shaky breath, looking into every face around him for the last time. “It’s less traumatizing, that’s for sure”

“Are you ready?”

He nodded slowly before smiling at you. “I am”

“Close your eyes” You whispered, and he made himself comfortable in his bed before shutting his eyelids for the last time. He truly looked at peace.

Without moving, you restarted time to feel him let out his last breath. As his family noticed the new stillness of his body, you slipped away from the house without looking back. 

You have seen a lot of things.

People being born and dying, the rise and fall of empires, the best and the worst of humanity, sometimes co-existing side to side closer than they would even know.  You were Death and Life, you had seen the world change and grow.

Still, Jason Todd had been your favourite part of it.

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar and the New World

“…I thought the idea of falling through Remnant and into a new world was exciting…”

Guys, I’m curious about something. I’ve been thinking about the Remnant fairytale that Oscar mentioned back in the tenth episode. The one about the girl who fell through the world.

As us fans are aware, some Remnant Fairytales are actually relevant to the World of Remnant and may actually be variants of completely different stories that were true to its history as we saw with the Lost Fable tying back into the Girl in the Lonely Tower and the Tale of the Brother Gods fairytales, for example.

Keeping that in mind,  now I’m wondering something---How true is the Girl Who Fell Through the World fairy tale? True in the sense of…could there possibly be another world below Remnant that no one has ever traversed before? Not even Ozma? Or what if…this will be an adventure for our gaggle of heroes to venture ultimately?

Here me out on this one. As we’re well aware from the canon of RWBY, it was only the God of Darkness’ Grimm Pools of Darkness that seemed to have survived the test of time, right? However the question still remains of what ultimately became of the God of Light’s Fountain of Life of Creation that was last seen in the Lost Fable episode.

Here’s this squiggle meister’s hunch:

What if…what we know to be the continent of Solitas in Remnant is actually the remnants of the Land of Light that formerly belonged to the God of Light in the Lost Fable?

Have you guys ever wondered that there might be a narrative coincidence as to why Atlas was the kingdom of technological innovation that secretly housed the Relic of Creation?

What if…the remnants of the Land of Light and the Fountain of Life and Creation may be below the Kingdom of Atlas; deep below what we know to be Mantle’s crater?

Imagine if…the fragments of the God of Light’s Fountain of Life and Creation fell deep into Remnant’s core following the meteor shower from the Lost Fable and thus created a whole new world within Remnant but below its surface? A whole new world right below Atlas and Mantle that has never been discovered or explored by anyone.

I know this concept sounds like a stretch but…I can’t help but shake this feeling about there might be a connection to the Atlas/Mantle and the Land of Light outside of the Relic of Creation. My reason for bringing this curious thought to light stems from some imagery from the V8 opening:

During the opening visuals, nearing the end, we’re shown a shot of our heroes all standing together before the ground gives way underneath Team RWBY with all four girls plummeting into what appears to be a pool.

I’ve seen some theories where other RWBY theorists speculated that this may be Ruby falling into the Grimm Pool of Darkness---a sign of her ultimate transformation into a Grimm-Human hybrid as we saw with the Hound. However, upon further review of the screenshot, I don’t think that may be the case at all.

Here I have this shot of when Salem first dropped into the Grimm Pool during the Lost Fable.

As you can see, there is a reddish-purple glow to her. Compare that to this screenshot of Ruby from the V8 opening.

For Ruby, her sheen isn’t red. It’s actually kind of golden-white. The same type of golden-white sheen that was around Salem when she first fell into the Fountain of Light and Creation.

Again, keeping that all in mind, this brings me back to Oscar. What if…Oscar bringing up the Girl Who Fell Through the World fairytale wasn’t a coincidence? 

What if…it was an intentional foreshadow to a possible event to happen later in the story? An event that would either greatly impact him or him and Ruby [as our two, smaller more honest souls] or perhaps the whole core hero team meaning RWBY_ALPN?

Like I said, the V8 opening had the ground collapsing underneath our heroes with them falling through the ground. In V8CH10, Oscar mentioned a tale about someone falling through Remnant and into a completely new world.

So maybe…this is a sign for events to happen and how this volume might end?

Now pegs the important questions.

What would happen if our young heroes weren’t around anymore upon Salem’s resurrection?

What would become of Remnant if we didn’t have main young hero team working towards helping the people and stopping Salem from gathering the relics and bringing about Remnant’s destruction?

What would happen to Remnant if our heroes disappeared off the face of the earth and fell into a whole new world far from the one they knew?

What would become of Remnant if our heroes fell to a new world, leaving the old one behind at the mercy of Salem during a time when they are needed the most?

This is the theory that I’m trying to make:

As stated in the recent episode, Oscar mentioned that the Long Memory possesses a tremendous amount of kinetic energy which Ozma and his lineage have stored and been farming for many lifetimes. We witnessed just how destructive that raw power can be. We also know that, according to Oscar, there is still good bit of that energy left in the cane; only to be used when necessary.

So here’s my thought. What if…at some point, Oscar is forced to use the last bit of kinetic energy. As a result of this, what if… the Long Memory is destroyed in the process and the crater of Mantle completely collapses, creating a massive deep hole in the earth that pulls any and everything surrounding it into its crevice like a massive black hole.

 Let’s say…for whatever reason, Oscar becomes trapped in the destruction of the hole created by his weapon.

Let’s say…it was some kind of heroic sacrifice moment for the little prince where he knew the risks of unleashing the last bit of the cane’s power and made it anyway since it correlated with the promise he made to his friends and team back in Argus.

Back in V6, Oscar told the team that he would do everything in his power to help with the “limited time” he had left as himself. With all that’s happened to him for this season, it wouldn’t surprise me if that promise is brought back somehow.

Resuming my theory, Oscar sacrifices himself and much like the heroine of one of his childhood fairytales, he ends up falling through the world. He falls deep into Remnant to a world unknown; possibly to be presumed dead or something.

Since this volume has highlighted the importance of Oscar being a part of the team---what if…the other heroes end up trying to save Oscar but this results in them falling into the hole with him; thus trapping all of them deep within whatever “new world” lies in the depths of Remnant’s core.

I know this all sounds like some big weird crackerjack of a theory in concept but with all the talk about “Happy? Never Again”, it makes me wonder if something terrible will happen to all of our heroes in the end.

Like they all end up being presumed dead by the end of the season, leaving the rest of the world forced to deal with Salem’s return without their advice or intervention any longer.

I mean I could be very much wrong in my hunches here. But nevertheless, I still wished to put it out there just in case anyone else might be having similar ideas.

All I can say is that I definitely think something big will happen for the team nearing this volume’s climax. I do think Oscar will end up using the last of the cane’s power. I also think the cane will be destroyed somehow since it was mentioned that Oscar using magic accelerates the merging process between him and Oz. Therefore, I’m definitely expecting something to happen to force Oscar to have to use magic from now on since the Merge is definitely something he will have to come to terms with in the end for the next stage of his arc.

So the Long Memory being destroyed, forcing Oscar to use his magic without it---which we’ve seen he can do already back when he zapped Salem in V8CH9---and thus finally come to peace to being ready to merge with Oz is something I can see happening next for him. I also think something major will happen for Ruby.

At least I’d love it if something major would happen for Ruby. What I’m not sure what that may be, either way I definitely feel something major happening for the team and I definitely think the Girl Who Fell Through the World might’ve been a foreshadow of some kind. Then again, this is just me speculating. We’ll know for sure as the story progresses and the PLOT for RWBY V8 thickens.

~ LittleMissSquiggles (2021)

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Footprints in the Sand

Part 5: ...Don’t

Summary/Author's Note: Okay, let's have a little conflict shall we? As you'll read in part 6, this story takes place seven years after King Robert's rebellion/the murder of Elia Martell and ten years BEFORE Oberyn vs the Mountain. That being said, I apologize in advance to Jaime Lannister lovers. I love him as much as the next person but this is prime pre-season 1, zero redeeming qualities, prince douche kingslayer, Jaime. So, I will write him as such. This is gonna hurt. Update: I cut this into two parts because it got away from me.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating/Warnings: (R/18+) Almost sex, Language, derogatory terms, mental/physical abuse, inappropriate cousin behavior (lookin’ at you JL), Protective!Oberyn, annnnnnggsssttttt, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better

|Parts| (1)(2)(3)(4) [MASTERLIST]

Waking up had never been one of your favorite things to do. The fact that the birds perched in the tree outside your window insisted on singing to the rising sun was always the thing you liked least about nature. Couldn't they wait to sing until they had a more willing audience? You started to roll over and shove your head under your pillow like you did every morning but you couldn't move. Unwilling to let your racing imagination cause you to panic, you opened your eyes and looked down to find the reason for your paralysis. A strong, tanned arm was flung over your waist, a possessive weight balanced against your bare skin. And then you remembered.

Oberyn breathed deeply against your neck, pausing only when you put your hand over his before he resumed his slumber. The heat of his body against your back was welcome as the crisp morning air fluttered in from the window that none of you had bothered to close. 

In front of you, Ellaria slept peacefully. Her hand was tucked under her cheek as her beautiful dark hair fell around her equally beautiful face and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and touching her. Her other hand rested on top of the silks, against your stomach as if where Oberyn's protective arm ended...hers began.

Was it possible to care about more than one person at the same time? You didn't know. You had never been asked such a question. A week ago you thought you would have known the answer to that question. Now, looking at the two people holding you while they slept, you weren't so sure. 

Oberyn stirred behind you and you felt his lips lightly brush the back of your neck. He pressed his prominent nose against your hair and inhaled deeply. His voice was low and soft, full of content and sleep as he said, "She is beautiful, no?"

You knew he was talking about Ellaria and nodded. "She really is."

"The two of you make a good pair," he said, moving his hand from your waist to push your hair away from your neck so he could nose your pulse point. 

"I don't know about that." 

"I do," he continued. 

"She's so much more than I am."

"It would hurt her to hear you say that." You felt him stiffen behind you before giving you a squeeze and saying, "She is cunning and wild. Yet nurturing and maternal. You are brave and kind. Intelligent yet understanding. Both of you possess a gentle heart." He laced his fingers with yours whispering against the shell of your ear. "Together you make the perfect woman."

You looked over your shoulder at him in disbelief. "Are you always this charming?" You joked, taking the focus off yourself. His words weighed heavy on your soul. He couldn't possibly know you well enough to say such beautiful things, but you wanted to believe that he did. 

"I would like to say yes, but Ellaria would tell you otherwise." He grinned. "I've been known to have a temper."

"I don't believe that," you said, looking into his dark brown eyes.

"You just haven't seen it yet," he raised his eyebrows a few times and you suppressed a laugh against his chest. Ellaria groaned in protest and rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow. When her breathing resumed it's pattern for sleep, Oberyn continued. "So, you're still not coming to Dorne?"

The question made your chest tight. How could he ask you that so soon after his proposal? You bit your lip and looked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

"I--My life is here." You said as if that explained everything.

"And are you happy?" Oberyn asked and you had to fight to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I don't know." 

"That's not an answer." 

You turned over in his arms and touched his face. That strong, handsome face that after only a few days you knew you could pick out of a crowd of thousands. You kept your hand in his jaw as your gaze flickered down to his lips before kissing him gently. He knew you were avoiding the question. 

Feeling bold from the night before, you raised up on your arms, sliding your leg over his until you were straddling his waist. His cock, soft with sleep, started to harden as the movement caused him to press against the soft cheek of your ass. He looked up at you with a heavy gaze and you would have given anything to know what he was thinking as he put his hands on your waist gently. 

Did you want to go to Dorne? You didn’t know. Although you weren’t particularly fond of the heat, the idea of warm sands and ocean air did sound appealing. What you did know was that you felt a connection with the man under you, and the woman resting quietly at your side. And that was something you did want. You didn’t want your time with them to end just because they had to return to their homeland. Most of your life in King’s Landing, and before on Casterly Rock, had been lonely. You were used to being alone. You were good at it. But you had a taste of companionship, of sated intellect, and you knew it was going to hurt if you had to go back to a life without it. 

“If I go--to Dorne, I mean,” you started, putting your hands on Oberyn’s chest and moving your hips slightly to get more comfortable. 

“Yes?” he all but begged you to continue, tightening his grip on you--if you would stop moving he could focus better on your words instead of your body.

“Where would I live?”

“In the palace,” he said simply. “In the Watergardens of the Martells--with me and Ellaria.”

“And then?” You bit your lip, knowing the question was forward to say the least. “When this is over?” You knew it was an audacious assumption to even suggest such a man commit to you in any way. But it was a valid thought. When whatever this was had run its course, would you be stuck in a strange city to fend for yourself?

“I do not offer such a thing to just anyone,” he leaned up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours. “If you come to Dorne, this is not something that will end. You are not something to be tossed aside.” He put his large hand through your hair at your temple, brushing it back from your face. 

His words weighed heavy on your heart and you looked down at your hands on his chest. “Promise?”

He nodded with a growl and leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that you returned equally. It didn’t answer every question you had but it was enough--at least for now. He turned you over, positioning himself on top of you as he settled between your legs. The three of you had spent the night in a triangle of tongues and hungry mouths. It was as if none of you could get enough of the taste of one another, but when it came to actually being inside you, Oberyn had held back. It was as if he worried the weight of his passion would scare you away. 

“What do you say, my lioness?” he said against your throat as he licked a hot line over your pulse point. You knew it was a double edged question as his cock pressed against your abdomen and as Dorne lay waiting on the other side of the world. 

You started to respond but a noise from downstairs made you stop short. A woman screamed and a few men yelled but their words were muffled by the floorboards and the stairs. Whoever it was sounded angry, that much was certain. Ellaria sat up, moving her thick curls from her eyes as she blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.

"Oberyn?" She said, her voice sounding unsure for the first time since you had met her. 

The two of you froze and Oberyn lifted his head from your neck slowly, listening as the sounds continued on the floor below your room. He gently untangled himself from your arms and thighs before sliding out from under the silks.

"Stay here, my love." He spoke to Ellaria, but you knew he included you in that sentence as well. Oberyn gave you one last squeeze before standing to hastily pull on the pants he was wearing the day before. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a dagger, twisting it easily in his hand until the heavy handle rested in his palm. Had that been there all night?

The door to your chambers opened abruptly and you pulled the silk blanket to your naked chest. Oberyn had placed himself between the door and the bed before it even opened--between the women in his bed and whatever was coming up the stairs. You could still peer around his muscled back as the door swung open without so much as a knock. Two members of the King's Guard placed themselves on either side of the door, parting just enough to let an armored man walk between them. His helmet was balanced on his hip under his arm, his right hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as he took in the bedroom. 

He was broad, tall, and very blond. And unfortunately he was family.

"Jaime Lannister," Oberyn said, with a grin that was not at all pleasant. 

You cursed quietly under your breath and looked around for your clothes but didn't want to have to get out of the bed naked to retrieve them. You silently prayed that the world would open up beneath you and whatever god deemed it so would swallow you whole. 

"Oberyn Martell," Jaime said, smiling his perfect white smile in the direction of the other man. "I was under the impression you had already left for Dorne."

"Not yet," Oberyn said, as diplomatically as he could considering he still held his dagger. "I have a few more days in this lovely city."

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Martells have always been terrible liars."

"Our talent for bending the truth was lost to the Lannister's, I'm afraid." 

Jaime's eyes grew cold and he adjusted his stance, but Oberyn wasn't done speaking.

"What brings you to my room so early, Little Lannister?" Oberyn stuck the dagger in the belt of his pants and moved to the pitcher of wine that was on the table still covered in food from the night before. 

Jaime grit his teeth and his eyes fell to you for a moment once Oberyn was out of the way. "I've come to collect, (y/n)." 

Oberyn paused in the pouring of his wine and looked back at the other man. "Is that so?"

"Her uncle is worried." Jaime lied, but Oberyn wasn't fooled.

"Well, you may return to the castle and inform him of her good health," the prince waved his hand in the direction of the door and moved back to stand between you and the guards. 

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Jaime handed his helm back to the guard on his left before taking a few steps into the room. He picked up your dress that was hanging over the fainting couch and brought it to his face, reveling in the soft fabric. "Why is it--" Jaime turned and made eye contact with you. "Whenever I'm asked to go find you...you're always on your back?" 

Jaime's vile grin made your stomach drop to the floor and you gripped the sheet against your breasts tighter. This couldn't be happening again. You were suddenly much younger and in the forest back on Casterly Rock. You felt like a child. Ashamed and alone. Oberyn didn't need to fight this battle for you, it wasn't his to fight. But apparently he felt differently.

"Watch it, boy," Oberyn said darkly, his hand moving back to the dagger. 

The movement caused the guards to draw their swords, metal sliding against sheath as the light caught the blades and Ellaria gasped. You couldn’t do this. You couldn't ask either of them to do this. 

"Or what?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"I am a prince of Dorne--"

"You're not my prince," Jaime said flatly. "And this is not Dorne." 

Ellaria started to reach for Oberyn but you found your voice. The cold that froze your body receded at the thought of either of them in danger because of you. 

"Enough," you said, sharply. "Stop." You stood up, keeping your body covered as best you could and held your hand out to Jaime for your dress. Jaime paused for a moment before throwing it forcefully at your chest. 

"Get dressed," he hissed. He jerked his head, motioning for his guards to wait outside. 

You waited for Jaime to leave too but he wouldn't budge. You turned your body away from him and tried to pull the dress on without losing the sheet, starting with the sleeves. Oberyn moved around the bed to stand behind you, using his body to effectively block Jaime's gaze. 

"(Y/n)," he said, lowering his voice. 

"Don't," you said, refusing to look at him as hot tears burned behind your eyes. You had been stupid for staying the night, for entertaining the idea that this, whatever this was, had a chance of working. You couldn’t go to Dorne because that meant abandoning your family. And you didn’t just abandon the Lannisters. It was a foolish fantasy, but that didn’t mean it didn't hurt. 

"You don't have to do this," Ellaria said, leaning across the bed and reaching for your hand. You shrugged her off and the hurt on her face felt like a dagger through your chest. 

"I do." You shook your head, dropping the sheet as you pulled your dress over your ass, letting the rest of the material fall. You grabbed your bodice off the table and refused to meet the gaze of your two companions. Oberyn grabbed your forearm as you tried to walk in front of him and you bit your lip. "Oberyn please don't do this. I'm not worth it."

"Don't you dare say such things," the Prince growled and you looked away from him. You blinked slowly, refusing to let any of the tears you carefully held in spill over. He took your chin in his hand and made you look back at his handsome face. "You never answered me."

"What?" You whispered, your voice cracking no matter how tightly you clenched your jaw. 

"Are you happy?" When you didn't answer, he asked again, "What do you want?"

You laughed bitterly and rubbed a tear off your cheek roughly with the palm of your hand. "I'm a Lannister, Oberyn. It doesn't matter what I want."

The sentence held a sense of finality that threatened to carve your heart in two. It didn't matter what you wanted, because the Lannister in your blood came first. It didn't matter back then and it didn't matter now. You wanted what you were made to want, it was as simple as that. Oberyn and Ellaria offered you freedom, but it was a freedom you could never have. And the sooner you made peace with that, the less it would hurt when you watched them sail away at the end of the week. 

"You cannot believe that--" Oberyn tried but you leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently, stopping his words.

"Thank you," you said softly against his skin and he closed his eyes tightly to savor the feeling of you close to him. You were saying goodbye without actually speaking the words into existence and the pain on his face was clear.

Jaime waited by the door with a smirk on his face that you wanted to cut off with Oberyn's dagger. He extended his arm to you and you shoved it away, grabbing your shoes instead. 

"Oberyn," Ellaria rose to her knees and looked at him pleadingly. She begged him wordlessly to stop this, to stop Jaime, to stop you from walking out that door and out of their safe haven. 

Oberyn ignored her, knowing that in this moment he was powerless. It was a feeling that he hated. “Jaime.” He said firmly enough that the two of you stopped in the doorway. Jaime kept his grip on your arm tight as he looked back at the prince. “Tell your father I will add this to his list of sins.”

Jaime grinned. “Oh, I will.”

He pulled you through the doorway without giving you a chance to look back and you had never hated him more. You hated him that day on Casterly Rock. And you hated him now. It made your heart feel sick and shriveled. 

He had little regard for the way you stumbled down the steps in your sandals that were only partially on. His grip being more than enough to keep you standing. The whores of the brothel watched as he pulled you out of the door like a lover scorned by your fornication. It was humiliating. It made your cheeks and neck burn with embarrassment when you knew you should have been worried about what would happen once you were back in the palace. 

“Let go,” you grit through your teeth as the two of you made it into the street. 

He mounted his horse wordlessly, throwing his leg over the beast with a grunt and adjusting the cloak that was clasped to his golden pauldrons. He offered a gloved hand down to you with a grin. 

“Come on, (y/n),” he said.

You looked at his hand in disgust before looking back up at him. “I can walk back on my own, thank you.” The words sounded childish to your own ears but you couldn’t bear the idea of giving Jaime the pleasure of dragging you back to your uncle. 

“I’m not asking,” he said, lowered his voice as he looked you in the eyes. 

You could feel people watching the two of you. You could only imagine what it looked like to those passing by--a half-dressed woman and the Kingslayer. Taking his hand reluctantly, you let him hoist you up into the saddle in front of him with your back pressed firmly against the steel of his gilded breastplate. You put your hands gently in the mane of the white mare and looked straight ahead stubbornly ignoring everything about the man behind you. 

Jaime wrapped one arm tightly around your waist as he grabbed the reins with the other. His breath was hot against your curls as he whispered in your ear. “See? That wasn’t hard. Since we seem to be making a habit of this, it would be more fun if you weren’t such a frigid bitch.”

He licked the shell of your ear and you jerked your head away from him in disgust. It made him chuckle as he clicked his heels against the animal’s haunches and the rest of the King’s Guard followed suit. 

Against your better judgement, you looked up at the second floor of the brothel, easily finding the window to the bedroom you had practically spent the last few days in. Not surprisingly, you found Oberyn staring out at you, his face was stoic but he couldn’t keep the pain he felt in his chest out of his eyes. Ellaria had her arms wrapped around his bicep, looking down at you in much the same way, before she glanced at Jamie and her expression turned venomous. Your heart lightened ever so slightly because you knew...this wasn’t over. 

________________

[Next Chapter]

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[seimeinotaka]

A beautiful gift for a beautiful flower: the Legendary Sword (Vil X MC fic)

It is still the 9th, so I’m still on time to upload a fic to celebrate Vil’s birthday. I wanted to give something he would love, so here it is, given and made with him and Ann in mind. Maybe one day I’ll upload Ann giving him also his so-wanted list hehe. But for now, I hope this will do!

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

-

This is a story from a young prince who lived in a faraway land.

~ ° ~

Vil had just returned from his afternoon walk as he crossed the now empty lounge, devoid of any of the birthday tables and balloons for his own celebration, as expected for it was the day after. Well, it was empty except for the lone presence of Ramshackle dorm’s prefect, Ann Hawthorne, and Vil’s almost professional headache.

“Vil-senpai, here!” the young girl said as she handed Vil a thick-looking envelope, with a purple ribbon on top.

The unexpected gift made him raise an eyebrow. “Potato, my birthday was yesterday and you were here, with your usual birthday interviews for the School’s News Section. You even took a picture of me. Did you somehow not know it was my birthday yesterday and made a last-minute gift to excuse yourself?”

Ann rolled her eyes and made a mocking grin. “Haha, how funny, there is no way in hell I can make this in one night. I had actually brought it with me, but well, I wanted you to read it, and I didn’t want to take up your time at your birthday party. I mean, you didn’t read Rook-senpai’s poems either, so it was fair that I handed you this now.”

Vague curiosity in his eyes, because he wasn’t really interested, just a little, Vil opened the envelope and took out a large stack of papers bound together with a purple thread. The words “Legendary Sword” could be read on the first page, and with a quick glance, Vil realized it was a script with some pictures in between.

~ ° ~ 

Long ago in the hidden remains of the Araceae Kingdom lived a beautiful young man, with brilliant cold amethyst eyes and delicate flawless skin. His hair was silky golden and he blinded everyone with his appearance. Every day, he devoted himself to his studies, from arts to economics, languages and science. In the afternoon he would train his body, fencing, wrestling, running, horse riding. He worked harder than anyone, never complaining, as he pushed himself day after day.

However, he was feared and scorned, for he was the scion of the wretched Zantedeschia household, Schwartz Zantedeschia. His family had ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, and had seized control of every other kingdom under the sun.

Shedding blood, many fought the Zantedeschia until one day a brave hero, wielding a mythical sword, was able to dethrone the cursed family and their household vanished from history. The hero, coming from the Leiron family, the rulers of the Lilium Kingdom that everyone had dismissed as negligible, was of pure heart and as the chosen hero, he was able to vanquish the evil.

However, the Zantedeschia weren’t completely destroyed and each heir was carefully trained in hopes of achieving their dream.

Before Schwartz, no one had been as successful nor had anyone worked as hard, and he was the only one to cast off from the shadows to fulfill his mission, leaving his homeland in shambles behind him.

To regain their former glory, and extract revenge, that was the reason for his journey.

~ ° ~ 

“A villain protagonist, really? This is your gift to me?” Vil took his eyes off the script for a moment to give Ann a dismissive and insulted glare.

Unamused, the girl rolled her eyes as she pushed the script closer to his face. “Keep reading, Vil-senpai.”

Vil kept his penetrating and heavy stare on her, though the young girl didn’t even flinch, probably used to his flair for the dramatic. However, the actor kept on reading.

~ ° ~ 

To fulfill his quest for revenge, he would need to seize the mythical sword Durendal, which had been the fall of his family. The next chosen holder would be Weiss Leiron, the heir of the Lilium Kingdom, adored by everyone for his purity. As soon as he turned of age, he would become the legitimate owner of Durendal.

Prince Schwartz had known of Weiss, meeting him long ago when he hid his identity to get to know the faces of his enemies. Even now, he was painfully aware, Weiss was beloved by every creature in the land, his affable nature charming everyone in spite of his failings. During that time, Schwartz came to learn that his own nature scared others, finding himself pushed away even if his true name hadn’t been revealed. His beauty alienated everyone he had met and his stoic personality was found distrustful by many, no matter what he did or said.

Thus for years, he couldn’t help but to grow deep resentment in his heart, jealousy taking root like a bloody, poisonous flower. So for Schwartz, this quest meant also his own reassurance of his worth to the world that had shunned him.

~ ° ~

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” Vil squinted as he kept on re-reading the last line, his frown growing deeper and deeper with every word.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying this?” Ann replied with a not so concealed smarmy smile.

“Your suspicious gaze makes me wonder if you are secretly a sadist. You’re not even trying to flatter me in the slightest, and of all people, you had to put him as the hero again. Really, you have a morbid sense of humor.”

“Who says Neige is the hero?”

“I am obviously Schwartz, as the narration clearly describes me. That would mean Neige can only be Weiss. Stop playing around, you aren’t fooling me.” Vil let out a long sigh. “At this rate, I’m going to have you list 200 beautiful things about me instead.”

“Please finish reading the thing, Vil-senpai? Do you judge books on the first page?”

Vil sighed again, gently shaking his head as his eyes went back to the papers in his hands.

~ ° ~ 

To aid him on his quest, Prince Schwartz had been sent with two trusted knights serving the Zantedeschia, the bow master Vert and the young knight Violett. Vert was a self-proclaimed defender of beauty and followed Schwartz wherever he would go. Violett had a tense relationship with Schwartz, feeling constricted by Schwartz’s rules and strictness, and with a promise of freedom after this journey. Whatever their goals were, they would protect him with their lives, as his travel would grow more dangerous the further he went. Prince Weiss had seven renowned knights and no matter Prince Schwartz’s prowess in combat and magic, it would be safer for him to be accompanied. The Araceae Kingdom was also on the northern end of the continent, hidden behind a harsh tundra and treacherous mountains, and Schwartz’s safety was to be prioritized.

As the prince and his knights traveled south, to reach the center of the continent where Durendal was enshrined, they met a group of four travelers in peril, surrounded by foul beasts. Even if it was dangerous, as it could blow his cover, Schwartz and his knights went to their rescue. In gratitude, the brawler Azure, the thief Vermillion, the young lost researcher Ai and her magical talking cat Hai joined Schwartz on his travels south.

~ ° ~

“Why do I get vague videogame allusions from this?” Vil arched an eyebrow at the recent development.

“Well,” Ann replied with a shrug. “They are classes you find in RPGs. It would make sense for Schwartz to gather several comrades that can cover any weakness he might have.”

“Then? What is your class, Ann?” Vil turned to the girl, a mocking smirk dawning on his beautiful face. “I don’t think you’d be able to be a Healer here.”

Ann pursed her lips before reluctantly answering, “I am the very important NPC tagging along. You all can fight to protect me.”

“Fufufu, bold of Ai to wander alone with her talking cat who can barely manage a spell. I wonder if they will be of help.” With a dark chuckle, Vil resumed reading.

~ ° ~ 

Vermillion and Azure hailed from the Rosaceae Kingdom, a land not far away from Lilium and the shrine for Durendal. Originally a couple of bandits, they had initially attempted to trick Ai and her cat, lost travelers who had just survived a shipwreck and were looking for a way back to their homeland, the Asteraceae Empire on the other side of the world. However, after being saved by the same girl they wanted to rob, they decided to reform and help them reach a port. Being told of their quest to reach Lilium, the group tagged along unaware of Schwartz’s true intentions. They all believed he was a young man kidnapped and sent to Araceae who was trying to go back to his own land, Vermillion and Hai hoping they could snag a reward for their efforts.

To reach Lilium and the shrine, the group would need to cross a perilous desert, where the rays of the sun would be so merciless that the unprepared would easily die. Unaccustomed to such warm weather, Schwartz and Violett struggled with the inclemency of the climate, growing weaker with every step. However, Schwartz was not willing to abandon his mission, even at his own health’s peril, and he continued his trip until he grew gravely ill.

~ ° ~

“You’re not writing this right now, but one could think you were expecting me to question your abilities and you kindly decided to get some petty revenge on Schwartz,” Vil said flatly, as his eyes dangerously narrowed, throwing daggers at Ann.

“Excuse me, I would be incapable of doing that, Vil-senpai.”

“Have you forgotten the time your hand slipped and your fist casually connected with Rook’s jaw? Or the time you-”

“That was a legit reason to punch him, okay?” Ann pouted as she folded her arms in front of her. “And we don’t need to talk about other things, go on and keep reading.”

~ ° ~ 

Taking a detour, the group reached the land of Oleaceae in hopes of finding a doctor to treat Schwartz and Violett. In their search, they found a pair of young men running away from a large group of pursuers. Ill and weakened, Schwartz still led the party to defend and protect the men in need of help, learning that the people running away, a dancer by the name of Asfar and his servant Burtiqali had been wrongly accused of murdering Asfar’s father. Even if Asfar had chosen to distance himself from his father’s business, one of the largest spice traders in Oleaceae and the land, he was the heir to the family and people within the clan wanted to get rid of the father and son to claim the business for themselves.

After a narrow escape from Oleaceae, the group learned that Burtiqali was a proficient chemist, and he provided relief to Schwartz and Violett, in gratitude for helping them escape. With no place to go, Asfar and Burtiqali decided to travel with Schwartz, hoping to find a way to clear Asfar’s name if they reached Lilium and found the hero Weiss.

Meanwhile in the Lilium Kingdom, word of Schwartz’s quest reached the ears of Weiss.

“Someone sullied is not fit to be a hero, only those pure can be one. Envy, jealousy, those emotions are unbecoming. A hero is a beacon of hope, a model to follow, a paragon of virtue. Someone who is envious of the natural course of things is not fit to be a hero.”

Those were the words of the beloved hero, the next in line to inherit Durendal. He looked at the eyes of his loyal knights, seven brave men who would follow Weiss wherever he went, taking his word almost as if it came from the heavens. Anyone wishing to follow the right path would look closely at the Prince of Lilium, with his bright and kind features and no darkness in his eyes. For his sake, they would even shut their hearts, to do what was right.

If Schwartz was willing to attack the hero, they would prevent him from even touching a single strand of the hero’s hair. A villain must never win, and good will always defeat, vanquish evil. In these times of crisis, with the kingdom’s growing unrest year after year caused by the Zantedeschia, the populace was suffering. Inequality, famine, disease, they had been slowly creeping in Lilium, and Schwartz’s arrival would be the key to opening the forbidden box.

Thus, they needed to bring swift judgement to the villain trying to usurp power once more.

~ ° ~ 

“A paragon of virtue, the meaning of a hero,” Vil uttered those words, almost wounded.

“In my world, the origin of the word ‘Hero’ was one meaning Defender.”

“It’s the same as this world. Color me surprised, though, I wouldn’t put you as a reader.”

“How rude, senpai, even after all this time you still think the worst of me.” Ann pretended to sigh dramatically, though Vil just rolled his eyes. “You probably think I spend my time thinking of how to annoy you and picking my nose.”

He let out a chuckle, his now trademark sardonic smile aimed at her. “Given how much you neglect your appearance, would you blame me for believing it?”

~ ° ~ 

As they traveled, the burden of his secret mission weighed heavily on Schwartz’s shoulders, as he found himself growing attached to his companions. Keeping an aloof distance and not hiding his critical tongue and stoic and strict nature, he had assumed they would be simply people he would be using to achieve his goals. Schwartz had always been alone and feared by everyone, so he hadn’t expected anything else. The kind interaction of these people made him at times believe they could be friends, something he had once thought impossible.

After all, no one knew better than him that he was sullied with jealousy and anger, stains perhaps too deep in his soul to be the hero recognized by Durendal. After all, the legendary sword would only choose someone who was a hero and the more Schwartz looked at himself in the mirror, the further he traveled in his journey, the more he believed himself to be the villain, just as his ancestors before him.

~ ° ~ 

This time, Vil had no snappy retort or effusive reaction. Instead, he solemnly stared at the words in front of him, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He wouldn’t admit aloud that Schwartz’s feelings were hitting too close to home, the traces of his Overblot still lingering in his thoughts. His own failings caused his heart to be tainted with ink and even to his day, he struggled with his wish to be cast once as a hero, to prove he wasn’t the villain everyone appointed and believed he was.

His eyes briefly met Ann’s, before he diverted his gaze. He recalled the times she had called him several things, such as kind, that he, to this day, did not believe he was, and he wondered if there were some of those feelings portrayed in the script in his hands.

She didn’t say anything, as she quietly looked at him with a warm soft smile, in hopes that he kept on reading to find the answer he was suddenly seeking for.

~ ° ~

Just as the travelers arrived at the shrine where Durendal rested, Schwartz came to face his sworn enemy, Prince Weiss, the paragon of goodness and the hero of the land. He almost laughed maniacally, as the seven holy knights came to protect him. It would truly be a fight of good and evil, and for once he decided to unveil his ugly mask to the oblivious people who wrongly decided to accompany him.

~ ° ~ 

“Did you honestly write ‘Fighting scene goes here’?” Vil arched an eyebrow, with a dismissive and almost stunned glare at Ann, who simply blinked in return.

“Do I look like I know how those kind of fighting scenes normally go in a script?”

“Shouldn’t you know it? You ARE writing this after all.”

“You can make it up as you want.” Ann waved her hand nonchalantly, and Vil let out a groan. The nerve of the girl to leave out the most important part of the scene, and he thought of thousand ways to express his utter shock and frustration. Ann huffed. “If you really want it, you can pretend I wrote you kick Neige in the balls…Ah, but be careful with your heels, you might break his baby-making machine and that might give you trouble.”

“Baby. Making. Machine.”

“His dick, senpai. You break his dick.”

Vil’s blank expression was on her for a couple of seconds, before his line of sight was interrupted by her gently shoving the script toward his face.

~ ° ~ 

The knights defeated and Weiss wounded, Schwartz would lift his sword, deep in anger to decapitate his nemesis, at the protest of his friends. The anger of knowing that his family had been shunned for years for crimes they never committed, Schwartz finding himself damned for the only reason of being born under the Zantedeschia name fueled his fatal blow. As the sword fell like a guillotine, an arrow threw it away from its trajectory, his friends deciding to oppose him in a battle they knew they might lose. But they would face him because they knew what kind of person Schwartz truly was, cold and aloof, but secretly caring, and they didn’t want him to commit a heinous crime.

Somehow, his words reached Schwartz, horrified at the monster he had become. Falling on his knees, he threw away his magic tome and his sword, realizing he was no hero, he was the villain awaiting his execution. He would no longer be capable of wielding Durendal, no, the idea of wielding it was ridiculous from the very beginning. And to wound him further, his close knight Vert had picked up the Legendary Sword, handing it to a wounded Weiss, as he protected him from any harm on their escape.

“I was hoping you would recognize your own worth without needing external validation. You do not need Durendal. The wielder of Durendal is the one who shines like the sun, the most beautiful at heart. One day, you will surely be recognized, farewell, Schwartz, but my heart truly lies with Weiss, who is unclouded by sin and is as radiant as any star.”

Vert’s betrayal caused everyone to fall back, taking everyone by surprise. While Asfar, Burtiqali and Ai had caught grasp of Schwartz’s true intentions, they never realized Vert had sent a warning to Lilium. Tending their wounds, Schwartz finally explained the truth he had concealed.

Long ago, as a great war emerged, the Zantedeschia were one of many houses caught in the strife. Fighting to protect their territory and lending a hand to nearby lands, they grew in power, and lords of other lands deemed them too dangerous. While they hadn’t invaded other kingdoms, they were plagued by fear, and decided to vanquish them before they could do anything. And thus, they imparted their judgement and executed most of the royal family except for one who managed to escape, keeping the bloodline alive and hiding at the ends of the world.

They gave the honor to a random lowborn house, the Lilium, as they would make the better heroes for a loving fairytale. A chivalrous story of the good and weak defeating the evil and strong. Pinning all of their internal problems on the Zantedeschia, they decided it was for the best to brand them as the evil of the world, and thus it would be allowed to destroy them. Because Durendal happened to choose the prince of Lilium, they could embellish their tale which was no more than political machinations to benefit just a small few, while giving crumbs of justice to the unknowing folk.

And thus, with the passage of time, the world would know of the story of the evil Zantedeschia and the good Lilium and it became the truth for everyone. Except for the surviving bloodline of the Zantedeschia who relayed their truth to their successors, hoping that one day, they would finally be acquitted of something they never committed. And if Durendal chose any of them, then it would finally be proof that they weren’t the evil they were always thought to be.

“Did you want to wield Durendal for yourself or for your bloodline and your people?” Ai had posed this question to Schwartz, who had tried everything and had failed.

“For them, but also for myself, though it no longer matters. Someone like me isn’t meant to be a hero. Which Legendary Sword would choose a murderer driven by jealousy? Which kind of people would follow a hero tainted by anger, envy, and resentment? Weiss is as radiant as the sun, I am the cold moon doomed to die at every dawn.”

“I don’t believe you are the villain you have convinced yourself to be, nor is that one born a hero. If you still wish to try, there is still time for you to see if Durendal has rejected you.”

“Even if it doesn’t choose me, I want my clan’s name to be cleared for sins pinned on us.”

Because of Schwartz coming to Lilium, the official ceremony for Weiss to become the next wielder was rushed and would be before he was of age. It was also to quell people’s anger, as their issues in their land had become unbearable to wear and a hero would bring peace to the people, as Weiss truly believed with all of his heart. To bring light to cast away the shadows, he would take his place as the hero.

Apologizing for what he had done, Schwartz asked his friends if they would accompany in a final quest. If he were to be fought and executed, so be it, and if he was never to become Durendal’s wielder, so be it, but at least, he would want to denounce the infamy his family had been accused of. He would accept his death if it at least meant the truth was finally known, and with it the Zantedeschia would be no more. He was surprised when everyone decided to go on with the journey, everyone knowing what kind of man he was, and wishing to support him one last time.  Thus, Schwartz and his friends traveled to Lilium to set right what was wrong.

“I am Prince Schwartz Zantedeschia from the Araceae Kingdom and I have come to reclaim the innocence of my people, unjustly accused in the past of crimes they did not commit. If I have to fight the hero chosen by Durendal, so be it! But on this day, the truth shall be known!”

“I will not let you, Prince Schwartz,” Prince Weiss proclaimed. “The Zantedeschia have become the evil of this land, and will be purged once more. You even wanted to steal this holy blade, someone like you is unfit to be Durendal’s wielder.”

Prince Weiss fought Prince Schwartz, not letting him say anything else. And deeply wounded after so many battles, Prince Schwartz fell on his knee, the sign of his loss and imminent execution. With a heavy movement, Prince Weiss swung Durendal, only to find that it wouldn’t even touch one strand of Schwartz’s hair, falling to the ground and staying there unmoving no matter how hard Weiss tried to lift it.

For Durendal would never harm the wielder it had chosen.

Surprising everyone, Schwartz included, he found himself picking up the sword, glowing as beautifully as the sun, a sign it had picked his newfound hero. However, before anyone could rejoice, the flames of revolution stormed into place, as Schwartz and his friends had to flee Lilium.

~ ° ~ 

“And that’s when the first movie ends,” Ann chirped happily as Vil closed the script having finished reading it, “setting up the second one where Weiss goes batshit evil because he wasn’t the chosen hero as his land falls into shambles because of a revolution unfolding because the government was trash. Schwartz and his friends had to flee and embark on a journey to unfold a thousand year conspiracy and reveal the people behind the scenes of every tragedy. Burtiqali might or might not have to face the fact he kinda murdered Asfar’s dad and tried to set Asfar up but it blew up on him. Ai and Hai try to go back home, Violet has to reevaluate his relationship with Schwartz, tension between Vert and Scwhartz for the treason he committed, and Azure and Vermillion try to redeem themselves from their petty felonies while working as comic relief.”

Vil blinked for a moment before bursting out laughing for a couple of minutes. “A sequel, really? You even thought that far?”

“There are too many developments to fit in one movie. This isn’t a cash-grab sequel, it’s because the plot is too heavy to work in only one.”

“Pffft!” Vil couldn’t even stop himself from making that grin, between condescending and touched. “I didn’t know you had quite the imagination, I know you make a comic and you made your friends cry with it, but I didn’t expect a conspiracy for Legendary Sword. You truly never watched any of the films, the sword’s name is Excalibur by the way.”

“I knew the name, but Durendal fits better, duh. The meaning of Durendal’s name has been debated actually, but a common point is how it resists and endures. It was a sturdy sword, so of course it would endure, that is why it had to be the Legendary sword here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your obtuse logic, Ann.”

“If you’ve read as much as you claim to have, you will concede that former heroes weren’t good-natured people. It was a term given to those humans who defied all odds to achieve something impossible. In fact, many of them were terrible people struggling with vices. It was with time, especially modern times, that the word hero morphed into what we see, the pure-hearted paragon of goodness.”

“I almost poisoned Neige. How many heroes kill their rival in a fit of jealousy?”

“I like reading, and I realized the most valuable heroes weren’t the ones who never did wrong, but the ones who faced their own weaknesses and demons, and at their lowest, they could go on. You aren’t born a hero, you become one. Durendal chose Schwartz because he was willing to live on with his resentment and envy and help others. Durendal recognized Schwartz’s struggles and the time and effort he had spent all his life, trying to live up to his own morals. He saved people he encountered because it was the right thing to do, even if it was at odds with his goals. Would you call a villain someone who helps others out of the wishes of their heart?”

Vil opened his mouth to refute everything she had said, but Ann lifted a hand, a sign she wasn’t even done.

“You didn’t harm Neige in the end, and you overblotted because you regretted what you were going to do. You had a moment of weakness because you bottled it all in and because you are human. But your weakness doesn’t define your worth, it’s how you deal with your failures and faults what does. I told you, didn’t I? You are a hero, Vil. And I thought of making a story for the hero you deserved to represent.”

“…You depicted what happened during the VDC. That is no original story,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t mocking her. In fact, he was saying it to try to confront his own mixed feelings, at how she had turned his own struggles in a story of him being the hero. To be seen at his worst, yet being given this…

“It stops being based on that at the end, and there’s still the sequel, don’t forget. I haven’t finished it, but it can be a future birthday gift, right? I am a no-name person, but I’m giving it to you so you can give it to a director or a producer or a big shot and tell him ‘Hey, I got this great idea for a movie’. Obviously, you are Schwartz, the description was there so no one would get funny ideas of casting Neige.”

“You have no idea how these things work. No one will take me seriously if I hand them this.”

“Then arrange for someone to hand it to them then, duh.”

Vil chuckled. “Of course, I might follow your whims, if you behave well. Though I can’t say I hated this gift, you’d better improve your written action scenes next time.” There was no way he was giving this to Adella.

With a bright smile, not knowing that her gift would never reach the light of any studio, Ann excused herself, not before waving at him as she disappeared from the corridor. Vil himself reached his own room, carefully closed the door and threw himself on his bed. The script was carefully held between his arms, as he sighed.

“What a naïve girl, no one would make this film,” he said to no one, disappointed.

Vil knew how the industry worked. Such a story as the one depicted in this tale deviated too much from the norm to become a mainstream film and the budget needed was too large for an independent studio. Thus, only Vil would know of this story, the story of Schwartz Zantedeschia.

Even so, he held the script tightly against his heart, as he closed his eyelids to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

-

This has a lot of Author’s notes to make things more understandable.

Every character’s name is, as you might have guessed, based on a particular color. The color designation was depending on the origin of the fairy tale. Schwartz (Vil), Weiss (Neige) and Violett (Epel) got the German names for the colors black, white and violet, respectively. Vert (Rook) is the only exception, his name coming from French for green, this is to highlight that in the end he is a traitor of sorts to Schwartz.

Azure (Deuce) and Vermillion (Ace)’s original story hails from England, so they got variants of blue and red. Aladdin was written by a Syrian author, so Asfur (Kalim) and Burtiqali (Jamil) are the Arabic words for yellow and orange. I don’t know Arabic, so I am not sure if that’s the proper way you’d spell those words in the English alphabet, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know. Finally, while Ann comes originally from England, her character Ai and Hai (Grim) are in a way from Japan, so they are the Japanese words for indigo and gray.

Every character’s last name comes from a particular flower. Schwartz’s comes from Zantedeschia, or the calla lily. The calla lily can be found in a purple color so deep it might even look black. In spite of its name, it is not a true lily, hence it comes from the Zantedeschia genus and from the Araceae family. In the language of flowers, it represents beauty (hence ‘calla’, beautiful in Greek), purity, holiness, faithfulness, rebirth and resurrection. Funny though, the flower IS poisonous because of course Vil gets a poisonous flower.  :^)

Meanwhile, Weiss’s Leiron is the Greek word people believe referred to the white Madonna lily, and his Kingdom’s name is Lilium, the Genus for the lily flowers. Lilies have different meanings, depending on the color. White ones represent virginity, purity and modesty, while yellow ones represent falsehood and gaiety and orange means hatred. It is used in funerals in the west and are actually poisonous as well.

The other kingdoms come from the family of the Roses (Heartslabyul people), Chrysanthemums (Ann and Grim), and Jasmine (Kalim and Jamil). Because the author of the story of Aladdin is from Syria, I picked the national flower from that country.

Also, it’s ok Vil, you can make it an anime, or you can blackmail Crowley for $$$ and make it your club’s pet project :^)  Ehehehe

It was longer than expected, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: hm that summary was kind of... terrible. but wow okay that first bit got way more attention than i honestly thought it would. thank you all so much for the love, it’s really brought up my mood and i’ve been feeling pretty down being stuck at my parents’ house during all... this. i’m so happy y’all enjoyed and i look forward to bringing you more Content TM by eventually opening up for requests and stuff like that if anyone is interested 🥺 as before, absolutely reply/message/ask/telegraph/etc me any questions/comments/tag requests!! love y’all!!!

⏎ MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE i « PROLOGUE ii » PART I

They managed to keep their friendship mostly a secret for a little while. Zuko knew his father wouldn’t approve, so they either snuck out to talk together at nights or he’d make up excuses to visit the infirmary. He’d lie about some vague illness symptoms or “slip up” during his training and sustain a few burns. As time passed, they had to get more and more creative. Ursa figured it out relatively quickly, but she thought Kena and their budding relationship was good for the young prince. Zuko didn’t really care one way or another if his mother knew — as long as Ozai never heard about them, it didn’t matter. She often even helped facilitate their little meetings, even if they didn’t know it. One warm June day, Ursa took Zuko to the newly-bloomed field of fire lilies on the palace grounds under the pretense of taking a walk around the gardens.

“Aren’t they lovely, Zuko?” She stroked his hair while they sat in the shade of a cherry blossom tree overlooking the field.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think fire lilies are my favorite.”

“You know, girls love flowers.”

“So?” Zuko scrunched up his face as he looked at his mom, who smiled.

“I’m just saying, if there’s ever a girl you like, you should bring her flowers. I think she’d really like it.”

“Ew, Mom! I don’t like any girls, they’re gross.” He stuck his tongue out comically and she laughed at him.

“What about Mai and Ty Lee?”

“Yes!”

“Even me?”

He hesitated. “Well, no. But you’re not a girl!”

She laughed again. “What am I, then?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re just Mom.”

“If you say so, my love,” she said gently. Ursa dropped the topic after that and pretended not to notice when the prince sneakily pocketed a flower when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Later that evening, he found Kena in a deserted corridor as they’d planned and presented her the flower abruptly, flushing wildly. The butterflies in his stomach went wild when he saw her eyes go big and her lips part in surprise.

“It’s for you,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I saw it in the garden and thought of you because they’re my favorite and you’re my favorite, and they’re really pretty and I think you’re really pretty too.” Her face reddened as much as his and she beamed, reaching out to take the flower. Before he could react, she had engulfed him in a hug. He closed his eyes and squeezed her back tightly, setting his chin on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Zuko. I love it.” She twirled it around in her fingers absently as she took a step back. “You’re my favorite too, you know.”

“I would hope so!” They both giggled, shyly looking at anything but each other.

“I told my mom I would help her with something tonight, so I have to go,” she said, lips pulling into a frown. Zuko frowned too.

“Oh. Okay.” He rubbed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

“I’ll see you again soon, though, okay? And I’ll stay longer.”

“You promise?” Zuko held out his hand, pinky extended. She grinned again and entwined her little finger with his.

“I promise.” Before either of them could step away, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His mouth dropped open, face deep red all over again, and she dashed away while laughing. “Bye!” she called over her shoulder, waving.

“B-bye,” he whispered, hand raising to where she’d kissed him. Slowly, his face lit up into a wide smile and he turned to go back to his room, stomach full of butterflies again.

The next evening at dinner, Ozai set down his cutlery and looked at his son.

“Prince Zuko,” he began and the boy looked up from his plate, which he’d been smiling faintly at, “I hear you’ve made a friend.”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “I did?”

“It’s his girlfriend, Dad,” Azula taunted from across the table and Zuko paled. “That water tribe girl in the infirmary.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, son,” Ozai said coolly. “Azula said she saw you sneaking around with her last night. What were you doing with her?”

“Zuzu gave her a flower and she kissed him!” said Azula, grinning devilishly. Ozai’s eyebrows raised and Ursa looked nervously between father and son.

“Is this true?” Ozai asked.

“I, uh- um, well-“ Zuko stammered out incoherently. He’d never forgive himself if Kena got in trouble because of him. Well, he’d never forgive Azula for telling their father, anyways.

“Answer.”

“Yes,” Zuko sighed and looked down at the table. “But she’s not my girlfriend. I just... thought she’d like the fire lily because I don’t think she’s ever been to the gardens to see them before.”

“I told him to give her the flower,” Ursa cut in quickly. Zuko breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “I noticed the girl always looks miserable and I thought she’d work better with some cheering up.” She played it off easily, twisting the truth enough to maybe placate her husband. Ozai simply glared at her before looking back at his son who still looked remarkably pale.

“You’re not close with her, then?” he asked.

“No, I’m not,” Zuko lied. “I just see her around.”

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I were to, say, send her and her mother to prison with the rest of the waterbending savages?” Zuko felt lightheaded at the thought of Kena in a cell, suffering and lonely and sad.

“My lord-“ Ursa started.

“Silence,” Ozai snapped before continuing to taunt the prince. “You wouldn’t care, then, if I had them executed?”

Despite the warning voice in the back of his head, Zuko jumped to his feet. “They’re innocent people, you can’t do that!”

“Actually, I think you’ll find that I can and I will. Maybe if the snow savages die you’ll learn to respect your position and your father.” He picked up his fork again and resumed eating like nothing had happened. “Sana, take Prince Zuko to his chambers and keep an eye on him. He will not be seeing that girl again.”

As a frightened-looking Sana ushered a furious and horrified Zuko away from the table, he shot a vicious glare at his sister. Azula’s face was stony. She hadn’t meant for the stupid girl to end up dead, she’d just wanted to get her brother in trouble and maybe have the girl sent away. Now Zuko would never play Love Amongst the Dragons with her again, and it just wasn’t as fun with Mai or Ty Lee as the Dark Water Spirit.

Walking down a corridor away from the dining hall, Zuko made a turn to go to the infirmary when Sana stopped him. He gave her an angry look and she sighed.

“Your father said to go to your room, Prince Zuko.” She set a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged her off.

“I will, but I have to warn Kena and her mom first. I can’t just let my father hurt them.”

Sana crouched in front of him so they were eye to eye and she cupped his face in her hands. “Prince Zuko, if your father finds out I didn’t take you directly to your room and keep you there, he’ll hurt me too.” His eyes widened at the realization. He hadn’t even considered that. “I’ll do what I can to get the word to them, but right now I need you to come with me.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, following her as she walked in the direction of his bedroom. He couldn’t let his father hurt Sana either; she had been taking care of him for as long as he could remember and he loved her like family. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take and he was confident she’d be able to send word through the network of palace staff. He just hoped the message would reach them in time.

A/N: just another small bit of prologue to establish the relationship between zuko and kena. also i guess i’m calling this petrichor? idk it’ll make more sense later. anyways!! hope you enjoyed this small update!!

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @bubblebars @royahllty

[gauloiseblue]

The Man Who Stood By The Ocean

[Chapter 4]

March, 1997

"Carina, come here. I bought us some sfogliatelle."

"Coming!"

You pat your hands on your skirt as you get up,

"Mimmo! Make us some tea."

"Sì, nonno."

Walking out from the shop, you smile as you hurriedly help signore Enrico setting up the table. You told him to sit and let you do the rest, but the old man just laughed.

"My knees aren't hurt at all, carina. I want to enjoy it while it lasts."

You rolled your eyes.

The table is finally set after you placed the last plastic stool by the table, and it didn't took long before Giuseppe came with a tray on his hand. The three of you immediately took a seat and begin to indulge in the hot beverage and sweet pastry. The weather is still cold, but at least the sun has started to show itself. Signore Enrico hums lightly as he sips the tea, he seems happy that he didn't need his cane for today's walk.

The snack he bought is being placed on the old ceramic plate, it's lightly dusted with powdered sugar for extra sweetness. You took a bite, and the flaky pastry crunched before the crumbs fall onto your palm. This sfogliatelle riccia is quite sugary, but there's a hint of citrus in its cream, balancing both sugar and ricotta cheese.

You begin to enjoy your tea while looking at the busy sidewalk. The weather is nice, and it seems to put everybody in a good mood. City cars passed the street once in a while, and some passerby greeted signore Enrico when they saw him. Occasionally, some of them even had a light conversation with him about the weather.

After finished up the snack, you excuse yourself to go back to the shop.

"Why are you in such a hurry? Stay for a little longer, cara." Signore Enrico begged, "The work can wait."

"I have to go home at 5, and I want to get everything done before that." You replied, "Thank you for the snack, signore."

He doesn't seem pleased by the answer, but he didn't insist you to stay either.

"Go help her, mimmo."

Giuseppe snapped his head towards him before he protests, "But nonno, she can do it herself—"

"Ay! Non parlarmi così! Essere un gentiluomo e aiutarla." (Don't talk to me like that! Be a gentleman and help her out.)

The younger man groans, but gets up from his seat nevertheless. His old man acts out by sipping his tea, but he couldn't hide the wide grin on his face. He's messing with his grandson, and he didn't even try to cover it up. Giuseppe scowls as he reluctantly follows after you.

You were just starting your work before you hear a rustling sound. Looking over your shoulder, you spot your friend lifting up the empty boxes you'd use for later.

"Here." He muttered as he delivers the boxes, "Where should I put them?"

"Oh, just put them here." You pat the free space beside you, he immediately places them down on your command.

He watches you taking a pile of book and begin to sort them out. The first book on the pile is a thin novel, and you didn't have to read them as you place it into the tall box. The second one is a children's book with a pristine cover, so it goes to the same box. But the third one goes to the smaller box, and it's an old illustration book of flora and fauna in Italy.

"So uh..." He scratches his head, "How do I help you with the book? Do you have a specific guide on how to sort them?"

"Well, it's pretty simple." You point at the tall box, "That box is for the books we're gonna keep, and the smaller one is for donation. But this—" You reach for the shortest box, "This is for the damaged books, or any book we couldn't sell or donate."

"Huh, alright." He frowns, "How do I know if it's no longer good enough to sell?"

You look at him dead in the eye, "... Are you serious?"

"Beh, I'm sorry I don't know anything about books like you! I never read them as much as you do."

"Pino, you—" You burst out laughing, "You—you're so silly, stop being so dense!"

The boy's face turns crimson when you laugh, "Hey, I'm trying to help you." He pouts.

"I'm sorry, it's—it's just funny." You stammered while chuckle, "You've spent most of your time in this shop, but you didn't know anything about books."

"It's not like that," He huffed, crossing both of his arm, "I just think that every book we have here is still worth selling, because mio nonno has taken a good care of them."

"Aww, that's sweet." You cooed, "I didn't expect it could come out of your mouth."

He looked away while rubbing the nape of his neck, seems flustered by your words.

"Just ask me if you're unable to decide it."

He nods before he sits near the empty boxes, the heavy books surround him with a few of them piled high on top of each other. You glance at him to see if he's having trouble, but he doesn't show any difficulty on sorting the books. He doesn't seem to need any help, so you resume your primary work. The two of you falls into silence as you focused on organizing the stack, but there's an occasion exchange of words when Giuseppe asked you about some books.

The 3rd box of saleable books is finally full, you close the top of the box before sealing them with weak adhesive tape.

"(Y/N), how about this one?"

You turned your head to him before your body went rigid. The book isn't in a good condition anymore, as a few pages of the book has come off. But that wasn't the reason your heart stopped, it's because of the illustration of a sleeping woman with a prince by her side is starting back at you.

La Bella Addormentata.

"I found it on the very bottom of the pile, do you think it's still good enough for donation?" He flipped the book to inspect the ruined cover, "I'm not sure if it's okay to give it as a donation, I mean, it's already in a pretty bad shape."

He tries to tidy up the book while waiting before he realize you were practically stunned, he furrows his brow in confused manner.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh! It's, it's nothing." You bit your lips as you showed a troubled expression. He raises his eyebrow but before he could ask you once again, you already speak up, "Can I—uh, can I keep the book?"

"Sure, but why though?" He handed you the book, and with a stiff smile, you receive it as you reply,

"It's my favorite book."

—

The work was done faster than you though, thanks to Giuseppe. He ended up taking most of your portion when he got the hang of it, and he's surprisingly good at judging the book condition.

You already left the bookstore minutes ago, and now you've been walking around the town. It's still pretty early for you to go home, so you just wander aimlessly.

Sadly, it's no longer sunny. The clouds has been covering the sky with its thin veil, and turning the sun into a bleary round-shaped of light. Despite the lack of sunlight, you could still enjoy the weather. It's not as warm as spring, but you didn't need a second layer of clothes either.

It should've been enough to put you in a good mood, but it's rather the opposite. The weak sunlight isn't bright enough to illuminate the city, but the sky isn't dark enough to make people turn on their lights. Though it wasn't the reason behind your sour mood, you just hate cloudy day.

Slowly coming down from your thoughts, you chuckled when you realize where you've been heading to.

The dock.

The very place you swore you'll never set foot in again.

You shook your head in disbelief, what's up with you today? Even your mind couldn't stop tormenting you, as if the book inside your bag isn't enough.

Fine, you snapped at yourself, if that's what you want.

Standing on the lonely pier, you begin to feel the horrible emptiness gripping on your chest. This place overwhelms you with so many emotions, that you couldn't grasp nor understand.

What makes is so hard to forget? Why couldn't you even let go a piece of him? It's just a silly book, with a tale that's so impossible to happen, even in your wildest dreams.

Wiping off your tears, you curse while clutching your bag tightly. Maybe it's easier for you to just throw everything away into the sea, and just forget.

You unzipped your bag and reach for the 'La Bella Addormentata'. Why did you even beg to keep it? It's not even worth the pain. The thin, fragile book feels heavy on your hand as you grip it tightly, ...You couldn't throw it away.

You slump in defeat as you cried, four years, four years without a single word coming from him. How could you not think of the worst? If you know where he went, perhaps you'd just eat your heart out and you'll be fine the next day. But you didn't know anything, and you're foolishly in love.

Deep inside, you know you'll never be able to erase him. Because no one has ever looked at you so adoringly, as if you matter the most to them. No one could ever love you as much as he did, no one would ever give you their heart—with a smile and unconditional trust in such way that even you were afraid you'd incidentally break it.

If you would never had a chance to see him again, then so be it. You'll accept it, and you'll never love again.

You sat there for a while, drowning in your thoughts. Your tears were no longer come out, and a strange calmness washes over you. You snort, I knew it, it's just a coping mechanism.

The sea is pretty calm, even though there was a storm yesterday. You stare at horizon in daze, you didn't know what makes the sunset so beautiful. After all, it's just a daily occurrence.

You were too occupied by your thoughts that it took you more than a second before you feel the footsteps on the pier, you were not alone.

The wooden pier softly creaks everytime the man step closer, and the time seems to stop when you turn your head. Your blood drained from your face as your eyes widen to the point you almost believe they could come out. He seems to be in the same shock as you, but he recovers more quickly, you didn't know what to do.

"(Y/N)."

His voice is so intense, yet so delicate that you almost cry when you finally hear him called your name.

"Bruno."

The man in front of you is no longer a timid boy with his head slightly down, he's no longer the same boy you'd always teased about his height. He's now different, with his hair carefully combed, and standing tall in white suit with black dots. You fight the urge to rub your eyes, you couldn't believe it.

"Bruno, is it—is it really you?"

He smiles.

"Where have you been? Wh—why did you never send me a letter?" You begin to fumble with your words, "I've been searching for you, I searched for you everywhere! I—i..." You took a step towards him before you rose your hand to touch his face, his skin is warm under your touch. "...I missed you, I missed you so much..."

Bruno leans his face onto your hand, almost as if he could melt into your palm. And that gaze, the unwavering gaze filled with love and adoration that reflects his whole heart. It almost suffocate you.

He runs his fingers over your knuckles before he grasp them softly, kissing the inner surface of your hand. "Cara mia," He murmurs sotto voce, "I missed you, sono così dispiaciuto per tutto quanto." (I'm so sorry for everything)

"You—you have so many things to explain to me." You sniffle as you caress his cheek, "You have to tell me everything."

A gentle smile adorns his face, he softly nod and holds your hand tighter. "I will, cara mia. I promise you I will."

And as if pulled by a magnet, you find your hands wrapped around him tightly when you threw yourself into him. He holds you in his arms with the same hunger, and just like a puzzle, you can finally feel whole again.

[xiaojusaur]

Pairing: Ten x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: Piercings kink, masturbation, unprotected sex, orgasm denial

Word Count: 3.7K

Description: Your roommate Ten gets a new piercing somehow interesting, which wakes a hot curiosity in you.

You and your roommate Ten never had interest in each other. Your friends, his, and even random people thought it was pretty weird for a guy and a girl to live together and not even want to touch a hair of each other. They thought you two fucked like bunnies all around the house when in reality you just spent most of the time studying or just chilling.

Ten did bring girls to his room, but that was none of your business. You always told him that as long as he can keep it down, you didn’t care. But it doesn’t happen often either. Ten is pretty chill, he just likes to photograph everything, draw, and play the guitar. Even though he is kinda pervy, you always take it as a joke.

He really likes piercings, you thought he had like eight of them, counting the ones he just got recently: the nipple piercings he’ve always wanted.

He came one Friday shirtless and all giggly. But before you asked, you noticed the four little diamonds decorating his nipples. “No way!” You exclaimed.

“Yes way! I just got them! Finally!” He giggled.

“Did it hurt?” You were genuinely curious.

“Hell yeah! And now my nipples are sensitive,” he said as he poked them with the tip of his forefingers.

Not lying, they looked really nice on him. Any girl would be thriving to touch them. But since he was your roommate and now your best friend, you were weirded out.

Two weeks later, he arrived at the apartment too excited. You were doing the dishes as you heard the door. He came all jumpy, “Hi, Y/N!”

“Hello Ten,” you smiled, raising your eyes from the plate you were washing.

“Guess what?” He said all bubbly, smiling that 1000 watts of smile he has.

“Umm... you got a girlfriend?” You took a wild guess.

He grimaced, “No! That’s so not me, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know, you’re kinda unpredictable sometimes,” you shrugged.

He sat on the countertop, waiting for you to guess again.

“I just cleaned that! Now it gots your ass all over it!” You complained.

“Oh honey, you’re gonna need more than that. Do you know how many girls I’ve fucked here?” He was teasing you.

“Gross,” you pushed him.

“Anyways, I got another piercing!” He applauded for himself. You swear he had problems sometimes.

“Really? What did you get this time?” You asked not amused at all, while resuming your dishwashing.

“A Prince Albert,” he murmured.

“A what now?” You said confused.

“It’s a piercing I can only tell you what I got. I can’t show you,” he explained.

“And why is that?” You questioned cluelessly.

“Because it’s on my dick,” he said shamelessly, so much that you thought he was joking.

“I don’t believe you,” you said, a smile starting to form on your face.

“I swear it! Do you wanna see?” He did as he was about to unbutton his pants, but you stopped him with a shriek. “NO! No... I don’t wanna see that.”

“So are you gonna believe me now?” He was smirking.

“Yeah, totally,” you said not challenging him anymore.

Ten was your friend and he acted cute and bubbly most of the time, but he also was very dangerous. He would do ANYTHING to prove you wrong, even if it meant to show you his dick. And being honest with yourself, as soon as he said where was the piercing, an unusual curiosity awoke in you.

“So why did you choose that one?” You asked.

“Well, I read it increases the sensation when having sex, for both me and the other person, I also heard it drives girls crazy just by finding it out,” he gave you his usual devilish smile.

“I can’t believe you,” you said while shooking your head no, but also laughing.

He’s your roommate, naturally you’ve seen him even in just underwear. Ten is really attractive, you don’t understand why he doesn’t have a girlfriend yet. He has a great figure, he’s also a sweetheart, the whole package. But probably he just wants to play around, since he knows how hot he is.

Your friends can’t understand how you guys haven’t jumped into each other yet. They can’t even believe you haven’t even kissed. It’s not like you don’t want because there are times you’re feeling lonely and just want someone to cuddle with, but you don’t let yourself get tempted.

That night, you couldn’t sleep well. Maybe it was that you ate late or maybe it was the thought of Ten’s piercing lingering in your mind. You were rolling on your bed, uneasy, groaning because you just wanted to sleep. So in the loneliness and darkness of your bedroom, for the first time, you found yourself with your hand between your legs, touching yourself, unconsciously thinking about Ten. In your quick release, his name escaped your lips in a low moan. When you came back to yourself you panicked. Why did you do that?! What were you thinking?!

You got out of bed and walked to the kitchen to get some water, to calm yourself and to see if it made you rest better. What you didn’t expect was to see Ten on the couch, watching TV in just a pair of boxers and an unzipped sweater. You couldn’t conceal your shocked face but you could blame it on your still asleep brain.

“Are you alright?” he asked concerned.

“Yeah... I just can’t sleep well,” you said with a groggy voice. You brushed your hair back while walking to get a glass of water. “What time is it, Ten?” You asked from the kitchen.

“It’s 3 AM,” he replied.

You came to the couch and sat by his side with your glass of water, looking to the TV but not really watching it. You finished your water, took the glass back to the kitchen, and were about to go back to sleep when Ten stopped you. “Do you need help?”

You were so confused, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you need help? To sleep I mean, I can... give you a massage or something. Are you stressed?” Poor Ten, little did he know he was the reason of your insomnia. Maybe his massage would help you so you accepted, “A massage would be nice.”

“Turn around,” he motioned with your finger so you could give him your back. He quickly placed his hands on your shoulders and started to massage them, as well as you back with his thumbs. His hands were magical, you felt lighter instantly. His hands glided to your back, massaging tenderly your shoulder blades with his fine fingers. You closed your eyes, relaxing, trying to get back to sleep.

He touched a knot spot, an indication of the finals’ stress. “Oh... that’s the spot...” you moaned when he massaged there, pressing harder.

This wasn’t helping, on the contrary, it was adding up to your arousal. You hoped he hadn’t noticed your hardening nipples under your silk pajama shirt.

You felt he was stopping and in a way, it was a relief. You could just go back to sleep, forget about your thoughts and act as if nothing happened the next day.

But suddenly you felt his lips on the side of your neck and your body entered in panic mode instantly. Was it your mind playing games or was this real?

“What are you doing?!” You screamed alarmed.

“I-I’m sorry... I went with the flow... I shouldn’t have done that...” he stuttered.

What should you say? You liked it, you wanted more.

Between your shock and your desire, you don’t know how it happened, but your lips crashed with his, full of want. He was kissing you back, fiercely, passionately, with all the lust both of you were holding inside during all this time.

You straddled him on the couch and he quickly placed his hands on your back, pulling you closer while never stopping from kissing you. Since he was just in boxers, you could feel his member starting to get hard, so you started moving your hips back and forth, grinding on him.

“Oh...” he moaned, throwing his head back. He kissed your neck hungrily while you continued to grind on him.

“Tell me something,” he said panting.

“Yeah?”

“Since when you’ve been wanting this?” He slipped the straps of your pajama shirt from your shoulders to then kiss there.

“I- I don’t know... something changed when you told me about the piercing. I guess you were right,” you confessed.

“About,” kiss, “what?” kiss.

“It did drove me crazy.” You could feel his smirk on the crook of your neck, but he didn’t give you time to think, biting your neck softly. You moaned and now he was fully hard, you could feel it right there on your shorts.

“Do you wanna find out if it’s true what they say?” He suggested.

“More than anything,” you said out of breath.

He groaned and asked, “Your bed or mine?”

“Mine,” you decided and he just lifted you and walked to your room.

He threw you on the bed and quickly hovered over you. He attacked your neck with such hunger, you were starting to believe he was a vampire. His lips went south, over your shirt, which he raised a little to expose your navel. He kissed his way back up, taking the shirt with him. He licked his lips and then took a nipple in his mouth, licks and nibbles making you wetter by the second.

His hands caressed your legs to then land right at your core. Since you were sleeping, you didn't have underwear, you were all at his mercy, all exposed for him.

When his fingers found your wet and naked folds he hummed and said, “So you’re one those, huh?”

“Shut up! I’m in my house. I could be naked if I wanted to,” you complaint but stopped as soon as his middle finger reached your clit.

“Hmm... you’re so wet,” he pointed out.

“Please Ten, just fuck me already,” you twisted on the bed.

“Ugh, so impatient. Let me prepare you first,” and as soon as he said this, he inserted a finger inside you, your mouth falling open. A few pumps later and he inserted another one, making you arch your back. “Fuck Ten,” you moaned. His fingers reached deep and he was going so fast you thought you were gonna explode right there. You were a moaning mess, not caring if anyone heard. “Oh my God! God!!! You’re so good with those fingers! Yes!!!! Ohhhhh... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You gasped at the last fuck.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked with his devilish smirk.

“Ughhhh! Yes!! Keep going! I’m there!” you keened. His thumb started to rub your clit while his fingers were deep into you, pressing your sweet spot just right. You felt your orgasm getting closer, so you just succumbed into the feeling, exploding with a heavy breath, clenching his fingers and trembling like you’ve never had before.

He let you come back from your high to then whisper in your ear, “we’re not done yet, baby,” giving you the most delicious goosebumps ever. He removed your shorts, leaving you all naked on the bed, all for him to enjoy and devour.

He threw the sweater to the floor and then took off his boxers, his member springing free.

You’ve never seen him naked before, but he was perfect. His dick wasn’t too long but it wasn’t short either. On the tip, you saw the freshly put ring, just a ball closing it, shiny with precum.

You licked your lips on the thought of having that inside you, you couldn’t wait anymore. You spread your legs in front of him, letting him know you were all ready to receive him. He just chuckled and you smirked back at him.

“What?” he asked pretending to be innocent.

“You scared?” You challenged him.

“Not at all, are you?” he shot back at you.

“Nope.”

“Can I... fuck you bare?” he asked before placing himself between your legs.

“I don’t know, can you?” you challenged him again.

“Stop being sassy! I’m being serious,” he laughed.

“Only if you pull out,” you joked.

“I’m not so sure I can,” he doubted.

“I’m joking! If you’re clean, sure,” you said this time being serious.

“I am, I always wear condoms and I have recent tests, but I wanna know how does it feel bare and who better than my roommate?” he smiled and you almost go soft for him if it wasn’t for the moment.

“I feel touched,” you said placing your hand on your chest dramatically.

“You’re about to be,” he winked.

He got closer, your legs spreading a little more to make him fit. You were attentive to every move he made, expectantly.

He took his member in his hand and started rubbing the tip on your heat, teasing you, collecting your wetness. The ring felt so cold it made you jolt, the feeling was great on your bundle of nerves. “Oh... that feels good,” you let him know in a whisper. He started looking for your entrance, and when he found it he placed his tip there, teasing your hole.

“Shit, Ten, please...” you begged.

He then pushed himself in oh so slowly, it was torture. It had been so long you’ve been with someone and Ten noticed as he moaned, “Oh God, baby, you’re so tight.” The burning sensation of the stretch was making you grasp the sheets, all in a failed attempt to not moan.

When he was all in, he pulled his hips back slowly, making you feel empty, to then fill you again.

“Shiiiit, baby I feel so nice!” He groaned as he gripped your hips to pound into you.

It was sinful, the way that ring felt inside your walls and the way it brushed your clit, it had you with your eyes rolling back. You had to hold from his arms to keep yourself grounded because such a sinful act had you almost in heaven.

“Hold me tight,” he said panting. You did as told and that’s when he increased his pace, the bed creaking, your legs flying everywhere with each hip thrust. “Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t stop!!!” you keened. He kept that pace for a while and then he pushed your legs to your chest. He slid almost all of himself from you but then he was thrusting you with only his tip, the ball of the piercing teasing your clit while his tip slid in and out of you.

“Mmmm.... please!” you whined.

“Please what?” He asked playfully.

“I’m gonna cum so hard on that dick!” you growled.

“Oh yeah?” Ugh! Such a tease! “How about I do this?” He kept thrusting you but started circling your clit with his thumb.

“Ah! Yes! Keep doing that!” You screamed, he just liked to see you suffer.

“You like that?” he smirked.

“Gosh! I love it! I love your dick!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You felt the pressure on your pelvis trying to snap and you let him know. Big mistake.

“You’re not cumming yet, baby. The night is long,” he said mocking you and stopped working your clit, making you whine.

He kissed you sloppily and whispered on your lips, “Ride me,” as he leaned back, waiting for you to do as told.

You crawled on the bed and quickly straddled him. He took his length by the base, waiting for you to sit on it. You aligned your entrance with his length and this time he entered easier. The sensation of the piercing was double somehow, which made you throw your head back and groan. He placed his hands on each side of your hips, holding you, guiding you. “That’s it, baby,” he praised.

You moved back and forth, every movement made the ring rub on your walls and clit nicely. One of his hands ran up your torso to land on one of your breasts, squeezing it and playing with your nipple.

In the heat of the moment you moaned, “Fuck Ten, you’re so sexy.”

“So are you, baby. I’ve been wanting to try this pussy for a long time,” he confessed.

“Oh really?” you asked still not stopping your ministrations.

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to ruin our cute roommate relationship,” his hand fell back to your hip.

“So I’ve been dick thirsty this whole time and you never offered yourself? That’s mean,” you joked.

“You never asked,” he shot back.

Were you really having a conversation mid-sex?!

He heavy breathed and then said, “Go faster please, jump on it.”

“Ugh, you’re so demanding,” you rolled your eyes but followed instructions anyways. You started slowly but you felt like with every jump his dick reached the sweet spot deep in you. He set up the pace guiding you with his hands. He had you jumping faster by the minute, his hips meeting you halfway, the slapping sound of your thighs and his crashing with each other invading the room.

“Oh, baby don’t stop,” he moaned. You placed your hands on his chest to have better stability.

“Fuck Ten! It feels really good!” You screamed, not caring if the neighbors heard.

“Yeah? You like it like this?” He pushed his hips up harder, making your head buzz from pleasure.

“Yes!!! God, please fuck me harder!” You weren’t thinking straight, your head was clouded with lust.

“Your wish is my command,” he said through greeted teeth as he drilled into you with all the force he could. You thought the bed would break but apparently was resistant to anything.

His thrusts were getting sloppy and he let you know why, “where do you want it, baby?”

“Shit! Come inside me!” You said unconsciously.

“A-are you sure?” He stuttered.

“Fuck yeah!” You panted, “don’t worry.”

With a deeper thrust and a strangled moan, he released inside you, the warmth making you come with him. You crashed on his chest, all sweaty and beaten.

A few minutes later, when you had recovered energy, he started running his hands on your back absentmindedly. “Are you okay?” He asked in a soft whisper.

“Yeah, just tired,” you murmured.

“I should go so you can sleep.” He started to move but you stopped him, “No, stay with me.”

“Do you wanna cuddle?” he smiled.

“Yeah, it’s kinda cold.” You rolled to the side so he could spoon you. You pulled the sheets to cover you both.

You were getting sleepy, but before drifting away you looked at your phone to look at the clock: 6:30AM. You definitely were gonna oversleep but fuck it.

You woke up disorientate at the sound of knocks on your door. The warmth of Ten’s body felt nice, he was deep asleep, his little snores making him sound so cute.

“Y/N!!!! Are you okay?! Are you alive?!” you heard from outside. Are we kidding? Those were your friends, what did they want?

You looked at the clock: 2:00PM! Fuck! That’s why! You never sleep that late! You panicked when you remembered one of them had a key to your apartment.

“Shit...” you muttered.

“Mmm... what happened?” Ten murmured in his sleepy voice, still with his eyes closed.

“My friends are here...” you whispered.

“So what?” He cuddled you closer to him, making you giggle.

“Ten, baby, one of them has a key,” you said concerned.

“Whatever,” he pulled you closer and kissed the tip of your nose. You kissed his lips instead.

“What’s gonna happen now?” you asked.

“About what?” he caressed your hair.

“Well... we kinda had sex and you are my roommate. Is it gonna get awkward?”

“No. We can make the rumors become truth now,” he gave you a sleepy smile and you swear you haven’t seen something more beautiful before.

“What do you mean?” you giggled.

In that moment someone opened the door and you pulled your sheet closer, as you were naked.

“Oh... OH! Did we interrupted something?” your friend had a smirk already.

Before you could respond, Ten talked, “Yeah, can’t you see we’re in the middle of something PRIVATE here?” He was being sassy!

“Oh, so the rumors were true?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Probably,” he stated.

“Y/N, missy, we gotta talk,” your friend said as she closed the door again.

A few minuted later you received a text from her: So you were fucking with Ten all this time? When did you think to tell me? 👀

You laughed and showed him, he laughed with you. “I don’t know why everyone is so surprised. It was bound to happen,” Ten said, expecting a reaction from you.

“Bound to happen?” you scoffed.

“Oh don’t act so innocent! You like me, you just didn’t had the guts to tell me. But I did you a favor, I like you too,” he predicted. There he was, being his usual sassy self.

“Do you now?” you said as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, now, can we skip the cheesy part of this and jump to the part where we make babies?” he suggested.

“TEN!” You gasped.

“Shut up! Come here,” he rolled on the bed to get on top of you and started kissing you, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It promised to be a busy Saturday.