#also damn I really was expecting to skip this day but inspiration suddenly hit so here we are lmao

[markosmate]

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au://  Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy. 

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly. 

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom. 

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

-

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

[just--another--daydreamer]

How they realize that they are in love

» Katsuki Bakugo // Shoto Todoroki // Izuku Midoriya x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

» Genre: Fluff & Angst » Summary: Just some HCs about Baku, Todo & Deku (seperately) and how they realize that they are in love » Warnings: fighting, death, injuries & swearing (Bakugo) implied abuse (Todoroki) panic attacks, overthinking & mentions of fighting (Midoriya) » Words: ~1.7k » Author's Note: These were fun to write, if you’d like to see them for any other characters, feel free to ask! This was inspired by @/costellos, check their stuff out

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

⋘ ──────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──────── ⋙

» Katsuki Bakugo:

Bakugo realizes that he is in love with you when you put yourself in danger to help him

Usually, Bakugo would be furious if someone else saw him as a person in need of help and tried supporting or even protecting him in a dangerous situation, but this time it feels different

Instead of anger boiling deep within Bakugo, close to making him explode, he feels an unusual numbness at first, while he watches your body fall to the ground after taking a hit for him. Even though he is often unable to identify his own feelings and is out of touch with them, he notices that change withing himself

The numbness quickly gives way to fear. He tumbles forward as he screams your name. For the first time in a while he is not sure what to do; he wants to check if you are alright, if you are alive, if you are still with him. But he also wants to charge forward and rip the person who hurt you to shreds

He feels helpless, unable to decide and unable to push those sudden overwhelming feelings aside. Instead, shock is freezing his whole body, only allowing his arms and legs to tremble. His mind is racing and screaming and calling him weak. Weak for needing your help, weak for not being able to protect you, weak for not killing this damn bastard in front of him

“Bakugo!” Your voice is feeble and barely audible over the sounds of the fight, but he can still hear you. You reach him through the clouds in his mind, through his own voice in his head tormenting him

He regains control over his body and it only takes him a few blows to knock out the enemy

In the next moment, he is cowering next to you, pulling you close, checking your vitals. Once again, his fingers tremble. You are alive, but in dire need of help

Bakugo hates being afraid and he pushes the feeling down with full force, trying to let his anger take over once again. The anger that numbs his senses, makes him care less about the people around him, makes him unapproachable and lets him keep everyone at a distance

“You damn fool!” His voice cracks. “I didn’t ask for your fucking help!” You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Baku-” “Shut up!” The pain in his throat from screaming is a welcome one. “Just shut the fuck up! I didn’t need you to save me, dammit!” A lump forms in his throat, taking his ability to speak. He can feel tears in his eyes, but he wipes them away before they can fall

Bakugo leans down and puts his arms under your body to carry you to an ambulance. Under his breath, he mutters, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

  » Shoto Todoroki:

Todoroki realizes that he is in love with you when you are patient with him

Most people in Todoroki’s life expect a lot from him, if not way too much. His father expects him to be the perfect hero and successor to him since the day his quirk awoke, UA expects him to always be one step ahead of everyone else and he puts those expectations on himself as well. Even though it is not hard for him to be all those things at this point in his life, having someone around who is patient with him and does not care if he fails or lets himself go from time to time is a relief

Like on most days, Todoroki and you walk home together after class, since you have to go into a similar direction. Most of the time both of you walk in silence or you try making conversation with Todoroki only to be met with silence or short answers

Todoroki knows that he is not the best person to be around at all times, that he does not always get jokes or acts distant with people – he just does not know what to say and how to react to certain things

Having friends is hard for him. Either he overshares about his past or keeps people at a safe distance. Todoroki needs time to figure out this new thing called friendship for himself. Can he even call his classmates friends? Can he call Midoriya, Iida and Uraraka friends? Can he call you a friend? What do you and the others call your relationship from your perspectives?

He has known you for a while now and you walk together every single day and you talk and you text, so you are his friend, right?

“Todoroki?” you catch him a little off-guard. “Hm?” “Would you like to hang out some time?”

He looks up at you and tries reading your expression. A friendly smile, waiting for his answer. It is his decision. You are not deciding for him, you are not demanding anything from him. Not many people have ever asked him to decide things for himself in the past. Everyone always decided in his place, especially when it came to big things like becoming a hero. It is a simple yes or no question over a small thing, yet Todoroki has trouble coming up with an answer

You seem to notice his hesitation. “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to hang out,” you calmly tell him. There is no undertone in your voice, only genuine kindness. “You can take your time deciding, you can take your time getting comfortable with having friends, or even just the idea of it.” Did you have another secret quirk that allowed you to read minds? Todoroki pushed that thought away. “Take your time. I promise that whatever you say, I won’t be mad or hurt by it. Alright?”

Even though you do not say anything to compliment or embarrass Todoroki, he feels himself blushing. Just a little, but he turns his face away to not let you notice. You are patient with him. You want him to be comfortable with you, you do not want to push anything on him. A warm feeling spreads through his body and for a second, Todoroki thinks that he is losing control of his fire quirk, but he quickly realizes that it is something else – something nice and good

“Yes, I’d love that, actually.” “Okay, great! I’ll text you then?” “Yeah.”

The two of you part ways but the warm feeling stays

  » Izuku Midoriya

Midoriya realizes that he is in love with you when you comfort him

Whenever something goes wrong during a mission or a patrol, that he goes on during his internship, Midoriya is quick to blame himself for what happened. He himself and everyone around him makes him think that he needs to be a perfect hero even though he is only an intern and a student

It starts with overthinking his steps, replaying the scene in his head again and again, and sometimes even ends in panic attacks. Most of the time he tries to deal with those things alone and disappears in his dorm room, but over time you have learned to see the signs that Midoriya is not doing well and you have been trying to find ways to comfort him

You both sit on his bed as Midoriya talks about what happened earlier. The civilians that got hurt, the villain who got away, his own inability to save everyone and stop the bastard. His voice is weak, tears run down his cheeks and sobs shake his body every now and then

He goes on and on about the mistakes he made until you interrupt him

“Midoriya.” Your voice is soothing yet insistent. “Not everything that happened today is your fault. Maybe even nothing. You are still in training, there are adults who are responsible for you. Putting someone as young as you and me out there is a risk, because we make mistakes. But that’s a way to learn. We learn from our past mistakes and become stronger. The next time you are in a situation like this, you’ll be able to handle it just fine.”

Some more tears run down his face, so you pull him into an embrace. Midoriya appreciates your words. He really does. But for now, he has lost his ability to speak

“You are not alone with this. And it’s not your fault.”

Another choked sob leaves Midoriya. He hugs you back, clings to your shirt and buries his face in the crook of your neck. The way your hands draw patterns on his back soothe him until he eventually stops crying. But he does not want to let go just yet

“Thank you,” he whispers after a while. “Thank you so much.” He is not alone. He knows that he can talk to you about this, about anything. He just wishes he had the courage to open up more often

You stay like this until it gets dark, until all the other lights have gone out. Until everything is silent and Midoriya can only hear your and his own breathing. He feels oddly warm and safe in your arms, so he hopes that you will never get up to go to your room, but he knows that you have to, eventually

Suddenly, one of your hands is on the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair. Midoriya has a hard time stopping himself from leaning into your touch more. “I hope you know that I’m here for you, Izuku.” You never call him by his first name. Midoriya’s heart skips a beat and heat rises to his cheeks. He is glad that you cannot see his face right now because he is sure that it is as red as a tomato

“The same goes for you.” And he wholeheartedly means it

You linger there for another moment before finally pulling away. Midoriya does not want you to, he wants you to stay there, with him, forever. But he cannot have that. Not yet at least. And even though the circumstances that lead to this are not the best, he wishes for this to happen again soon

[raindancer2004]

Headcanon - Dating Jane

Warnings: Fluff

You meet Jane at an evening Art class at the community college

Jane’s throat burned the moment you entered the room; the moment she caught your alluring scent she wanted to drain you dry and felt her self-control waver a little bit

Everything changed though the second Y/C eyes met her brown eyes (she’s wearing lenses) a soft gasp leaving her lips as the realisation hit her, you were her mate

She hated the fact that after waiting a millennium to meet her mate, Fate had given her a human for a mate

Jane hates humans due to her past but tolerates them when it suits her, like when she takes courses to keep busy in her down time  

She refused to get to know you, scowling at you as you neared the empty desk by hers

You see the scowl on her face and leave an empty desk between the two of you

You felt a little drawn to her after your eyes had met but had no idea why

You sneaked glances over to her desk to look at her and her work, she was a talented drawer

She would see you glancing at her due to her heightened peripheral vision

She would sneak the occasional look at you too, admiring your artwork also

Two weeks after you first ‘met’ Jane your tutor paired you with her for a group Art project – Paint someone or something you admire. You can use any style or technique you wanted as long as you had prep work as well as your final piece

Jane both hated and liked being paired with you for the project, you on the other hand were a nervous wreck as you were pretty sure she hated you, you just didn’t know why

Jane suggested painting her ‘Uncle Marcus’ as someone she admired as he had lost his wife but was still able to raise his ‘son’ Demetri alone whilst holding his position in the ‘Italian Government’ You agree because he sounds like a great guy and you can’t think of another idea

Marcus felt very honoured to find that Jane admired him and was looking forward to seeing this ‘someone’ that Jane cleared liked but wouldn’t admit to it

You found the more the time you spent with Jane, the easier she became to talk to, although she still had her walls up

Despite this you found yourself falling for Jane, she was beautiful, talented and funny; not to mention you loved her smile (the rare occasions you saw it)

Jane didn’t want your first date to feel like a first date so she invited you to accompany her to the Art Gallery “It may help with inspiration for our project” She gives you as a reason and you feel your heart skip a beat at getting to spend a whole day with her

Once the ‘date’ is over you ask to the movies the following weekend and she accepts with a small smile but she feels all warm inside knowing you want to spend time with her

You notice her skin is cold and firm to touch when you reach to hold her hand during the movie and although she tenses and waits for you to reject her, to her surprise you don’t you just look at her and smile

Jane decided that night she would tell you her secret and if you took that news ok, she would tell you that the two of you were mates

“I knew there was something special about you the moment I saw you” You smile at her and you chuckle at the shocked expression on her face. She didn’t expect you to take the news of her being a vampire as well as you did, let alone call her special.

She told you all about vampires and their mates and how you were hers and that she wanted to spend forever with you, although she made it clear that she wanted you turned sooner rather than later

Once she told you a little of her and Alec’s past; their history with humans, you suddenly understood her initial reaction to you in the Art Class and her changing moods with you depending on the day she’s had or how she was feeling

Sulpicia took a liking to you the moment she saw you “Ah my beautiful child” She cupped your face in her hands softly “You and Jane will be very happy together”

Sulpicia thought of you as a daughter, knowing that Aro thought of Jane as a daughter

Jane prided herself on her self-control, although Demetri’s was better but she put that down to his gift and the fact he spent more time around humans than the rest of the guards

Jane calls you sweetie as a term of endearment, you call her hunny in return

The two of you spoke about you becoming immortal and you agreed to be turned as soon possible…but on one condition…you both got to travel to New York for Christmas one year to shop and see the sights, once you had gotten through your newborn phase

Jane agreed instantly, “It’s the least I can do, seeing as you have accepted me for who I am and agreed to be changed soon”

Jane also liked the idea of Christmas in New York as it meant no exposure risk and neither of you would feel the cold

She then went on to explain that when it came to you her self-control waivered sometimes, which you understood and apologised for “Don’t apologise sweetie, it isn’t your fault. I love you too much to risk harming you so I’m asking someone I trust to change you on my behalf” “You love me?” “What? No.” You look at her an eyebrow raised and she looked down at her shoes and mumbled “Maybe.” You chuckled a little “I love you too hunny” You kiss her cheek and she smiles wide

She asked Demetri to turn you just as Alec had asked him to turn his mate six months before

Demetri agreed and even offered to train her privately as he did Alec’s mate, Jane and his own mate being the only other vampires in the training room

You noticed Felix was sulking around Jane and you by extension “What’s up Fe?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that the twins don’t trust me to turn their mates” He glared at the two of you “What’s so damn special about Demetri?” He grumbled

“I think of Demetri as a big brother and being that he turned Alec’s mate, I thought it may be nice for Y/N to have the same sire” Jane replied and Felix continued to glare at you both and mumbled under his breath “I wouldn’t want to be the sire to your little mate anyway” Jane let that comment go given that he was clearly upset with her

A month after you’re turned you and Alec’s mate run into the library smiling wide, a mischievous look in your eyes “Happy Father’s Day Dad” You both hand Demetri a Father’s Day card that says ‘The World’s Best Dad.’ Felix doubles over laughing as Demetri smiles at you both “Thank you girls” His chest puffing out with pride at his ‘little creations’ as he affectionately refers to you both as you’re both a lot younger than him

Jane and you aren’t able to have children and as Jane said before: she’s not really mum material so adopting a child won’t work. You agreed with her as you don’t feel very maternal either

You both return from a shopping trip a few days later with your ‘fur babies’ having purchased two kittens; Mittens who was grey with white paws and Buttons who was grey with white spots on his back

“Hey dad, meet your ‘fur grandbabies’” You tell Demetri smiling and his heart melts a little “Look darling, I have ‘fur grandbabies” He says proudly to his mate who smiles lovingly back at him “Technically, they’re yours too as you’re his mate” You tell her with a smile, one she returns before replying “We’re very happy for you both”

You and Jane then proudly show your ‘fur babies’ off to the Kings, Alec, Felix and their mates

Jane may not have liked you when you first met but she is absolutely head over heels in love with you and is happy knowing she gets to spend forever by your side

[vemuabhi]

Disney Romance - Brave’s Blue - 200 followers special

@holykillercake swan!!! Sorry for the wait! Thankyou for requesting! You know how much I love Killer, This story took a while for me to get inspiration and actually write it, but here I am with this! Please don’t keep high expectations, I may not reach them.

Pairing : Killer X Princess! Reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings : Nothing but Fluff, a long ass fic written by me!

A/N : Yes Its the Movie Brave! I hope you like it! Its lengthy but please give it a chance! Its the story of our favorite Pasta Boy!

“Princess Y/N, its an honor to meet you. I’m Jason, prince of Goustvania, I’ve heard so much about you and your Kingdom”, Jason said as he looked at you. You both were in your garden which had beautiful plants and flowers.

“Prince Jason, don’t get me wrong but, as this is a formal meeting for suitors, and I would like to keep it that way”, the way you said it, made Jason to gulp. He was not a potential suitor and he knows that. By pulling some strings he made it to the list. There are many princes who wanted to marry you.

You were not only beautiful but were also the princess of the wealthiest Kingdoms. Not even a single death due to starvation was recorded in your country. As marriages are a part of a treaty, if a person could marry you, you’d definitely share your riches to help.

“So, I’ve heard that, your country is really big and has the absolute weaponry with a very powerful army”, she looked at the prince who was scared to even speak to her. But he didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

Putting on his brave smile, he said, “My country is beautiful and definitely has the most powerful machinery”, proudly he ended, only for you to nod in return by taking the silver cup in front of you. It contained the finest tea, which was brewed from the leaves of Assam.

“Prince Jason, but my resources say that your country is in the verge of war with another 5 countries. And in your last war, even though you’ve won, you’ve lost many soldiers. Is it true that you’ve been requiting many soldiers to compensate the loss”, you took another sip of the tea as he gulped.

“I also heard that you’ve already been engaged to princess Lucy from the snow kingdom. I didn’t hear anything about breaking your marriage”, Jason had chills sent up and down his spine because of the questions you were asking. Not even his friends knew about the information of him getting engaged to princess Lucy.

“I suppose that even she doesn’t know that you are here. The partner that I’m choosing needs to be loyal. I’m sorry but you are no longer a suitor. I’ll make arrangements for you to leave this place within a day”, you bluntly said getting up.

“Oh no, Please listen to me. I’ll break the engagement as soon as possible. Just give me anoth-”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself. Ive already made up my mind”, you replied sternly and walked out of the garden without giving him another glance.

You felt your mood was ruined after meeting him. ‘How can people be so disloyal towards their partner?’, you thought as you entered your chambers. It had blue curtains, blue carpets, a big blue bed. Simply said, it was a pastel blue aesthetic with also a touch of white to it. You had twenty minutes time before you had your next job to check the travel and trade matters of the country. You removed your closet before you plopped on the bed and closed your eyes.

Blue always calmed you down. That’s the reason why you wanted your room to be with blue stuff. Blue reminded you of the sky. The peacefulness was what you required in your hectic life as a princess, who is taking care of the country. As the King was feeling sick, you took the job on yourself and took care of the country yourself from the past two years. You knew the kings, princes wanted to marry you because of your country. Everyone was selfish and had the same motive. You were sick of this. You mostly tried not to meet princes and tried to dismiss the proposals. You wanted a person, who could love you and be loyal to you. To love the country as you loved. Would respect your opinions as a queen.

Little did you know, Prince Jason wasn’t happy with your decision. As he went to the house of the witch of your Kingdom. He sat before her and asked her, “I need a potion. A potion which can make a person to change, to go feral, like an animal”, rubbing his hands nervously he looked at the witch.

She asked no questions, just stretched her hand forward. He placed a bag of silver coins in her hand. The old witch went to her cupboard and took out a very small bottle with olive green liquid.

“Mix it in her food and it’ll do its job”, she mumbled and Jason started to return to your castle.

But little did he know, every single potion had a reversing effect. This potion was asked with a person with full intent to destruction, anger, greed. A potion was available to reverse the spell.

“My lady, my lady”, you heard a voice calling you so you opened your eyes and looked at the person before you. It was your butler Heat. You woke up with a groan and asked him, “How long have I been sleeping?”

“It’s been 30 minutes my lady, you are getting late to check the Travel and trades of the country”, he said sternly. You grunted as you sat on the bed.

“My lady, that’s not how a princess should behave and Oh lord!”, he exclaimed looking at the corset on the floor and walked towards the door, “Please dress appropriately”, he closed the door behind him.

“Damn corset”, you cursed as you picked it up. Heat was your head butler and also very skilled fighter. He talked less and worked more, a reason why you chose him as your assistant. He gave wise suggestions and always respected you.

You wore your corset with the help of a maid and went to your office to work again.

Being a prince, Jason easily slipped with the maids into the Kitchen, and saw the tray of food, which was supposed to be given to you, just before Heat could enter the place, Jason added the portion into the tea cup.

Like every day, as you were doing the paper work and Heat placed the tray of food in front of you. You took the cup of tea and savoured the fragrance. Before sipping it, you asked Heat, “Why were you late by 10 minutes?! You know how much I am addicted to tea”, your glossy eyes conveyed how you felt.

“Prince Jason was talking to maids in the Kitchen, so there were a lot of maids slacking off and not doing their respective works”, he replied.

“Is that so, then get him out of the castle as soon as possible”, you ordered and he bowed.

“By the way, don’t even think of skipping the work. Last time I had to do your work because you sneaked out”

“Tsk, how rude!”, you said to yourself as he left. You drank your tea with so much happiness and continued to work. Suddenly, you felt pain in your chest. You placed your hands on your back in an attempt to remove the corset. But even after removing the corset, your pain still didn’t subside. You fell to your knees and panted for air as you closed your eyes. Then suddenly your pain stopped. You opened your eyes and your gaze landed on your hands. Your eyes opened wide.

‘What the hell?!’, You looked at your torso and you noticed that you were not… normal.. You took the fine silver plate with your claws and saw your reflection in it. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You turned into a bear now. ‘But why? How?’, your thoughts were stopped with a knock on the door. Indicating Heat will enter now.

You didn’t know what to do, so you opened the window and jumped down it. If Heat was to see you, he wouldn’t even spare a second glance and Kill you as you looked like a bear and search for you. You slowly climbed down and escaped into the forest by not being seen by any soldier. You ran in the forest quickly trying to process everything. ‘Why? How?’, your questions weren’t stopping in your head.

You stumbled because of a rock in your way and rolled down into the deeper part of the forest. There you tackled some people in your way. You couldn’t stop rolling till you got hit by a tree in front of you. Clenching the side of your head with your claws, you slowly got up. You stood on two of your legs and cursed, “Oh Davy Jones! What have I ever done?”.

“What the hell?!”, you looked to your side and saw that you crushed 4 people and you saw a guy with a mask, standing a few meters away from you.

“Tsk, I hope I didn’t kill them”, you said and again the Mask dude flinched. You both stared at each other for a while before he spoke, “How the hell can you talk?”

Your brain took a few moments to process and then you gasped. “I can talk!!! I didn’t think I could talk! Hey Mask man, can you help me”, you asked and walked towards him only for him to swiftly take his weapons out.

You took a step back and said, “No! Don’t harm me! You don’t know who I am!”, you said as your back hit the tree. You maintained eye contact with the mask and hid behind the tree.

The man was very confused at your actions. He was actually about to fight some people but you crushed them to death. So he owed you one. He asked, “You shouldn’t harm me”.

“I won’t! And you also, please… don’t hurt me”, after hearing your request, he hid his weapons and walked towards you as you also did the same.

“How can you talk?”, he asked again.

“Oh! I am actually not a bear. I am a human, but I don’t know why I became like this. Please help me. I wanna turn back”, you requested.

‘The only reason why I am decided to help is because this bear crushed these jerks. But what it is asking doesn’t make any sense. Its way too much work’, he thought and said, “Too much of trouble. Do it yourself”, with that he started to walk away.

“No! Wait!! Please help me. If I go to any other human, they’ll freak out and I’ll be Killed. I am a human for real. Don’t leave me. If you were turned into a bear, you’d want to be turned back. Please help me, I never begged anyone in my life like this. Please understand”, you said as you walked beside the masked man. ‘Tsk… this stupid bear is kinda right’, he thought and stopped in his tracks.

He huffed, “let’s sit and talk”, he said as he sat on a big root of a tree and you sat opposite to him.

“Tell me clearly. How did you turn into a bear? Did you drink any potion or anger any witch by doing or saying anything rude?”, he asked you and you shook your head no.

“I didn’t even go to any witch and didn’t take any potion”, you replied looking down. “I never thought I’d turn into a bear. I’ve always taken care of the people around me”.

The man before you sighed and said, “Don’t be disappointed just yet. How much time has it been? Since you turned into a Bear”. You looked at him and replied, “Its been 3 hours, if Im correct. I’ve been wandering in the forest from more than an hour, and it took me a while to escape from my house”.

He hummed as he nodded and again asked you, “You said that you didn’t anger any witch but did you anger anyone in particular?”, he asked. You thought for a while and Jason’s image popped into your head.

“I… I rejected a proposal to get married and… the person was really mad at that”, you admitted.

“Did you eat anything, that person gave you?”, he questioned

“But after I rejected, I didn’t even meet that person again. I only got on with my daily tasks”.

“It doesn’t have to be given. Must’ve slipped something in your food”, the masked dude said and got up. He continued, “Let’s go, you must be hungry, Wandering the Jungle all by yourself”

You looked at him with a bit suspicion. ‘What if he kills me and sells my skin or make me a coat for himself’, negative thoughts started to run in your mind and he noticed how you were hesitating.

“Look, I have enough food thanks to the Princess. I don’t have any reason to kill you”, as he said it making your heart skip a beat.

“Okay…”, you mumbled and walked behind him to a small hut, which was inside the forest. Hiding from all the other villages. Apparently, he was a poor armorer, weapons specialist and also a former bandit. So, he didn’t want to be mingled with the villagers. He maintained few connections with some people who wanted customised weapons. Entering into his hut, you were mesmerised by the wide range of weaponry.

“Woah! You seem very talented, why don’t you work for the Princess? I’m sure she would love all your creations”, you said as the man washed vegetables and fruits for dinner.

“No way. It’s the palace. I’m sure there are so many people working for Princess anyway. Also… I’m a former bandit”, he confessed. ‘Why would a princess want a person like me in her castle working for her? I’d scare her’, he thought.

“Tsk… your talent is going waste. You would be really helpful to the army, they have been in need for weaponry and there might be a conflict with another country soon”, you replied as you took the apple and gobbled it in one bite. You were really hungry and were thankful for the food.

“Why are you speaking like you know all the things about the Kingdom?”, those words made you to choke.

“Rumours”, you lied as you drank the water from the jug leaving your claw marks on it.

“I’m sure the Princess will manage those problems in a blink of an eye”, he replied.

“Why are you so sure?”, you enquired only for him to sigh and lean back on the wall.

“Because she made the country enrich and developed the poor villages. Now people atleast can eat twice a day due to her. I became a bandit only because I had no food. But since I get food, I left that. But still some people are angry at me because of my deeds of the past”,”.

“Oh!! We have a fanboy here”, you teased him only him to trying to deny it. Even his neck was turning red because of your teasing.

“Did you see her?”, he replied by shaking his head no.

The next day you he wasn’t in the hut when you woke up. You started to search for him. Then you found him coming back.

“Welcome back! Where did you go?”, you enquired him as you looked at his mask. He noticed that you were walking on your fours this time. But the way you came towards him and greeted him, made his heart warm. He had never experienced such treatment.

“I met a customer to give his order to him. I also asked him about any witches he knew in the area”, he said and your eyes lit up with hope.

“I also met the witch and asked her about this condition, she said its cure able”, he ended and you cheered with happiness and rolled on the grass.

“YAY!!! Will she help? What should be done?”, you rolled again only for him to slip out a chuckle and stop it quickly. He himself was shocked at how you could make his sealed lips to talk more and also to let out a chuckle.

“She asked me to create something for her and in return she’ll give me the potion if she likes what I make for her”, he confessed. Guilt started to form in your heart. About how he had to work for her, to save you.

“I now need to think what she would like”, he said with relief in his voice and walked towards the hut.

After a lot of designs and dissatisfactions, you both started to eat. He cut his vegetables separately to eat them through his mask while you just ate them… well like a bear. Then you got an idea. Even if she was a witch, she was a girl after all.

“What if… you give her a blade, which can be hidden in her skirt?”, you managed to speak. You both noticed that your voice was getting hoarser than it was.

“I need to work quickly. I can’t fail you now. I guess the time is running out”, he sighed and added, “You are walking on your fours too”.

With in an hour the design was ready and the mask man started to create the new weapon for the witch. You went out and played with the butterflies as he made it.

After another hour with the beautiful blade, he stepped out of the place and waved you bye. You managed and said, “Thank… you”.

Now his time was slipping out and he had to be quick. He handed the weapon to the witch and she analysed it for a while and nodded her head as an approval with a satisfied smile. The masked man sighed in relief and took the blue potion which was in a small container. He quickly headed towards the hut in the forest. He had to save you as soon as possible.

By the time he reached home, he noticed that the hut was almost destroyed from the inside with many claw marks and the weapons were thrown everywhere. You were still in the house, emerging from the darkness. It was already evening and the sun was setting. He saw how your eyes seemed nothing like before. They were just like a wild animal. Before he could even think, you punched his face so hard that he flew and hit the wall. His mask broke into pieces because of the force.

Not giving up, he jumped on you and held your face tightly as he wrapped his legs on your waist. Your claws on his body hurt so much. Blood was dripping but he stayed like that. Trying to calm you down and call you.

“LISTEN TO ME! I KNOW YOU ARE STILL IN THERE! I GOT YOU POTION”, he screamed on the top of his lungs, as you tried to throw him away. But at last, you looked into his eyes. He had light blue eyes. Blue, was your colour. Looking into his eyes, you calmed down and stopped struggling. He took out the small container and opened the lid. He slid it into your mouth and patted your head. Soothing you down.

Slowly you could feel the change. The pain was inevitable. But you kept looking at those blue eyes of the man in front of you. That kept you sane and you closed your eyes and fell down on your knees. You opened your eyes, panting for air. You noticed that your hands were back to normal as well as your torso. Suddenly you felt a blanket over your shoulders. You looked up and saw the man with cheeks redder than any tomato you’ve ever seen. Your senses slowly got to you and that was when you noticed that you were… not dressed.

Pulling the covers even closer to you, he stepped away and walked towards the other room. He swiftly came back and handed clothes to you and without looking back he walked towards the main door and closed it.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were… a lady?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were really handsome?”, you replied making him blush even more as you wore his clothes.

He wore a mask and agreed to walk you home. You apologised for messing his apartment. After you reaching your castle, he was absolutely stunned just as the guards at the entrance. He tried to leave but, you didn’t let him go. “Work for me, its an order”, you announced and walked with him still his hand in yours.

Heat was absolutely pissed at your behaviour and was surprised to look at the man beside you. “Who is this?”, Heat asked and you replied, “He is going to be our new armorer, I hired him and I want no objections from you”

“No objections huh? You leave the palace, dump your paper works on me, come back with a masked dude and demand no objections? Tell me what’s his name and where you met him?”, Heat inquired making you gulp. You turned towards him and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Killer”, he chuckled.

“Killer, I met Killer in the forest”, you said proudly to Heat as he shook his head and mumbled, “Unacceptable”. As for Jason, he thought he was scammed and never came across you ever again.

One Year Later

As you handled your paper work Killer stayed in your room to keep an eye on you. His work was exceptional and helped the soldiers to get good results in their weapon wielding. You glanced at Killer and said, “Killer why don’t we get married?”, almost giving the poor man a heart attack.

You knew he was turning into a tomato under his mask. “Killer, we have been dating since a year. Lets get married”, you said as you stood up from your place.

“Yes! Yes Lets get married”, he replied as he fiddled with his hands, head facing down. You placed a hand on his mask and removed it. Pulling him down you captured his lips with yours in a Kiss and smirked at your success. Now you were really marrying a person, who was kind, who was selfless, respected you, was loyal and also loved you to death.

XOXOXOXO

Like/Vote, Reblog/Share and comment your feelings!

Follow for more sappy content!

[bloody-bee-tea]

After everything is said and done

This is dedicated to that one Nie Huaisang hater out there, who takes precious time out of their day to read about a character they hate and then also leave a (sometimes detailed and insightful) comment, not only increasing hits and comments, but also showing every Sangcheng writer out there, that their writing is good enough to even keep someone interested who hates one of the characters!

I'm sure you inspired a lot of Sangcheng fics out there by now and I would like to thank you for that. I hope you enjoy this too!

Jiang Cheng thinks that he should probably stop with the pacing now.

It’s been several weeks—almost months, by now—since the events at the Temple and with every passing day it gets more unlikely that Nie Huaisang will drop by to rekindle their friendship.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even dare to hope for anything more than friendship—and that seems wildly unlikely already—but it still stings that Nie Huaisang had called off whatever they had all those years ago without an explanation or even a face-to-face conversation.

He had just let it dwindle to nothing, no matter how hard Jiang Cheng tried to keep him, and in retrospect Jiang Cheng understands, but still.

It really goddamn hurts.

“You need to stop this,” Jin Ling suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng is less surprised than he probably should be that Jin Ling is here.

He’s busy taking over his own Sect, salvaging whatever reputation is left after the crimes of Jin Guangyao were revealed, but Jin Ling is almost more often at Lotus Pier than he was before.

Jiang Cheng suspects it’s to keep an eye on him and Wei Wuxian, to make sure that they actually rekindle their relationship and don’t kill themselves, but Jiang Cheng is not going to complain.

He always thought he wouldn’t get to see Jin Ling at all once he became Sect Leader and it’s great that he’s still around. That he still cares enough about Jiang Cheng to regularly come by.

“Stop what?” Jiang Cheng says, and picks right back up where he left off, mainly wearing a path into the pier right behind his sleeping quarters.

“That,” Jin Ling says with a nod to Jiang Cheng’s movement. “He’s not going to come by, you know,” Jin Ling tacks on more quietly and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“Who?”

“You damn well know who,” Jin Ling snaps out.

“Language,” Jiang Cheng says out of reflex and Jin Ling only rolls his eyes at him. “What would you know about that?” Jiang Cheng asks belatedly and Jin Ling stares out over the water.

“He’s not talking to anyone,” Jin Ling finally tells him with a whisper and it only makes the frown on Jiang Cheng’s face more pronounced. “He’s answering letters about Sect business, but he foregoes any personal matters, and he doesn’t answer letters that contain no business at all.”

“You’ve been writing him,” Jiang Cheng summarizes from that and Jin Ling nods.

He doesn’t seem too happy about it, but there’s a stubborn twist to his mouth.

“And what of it?” he dares Jiang Cheng who gives him a sad smile.

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng reassures him. “He was almost like an honorary uncle to you. It’s understandable that you’d want to stay in contact if you can forgive him.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Jin Ling rushes out and then works his jaw. “He exposed Jin Guangyao’s crimes. That’s a good thing. There’s nothing he did wrong.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t quite think the same, but he has to agree with the overall sentiment. It’s a good thing that Nie Huaisang took actions against Jin Guangyao when everyone else was too busy happily following his lead, even though Jiang Cheng doesn’t agree with all of Nie Huaisang’s actions.

Mostly the ones that put Jin Ling into danger, if Jiang Cheng is being honest, but he also knows Nie Huaisang well enough to know that he most likely did the best he could to protect him.

And since Nie Huaisang isn’t coming by and apparently not talking to anyone else either, that has to be enough.

“I think you have to make the first step,” Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, who clearly seems unhappy with the whole situation but it only earns a scoff from Jin Ling.

“Like you’re making the first step?” he asks and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Careful, brat,” he advises but Jin Ling doesn’t seem impressed at all.

And maybe he’s right about that, too; Jiang Cheng isn’t one to make the first step when it’s important to him. He relied on Wei Wuxian to take that first step towards a reconciliation, and Wei Wuxian thankfully did so that their relationship is slowly mending.

It’s possible that Jiang Cheng used up all his luck with that though, and that it’s on him to take a first step towards Nie Huaisang now.

“But?” Jin Ling asks and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“Maybe you’re right,” he then admits and rolls his eyes when Jin Ling beams at him. “But after I’m done, it’s your turn,” he then warns him but Jin Ling is clearly too happy to listen to him at all.

“I love you, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling says and darts in for a hug, before he skips away.

Clearly Jiang Cheng’s mood the past several weeks grated on him as well, and Jiang Cheng knows his nephew well enough to know that he wants to wait for the outcome of Jiang Cheng’s reconciliation attempt before Jin Ling tries it himself.

Jiang Cheng can’t even be mad at him; he would do the same if he had the chance, after all.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng tries his very best to not feel like an intruder when he walks up to Qinghe but it’s a lost cause.

People are staring at him left and right and Jiang Cheng’s skin crawls with it because he can’t quite decipher if they are hostile looks or friendly ones.

He’s hoping for the last of course, but you never know with the Nie’s.

Jiang Cheng tenses when someone approaches him, but he returns the bow he receives.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” the Nie soldier says and Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Please, let me introduce myself, my name is Nie Yahui, I’m Sect Leader Nie’s personal assistant. Please tell me you’re here to see him,” he adds in a rush and Jiang Cheng relaxes.

So they were friendly looks, then. It seems like Nie Huaisang’s disciples are just as worried about Nie Huaisang as Jiang Cheng himself is.

“I am,” Jiang Cheng reassures him and Nie Yahui let’s out a visible breath.

“Then please follow me,” he says and briskly starts to walk away.

Jiang Cheng follows him, wondering what state Nie Huaisang will be in when he finally sees him and he can’t deny that his heart is beating faster.

He knows it’s stupid to hope for anything, but these past few years Jiang Cheng only hurt when he thought about Nie Huaisang, thinking he stopped whatever they had or were on the brink of because he didn’t feel the same.

Now there’s hope that Nie Huaisang pulled away because of his plan and not because of a lack of feelings.

“He’s in there,” Nie Yahui tells Jiang Cheng when they reached what looks like private quarters so Jiang Cheng gives Nie Yahui a questioning look.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to hold an audience for you—or anyone, for that matter—and if we have to ambush him here like this, then so be it,” he decides and Jiang Cheng has to admit he likes him.

“Thank you,” he tells Nie Yahui and then simply throws the door open.

He sees Nie Huaisang startle, but Jiang Cheng is by no means done, so he slams the door behind him and turns towards Nie Huaisang with a glare.

“You asshole,” he hisses and simply seats himself at the table, not waiting for Nie Huaisang’s permission. “I want alcohol,” Jiang Cheng decides when he thinks it takes Nie Huaisang too long to react and that, finally, startles Nie Huaisang into movement.

He gets out the alcohol on reflex it seems, before everything seems to catch up on him, and before he puts the jar on the table he stops and frowns.

“What are you doing here?” he then asks and he looks painfully unsure of himself.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he built up this image in his head over the last few weeks, of a cunning and vicious Nie Huaisang, but this more than anything reminds Jiang Cheng of the fact that this is still just Nie Huaisang.

Nothing much changed after all.

“Alcohol first,” Jiang Cheng decides and simply plucks the jar out of Nie Huaisang’s hands. “Talking about feelings later.”

Nie Huaisang huffs out a laugh at that, and he seats himself opposite of Jiang Cheng, who is already pouring them both a cup.

They drink in silence, until Jiang Cheng thinks that both of them had enough time to gather their wits, and then he very decidedly puts the cup down.

Nie Huaisang startles and his hand flexes as if he wants to reach for his fan, but Jiang Cheng is glad that it’s out of reach for now. He doesn’t like to hold this conversation with Nie Huaisang while he has a chance to hide himself away.

“You didn’t write,” Jiang Cheng starts with. “And you didn’t visit. And here I thought now that everything is said and done, we could be friends again.”

It doesn’t come easy to him to say that, but he wants this to work and he learned from Wei Wuxian that sometimes reconciliations are painful as hell.

Jiang Cheng thinks it might be a good thing.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Nie Huaisang admits and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Yeah, but you also didn’t ask, asshole,” he shoots back and then sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Nie Huaisang is quick to reassure him. “I promise, I’m not doing anything!”

Jiang Cheng frowns at that.

“Did someone insist you want more power?” he asks and Nie Huaisang flinches.

“Wei-xiong might have indicated something like this,” he then admits and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Because he’s afraid that you’ll go after his precious husband. It has nothing to do with you directly. His brain just stops working when it comes to Lan Wangji.”

That startles a laugh out of Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng feels very accomplished.

If he still knows Nie Huaisang like this, maybe not all is lost yet.

“You haven’t been talking to anyone?” Jiang Cheng asks next, Jin Ling’s words still in his ears and Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“I didn’t expect anyone to still want to talk to me,” he easily says, but Jiang Cheng can see the tension in his body. “I mean san-ge is dead, and rightfully so, but er-ge won’t ever look at me again and Lan-xiong won’t simply because I hurt his brother. Wei-xiong is more concerned about his husband than any kind of reconciliation we could have and Jin Ling has every reason to hate me. And you—” he trails off and Jiang Cheng groans.

“Well, first of all, Lan Xichen is not looking at anyone, since he went into seclusion, so stop throwing yourself a pity-party over that, because you’re not special. Second, Lan Wangji is not too happy with you—as is Wei Wuxian—because they didn’t expect you to be behind it all. You fooled them quite thoroughly and it will take them a while to get over that. And Jin Ling would love to talk to you, but he says you’re blocking off all attempts.”

“Because I wouldn’t put it past him to only pretend to be nice and then murder me in my sleep,” Nie Huaisang says, his eyes wide and his look innocent and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Drop the act,” he whispers and Nie Huaisang sags.

“You know, not everything I do is an act,” he bitterly says, and Jiang Cheng’s heart constricts at the pain in his voice.

“I know that,” he tries to reassure him. “But you also know Jin Ling. So tell me the real reason.”

Nie Huaisang looks at him for long moments, before he sighs.

“I fear he’s going to regret it in the end. That he’ll feel guilty over trying to forgive me later.”

“He’s not trying to forgive you because he thinks there’s nothing to forgive,” Jiang Cheng quietly tells him, his last conversation with Jin Ling still present in his mind. “He knows Jin Guangyao deserved it, and it probably helps that he was there to see him in the end,” Jiang Cheng adds, even though he would have loved to see Jin Ling far, far away from that.

“I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng says and stares down at the table.

“What about you?” Nie Huaisang finally asks and he sounds just as apprehensive as Jiang Cheng feels.

“I thought you would write once everything was over and you didn’t have to pretend to not feel anything for me anymore,” Jiang Cheng says before he can think better of it, but the silence that follows is deafening.

So maybe he did read everything wrong. Maybe there wasn’t a deeper reason to Nie Huaisang pulling away; maybe he simply got tired of Jiang Cheng after all.

“Never mind that, then,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say and he empties his cup. “I’ll take my leave then.”

“I didn’t think you’d forgive me,” Nie Huaisang confesses and Jiang Cheng freezes in his movement. “We were about to become something and then I simply dropped you. It not easily forgiven, and especially not with your history.”

“Fuck you,” Jiang Cheng spits out and he throws a murderous glare at Nie Huaisang. “Yes, it hurt like hell when it happened, and it hurt like hell the years after. But now there’s a reason for it, and it doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it understandable.”

“But is that enough?” Nie Huaisang whispers.

“That depends,” Jiang Cheng says. “Did you have reasons?”

“Of course I did!” Nie Huaisang immediately says. “I would have told you, but you can’t pretend long-term, you’re just not the type for that, and you would have told him, if only so that he didn’t take Jin Ling away from you completely. So not telling you was the better option.”

Jiang Cheng mulls that over for a moment, because he figured as much, but he’s still lacking an important piece of information.

“Did you regret it? Did it hurt you?” he wants to know and he knows himself well enough to know that Nie Huaisang’s answer to this will determine if they can go forward with this.

Even if it is just as friends. Jiang Cheng would still like that; he misses having friends.

“I don’t regret it, because it was necessary to avenge da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispers and he can’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “But it does hurt. I loved you and I would have liked for us to be more than what we were.”

Ah, and there it is. It’s all past, apparently, and only Jiang Cheng’s stupid heart keeps clinging to something that is no longer possible.

“I see,” he whispers and tries his best to drown his breaking heart in more alcohol.

He knew it was stupid to hope for anything when he went into this, but he still wasn’t prepared for how much it actually hurts to hear that Nie Huaisang doesn’t love him anymore.

It’s not a surprise, if Jiang Cheng is being honest; it’s been years and they are both changed people, and yet Jiang Cheng can’t stop hoping that at least their friendship is salvageable if the other thing so clearly isn’t.

“And what now?” Jiang Cheng forces himself to ask, but he realizes his mistake when Nie Huaisang answers.

“We don’t really know each other anymore,” Nie Huaisang reluctantly says and Jiang Cheng curses himself, because he didn’t mean that.

But before he can correct himself, Nie Huaisang goes on.

“But I would like to get to know you again, if you’d be open to that.”

It makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

“As—friends?” he asks, furiously not daring to hope for more, but his heart beats faster when Nie Huaisang blushes.

“Or the other thing,” he says, clearly nervous about it and Jiang Cheng can’t help but to smile at that.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t see, because he’s very adamantly keeping his eyes on the table in front of them, and so Jiang Cheng simply pours himself another cup.

Nie Huaisang let him wait for years, a few moments won’t kill him now.

“We don’t have to, of course,” Nie Huaisang finally blurts out when it clearly becomes too much for him and Jiang Cheng takes a sip before he carefully puts the cup down again.

“I expect dates,” he then decisively says and Nie Huaisang’s head snaps up as fast as his fans usually do.

“What?” he breathes out.

“You will take me on dates, because you fucked this up to begin with and you’re going to make it up to me,” Jiang Cheng tells him and his heart stumbles a little bit when a smile overtakes Nie Huaisang’s face.

“Done,” he eagerly agrees and he seems as happy as Jiang Cheng has ever seen him.

“And don’t just quit on me again,” Jiang Cheng adds more quietly. “We were friends, first, weren’t we?”

“You’re right,” Nie Huaisang says and he scoots around the table until he sits directly next to Jiang Cheng. “We were friends—still are—and it was shitty what I did. I’m sorry for how I just left you,” he says, and it’s more than Jiang Cheng expected, because he knows Nie Huaisang doesn’t actually feel sorry about how he brought Jin Guangyao down.

“Just see to it that you don’t do it again,” Jiang Cheng decides and leans a little to the side, just enough to press their shoulders together.

They sit like this for a while, just basking in the presence of the other, knowing that nothing is completely broken between them, before Nie Huaisang speaks again.

“Does this already count as a date?” he asks and Jiang Cheng laughs, he’s so surprised.

“Absolutely not,” he decides. “I came to you. You have to do way better than this. I want to see initiative.”

“You want to be courted,” Nie Huaisang nods, clearly coming up with a plan already, and while it’s not completely what Jiang Cheng meant, he will take it.

Being courted by Nie Huaisang doesn’t sound bad at all, after all.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Flame of a Candle

A/N:  The wonderful @lupins-sweater requested a Remus fic where the reader has a candle addiction and let me tell you, I fell in love. Also, two fics in one night! Apologies to my taglist, but I couldn't stop writing and I had to post it. I will be getting to my other requests this week as well as finishing my Draco Malfoy series. As always, I hope you enjoy, it’s pure fluff! Also, the candle scents I mention are real candle scents from the ones I have in my room (they’re all inspired by books!).

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food.

Word count: 1.8k

It was not your fault.

It absolutely was not your fault that the newest shop on the high street was an independent candle store.

And it wasn’t your fault that instead of entering the bakery like you had planned, you walked into the candle shop.

It also wasn’t your fault that you left the shop with a bag full of candles.

You made it to the bakery though, grabbing everything on your list. Bread, teacakes, vanilla slices for Remus. The visit to the new candle shop, simply a small stop on the way.

You would usually make this trip with Remus; his hand gripping yours tightly as you peeked in the windows of all the shops. But you left him bed in this time, snoring away, completely oblivious to the world. This past full moon had been exceptionally rough; he came back with larger cuts and bruises that had you silently crying as you patched him up. It never did get any easier to see the added injuries after a full moon.

The day is beginning to brighten as you return to the home you shared with Remus. The garden path lined with pansies and marigolds, adding a cheery disposition to the ivy-covered cottage you called home.

Remus would be soon awake, so you head to the kitchen to put his vanilla slices in the fridge before adding your new candles to the ever-growing collection that had slowly filled three cupboards with differing size jars and tins.

Your placing the final glass jar candle in the cupboard when you hear his footsteps creaking on the stairs and his raspy voice calling out.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Remus questions; his voice still gravelly with sleep.

It had been a week since the last full moon, and he was still catching up with missed hours. He was awoke once as he reached out for you in his sleep and found your side of the bed empty; it worried him for a minute but then he realised that you would be in town so sleep quickly overtook him again. He stirred back awake to the sound of the closing cupboard door; his senses still sensitive after the change, hearing and smelling everything within a small distance.

The hesitation before your answer has his curiosity piqued as he steps into the kitchen to see you closing a cupboard door.

“Nothing, dear!” Your voice chimes.

He chuckles, “You really are the worst liar.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I am an excellent liar – so good in fact that MI6 are thinking of hiring me.”

“(Y/N), I love you, but yes, you’re the worst liar.”

“I’m hurt, Remus. Truly, deeply hurt.” You gasp, holding a hand to your heart.

“Stop deflecting,” He laughs, “What were you doing that’s so secretive?”

You fiddle with your fingers, “So I went into town to go the bakery,”

“Is that it?”

You shake your head, “Well I got somewhat waylaid on the way to the bakery.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms, “Now you’ve got my attention.”

“There’s a new shop that’s opened on the high street; what used to be the bridal shop.”

“Put me out of my misery – what type of shop is it?”

“A candle shop.”

A slow smile breaks over his face, “How many did you buy?”

“Around ten or so.”

“Ten? (Y/N), sweetheart, we have cupboards full of candles.”

“I know but let me show you them! They smell so good!”

“Of course, but I need to know – did you go to the bakery?”

“What do you take me for? I could never deprive you of your vanilla slices. They’re in the fridge.” You peck his lips quickly before turning to grab your latest purchases from the cupboard.

Remus heads to the fridge; his stomach growls at the sight of the vanilla slice waiting for him. Healthy breakfast be damned, he turned into a werewolf once a month, if he wanted dessert for breakfast, he was going to have it.

He puts it on a plate before settling down at the dining table.

He isn’t angry – why on earth would he be? Candles bring you joy. He’s a minute away from suggesting you start making them yourself but when you set the candles down the table with such care and look at Remus with such excitement at showing him your haul; all sentient thoughts leave his head and he’s left with the love he feels for you.

Remus takes a bite of his sweet, “Tell me about them, love. What did you buy?”

You grin; the smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. And yeah, Remus’ heart just skipped a beat.

“Oh, Remus! It’s such a cute shop – entirely independent and it has the most positive energy. I could spend all day in there! And the owner is so lovely! So helpful. He looked shocked at the pile of candles I put by the till, but I simply couldn’t not buy anything. You know how I am with candles.”

He chuckles, “Like a moth to a flame. So what new scents do we have?”

You hold up one of the glass jar candles, “Okay… So we have: forget me nots and mountain air; Damascus rose and sweet orange; night jasmine and citrus; coffee and chocolate; lavender and patchouli; burnt sugar and rain; lily of the valley and white musk; sweet peaches and ripe cranberries; crisp apples and rose petals…”

You trail off, putting the lids back on them once Remus had smelt them and had handed them back to you.

Remus points at the final jar, still unopened, “What does that one smell like?”

You avoid his eyes as you murmur, “I had to buy it when the shop owner explained its properties.”

“Oh?”

You nod, unscrewing the lid to the candle, taking a sniff before handing it to Remus. “It holds healing properties.”

“How so?”

“It’s got peppermint oil to ease headaches. As well as lemongrass and vanilla to help relieve stress and tension and promote relaxation. I thought we could give it a try for a couple of nights before you leave for the moon.”

He looks up from his study of the candle, “You bought this for me?”

You nod, shrugging, “It’s something to try. You always try to downplay the headaches you get but I know how much pain you are in and that healing potions do little to help other than make you drowsy. So I thought we could try this; we could light it when we start getting ready for bed. You don’t have to though, Remus. It’s entirely your choice.”

“You did this for me?” He asks, voice shaky.

You frown, “I did. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head, trying to find the right words, “You did absolutely nothing wrong. I just didn’t expect to feel this touched by your candle addiction.”

“You haven’t noticed have you?”

“What?”

“Remus, the majority of my candles all have some healing properties in them. I’ll do anything I can to make the transition that little bit easier whenever we don’t have access to the wolfsbane potion. This is the first time you’ve actively noticed it though.”

He opens his mouth, then quickly closes it. He never realised the meaning of the differing scents – and he should have. He got top grades in Herbology and Potions, but it never clicked with him. He would always comment on the scents; whether they were pleasant or not, but he simply put it down to your love of them.

Remus finally realises what it feels like to love and be loved with just as much passion in return.

“So you don’t have a candle addiction?” He finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You chuckle, “Oh no, I do. I definitely have a candle addiction; it’s been there before I was with you, but you kind of give me a purpose to buy them.”

He passes the jarred candle between his hands, “So you do all of this to try and ease the days before the transition?”

You nod, “I can’t do a lot in those few days, Remus. I’m only useful when you come back and I can help patch you up, but before then, there isn’t very much I can do to help, and it hurts me. I had the idea when I was clearing out my candle cupboards; getting ready for my Christmas collection. I was reading the labels and it suddenly hit me and I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before. But it’s been a while since we were at Hogwarts. Anyway, as I was reading the labels, I realised the healing properties of the oils in the candles. So I bought a Herbology textbook and started brushing up on my knowledge of plants that could help.

“The opening of the new candle shop was pure coincidence, but I had to buy the candle once the owner explained it to me. Your headaches are so bad, and I can never do a lot other than place a cold flannel on your head to lessen the pain but even that doesn’t work a whole lot. So I light the candles, making sure not to overwhelm you with the smell, and they seem to help a little.”

Remus is sure his face is a picture. You were right; in the days before he leaves for the transformation, he suffers with tension headaches from the pain of the moons path and his resistance of the monster within. You could never do a lot; it’s a pain that not even the strongest pain potions could touch. Yet, you tried to find a way to help him. You came up with your own solution.

“I love you.” He states; the only words he’s capable of saying right now.

You smile, it lighting up your face, “I love you too. You’re not mad?”

“How could I be mad? You buy candles with the sole purpose of trying to ease my pain. I’m the furthest thing from mad; I adore you.”

You blink away the tears, “Remus…”

“You’re incredible. First, you love me despite my being a werewolf and having to leave you every month. And then, you try to ease my pain by finding candle combinations that help with headaches and anxiety. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were you, Remus. I fell in love with you in Fifth Year when you spent the entirety of our free period asking me about my favourite books. We were supposed to be revising for our OWLs, but you wanted my attention completely. And you got it.”

He takes a smell of the candle, committing the scent to memory, “I’ve loved you just as long. I saw your battered copy of Wuthering Heights peeking out of your bag and I just knew.”

You point at the candle, “What do you think then?”

He grins, “I think we’re going to have a lot more candles lit around the house.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz

[lesserfandomappreciation]

Pregnant s/o (Rsat7d)

Merlin

Bless this idiot, it’s going to take him a minute to understand what his s/o has said. S/o will be in the living room curled up with a book or working in their office with a couple of nerves after having told a seemingly indifferent Merlin the news. Then they hear quickly approaching footsteps. And a slamming door. “You’re pregnant?!”

It’s 4:00pm. They told this moron first thing in the morning. Telling him anything when he’s in the library is pointless. 

He’s trying very cool to stay calm about this and seem enthused. Really, he is. It’s just all his anxieties and insecurities he pretends to not have are suddenly at his throat. He hasn’t a clue what to do. Send help.

All of the nervous maniac energy composing Merlin is transferred into a transformation none of the F7 thought they’d live to witness. The young, reckless lightning idiot becoming a responsible adult. Who mother hens people. And reminds them about medication. And food. And gets them to sit down while he takes care of everything for them. Hans is proud, the others are concerned. 

Some of this new-found need to mother-hen in a valid attempt to avoid overthinking whether or not he will be a good father is used to come up with useful spells. By first trimester’s end s/o has a small stack of spells to use when needed. The “cold pad” and “hot pad” spells are wonderful. The usefulness of the “vomit into a portable void” spell is debatable.

Jokes aside Merlin is worried about being a good father. This is a man with a lot of insecurities who worries about his own self worth- the idea that his child could dislike him haunts him. A lot of comfort is needed to chase away this fear. 

He is very protective about them and will deal with any threat with lightning. The house spiders quake in fear.

Arthur

His s/o could tell him at multiple points for many awesome reactions, but the best way is if they tell him in the middle of training. His standard “showing off because bae is watching” show is cut short as Arthur’s eyes widen. His sword, Excalibur, hits the ground with a thud. Next thing s/o knows, they’re in the air being spun in a straight-out-of-Disney twirl by an excited Arthur. 

All of F7 knows by day’s end. He’s telling everybody with a massive grin on his face and 0 shame. 

Arthur is a family man waiting to happen. Pull this idea out of my dead hands if you want, but you cannot convince me that this man hasn’t dreamt of having a loving partner and some tinies to spoil rotten with stories. He’s either been waiting to bring up the idea with them or the s/o is well-aware. 

Every single tiny milestone is met by the sweet puppy Arthur embodies. He’s just so happy and supportive, it’s kind of adorable. His s/o mentions the baby kicking their bladder and suddenly there’s a prince up against their belly desperately wanting to feel the baby kick too. 

One thing s/o is going to have to watch out for is expectations. Arthur’s parents seemed to have had a lot of those for him, and he’s probably internalized a lot of them too. It’s going to have to be up to his s/o to remind them that putting that many expectations on any person is a bad thing. The baby is going to be awesome. But let them be awesome on their own terms. 

Wants to carry them everywhere when their feet start to hurt. What if they get hurt going up the stairs? He’s strong, let him carry them for a bit dang it!

Jack

Jack is really a wild card here. Personally I see him being really connected to his own family, being a self-made prince who has worked hard to make sure his living family lives comfortably. On the other hand, this is a baby. A new person. That’s half him and half s/o. Wow. Wow.

Drops anything he is holding. Stunned still. It’s taking all of his processing power to debate the aforementioned two points on his conflicting views. S/o is going to be able to wave a hand in front of his eyes and have no response.

Make some tea. Read a book. Give him a hot minute to think. 

Out of the princes (besides Hans) Jack is going to be one of the few to really sit down with s/o and talk about what this means for them. He wants the kid, no worries there, but having a kid is a huge undertaking for anyone. How do they want to raise the child? Where (if his s/o is royalty too for example, which kingdom should they raise them in?) should they set up their life? Is Jack 2 an acceptable name? Is any jewel-related name acceptable? 

Jack’s s/o wins the pregnancy lotto in terms of access to feel-good supplies. Jack, the man, the prince, has facial masks in what appears to be a medieval-renaissance-inspired fantasy realm. From France. How he achieved this is a damned mystery. His whole bathroom is probably lined with the nicest creams and moisturizers money can buy. Jack’s not going to let his partner who is pregnant skip out on self-care. Absolutely not.

Jack is surprisingly good with helping his partner out emotionally at this time. He recognizes feelings and responds pretty well to them, so during the pregnancy and afterwards he is very supportive to their emotional needs. This is a very happy, but intense time and he is 100% there for them, through every high and every low.

Hans

Do not - I repeat - do not tell him when he is in the kitchen. Anything he’s cooking is going to burn, get stuck to the ceiling or is otherwise rendered inedible. Actually, any of those cute “bun in the oven” related announcements are not going to work on him. He’s going to be more upset at the concept of someone not cleaning his oven or risking burning a perfectly innocent loaf than anything else.  

He does, eventually, figure out that this was meant to tell him that the love of his life is pregnant and he’s very happy, but food safety is no joke. 

Hans’ reaction depends entirely on s/o’s reaction. How are they feeling about all this? As one of the only two emotionally intelligent people in the F7 (the other being Jack) he’s very responsive to his partner on this. Any fears or concerns they have are going to be his top priority. Though, once told that they are happy about, Hans lets out his own happiness and shows just how over the moon he is about this. 

Hans is a great guy. He really is. He’s also an unapologetic mom-friend whose knee-jerk reaction to someone he cares about going through stuff is to feed them. Unless his s/o puts their foot down hard (which they aren’t because hell-o growing people is hungry business) Hans is going to live in his kitchen. Great in that he’s willing to cook up their weirdest cravings even if he does judge them on it. Bad in that s/o might accidentally wind up feeling lonely because he’s over-focused on feeding/caring for them to actually be around them. One good conversation though and that’s nipped in the bud quick.

Loves his friends. Truly. Really. Has seen his friends do some truly stupid things. He’s not above standing behind his s/o and giving any member of the F7 the side-eye something fierce if they be acting up around his partner. 

Average

Average is an idiot. I don’t mean that insultingly, I’m just stating facts. This man could not pick up a subtle hint if it punched him in the face and rummaged his pockets for common sense. Unless his s/o tells him point blank to the face, he’s not going to get it. Cute messages/hints do not work on the man. Just tell him. Even then it’s going to take a second. 

Average’s reaction is really hard to pin down. During the events of the movie I do not see him having an s/o, at least not one he has a good relationship with and by the end of the movie all his potential character growth that could lead him to having a partner is implied to happen as he breaks his new-found curse. Growth that could lead his personality in several different directions. For the sake of not having to write down every single possibility I’m going to go ahead and say that he’s shocked. 

Regardless of personality growth I can say he’s going to be very demanding of everyone else around them. His partner, the love of his life, deserves only the very best. Now that they are with child he has to make sure they have the best for them and for his heir! None of this subpar stuff. They’re royalty, they deserve the best. If he’s not stopped the nursery is going to cost more than the GDP of a small country. 

He’s a little lost on a lot of pregnancy stuff really. Average isn’t an emotionally intelligent person, so he’s not great with comfort. He doesn’t do well with making runs for food (great at getting servants to fetch the strangest food combinations though), or with massaging, or with a lot of the physically demanding parts. The thing is? He knows. He knows that he’s lost on this. And it worries him. If he can’t do much now, how is he supposed to be a great father when the kid does show up? It’ll take some picking away at his walls, but eventually his s/o can talk to him on this and help him through it. They’re a team. They will get through this together. 

Don’t let him name the kid. “Superior” is not a good name for a child.

[lesbianavatarverseimagines]

You Left Me - Part 1 of 2

Pre-Redeemed!Princess Azula x Reader

Anon Asked:

Could you do an AzulaxReader where the reader grew up with both of the royal children and always kept them in place, especially Azula, knowing that she had mommy issues? As they get older and grow closer, the reader is suddenly declared dead after her war ship is blown up before Azula is named Firelord, which is the last strike to Azula losing her mind during the final battle? Thanks AJ! 

The events will be stretched out so that I can make them older during the canon events!

(A/N: I’m kind of surprised by the requests I got overnight, but I love it! Thank you everyone! I love you guys! The next one will either by Mai, Kyoshi, or Rangi! If I’m up to the task, I may even do all three haha - AJ)

***

It all started with my parents selling baby me to Fire Lord Azulon. Apparently they needed money that bad and wanted me to have a 'better life' knowing damn well I would probably become a palace servant. However, the Fire Lord seemed to take pity on me after learning that I was a firebender at the young age of 2, when I started learning to cook. After I impressively firebreathed at my caretaker, who refused to give me a chili pepper, he immediately heard of the incident and placed me in the care of General Iroh, who was to train and teach me the arts of firebending.

At the impressive age of 5, I’d mastered fire using non-conventional forms. I studied waterbending and airbending forms and used those to make me more effective as a master of the arts. I also took great pride in Iroh’s teachings of the mind, body, and soul. It opened my eyes to the great things I could accomplish if I had the ambition. I was also introduced to Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, the royalty that I'd be personally guarding once my training was finished. They both latched onto to me very quickly, as I had that playful charm, but a powerful aura that made them feel safe. 

***

By the time I hit 8, I was made the personal guard of the prince and princess. 

“You are to guard them with your life and keep them in line, behaviorally and training-wise, Private L/n. They are to respect you as they would me. You know what to do if they do not.” Fire Lord Azulon had told me during my official inducting ceremony. I bowed, honored to have been given a position that thousands of so-called 'masters' fought so vehemently for.

As soon as I was dismissed, I ran to the courtyard where Azula and Ty Lee were doing somersaults. Mai was sitting against a tree fiddling with her fingers while Zuko walked with his mother, Ursa. As I walked over to the three girls to tell them the news, I watched Azula fail to stick her landing. As a result, she retaliated when Ty Lee landed perfectly by pushing her to the ground. I stopped walking once I reached them and gave Azula a stern look.

“Azula, you need to stop being mean to your friends. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean that your behavior is acceptable.” I grunted out. She stopped laughing after seeing that I was completely serious and helped Ty Lee from the ground, apologizing after. Azula then skipped over to me and gave me a hug before waving her friend over.

We huddled together for a second before she whispered, “Watch this.” She skipped over to Ursa and urged her to let Zuko play with us. Once he came over, Azula demonstrated the ‘game’ that we would be playing. “We have to try to knock the apple off the other person’s head, like this!”

She shot an orange flame at Mai’s head and caught the apple on fire, prompting Zuko to panic and save Mai from catching on fire. However, he ended up tackling her into a water fountain that was behind them. Azula, Ty Lee, and I laughed and started cooing them until they walked away in embarrassment.

***

At the age of 11, we all learned that General Iroh’s son had passed away during battle and that Iroh was coming home. It hit home for me, as Lu Ten acted as my older brother after I was taken in as Iroh’s pupil. Time seemed to pass by very fast until I was suddenly in the throne room of the palace with Prince Ozai, Prince Zuko, Princess Ursa, Princess Azula. Ozai had requested an audience with Fire Lord Azulon to show the advancement of his children’s skills.

As usual, Azula excelled like a master in the making, but Zuko wasn’t at the same level yet. In the end of it, Azulon ordered me to escort the kids out of the room for a private discussion with Ozai.

While we walked out, Azula grabbed my hand and we all snuck back in to listen. I didn’t really pay attention to the heated conversation between father and son, as I was solely focused on the princess’ hand in mine. At some point, a frightened Zuko ran out, but Azula and I stayed until the discussion was over.

We ended up walking to my room, which was between theirs. After I closed the door, I sunk to the floor. I never got to express my grief about Lu Ten’s death because I was constantly expected to never show deep emotion. I forgot that Azula had come in with me, so she watched as I quietly broke down in sobs. It almost surprised me when she sat next to me and cradled my shoulders in comfort, knowing that I was going through a hard time. She didn’t say anything even after I was done and helped me out of my armor and into bed. 

“Get some sleep, Y/n. A lot of things are going to be happening tomorrow.” She said as she walked out and closed the door.

***

At the age of 13, Fire Lord Ozai challenged Zuko to an Agni Kai, making me jump up during the war council to object, as it was my sole duty to defend the prince, no matter who it was to. “No! As my duties pertain, I am the one who will participate in this Agni Kai! The prince shall not be harmed, my Lord!”

Fire Lord Ozai widened his eyes for a split second, surprised that one his most trusted and obedient guards was speaking out against him, during a war meeting nonetheless.

He fumed. “It may be your duty to protect Prince Zuko, but he needs to learn discipline! I will give you a day to train him before the challenge, but that is the only mercy I will give. Now, take him and get out of my sight, Private L/n!”

I grabbed Zuko by the upper arm and pulled him up. I then dragged him out of the throne room that had noticeably grown hotter in temperature.

Once we were far away enough, I led him to the training grounds and punched a purple fireball at him, catching him off-guard. He yelled and dropped flat on the ground, narrowly avoiding the flames. “What are you doing?!”

I angrily got into my stance. I bent my arm to where my right elbow was next to my ear with my fist parallel to the side of my face. My left arm stuck out like a punch, except my hand was opened rather than in a fist. It matched Zuko’s stance since he took inspiration from me and wanted us to have an identical fighting style.

“Fight me.” I growled angrily. “Iroh and I warned you not to speak up during the council, yet you did! Show me what you’ll do during the Agni Kai, Zuko!”

He shakily got up, realizing how angry he’d made me. He got into his stance and sent weak firelashes toward me, not putting enough momentum behind his strikes. I cut through the fire in a rage, not caring that it was burning my skin. How dare he be so weak when he had an Agni Kai tomorrow!

I firebreathed at him with what sounded close to a dragon roar. The flames spread everywhere as my anger only rose. “Y/N!” Solid arms wrapped around me, cooling me down a little bit. Azula yelled through the roaring, “Y/N, STOP! YOU’RE HANDS ARE BLEEDING!”

I listened to her on command and realized that I had obliterated most of the training equipment. Zuko was lying on the pavement again, cowering in fear while Azula held me in place. Wetness ran down my face uncontrollably. My brother would be no match for the general he was to face and I wouldn’t be able to protect him. Another person I care about would die tomorrow along with my honor.

How dare he?!

***

At the age of 16, I was promoted to captain and given my own ship to command. By this age, I'd begun to hate Fire Lord Ozai with a passion.

A while ago, during the Agni Kai, everyone was surprised when they found out that Zuko would be fighting his father rather than the general he spoke out against. When Zuko bowed and started begging for his life as Ozai approached him, I’d gotten up and almost ran on stage until the same solid pair of arms wrapped around me and held me in place again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but he has to do this on his own.” Azula had said. As much as I’d grown to love her, I had to disagree. He couldn’t do this on his own. He was a child, as were we.

I flinched away from the memory, focusing on my current mission at hand. I was to find Zuko and bring him back to the capital, as he and Iroh were both apparently traitors. Honestly though, how surprising. You give him a huge scar and then banish him, expecting him to remain loyal to you?!

I scoffed in contempt. Once I completed that task, we were to find and retrieve the Avatar, dead or alive, which was something I was wholeheartedly against.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead as a familiar voice spoke out from behind me.

“Are you just going to sit in here and sulk all day, or are you going to train with me?” I heard Azula say from the doorway of my room. I chuckled and turned around to see her giving me that signature smirk.

Azula was to be the successor of Ozai instead of Zuko, as she was the promising prodigy. Ozai tried turning her into a monster, but I was the line that he couldn’t cross. Part of the reason why he promoted me was to get me away from her so that he could turn her, but she always found a way to be at my side and get my advice. I knew she was a ticking time bomb due to the level of her father's abuse, but I loved her too much to leave her on her own. I wouldn’t let her turn into her father so long as I was alive. And that was what I worried about these days.

I smiled and bowed, to which she snorted. “Of course, O’Princess Azula. We shall duel!”

She came over and kissed my cheek before grabbing my hand to lead me away from my thinking. “I am glad that you think of me so highly, Captain Y/n.”

***

After I’d turned 19, Sozin’s comet was nearly here. I was to participate in the raid on all of the nations and burn it all to the ground. I, of course, wasn't going to do that and had joined Team Avatar to stop Ozai. 

Azula didn’t know that I switched sides, as her father sent me away a couple months ago on a ‘scouting mission’ before declaring her Fire Lord and then declaring himself Phoenix King. I knew that she would be stressed under the weight of the title without me there, so I tried my damndest to go back to her and convince her to switch sides. However, fate decided differently. 

An explosion rocked my ship and soon sent me spiraling into blackness.

I’ll find my way back to you, Azula. Before it’s too late for you.

***

(3rd POV)

As soon as Azula learned of your death, she broke. Her mental state completely broke into pieces right before her.

She banished everyone from the palace and went into a frenzied state, seeing you and her mother everywhere she looked. She’d just got done cutting her hair when she looked in the mirror and saw you smiling. Illusion!You didn’t even have to say anything for her to start crying uncontrollably. Why did the fates have to be so cruel? You should be here ruling at her side!

When she blinked, it was her mother, Ursa, standing in your place, telling her that she was loved. A brush was thrown at the mirror and shattered the glass on impact.

After Azula got dressed and went outside for her coronation, the ceremony was stopped by her annoying brother, Zuko, and Katara, the Water Tribe peasant.

"You want to be Fire Lord? Fine, let's settle this. Just you and me, brother, the showdown that was always meant to be; Agni Kai!"

Zuko agrees to the challenge after seeing that something was off about her.

"I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother." Azula growls out.

"No you're not."

***

Once the battle was over and Azula was in chains, she started thrashing around while screaming and crying. "Y/N!" She sobs. "WHY?!"

Why did you have to leave me?

***

End of Part 1.

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! I actually cried a little bit with this one. Azula deserves a redemption, so I'm gonna give her one since they did her dirty in the comics ;). Azula is 18 at the end of this but will be 19 in the next part, while you'll be 20. Part 2 will most likely be uploaded later today 8/15/20!)

As always, REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

She is forever - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Stucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC, Bucky Barnes x OC (Ophelia Wright)

Summary: When Steve and Bucky went to the army there was a girl they went to school with who wasn’t allowed to go. She was left alone and never thought about again, until Steve sees a carbon copy of her on the streets outside Stark tower and she seems to know them just a little too well to be a stranger.

Word count: 2138

‘You’re going to get hurt if you keep thinking like that.‘ ‘I know, but sometimes the world is prettier in my head.‘

Anything is prettier than the world inside Bucky’s head. He knows it, Steve knows it, everyone knows it. With the amount of times Bucky has woken up screaming and skipping his rest it’s a miracle he’s even alive. Which is why Steve is a bit surprised when he doesn’t get woken up by Bucky’s screaming throughout the night. He had woken up at 3am out of habit, but when he checked Bucky’s room he was peacefully sleeping. It had scared him for a second because, at this point, Steve is convinced Bucky can only lay like that when he’s dead. But no. The man wasn’t even curled up like he always was. It stressed Steve out knowing it might’ve been because Bucky was starting to make a wrong narrative about Ophelia in his head. Back in the day, she was the one who would lay with Bucky when he couldn’t sleep. He had written how he missed her to Steve, that he had such a horrible time falling asleep ever since. But now he was suddenly sleeping soundly for a whole damn week. Steve just hopes it is because it give Bucky peace of mind to know where Ophelia ended up, but he knows that isn’t the case.

Ophelia slept horrible throughout the week. The years after Bucky went to war were terrible, but she thought she had gotten over the loss of touch. No, meeting Bucky again sparked the need to be touched and made it way worse than it had ever been. Normally, she could get by with a weighted blanket for pressure and a teddy bear for touch, but last night it hadn’t worked. She felt terrible, but she won’t show it. After all, she doesn’t have shit to do. Working on a new project, yes, but that’s all in her own time. Art isn’t something that just go, go, goes. ‘Good morning miss Wright,‘ the girl at the front desk, Naomi, greets Ophelia as she walks in, ‘mister Stark called. He is having a party this Friday and was wondering if he could rent some of your art to display.‘ ‘Oh, always,‘ Ophelia answers with a smile, ‘I’ll give him a call. Thank you so much Naomi. Anything else?‘ ‘Yes, mister Rogers stopped by and dropped this off for you,‘ she says and hands Ophelia an envelope. ‘Is that it?‘ Naomi nods. ‘Good, I’ll be in the studio. Call me if I’m needed.‘ ‘Yes ma’am.‘ ‘Oh, and I know you have that thing tonight, so I want you to let me know when it’s 5pm so I can take over for you.‘ ‘Oh, you don’t have to.‘ ‘Yes I do,‘ Ophelia says with a smile, ‘you do so much for me, I can do something for you every once in a while.‘ She walks through the gallery, checking if all the paintings are still in place and straight except for the ones who aren’t supposed to hang straight. Satisfied, she walks into a back door and up a staircase to the studio above the gallery. It has marvelous natural light and a beautiful view on the streets. But no time to marvel over the view. Ophelia has an envelope to open and someone to call. She opens the envelope and is faced with pictures of her that she knew existed, but had never seen herself because both Bucky and Steve had teased her with the candid pictures. With the pictures is a note.

“Dear Ophelia,

Bucky and I wanted to thank you for digging through your pictures and bringing these memories back to us. We’ve enjoyed talking about them and reliving the past. See these pictures as our part of a non negotiated exchange. Because your grandmother never wanted to be in pictures Bucky and I took it upon ourselves to get her in pictures. These are a few of the pictures we have taken of her. We hope you’ll cherish them as much as we do. And I know I’ve said it before, but you do look a lot like your grandmother. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a clone of her.

Steve.“

Ophelia feels her heart beat. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. It beats like a bass drum in a heavy metal song. Way too fucking fast. Why does it always feel like they know when they say things like this? Will this last? What has she gotten herself into? To distract herself, she starts thinking about Tony Stark wanting to rent some of her artwork like he does all the time for his parties. It’s something she always enjoys because he doesn’t care what she gives him. For all he cares, she draws a dick on a white canvas and calls it a day, he’ll still hang it. “Stark tower, this is Penny speaking.” ‘Hey Penny, this is Ophelia Wright. I heard Tony called to rent some more artwork?‘ “That is right. I’ll redirect your call to him.“ ‘Thank you very much.‘ “Tony speaking.“ ‘Hi, it’s Ophelia.‘ “Ah, Ophelia. Wonderful. So what’s your answer?“ ‘Of course you can rent art from me. You do have to come over to pick some.‘ “Do I get special treatment?“ Ophelia rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll grab some paintings that haven’t been shown yet. But just because it’s you.‘ “Thank you sweetheart. Oh, Natasha told me you also did a painting for her and she’d like to pick it up?“ ‘Just bring her with you. I’m available until five.‘ “I’ll be over in a few.“ ‘Sure, just tell Naomi to call me over. You know the drill.‘ “I do, but thanks for the refresher.“ ‘No problem. Always happy to help the elderly.‘ “Wow, I feel lightly offended. Let me scrape my pride off the floor and then I’ll be there.“ ‘For sure. Bye.‘ Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

The second Tony puts down the phone he realizes everyone in the common room is staring at him. Which includes Natasha, Bucky, Steve, and Peter who had just come in after some “nerd thing“ as Thor usually called it. ‘Oh, we’re going to pick up the painting,‘ Natasha asks excitedly. Tony gives her a confused look. ‘Yes we are. I’m sorry, why are you so cheery about this?‘ ‘Ophelia wanted to paint something inspired by me,‘ Natasha tells him, ‘I’m curious what it is. I had to pose for a lot of pictures, but I don’t know what it is.‘ Tony nods, but looks no less confused. ‘Can I come too?‘ The group turns to Bucky, who is never one to volunteer to come with. ‘Yeah, sure.‘ ‘I’m coming too,‘ Steve states. ‘Jesus, is this going to be a school trip or something,‘ Tony sighs and looks over at Peter who tries to lower the hand he apparently raised, ‘just come with. It’s fine.‘ Peter nods with a smile. And so the group crosses the street and stand in front of a wide eyed Naomi. She didn’t expect this group to walk in like this. ‘Hi Naomi, I’m here for the art rental,‘ Tony tells her. She nods and starts pressing buttons on her phone. ‘Oh, and maybe tell her that everyone suddenly wanted to come along. Just so she’s prepared.‘ ‘You brought the whole group,‘ a voice says excited. They all turn to Ophelia who comes walking towards them dressed in overalls that have paint stains everywhere and a black sweater that she wears beneath it. ‘Yeah, they all wanted to come along,‘ Tony says with an apologetic look in his face but not in his tone. ‘Of course they did. I’m a great artist,‘ Ophelia jokes, ‘I was going to take Natasha and Tony upstairs to have a look at some things, but now that you’re all here I’d love to take some pictures of all of you to use as references. Most people I hire to take pictures of aren’t- well- they aren’t superheroes.‘ ‘Yeah, sure, I don’t mind,‘ Steve says. ‘Great, great, ehm, who is this kid,‘ Ophelia asks a bit confused as she looks at Peter. ‘Oh, Peter Parker, he interns at the Stark Tower,‘ Tony lies through his teeth. ‘Sure,‘ Ophelia says with a suspicious tone in her voice, ‘let’s go up.‘ Peter looks stressed as can be when they go upstairs. ‘Does she know something? Did I do something?‘ He keeps asking questions in a hushed tone, but Ophelia hears all of it. She’s seen him before multiple times. Sometimes dressed in red, other times dressed in normal clothes. ‘Tony, you should really be a bit more secretive if you want your spider boy to keep his secret,‘ Ophelia whispers to Tony. ‘I knew you’d find out,‘ Tony seems almost proud that she did figure it out, ‘but the kid’s great at keeping a secret. He’ll be fine. Just need to learn a thing or two.‘ She grins and opens the door to the studio for all of them. ‘Please watch your feet, there is paint scattered across the floor. I didn’t exactly had time to clean. If you value your shoes, I do have shoe protectors,‘ she announces to the group. Then she takes Natasha’s hand and pulls her over to a corner. She hands her a slab of wood with her eyes painted on it as the main focus of the face. ‘Wow, that’s beautiful,‘ Natasha awes, ‘I didn’t think you did realistic paintings.‘ ‘I do sometimes.‘ ‘What do I owe you?‘ Ophelia smiles. ‘Nothing. You gave me inspiration, so I give you art.‘ Natasha pulls the girl into a quick hug. ‘Thank you so much Ophelia, I love it.‘ Ophelia smiles and walks over to Tony to show him the new pieces that are ready to go on display after this show. The two look at the pieces for a while, talking about what would fit where, when Ophelia hears a loud gasp. She turns around to see Bucky standing at her rack of private canvasses. ‘Bucky, please step away from those, those aren’t for anyone to see,‘ she snaps at him. He looks up in shock and a realization hits her. ‘Fuck.‘ ‘What is it Bucky?‘ Steve is still oblivious to the whole situation while everyone else is frozen. ‘Steve, I swear to God, if you look at what Barnes found I will tear your head off,‘ she snaps before she can realize it. He stops and stares at her. She rushes over to Bucky and looks at what he saw. It’s a rendition of a picture that is still stuck for it for inspiration. The picture if of Bucky and Steve on that night they went skinny dipping. Ophelia pretends to be relieved, but she can tell that Bucky isn’t buying it. To reduce damage, she flips to a canvas only a few behind it to show him a nude that she had painted with herself as the subject. ‘Sorry, I thought you saw that one. I was working on painting some pictures my grandma left,‘ she tells him as explanation and tries to smile, but Bucky is still unsure about her excuse. Though he did feel a bit invasive when she showed the naked painting. ‘We’re good. I’m sorry for yelling,‘ Ophelia apologizes to everyone and tries to go on her merry way, but Bucky grabs her wrist with his metal arm. The metal makes her shiver and it is only now that she sees it. He watches the change in her face as she looks at his arm and back at him. She looks pained seeing what happened to him. Before either of them can say anything, Steve steps in being the peacemaker that he is. ‘Bucky, let go of her.‘ But Bucky doesn’t listen. ‘Talk.‘ ‘No.‘ He squeezes. She winces. ‘Bucky!‘ ‘Talk.‘ His eyes turn dark as he hears Ophelia’s breathing become louder at the pain in her wrist. ‘What the hell are you doing Bucky,‘ Tony tries to step closer, but Bucky shoots him a look that could only mean danger, so he steps back. Bucky meets Ophelia’s eyes again. ‘Last chance.‘ The two stare at each other, but he can see that she isn’t going to say a word even if he does break her wrist. The seconds feel like minutes as the air becomes thick with tension. No one dares to move and not even Steve dares to speak. ‘Let go of me.‘ Ophelia speaks slow and clear. Neither of them wants to show defeat and it scares everyone around them. Suddenly, Bucky is hit in the head with a mixing stick for paint. Surprised, he lets go of Ophelia who looks back to see Peter with a terrified look on his face. No one had paid attention to him the whole time they were here. He was near invisible to everyone when Bucky grabbed Ophelia so he was in the perfect place to throw something to throw him off. She nods to him as a thanks and runs over to Tony. ‘Bucky, I think it’s time you leave,‘ Tony speaks loud and clear.  ‘She’s lying to us,‘ he barks at Steve, ‘she isn’t Ophelia’s granddaughter, she IS Ophelia.‘

[charliesradiodemon]

Pwease pwease pwease do 15 passionately 💗💗charlastor , fat nuggets need it

(I was inspired by a couple of comics that are similar to this fic. For the sake of the fic making sense, Charlie never dated Vaggie and is single here.

Also don’t worry! I’m still working on Arranged Marriage! I’m just also working on many other things! You’ll be seeing an update soon! For now I’m bum rushing for Charlastor week!

Happy Valentine’s Day my friends ❤️❤️)

15. Passionate Kiss

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that humans came up with and celebrate once a year on Earth. It was a day of love and cherishing your significant others. Some even used the day to confess their love to another. Charlie remembered when she first heard of Valentine’s Day and only sighed at how sweet and romantic it sounded. But she never had anyone to celebrate it with. In her last relationship, Harold never wanted to celebrate the holiday in any way. He’d always tease her for wanting to practice “lowly human customs”. And before that, the holiday hadn’t even existed yet.

Today Charlie had a slew of ideas to celebrate the holiday with everyone at the hotel. Today was about love, and what better way to turn around a sinner than with love? And chocolate!

Before Charlie could skip out her door, she paused mid-step. “Oh!” She exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. A large red heart, along with a vase of red roses stood in her way. Had she finished that step, she would have crushed the heart entirely.

Charlie knelt and carefully picked up the glass vase and heart before backing into her room. She set the vase by her bedside and felt a smile creep up once she got a good view of the bouquet. The vase was simply brimming with perfect red roses, but there was no card amongst the densely packed flowers. Who could afford such a thing, Charlie wasn’t quite sure. It could have been from her parents, but they weren’t the biggest fans of Valentine’s Day considering the origins of the holiday. Nevertheless she loved the roses and took a deep whiff of their subtly sweet scent before heading out to find and thank whoever left them.

On her way down, she took a quick glance at the heart. She knew what hearts were and how it was a common symbol used on Valentine’s Day and for love in general, but this thing was different. When she shook it, it rattled. There was something inside, but how was she supposed to open it? Could she even open it?

When she reached the lobby, the giddy princess started her hunt at the bar to ask Husk first. When she got there Angel was already leaning against the bar counter, flirting with Husk so early in the morning.

Charlie skipped up to the bar, greeting both Husk and Angel a happy Valentine’s Day. She set the heart on the bar and slid it toward Husk. “Hey Husk, do you happen to know where this came from?”

Angel’s face lit up when he focused on the heart in front of Charlie. “Ohhhh! Who gave ya Chocolates toots?”

“Chocolates?”

“Aren’t they chocolates? I mean it’s Valentine’s Day, it’s gotta be chocolate.”

Charlie knew that lovers would exchange gifts like chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day, but she had no clue that the heart contained chocolate. She didn’t even notice that she could open it!

She turned to Angel, leaving Husk to his morning drinking. She placed her hand over the box and looked up at Angel. “Someone left me this outside my door…”

“Did they leave ya a note?”

“Nope.”

Angel quirked a brow. “Alright… that’s a lil’ creepy… Do ya think it’s safe? Maybe there’s no chocolates in there.” He pointed to the heart-shaped box with a suspicious look in his eye.

Charlie shrugged and looked around the heart until she found a prominent line under what seemed to be the lid of the box. She lifted it by the lid and wiggled it, letting the box slowly separate from the heart-shaped lid.

When the trio looked into the box, sure enough it was full of chocolates. “Oh wow these look pretty expensive,” Angel took one and closely examined the morsel. “Bet they taste expensive too,” He predicted before tossing the whole square into his mouth. “Yep! Damn that’s good!” He exclaimed before reaching over and grabbing four more pieces.

Suddenly, the blonde got between Angel and her gift. “Hey!” Charlie pouted. Little did she know, Husk also picked up a piece and tossed it in his mouth. His face scrunched and he washed the sweetness from his mouth with the beer he’d already been working on.

Angel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, you’re gonna eat all that all by yourself?” He returned to lean against the bar and continued, “So expensive chocolates huh? Whoever gave ya that must really have it bad for ya Charlie.”

Charlie felt her face heat up at Angel’s comment.

“I wonder who the sucker is,” he looked around the lobby to find only a few of the patrons sitting around, waiting for breakfast. “Can’t be one of these bozos.” He huffed a laugh and popped another chocolate in his mouth.

Charlie took one of the squares and took a tentative bite. She perked up as the chocolate melted in her mouth, coating her tongue in it’s sweetness. It reminded her of the chocolates her parents would give her when she was younger. She tossed the rest of the delicious chocolate in her mouth and hummed in delight. “You’re right! It’s amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so dear.” A radio backed voice came from behind Charlie. She jumped and whipped around. Expectedly it was Alastor who stood fairly close to her with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Wait Al, this was you?” Charlie greeted the radio demon with a wide appreciative smile.

He nodded proudly. “Yes it was! I made it was only the best of the best!”

“The roses too?”

“Why of course! No-“

Angel gasped and yelled, “Woah woah woah! Roses?! Holy shit Romeo I didn’t know you were some kinda romantic!” The group eating breakfast turned their attention toward the commotion.

“Angel, it would be in your best interest if you would keep your mouth shut before I take it away.” He said in a crackling, eerie distorted voice. The air around the bar became increasingly thick with tension. Angel retracted back in fear while everyone at the breakfast table watched with interest, as if they were hoping the radio demon would make good on his promise.

Charlie slid the box between her and Alastor to grab his attention before the situation escalated. “Hey Al, why don’t you try one?” Immediately the heavy tension dissipated at the sound of her voice and Alastor returned his full attention to Charlie.

He chuckled and picked up a piece, casually examining it. “I’m not one for sweets my dear,” he bent forward slightly, holding the chocolate between two clawed fingers. He extended the chocolate right before Charlie’s lips. “I bought these for you, so why not have another and I’ll consider trying one.”

Charlie glanced up at him and then the chocolate. It was an odd deal but it seemed like it was harmless. She shrugged and opened her mouth to let Alastor place the chocolate on her tongue. She shut her mouth and let the chocolate melt over her tongue once more, savoring the flavor.

Alastor admired her face, which lit up with pure joy. Her smile never failed to set his heart on fire and inspire contentment at the same time. Today was the perfect day to show her exactly what she meant to him and when he continued to execute his flawless plan, she would be his by the end of the day.

But then his eyes drifted down to her closed mouth and watched it move with her swirling tongue. Though he didn’t enjoy sweets, his curiosity began taking over. Then his imagination. Then his hands and feet. Unknowingly, he moved closer and used his right hand to tip her chin up. He met her snapped open eyes before meeting her black lips.

He didn’t realize it either when his tongue forced its way into Charlie’s mouth. The dulled down sweetness of the chocolate on her tongue made the flavor bearable enough for him. It was good, even. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the high of the moment or the chocolate itself at this point. It was then he discovered that Charlie was kissing him back, her tongue moving with his and further amplifying the sweetness of the kiss.

Realizing what he’d done, Alastor pulled away. He never took his eyes off of her, not wanting to see the faces of the individuals around him. Usually he’d revel in the attention, but now he just exposed a soft side to him no one had ever seen before. He’d have to kill them all- no, that would upset Charlie.

Oh Charlie…

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. He’d inadvertently ruined all of his plans to whisk the princess off her feet and now he stood there like a fool. He needed to leave. He summoned his cane and tapped the floor, melting into a shadow that frantically slithered up the stairs.

The room was dead quiet. Charlie looked around to find all eyes on her. Even Angel Dusk was wide eyed and slack jawed in shock. Truly nobody expected that from Alastor, not even Charlie. She turned back around to hide her burning red face. He kissed her, and she kissed him back! Then another realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Today was Valentine’s Day and he gave her presents… and kissed her! Did he really feel that way toward her?

She needed to find him. She’d never find out if she didn’t ask. He went up the stairs so he must have retreated back to his room.

Without another word, Charlie slammed the lid on the chocolate box and sprint up the stairs with it in her arms.

‘He likes me! He really likes me!’ Charlie thought giddily, letting her emotional high carry her up the stairs.

Ever since she met him, she was drawn to his charm, his personality, his voice, his dancing- everything about him. Sure he wasn’t the kindest or most gentle mortal soul out there, but she’d always smile with him around. He was dangerous, Vaggie would always warn her, but Charlie didn’t care. No matter how bad the rumors about him were, she’d look past them and got to know him better. He could cook, he loved his mother and he’d always find ways to cheer her up in his own strange way. To her, he was human: flawed and full of his own unique personality. He was still a monster who committed atrocities, but Charlie still couldn’t help the aching in her heart. It was strange, but the heart wants what it wants.

When she realized her feelings, she immediately feared rejection. It was difficult to be around him at first, but over time it got much easier and she’d managed to push her feelings aside. After all, she didn’t want to scare her professional business partner away.

But now that was all coming to an end. She needed to talk to him and work this out.

Charlie knocked on his door and called out his name. When he didn’t answer, she tried the door knob. Surprisingly it was unlocked and when Charlie slipped into his room, she found Alastor sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly out the window with his signature smile.

When she approached, he snapped his gaze toward her. They stared each other down for a few moments. “Al, we need to talk.”

Alastor nodded and patted the bed beside him to which Charlie obliged. They now sat shoulder-to-shoulder in silence. It should have been awkward, but for some reason it felt comfortable. It almost felt natural. Charlie could feel him slowly relax beside her. He was calming down and Charlie smiled knowing that he was getting comfortable around her. Feeling brave, Charlie placed her hand to rest it on top of the hand that sat tensely on his knee. He flinched, but didn’t move away. Instead he shifted his hand to where he held her fingers in a gentle grasp. He even began to run his thumb over her knuckles.

When Charlie looked up at his reaction, he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze shifted down to their joined hands. His grey cheeks held a hint of red. His closed-lipped smile was soft and content. He greatly disliked being touched and yet here he was, being touched by her and looking completely at ease.

They didn’t need to speak after all. Their actions spoke a thousand words and they understood what the other wanted. This was new to them, but their interactions have never felt so natural and so sure. Charlie sighed and let her head fall to rest on Alastor’s shoulder. He jumped a bit, still not used to contact, but let his head fall to rest on top of Charlie’s head, relishing in the warmth that blossomed in his chest because of her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Al.”

[thegayestasexual]

Inspired by: @virgil-is-a-cutie and @ineedspellcheck

Beggin On Your Knees

Tory knew Ryder Daniels, the hottest guy in his Acapella class. It was also pretty obvious that he had the biggest crush on him, even though he’s tried to hide it in the most subtle way ever.

He was always obvious with his crushes, it’s a wonder that Jade and Beck never seemed to notice his crush on them. The couple just made him fumble and stumble over his words, but can you blame him? Jade was gorgeous, and Beck was HOT. Anyone would be dumb for not crushing on them.

But that wasn’t the case, the whole Ryder mess started one morning. The class had their annually harmonizing moment. Well, everyone until the very last key when poor Robbie Shapiro started to go off the key.

The teacher, who will be called Mr. Jones, winced visibly hearing the very distinct off key note. “Hold up hold up!” He silenced the class. “Someone was off key.” He scanned the class, before landing on Robbie

Tory straightened up, glancing over his shoulder. “Alright, who was it?” He questioned crossing his arms over his chest.

“Two hints.” The puppet that often was held up by Robbie, other wise known as Rex, finally piped up. “It starts with Robbie, and ends with Shapiro.” He turned his puppet head towards his owner, almost mocking him.

“My Singing was not off.” The nerdy male retorted

“Man your whole life is off.” Came the quipped response of the puppet.

“Well, I think maybe...” Robbie began to look around nervously, until his eyes landed on his best friend in the form of Tory Vega. “Tory was off key!”

Tory places his hands onto his knees giving Robbie an incredulous look, he pouted while rolling his eyes. Giving him a very pouty “well!” In return.

But then Ryder Daniels, hot senior boy, spoke up, and really it made Tory flush. “Tory wasn’t off key!” He went immediately to the other boy’s defense. “You were perfect.” He turned to look at the male, a charming smile making its way up to his face. “Really nice tone.”

Tory couldn’t help but smile giddily at the comment, suddenly becoming very bashful. Usually it was a very confident persona that was at the forefront. At least when it wasn’t around his crushes, and Ryder IS one of them.

All of a sudden the bell rang before Tory could reply. When people started getting up, Mr. Jones held up his hands to signal them to wait.

“Hold up, let’s talk about your homework.” He said leveling the group with a stern look.

“The full moon jam?” Rex spoke up.

A Mmhm was uttered by the teacher with a follow up of “you all will have to do a song with it counting as a third of your semester grade.”

“We have to sing a solo?” Ryder immediately said, stepping forward to the teacher.

“That, or a duet.” The teacher answered, raising an eyebrow at Ryder

Tory couldn’t help but smile, he slid over to Robbie with a soft “do you think Ryder would work with me?”

Robbie gave his friend a exasperated look, wrapping one of his arms around Tory while the other sat Rex down. “Are we really kidding here? Any guy or girl would LOVE to work with you.” He answers him, the two of them were pretty nerdy and got along great because of Star Wars. Before Tory even came to Hollywood Arts, the two of them met through a forum on debate whether Luke deserved to be a Hermit.

“Actually.” Ryder stepped backwards from the door, he turned around and made a stride over to Tory. “Do you, maybe, want to go out?” He asked pretty sheepish, and if it wasn’t for Robbie holding him up. Tory was damn sure he would have fainted then and there.

Another grateful thing Robbie was there for, was to be Tory’s translator. “He would love to!” The Shapiro male spoke up for his friend immediately. “Sushi? He makes a KILLER spicy tuna balls.”

“Spicy...tuna balls?” If it wasn’t for the act Ryder kept up, he would have found the term spicy tuna balls endearing. But he never even liked guys. So he had to keep up appearances. “Sure, I’ll see you tonight, Tory?” He smiles with that charming smile of his.

“Yes!” Tory nods his head eagerly, grinning widely at the hottest senior in his class. He had no idea that Ryder was doing this just to get a good grade.

As the two friends made their way out of the classroom, and towards their friend group. Rex in Robboes arms.

“Handsome boy just asked me out!!” Tory finally screamed as soon as Robbie and he made it up to Cat, Jade, Beck, and Andre. That caught Beck and Jade’s attention

Which sparked an intense jealousy within the couple. If anything, the PEOPLE who should be asking Tory out were Jade and Beck. They’ve had their eyes on the boy ever since Beck kissed him in their improv class. Jade really wanted to include him into the relationship, it just wasn’t the time.

“Who?” Andre grinned, very happy that his best friend scored. He did his usual handshake with the glasses wearing male. “Is he that hot?”

“Hell yes.” Tory answered, nearly swooning. “It’s Ryder Daniels.”

“Hot Ryder Daniels?” Jade stood straight up, her hand clenched around the coffee cup she was holding. Her voice had the strain of a threat, which Tory couldn’t tell why she was like that. “I don’t trust him.” She grits out.

“You don’t? Really he is everything a girl wants, I wish I could be like him.” Robbie answered in response, a laugh coming from Rex

“Like him?! You can never be like hot man!” Rex says with a laugh.

Robbie huffed narrowing his eyes. “I can too!”

Tory tolled his eyes with a smile, while walking off to his next class. Completely missing the way the couple looked at him longingly.

(Skip times to when Trina finds out)

“Ryder Daniels?” Trina stood up straight staring at her younger brother, she frowns making her way towards Tory. “He’s bad news. Don’t date him.” She says placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure he’s only dated girls before, and he is toying with your heart.” As much as the two of them were dicks to one another, Trina really cared for Tory. There was no way in HELL she would let the likes of Ryder Daniels destroy and shatter her little brother’s heart.

She would rather die and be sent to hell before she would want that.

But like Tory does, he still goes on the date. And it’s wonderful! They hit it off great, the spicy tuna balls were really good from what Ryder said. Tory couldn’t be even more joyed than right now. “So, do you want hang out tomorrow? There’s this really cool laser tag in town.” Tory asks his new boyfriend, smiling widely at him.

Ryder shirts his position on the couch, keeping his arm wrapped around Tory. “I would but...I have to pick a song for the Full moon jam, I have to start rehearsing it.” He took his arm off the male leaning forward and placing his hands on his face. “I don’t even know what to pick! I’m very scared to do it by myself.”

Tory jumped up, looking at Ryder with concerned her determined eyes. “We could do a song together! Duets right?”

‘Hook, line, and sinker.’ Ryder thought yo himself, giving Tory a smile then a kiss to the forehead. “I would love that.”

If Tory was made out of goo then he was sure that he would have melted. All the while neither of them noticed one Robbie Shapiro taking notes outside.

(Next day)

“Hey Ryder!” Tory grinned widely, walking towards who seemed like jos boyfriend. No, it was his best friend Robbie Shapiro. Who was talking to Cat. “Robbie?” He questions, very confused seeing his friend in his get up.

Robbie wore skinny jeans that hugged his legs a bit tightly, a leather jacket over his black shirt. He grinned widely running his fingers through his smoothed out curls. It took him all morning to get those curls tamed! “Hey there, Tor.” He says

Cat looked from Tory to Robbie then back again. “Am I missing something?” Poor sweet innocent Catherine Valentine. She didn’t know a thing. Well that was to be expected, she has been dealing with Northstar. Speaking of which...

Cat happily giggled as she heard her phone ring, answering it and bringing it up to her ear. She excused herself from the two of them walking off to help the poor person in an accident.

Robbie watched the girl leave, confusion written all over his face before shaking his head and turning to Tory. “So, what do you think?” He questions with a grin?

“I mean if you weren’t straight I would hit it.” Tory offered helpfully, placing a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “But why? And why is your ear bleeding?” Concern started to fill inside him, ready to bandage his friend in case it needed it. Robbie really didn’t need an infection.

“Oh I tried to get it pierced like Ryder!”

“Robbie...Ryder doesn’t have his ear pierced.”

Robbie then whipped his head over to his puppet, “you said he did!”

All Rex could do was laugh. “Ha, had to make you a fool.”

Tory could only pinch the bridge of his nose making his way to the studio with Ryder to practice.

He managed to pass Jade and Beck on the way, nor noticing that Jade’s grip on Beck started to tighten.

“He should be ours.” Jade mumbled to her boyfriend, casting a look of loving longing towards the boy they passed.

“I know.” Beck whispered to his girlfriend, letting out a sigh. “But I guess we lost our chance? He’s ryders.” He said a little bitterly

Jade didn’t want to admit it, but they had. If the two of them hadn’t decided it wasn’t the best time, then Tory probably would be kissing them instead of Ryder MotherFucking Daniels. She didn’t trust him, and she didn’t want to see Tory in someone else’s arms.

And she had a right to not trust him, after the two of them made their way to the auditorium where auditions were held. Right when Kristen and Robbie were having their talk.

“Ryder Daniels.” Kristen started pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “He started going out with me during Dance class when we had a big project, and I was the best in my class. But after that huge project? Never called me back.” She scoffed

“You myst have felt...dirty.” Robbie sympathetically spoke taking his foot off his chair.

“Nah, he does it to a lot of girls. He also does it to guys, but he’s straight and just wants to get a good grade.” She rolled her eyes before frowning. “Hey, Tory is dating him right? You should warn him about Ryder.” Kristen spoke one last time, vefore she turned around and left the auditorium.

If it weren’t for Beck holding her down, Jade would have grabbed her favorite pair of scissors and go to down on this asshole. She clenched and unclenches her fists, fury evident in her eyes.

Beck was not that far behind, he was BEYOND furious. Tory is one of the sweetest guys around, he treats everyone with care and helps whenever he could. He probably was the most of a gentleman in the entire school.

Warn him they would, afterwards? The couple were going to demolish Daniels.

(Skip time(

“He was using me?” Tory spoke softly, stating up at his friends. He sat on his couch, hands brought together intertwined. He fidgeted with his fingers. “No wonder, he wouldn’t even kiss me.” Hus voice broke, tears started to make its way out of his eyes.

Surprisingly, it was Jade who acted first. “Ryder Daniels is an asshole for missing out on a guy like you.” She got into a crouching position in front of the tearful Vega. “You are sweet, dorky, hell you are the cutest boy in this entire school! Beck and I have been in love with you ever since you came here!” She blurted out bluntly

Tory’s eyes widened staring at Jade. “Really?? I...I thought my feelings weren’t reciprocated.” He says softly, which made Beck act by kissing him.

Which was stopped by Jade pulling Beck away and kissing Tory. “We like you.” She mumbled against his lips. “You’re ours got it?” She questions getting up to her feet, giving Beck a kiss.

Tory immediately started nodding his head, all the while flustered.

“So, as much as I love this. And cat you owe Robbie and I ten dollars, how are we getting back at Ryder?” Andre spoke up placing his hands on the couch where his best friend was sat. A groan escaped Cat as she pulled her wallet out

“A song, a really cool song.” Tory got yo his feet, smiling at his new boyfriend and girlfriend. “Andre can you help me write it? Please?”

Andre, having nothing to do that night, sighed then nods his head. Determined to help his best friend. “Alright let’s do this!”

With that, they spent the night writing one of the coolest songs.

And when Full Moon Jam hit, Ryder got humiliated by being forced to watch Tory sing and dance about him. About being on his knees.

It didn’t help that Beck kept him there, every time he tried walking off. Beck and Robbie would just pull him back to watch.

“See ya, Ryder.” Trina yelled running up on stage. “Don’t mess with my brother.”

[helenarasmussen87]

Writing Asks

This the post where I know no one is going to ask me anyway.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Something that is like a “Oh hey, what happens if we do THIS!” and go from there. Usually ends up having loads of emotions, comfort, angst, introspection, loads of kitchen sink dialogues, not too much action. Families, happy endings.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Fluffy stuff and humourous stuff. I am a little too serious for either one and my humour is drier than the desert and very odd. So no.

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Teacher and Student relationships. Necrophilia, abuse of all sorts, underage. Just not my thing. I’ve gotten unable to stomach a lot of grimdark and super dark stuff as I get older so I won’t write it. But go ahead if that’s your thing.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Two, since I can’t have more than two on the burner. Learned THAT early on and they’re Terror AU’s One is a fixit, but with health complications and angst. The other is a Modern Day AU which has two professors falling in love after one gets injured and the other worked as an EMT and helps to take care of him and they fall in love.

5. Share one of your strengths.

I can offer insights on what flows and what doesn’t. I can also happily shred my own drafts if they don’t work. 

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Action. I work at it, but it’s not my favourite. Or war writing. 

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Danny had to turn his head away to hide his smile, because he knew that it was a legitimate concern for Jose. Most of the time, he had jumped into bed with his partners first and then did the mating dance. 

Although extremely smart in other aspects, dating and social interactions were always a bit skewed, because he was always second-guessing himself and nervous as hell.

“That’s actually how things work out in these situations. At least it did for me and my ex and for me and Claude.” Danny explained calmly, making Jose nod and take another pull of his slurpee.

“So what do I do? Like is there a time when I bring up the possibility of us sleeping together?” Jose asked, the words slightly mumbled as he chewed on the straw.

“You don’t bring it up. You’ll just know when the time is right for it to happen. Sex isn’t what a relationship should be built on. Yes, it’s nice and it’s part of it, but it’s not the end all to be all. Trust me on this. It will happen if it’s meant to happen.” Danny explained, hoping that he had put it all in the plainest and simplest terms he could for his friend.

I am proud of this because it was majorly borrowing from life and I can see the difference from earlier writing. 

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Sergio laughed shortly. “I’ve already done enough of that, and look at where it’s gotten you. Yeah, legally I hold claim over you. I could make the club buy out your contract and sit at home all day, having litter after litter.”

Iker’s blood froze at that and he turned to look at Sergio to see if he really meant it, but Sergio’s face gave nothing away.

“Or I could sign your rights to the club and let them sell you wherever or to whomever. Take you out of Spain, or sell you to Getafe or Malaga. All of these things I could do. The club actually did bring it up at that meeting you didn’t show up for.”

Iker blinked, his hands going numb as Sergio’s wickedly honed words hit home.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you. Or make you feel indebted. I’m telling this to you because you’re this close to losing your spot and that’s the last thing I want for you. But there’s only so much I can do for you.”

He sighed and looked at Iker dead in the eyes.

“I miss him too, Iker. I miss Antonio every fucking day. And I miss you.”

Iker swallowed hard as Sergio abruptly turned and left, slamming the front door and freeing him from the command so suddenly that Iker fell onto the couch and curled up in it.

He had no energy to do anything else. Not when he was all too aware he’d fucked up and fucked up big and needed to fix it.

Borrowed from life again and it was more of a dialogue that needed to be had when you finally realize how much you fucked up and how much you need to stop coasting and make it right. 

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

ALL OF THEM! Kidding. I want to say the one I’m working on right now. I was lucky enough I got a ton of help fleshing it out. I can see the end of the 1st chapter and I am having a hell of a time writing Goodsir’s chunk. He’s turned out more emo and romantic than I was expecting. 

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

The QuiObi prompts for the prompt week. Took me like two hours to knock them off and post. 

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Its a passion and a hobby. It helped me through a lot of rough patches and keeps me sane. 

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Mostly music or a change in life. I tend to write when everything is in flux with me.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Just write. Worry about editing later. Once you have something on the paper, fixing it up becomes easier. 

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Edit as you write. You don’t get anything done.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh. I think it’s a toss up between my Qui-Gon/Jango fic in a pastoral setting where they have put their pasts behind and are farmers on Concord Dawn. Or the Werewolf fic I wrote during my RPF phase.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Bloody hard. I would have to say Fitzier (Commander Fitzjames/Captain Crozier)

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Depends. Sometimes I go straight from beginning to end and sometimes I end up writing the middle and not figuring it out until later.

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Outlines. I have notebooks I jot down point form notes about the characters and the plot.

18. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Mine is a librarian or an alchemist trying to figure out answers and how things fit in.

19. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

A good playlist. Alone, in my room.

20. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I revise it along the way when I sit down to write. Then before I post, I give it a once over to make sure it flows and makes sense. 

21. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

All my old fics are honestly gone so I’m skipping this one. 

22. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Honestly? The Duo and Heero one I wrote about them being in an abusive relationship where they split up, then got back together again. I was again writing from life, and I have seen couples who did overcome it, but looking back, I think I should have written it that they separated and went their own ways. 

Keep in mind I was very young when I wrote this, and I was in an abusive relationship myself and didn’t realise it at the time. He hit me once, apologised and never did it again. But he did end up manipulating me, gaslighting me, and emotionally abusing me until I finally had enough and left. 

23. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Yes. Loads of them due to me not wanting to finish them. Or the hosting sites going under. 

24. What do you look for in a beta?

Someone who is honest, someone who knows the way I write, and has suggestions to fix those said things. But someone who is themselves is the best. Because they know what they want. Same here. 

25. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I do, simply due to lack of steady betas. Flow and story telling, but I also look for syntax and formatting as well as grammar. I will miss typos, so I run spell-check too. I mostly use a mental rubric. Teacher training.

26. How do you feel about collaborations?

I haven’t had a successful one due to the second person always deciding that they can’t follow through or up and disappearing. So I don’t do them.

27. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oh my God! I read so much and so many different people that I can’t pinpoint three. I usually end up reading a fic or two, so I can’t say why I read the author.

28. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I haven’t done that. I do admit to having inspired by fics. I wouldn’t ever presume to do that. It just feels like a snub.

29. Do you accept prompts?

Not really. I can’t tailor write stuff consistently. 

30. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Oh always! I end up liking the characters that somehow never make it until the end. And in the Terror, unless you want to write angst all the time, you HAVE to ignore canon. And I mean BOTH the book and the show, since the book is nasty. The show is amazing, but oh my god is it depressing.

31. How do you feel about smut?

Yes damned please!

32. How do you feel about crack?

Depends on how well it’s done. Sometimes it is needed. Sometimes it’s like “Why?”

33. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

A bit tricky. I don’t mind non-con, but it has to be handled well. Dub-con, especially in A/B/O happens within context and it is usually dealt with. So I can tolerate that more than the first. Outright abuse, no.

34. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Yes. Not often thought. But yes. I usually try and keep as many alive as I can though.

35. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3, its a wild place and I love it for that reason.

36. Talk about your current wips.

It’s an AU where two professors that live in the same building and work in different faculties get thrown together and start to get to know each other. Due to circumstance, one gets injured and the other kind of volunteers to help take care of him, where they fall in love. The others in the vicinity do also. There’s Canadian shenanigans and baking. 

37. Talk about a review that made your day.

That they really liked how I wrote Frank Randall and would like to see more with his son, an OC I created for the story.

38. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I either delete, or give a generic reply and leave it. I’ve got stuff to do.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Nope. It just doesn’t work for me.

*somewhere I fucked up on the number but here you are*

Whoever wants to do this.

[blakescoven]

You Decided That I Was Worth Saving | 1 |

Pairing: Sojourn!Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Chapter One (1): “As I Lay Dying”

Summary: You were driving home from work, when something – or rather someone – literally got in the way.  Against any reason, you let him into your life. Michael would make you question your entire worldview. Were your paths meant to cross? Did you two meet by accident? By fate? Or there’s an evil force behind it, scheming and plotting with a devilish purpose?  

Warnings: car crash(!), mention of injuries, different POVs, some swearing

Word count: 4.7K

A/N: Hey lovely friends! Here’s a sort of Sojourn AU-ish, since the plot starts in that particular moment of Michael’s life. Still don’t know if I’ll include witches and satanists…we’ll see. It’s gonna be a series so I guess I’ll divide it into a few chapters. I loooove angst and slow burn, so I’m sorry but there’s no smut. Yet. Also, for this chapter, I took inspiration from: the scene of Elena’s car crash from 1x11 of TVD and a song, my fav of all times, that I listened to while I was writing this chapter and that is also the song playing in Y/N’s car; Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex. Okay, that’s it. Enjoy and thank you so much for reading it, despite the grammar mistakes (my apologies) and the fact that probably it really sucks. (‘WHAT AM I DOING?’ was the mood while I was writing it tho.) Anyway, love you and please, let me know what do you think and what I can improve!! I’d really appreciate any FEEDBACK!! I kinda need it, because I’m not sure I’m doing this right. THANK YOU xxx ♥  

You've always thought you could describe your whole existence with a wide range of adjectives, but 'adventurous' wasn't one of them for sure. At least, that's what you thought 30 minutes before the event that would have changed your life forever. Nothing would ever be the same again; just like a hurricane comes and goes, so that day, and the following ones, would have drastically rocked your world. And mostly your beliefs.

It was late. But you were used to it. You had recently got a new job, which allowed you to move out and finally get your own place, the smallest rentable apartment on Earth. Or in Los Angeles, no doubt. This was the most stressful moment since you were born, it was up to you taking care of your own now. Mommy and daddy no more.

Shifts were endless and you often found yourself staying late at the office, to finish what you've started. This new routine was already messing with your biological clock. Every single night, you looked forward to going back home, eat and fall apart on your bed. Even today, you were already savoring the anticipation of your sadly-glorious homecoming; you were dying for a relaxing hot bath and a slice of pizza. But who are we kidding, right? A whole pizza. Then, sleepiness permitting, you would have watched your favorite TV show petting your cat. A real party girl, uh? Well, that was your life now.

You have just finished college and this was the first experience as an independent person. At the very beginning, it has been hard leaving your parents' house, but soon you realized it was time for you to go on your own way. You were so full of dreams and expectations. You hoped to achieve great goals. Of course, what you haven't taken into account was that your future weekends wouldn't have been under the banner of fun, alcohol, and friends. But instead, your crazy Saturday nights consisted of you kneeled in front of the washing machine, hands in your head and a YouTube DIY video for dummies playing on your phone, which explained all the ways to get the laundry started and what products must have been used. All your life has become a huge dumb Netflix comedy. More like a parody, perhaps. You hung out with your friends less and less; you felt deeply guilty about that, but you were way too tired to make up for it.

As mentioned before, it was a late Friday night. It was raining, pretty hard. You were driving your beloved brand-new car (THE much-demanded graduation gift) and 'surprisingly' you hit traffic. At 9 fucking p.m. TGIF, they said. Sure. Your friends were definitely having fun and drinking in some random club by then.

You, on the contrary, were running out of patience; your shiny Lexus had not moved an inch in 10 minutes, so as soon as you could, you took a highway exit. That was supposed to be a kind of shortcut, according to the navigator. The pouring rain and the cadenced motion of the windscreen wipers sounded like a lullaby. A slow-core song started playing in the background. It was quite soothing and maybe, on second thought, you should have to turn it off…or had coffee before leaving.

You could feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, the exhaustion slowly prevailing. Trying so hard to keep your eyes open, that they've started burning; and not to miss anything, you got a bit of a headache accompanied by a soon-to-be-wrinkle frown.

Meanwhile, you were driving down a deserted one-lane road, going a little over the speed limit in your rush, in order to make it home as soon as possible. The wheels were slipping a little on the wet pavement, but you kept the car steady. ­ You peered through the front window trying to see what was ahead of you; it was pitch black outside, with not even one dammit lamppost; only the moon's pale light absorbed by the dark green leaves of the forest beside the road. You had no idea where you actually were.

Suddenly, the annoying metallic voice of the GPS started bullshitting about recalculating a new route. "Wait what? Fuck NO NO NO…come on! You stupid thing, why are you changing direction???" you maddeningly screamed, looking at the display and trying to change the settings with your right hand. You weren't exactly paying particular attention to the road ahead. Huge mistake.

Outside the windshield, the rain was coming down in torrents, blurring your vision even more. The wipers went back and forth, attempting to clear away the large droplets clinging to the glass, but it seemed they weren't moving fast enough.

As if the universe had something big in store for you, right at that moment, something – or rather someone – came out of the dense vegetation, slowly limping while crossing the street, no concern for surroundings.

Your eyes were still glued to the GPS tracking your position; but all of a sudden, your distraction was abruptly erased when you caught a glimpse of a human shape in the middle of the road, illuminated by the car's headlights.

A goddamn person.

You had perhaps three-quarters of a second to register this.

You didn't realize it until it was too late. You couldn't have stopped all this now. The blood drained from your face. It all happened in a few seconds, but the moment seemed to last forever. The shock made you tense your muscles; your heart skipped a beat and your eyes suddenly widened. There was a scream coming from within that forced its way from your mouth as if your terrified soul has set a demon free. It was the kind of scream that makes the blood run cold.

With adrenaline flowing through your system, you slammed on the brakes. Your fists clenched with white knuckles around the steering wheel, immediately swerving to avoid the crash. Somehow you managed to not run over him, but you were going too fast to stop.

Your car rolled over and over, while clips of your life flashing like a slideshow. The vehicle has flipped so many times that you started drifting in and out of consciousness. The noise of the metal being bashed over the asphalt was deafening. When it finally stopped, you were stuck in your seat upside-down, coughing up pieces of the broken glass coming from the shattered windshield.

Then everything became still.

You could only hear the sound of rain on metal. Aware of the bloody taste in your mouth, you still weren't able to figure out if you were injured, because the seatbelt tugged on your chest was too painful. Heart pounding in your ears, you tried to scream for help, but it came out more like a gasp.

Meanwhile, the young man was still paralyzed to the spot in the middle of the road, like an unfamiliar force was holding him in a tightening grip, keeping him from leaving. For a moment he believed that that must have been another hallucinated vision. Then he slowly turned his head toward the wrecked car. An odd thought came across his mind: the driver crashed in order to not run over him. But why? Humanity had failed him so many times. He had lost the only one that truly cared about him. His Father had abandoned him and he wasn't able to understand what was his purpose, not anymore. He actually knew that a car was coming that way, but now he honestly didn't give a damn about his life. He had failed. He was utterly lost. This was the best coincidence possible to put an end to his suffering. But now, he felt something he couldn't explain, almost a need, the need to go and check if the driver was okay. Still confused about this new foreign impulse, he started to walk towards your car.

Once there, he kneeled and took a look inside, from the broken side window.

"You look stuck." he commented with an apparent childish but plain voice.

If you weren't, like literally, in that position, you'd have certainly sassed back to that dumb obvious statement. But your conditions weren't the best at all, you might have some broken bones, actually.

What, instead, came out from your mouth was stammering confused words.

"I-I-It… m-my… my s-s-sea..b-be..t" you tried to speak, holding and shaking the restraining belt tightly in your hands, while tears gathering in your eyes.

He hummed and shushed you. "Let me get you out of here." he whispered, thinking again about why he was actually doing this, it was none of his business. And yet, he stayed on.

"I want you to put your hands on the roof." You were about to obey his calming demand, but in that moment, you realized your left arm had to be broken and it hurt like hell. So somehow you managed to raise only the other one and take also your phone.

Then he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and all of a sudden, the seatbelt mysteriously unhooked, as if by magic or an invisible force. But you were too rattled to think about it.

You fell and he gently grabbed and lifted you from the car.

"I got you." he smiled, holding you in his arms while standing up. "Are you okay? Can you stand? Is anything broken?" he questioned with a caring honeyed tone.

You nodded pointing your arm and moaning, still dizzy from the car flipping over. The stranger carefully set you on your feet, yet not letting you completely. Good, because immediately after you slipped, too weak to stand, but he caught you by the waist. Your head was spinning so fast.

"Hey hey, easy, don't force yourself, you're clearly not okay." he observed "Look at me." and he placed his thumb on your lower lip and chin to hold your head steady as he spoke. What was he feeling right now? Pity? Concern maybe? He thought he had already turned off those pointless human emotions.

You tiredly opened your eyes to meet the most beautiful pair of ocean eyes you've ever seen. Unfortunately, you couldn't focus on him any longer, neither when he run his hand down your water-stained cheek.

"Hey stay with me, don't close your eyes." he urged, just as your vision went fuzzy and your eyes rolled back. Within seconds everything went black.

You passed out into complete and utter darkness.

He caught you before you hit the concrete, gathering your limp body into his arms and walking away from the car. He abruptly stopped. What he was supposed to do now? He had literally come from the woods, after days of fasting and sleeplessness. He was covered in damn dirt. Not to mention that he had no place to go. He was too exhausted to reason. So he chose to gently lower you to the ground, kneeling, so half of your body was on his lap. He stroked your wet hair, wondering what to do with you. Just right now, looking at your face, he noticed how beautiful you were, how innocent and angelic. He swallowed and smiled. A soft side? In his evil and corrupted soul? Impossible.

It was still raining. You were both soaked and there was no shelter in the proximities. He thought he couldn't do anything more. That's when he remembered about your broken arm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, placing his hands above your head. Nothing. Maybe he wasn't focused enough. He took your hands in his own and tried again. This time his eyes rolled black until they showed only a white surface; then he started to mutter Latin words. He lifted his head up speaking louder, but his nose began to bleed, until his vision blurred and the car suddenly exploded. He lost consciousness right next to you, nevertheless his hand still on yours.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back on the ground and very disoriented. Also completely drenched. Making indistinguishable noises because of the pain, you turned your head resting on the asphalt. The rain in your eyes didn't let you have a clear view of the surroundings, but you immediately felt an extremely warm presence at your side. You blinked twice and finally saw the boy that had helped you, laying there unconscious. Hell, maybe you had hit him with your car after all. The plot thickens.

Saying that you were confused about the whole situation was an euphemism. There was nothing for it but to try to reach your phone, almost five feet apart from your leg, hoping that it didn't break in the crash. Despite the acute ache in your arm and the burning cuts and wounds, you were able to crawl back to it, so you dialed the number and called 911. You explained everything and asked for help with a wisp of voice. You probably had a concussion.

The rain eventually stopped. You were starting to feel cold, so you found your way back to the stranger. Little droplets of water drenched his hair, covering his features, and you couldn't help yourself, you brushed a few strands from his face, caressing his sharp cheekbone. Right after your head started spinning and your vision filled with white spots, until you fainted again, against the stranger's chest.

-

You woke up in a hospital bed. It was early in the morning; the sunlight was peeking through the blinds, the constant beeping of monitors echoing throughout the room. You sighed loudly and squinted with a grimace. Luckily you were just a little sore, nothing too serious. You took a look at your arm: you had a pretty unaesthetic cast. The universe's way of telling you, "Here, take this you little bitch." Amazing.

You got up very slowly and entered the bathroom, looking for a mirror to better check out your wounds.

"Wow, nice Halloween make-up though." you muttered rolling your eyes. You had a stitched cut on your left upper forehead, a split lip and dark circles under your puffy eyes. A Miss Universe at her peak. Not to mention a great number of bruises all over your body.

You called your parents shortly afterward. Downplaying the details of the accident wasn't enough, they completely lost their minds at the phone. They were shocked and worried about your conditions, so they insisted to get on the first flight to LA, to help you. You reassured them you were fine and ready to go home. It wasn't necessary for them to come. They even offered to pay for a new car, since yours was, sadly, destroyed. You refused though; you would have dealt with the car-issue later. Even though you couldn't still get over the fact that your precious SUV has gone for good.

A truly kind doctor got to your room and, after having checked out vitals and injuries, refreshed your memory about what happened last night. Shoot! In that moment you realized you had totally forgot about the boy. You immediately asked the doc if you could go visit him. He nodded but not without first warning you. John Doe here had to be sedated because, when he regained consciousness in the ambulance, he had refused to go to the hospital and started thrashing around. Luckily, he was too weak to harm anyone.

The doctor kept saying that they had found no ID, nothing that could tell them where he came from. He was completely dehydrated in addition to previous wounds. He probably hadn't eaten for days either. For these reasons, the cheap version of Derek Shepherd wasn't sure whether he should call the police.

You were listening to his words with much more concern you thought you could feel. Well, maybe because you had almost run over him. But you felt you had to go check on him. He helped you out of the car after all. He…saved you someway? What you couldn't understand was why he had stopped in the middle of the road; he hadn't even tried to get out of the way…Oh shit. Was there any chance he wanted to, like, get killed? No, c'mon, there are way too many other – and less-painful – "methods" to do it…It couldn't be.

When you arrived in his room, you immediately noticed he was tied to the bed and carefully, you set his wrists free. After a few seconds, he woke up. You tried not to pay attention, but he was undoubtedly attractive. To be honest he was much more than that. Handsome to say the least. He seemed almost angelic. Baby blue eyes piercing your soul with a magnetic gaze, golden messy curls spread around his head on the pillow like a halo and God-given sharp features. Despite that, he was still covered in filth and wounds. But even in such a miserable state, he was hypnotizing. You wondered why no nurse took care of him yet.

"Hi!" you whispered, sitting down on the nearest chair.

"Hi." he said back, almost imperceptibly. "Thank you" he added, pointing at his bruised wrists.

"I should be the one saying 'thank you'..." you stated; he gave you a half-smile, "…you literally saved my life."

"No need to thank me, I caused your crash so.." he stopped for a second "…we can say you saved me instead." he admitted heavy-heartedly, with his eyes down. He seemed so sad and so lost, and you really felt for him.

"Well, thank God we're both still alive!" you didn't know what to say anymore. And this cringy comment wasn't helping.

" Sure " he scoffed.

What were those, tear-stains? Has he been crying?

Then an awkward silence filled the room. You were starting to feel a bit uneasy, and the continuous biting your lower lip – despite the cut on the upper one – made it absolutely obvious. You could feel something was off about him. The sadness and despair in his eyes were pretty noticeable, and you were the kind of person that can't look away.

"Uhm, are you okay?"

"Yes" he was still staring at the void. No emotion showed.

"Sorry, I don't want to be pushy…but it's clear you're not."

"Why do you care? What do you want from me?" he snapped turning his head, but his face softened instantly, as if he regretted the outburst.

You honestly didn't know why you cared that much either. It was an odd sensation coming from your guts, it was pulling you so deeply into him. He needed help, and you wanted to give it to him.

"You got anybody I could call? Your relatives or a friend?" was the only answer you could articulate.

" No.. " he mumbled, "..I have no one."

Suddenly, you felt the urge to ask him if he wanted to go home with you, to recover. You would have never done – or even thought – anything like that before. This was against all the good bits of advice your mum ever gave you. Like, don't invite in strangers that could easily kill you in your sleep?! But it was as if, deep down, you knew you could trust him. You took the risk.

"Listen.. ahem.. y-you could come home with me. I have enough space in my apartment and we could help each other until you'll feel better" you paused.

He was staring at you now, with glistening eyes. He was speechless. No one has ever shown him selfless kindness. He was in disbelief.

"I don't want your pity."

"No, wait. This isn't pity. In case you haven't notice, I have this lil problem here" you chuckled, swaying your cast in the air "I wouldn't mind a hand" you said to release the tension.

"I-I can't. Please, go. Just leave me alone." he shook his head. The fear of being abandoned or rejected again was too overwhelming for him to open up and accept some help.

"Oh," you whispered, a bit down in the dumps, "got it."

You headed for the door, but before leaving, you turned one more time "I'll leave my number to the receptionist in the hallway, in case you change your mind." you winked and smiled, leaving him alone.

He sighed and slammed his head against the pillow; he didn't even have a phone, also because, come on, what good it would do? But above all, what kind of paradox was that? Him, the motherfucking Devil's spawn, needing help? From an innocent little soul like you? No kidding. He had performed a human sacrifice and eaten raw hearts for fuck's sake. Yes, he may not know what to do, and probably he had made mistakes, but it wasn't over yet; his satanic plan needed to be adjusted. This way, he would eventually recreate the world in his Father's image and earn his trust again.

He needed to leave as soon as possible, before some stupid human being started asking him though questions.

-

You were finally home. The entire Uber ride had been silent and for that you mentally thanked the driver, because you weren't in the mood to talk at all.

As soon as you turned the doorknob, your little friend immediately greeted you purring, making you jump. He really missed you…or at least that's what he wanted you to believe. You locked the door behind you.

"His Majesty is hungry, uh?!" you said mocking your furball "Yeah, me too dude...but hold on a little longer, I need to take a shower I smell like hospital, jeez."

Only now you noticed. There was a rather unusual atmosphere when you walked in, an unsettling silence sending shivers down your spine. An inexplicable heat radiating from the house itself. It was too hot in there and you're positive it wasn't normal in the middle of November. The room seemed saturated with unfamiliar vibes.

You went to your bedroom and started to undress. Then you entered the bathroom, ready to finally wash the last night events off you.

Odd. It was like you could feel eyes on you, all the time.

Whatever. You were too worn-out to indulge your paranoid thoughts.

But the same feelings still followed you, even later when you were eating your delivered dinner, half-dead on the couch with the fluffy monster curled up on your lap.

"Maybe it's a sort of twisted PTSD." you told yourself. Yet your heart wouldn't settle. Something wasn't right there.

Anyway, you chose to ignore your instinct; it was time to get ready for bed. You reached your closet as you slowly took off hoodie and sweatpants, changing into even more comfortable clothes, just a t-shirt actually. Since it was that hot, no pants. The loose garment barely covered your bare thighs though.

You were half asleep when your cat jumped up and suddenly rushed out of your bedroom like he was possessed. You stretched and changed position, that enormous cast wouldn't let you fall fully asleep. After 5 minutes of turning and tossing you heard what sounded like footsteps. Your pulse started racing.

"It's nothing," you told yourself, "I'm imagining things."

But then the typical creaking of your fridge being opened reached up to your room. Twice.

You froze, heart in your throat. You were most definitely not alone. Someone was in the house.

But right after you shook your head, "Ugh, probably it's just that furry devil."

Being as quiet as possible, you got up and made your way to the door, straining to hear, but your heart pounded too loudly and your breathing was harsh. Moving towards the switch, but on second thought you decided against it.

Nothing. Complete silence.

It was when you were finding your way back to the mattress that you heard a white noise, a loud thud and the clear scraping of a chair against the floor. You froze again with wide eyes. You swallowed breaking out in cold sweat.

The squeaking of the cupboard followed by the tinkling and banging of glasses and dishes. You almost had a stroke.

You internally cursed yourself. You had left your phone on the couch. Fuck fuck fuck. The only option left was trying to reach the door and ask for help from the next-door neighbor. But you couldn't do it, the kitchen had a space divider, but it wasn't long enough to avoid being seen.

Weapon, your mind screamed. You needed a weapon.

A relieved smile appeared unexpectedly on your features. You recalled about keeping a knife hidden in the drawer. 'Never say never' when you live alone. Well, it seemed it had been a good idea after all.

You slid your fingers around the rubber grip, dismayed by how much your hand was shaking.

Heading down the hallway barefoot, you hold your breath and slowly approached the living room. With one motion you sneaked into the kitchen, with the blade facing the intruder, and screaming,

"I'm calling the police!"

But what you saw made your jaw drop in shock.

It was Him, the guy from the car crash.

In your kitchen.

Eating your motherfucking chocolate chip cookies.

At 01:00 am.

"Uh, sorry..." he spoke while chewing the leftovers and then swallowing loudly, "..you wanted some?". As if he felt guilty for real, with that childish expression.

You couldn't keep quiet any longer. The situation was too far-fetched.

"WHAT THE HELL?" you snapped. He chuckled at the reference.

"I can't cook. I was starving and I found these. I didn't want to wake you, but this monster here won't get off me..."

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

He tilted his head, pretty confused. "You invited me to stay here..." he remarked, with a hint of displeasure in his voice.

"Yes, I did. But it doesn't mean you can break in without me knowing." You were still a bit scared; he could be dangerous as far as you knew, and his actions had already proved it.

He didn't say anything. He stood up from the island counter, making his way to you. You were slack-jawed in astonishment, still holding and pointing the sharp surface toward him.

"Put that knife down."

"No."

"Why?" he frowned.

"I don't trust you. Don't come any closer!" you ordered.

"I can't take you seriously looking like this" he smirked pointing at your 'night attire'.

He took another step and you run to reach the handle; it turned but the door wouldn't budge.

"It's locked." you turned to look at him "Don't you remember? You did that yourself." he observed, like it was obvious.

"Then how did you get in here?"

"Transmutation."

"Tra-what?" you supposed he must have been out of his mind.

The circumstances themselves were unbelievable. But he was right, you offered him help.

Now he was leaning against the wall a few feet apart from you, locking his eyes with yours, his beautiful features veiled by a shade of dejection and misery. Suddenly, the feeling you had at the hospital came back. Trust.

"I know I'll regret this, but yes, you can stay."

A thankful smile crept across his face and if it weren't for the dark, you could swear that he was also crying.

"But if you don't behave I'll kill you." you threatened in a playful tone, but you needed to scare him a little.

In that moment he understood that he had done the right thing, deciding to take your offer. He had to pick up the pieces and get back on his feet. He couldn't have done it alone.

And mostly, he liked you. You were a warrior. There was something special in you, he could feel it. He could trust you.

"You scared the hell out of me by the way…do not do that again." you spoke as your eyes narrowed.

"I promise" he whispered.

He was kind of a weirdo, but you imagined he'd been through a lot. For this reason, you decided to place the knife on the table and get closer to him.

"But anyway, sooner or later you're going to tell me how you did it." you chuckled showing him the door. You were standing right in front of him now. He was taller than you thought.

"We haven't officially met, I'm Y/N."

In that moment – a moment you'll never forget – he vanished right before your eyes.

Then a sudden voice – that didn't hide insecurity and expectancy – coming from behind, made you turn around and left you in absolute shock.

"I'm Michael. Michael Langdon."

___________________________________________

Tagging (hope you don’t mind, in any case just tell me!) @michael-langdon-appreciation @hecohansen31 @so-langdon @emmyrosee @ladynuwanda @sammythankyou @sojournmichael @hplotrfan

[childofthemoon86]

It’s that time of year again, so here’s my gift to you @ifindus for @weekofhetalia‘s secret Santa exchange! Something kinda historical and completely FrUk.

I was originally going to give this, but tumblr is dumb and I didn’t want a gift to risk be flagged for no reason, so I wrote this instead.

Reaching You

Summary: One late night France welcomes England into his home, but not all is well. As Arthur's temper flares, Francis thinks back on a promise past, and a tunnel built.

Or

Two old farts complain about politics (sort of), drink tea (kinda) and confess feelings (maybe).

X

Cross posted on FF.net and AO3

December 23rd 2018

He arrives at exactly 11:48pm. The sound of knocking in pointed ignorance of France's doorbell tells the nation exactly who is at his door before he even has it open.

Smiling, France reties his robe as he stands and slowly meanders over to the front door. He purposely takes his time, grin only growing as the knocking becomes louder with three sharp thumps.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

France suddenly pulls the door open, fast enough to catch his guest off guard, fist still raised for another hard hit upon the solid wood of the door.

"Bonjour l'Angleterre."

England frowns, hand dropping and eyes narrowing at France. A look Francis knows to mean 'you did that on purpose' and responds with his own smug grin.

Arthur huffs and all but throws his travel-sized suitcase at France, causing the man to stumble back as he fumbles to keep a hold of the load suddenly thrust upon him.

"Always a pleasure to see you too Frog." He doesn't wait for an invitation, marching straight on in the second France is out of the doorway.

Francis blinks at the tone, head turning to follow the grumpy man now stomping into his kitchen. He drops the case by the door and follows, silently studying his guest.

If England notices his staring, he doesn't comment on it. Instead Arthur appears fully set on raiding France's tea supplies, cups and tins clanking with more force than necessary. He practically attacks the taps, water spraying off the side of the kettle as he thrusts it under the flow.

Leaning against the doorway, France's eyes narrow as he watches the furious display, taking in the tense hunch of the blond's shoulders, the deep scowl marring his features, the harsh movements of his hands, and the nearly inaudible grumbling that rises and falls like rough waves through the silence of the house.

"How was the train?" He dares to ask.

"Fine." Arthur snaps back.

Francis's concern only grows at the short response. Slowly, France ventures over and turns off the tap. Then carefully, as if he half expects to be attacked as well, he takes the too full kettle from England, pouring out the excess water before setting it back in its place to boil, and turns to Arthur. The man stands rigid, head bowed and hands griping the counter so hard his knuckles are white.

France knows that look well, knows the danger in it, knows the fury barely contained by it, knows the risk in approaching it. He's been on the receiving end of it more time than he cares to count. Heard the spiteful words that spill forth from it, seen the fire burn everything it touches, felt the force of blows that come from it.

And yet…

"What's wrong? Tell me." He invites it.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?! Take your goddamn pick! The shit-show that is my government, Brexit, my boss? What's wrong you ask? What's wrong? Fucking everything!"

France thinks he can see it, the fire. He can feel the heat of it against his skin, watches as it burn through the man before him, scorching his words and threatening to consume him entirely.

And yet…

"It's not all bad." He smiles, something soft and open. No tricks, no teasing, just them, here and now. "You've still got me."

His words come like a downpour, dampening the raging fire. Not completely, but enough. Enough to breathe, enough to cool the heat, enough to see through the flames.

"You?" He sounds incredulous. "What good are you? You can't change my shitty government, can't control my boss, can't convince the rest of the EU. You're with them," He spits the word, fire regaining control as he grows in volume, "so no, I don't 'still have you'!" The sharp rise in his voice can't hide the break in it.

Green eyes stare, wide and flickering with something more that fire. And France knows this too. It took him years, centuries to see it. Far longer than either of them should have waited to look, to see beyond the barriers that govern them, a truth they both knew but were to afraid to pursue.

The words ring in the silence as loud as church bells. I don't still have you! France knows the danger, knows the fire.

And yet…

He also knows the fear behind it, knows the pain within every word. He sees the fire made to protect burn him far more than those around him, sees the heat suffocating him as it pushes everyone away.

And in those eyes, so wide and so afraid, he sees a little boy, scruffy and scared, holding his sleeve, a silent plea of eons ago echoing across time to him now.

"You do." His words are soft, gentle, but with the strength of a thousand burning stars. He is not the only one that can burn. "You'll always have me, March won't change that."

Green eyes watch him, words silent but doubt still swirls within.

"Remember the promise we made? In the darkness of the tunnel?"

Eyes drop and the forgotten kettle whistles so loud the next words are almost swallowed by it. Almost.

"I remember."

Francis grabs the kettle with one hand, the other lifting Arthur's chin until he meets his gaze once more, and he smiles. "Tea?"

X

"Has it really been twenty years?" England sighs over his tea.

"How time flies." France jokes.

Silence stretches between them for a time. Not like before, but comfortable. Pleasant. Their fires extinguished, peace reigns throughout the house. Then, "How can you be so sure?"

The question is quiet, almost a whisper, but Francis hears it loud and clear.

"Because." He smiles, a look conveying all his heart for his next words, "I love you."

The confession is met with a chocking cough and tea splashing as Arthur splitters into his cup.

"You what?!" England gasps.

Francis doesn't shy away or back down. "I love you."

It's like watching old film skipping as France can see the range of emotions and thoughts running through Arthur's mind playing out on his face, jumping around and spinning in the chaos of Francis's words.

It's here, a little after midnight on a chill day in December, drinking tea in his kitchen, that he says it.

"I love you, Arthur." He says it again, feeling how the words dance across his tongue.

He had been thinking for a while on the best way to finally tell England, finally admit to what they both know but have been skirting around for far too long. He had thought up a dozen different scenarios, in increasingly more lavish setups.

But this, he thinks, is perfect.

Arthur's face is bright red, hands clutching his cup to the table to stop them from shaking. And if there was ever any doubt in France before, he's certain now.

"I love you."

"Stop saying that!" Arthur cries.

"Why?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

"Maybe. But it's true. Angleterre, Arthur. I. Love. You."

There's defence in those green eyes. Walls built up over centuries to keep the word out. France shook those walls to their foundation twenty years ago, and now, Francis is doing it all again. He recalls the promise made a generation ago. Remembers the day clearly…

X

May 12th 1988

"Are you mad?" England quirks an impressive brow at France across the desk.

"Non, quite the opposite actually. Just think about it."

"You want me to compromise my territorial defences by building a tunnel under the channel to mainland Europe?" The 'you' is left unsaid, but heard all the same. "Yes," England drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm, "why didn't I think of that, I can't see anything wrong with that. What a marvellous idea. Truly inspired."

France tries very hard not roll his eyes at the predictable refusal, after all, it's not the first time Arthur has turned the idea down. He's been trying on and off since the 1800's to convince the man to bridge the gap between them, for commerce, for politics, hell, even once or twice as a damn power play. Never though, for reasons he is reluctant to admit exist beyond such.

But England is an island nation. And a stubborn man.

"No." His voice resonates firmly within the small office.

Slumping back in his seat, Francis sighs.

"Come now Arthur, the world is changing faster everyday. Do you really want to be left behind?" It's a dig at his pride, at his very existence, and England rises to the bait.

"I have gotten on just fine without a land connection to the rest of you lot for centuries. I see no reason why that should change now."

France frowns, shifting tactics.

"I'm not asking you to connect to the whole of Europe, not if you don't want to. But don't you want actually do something with our improved relations? After all, the Entente Cordiale still stands…" He trails off at the end, the previous vigour of his words dying in his throat.

He must be careful, they've drifted into waters dangerously close to matters best left unsaid. They're both silent for what feels like an age, the unspoken meaning of the words ringing in their ears is almost deafening.

Trust me.

With a deep breath, England nods. It's small and short, and Francis thinks he might have imagined it until the man speaks, breaking the tenuous silence.

"Okay."

"Huh?" France blinks, completely surprised by the sudden agreement. Truth be told he was prepared to fight much hard to try to convince Arthur than this.

"You're right, the world is changing. And we can only survive if we learn to change with it." The grin he gives France can't quite be called a smirk, it's far too pained to be such. But it's message is clear to Francis all the same.

Months later, construction of the tunnel began on his side, then in December, England joined in.

A week later, France receives a drunken phone call from England. The words a garbled mess of nonsense conveying only one thing: fear.

X

That was the day they agreed begin a venture that would change everything between them, France just didn't know how exactly until years later.

X

December 1st 1990

France finds himself in the cold darkness of a tunnel not yet complete, dressed in rugged boots, a fluorescent vest and a hard hat. He stands here, off to the side of a crew buzzing with excitement, filled with nothing but nervousness for reasons that are beyond him.

For the past few months he's been like this, filled with a sense of foreboding that he can't quite place nor shake no matter how hard he tries. And he's not the only one.

He knows, standing on the other side of the rock wall before him is another crew of equal excitement, and a man even more nervous than him. While France had only recently started to feel this nervous energy, he could tell something has been off with England for the past year or so, and it's only gotten worse with time.

He had asked what is causing it, when the twitch in his hands and the restlessness of his mind had grown to become too loud to ignore, he went to the one person that might have an answer; China.

The elder nation had taken one look at him and smirked. That look of knowing something he sees as obvious, and lording the secret over others.

"You find out soon enough." Yao had drawled, then left the room, matter closed as far as the he was concerned.

It took awhile, but Francis eventually figured it out. Connected every beat of his racing heart and twitching fingers to the milestones of the tunnel growing ever closer to meeting the English side. Arthur must have figured it out, France thinks, of course he did. He knew from that first week, knew it in a way only an island could.

So here he stands, watching, hardly able to stand still as the chip chip chip of rock being broken away echoes down the tunnel.

Chip, chip, chip, clunk.

His breath leaves him in a rush. Around him voices, both French and English, cheer at the success, but France is deaf to the sound. His heart thumps loudly as something within him shifts, almost imperceptibly. A connection made, a bridge built, an island no longer.

There are cameras and there are handshakes, then the clink clink clink returns louder as the tiny hole is widened. And widened. And widened.

Bodies move and voices speak, but all France can see, can think of, is the green eyed man staring back at him through the opening, the connection.

The world continues to spin around them, but they might as well be alone down here for all they notice. And in this moment, this piece of time cut out just for them, words spill from Francis's lips without his input.

"You're not alone any more."

And it seems the same can be said for Arthur, as he stares, a look akin to a rabbit that's just been saved from the wolves filling his eyes.

"Not just an island now." His voice is a whisper of shock and realisation all in one.

France smiles, something about this- this sense of nationhood he never knew they possessed makes him giddy. He reaches out, hand's hovering for a moment before finding their place on England's shoulders. What sea once separated now stands connected between them.

He feels he should do something, say something to cement this moment between them in time itself.

"You're not alone." He repeats, "as long as we have this, you'll have me."

There's something delicate and hopeful in those green eyes that makes France's heart soar.

He's not nervous anymore.

X

May 6th 1994

France stands to the side of the presidential delegation, watching as England walks past with his Royal party, there's something guarded in those green eyes that makes Francis itch to pull down.

Today the tunnel is officially opened, yet for all the celebrations, France can't help but to notice Arthur is anything but happy about it. Spiralling costs and public displeasure'll do that to you.

But six years of joint work has finally come to an end, and France thinks that that should be as good a cause as any to celebrate. Expect no matter how many times he tries to throw a wink England's way, or catch his arm to have a few friendly words, the man shrugs him off at every turn.

They follow their delegates around for the day, at the beck and call of their bosses, but mostly there for show. France listens to the speech's, a few words here or there catch his attention, but mostly his eyes are on the back of a scruffy blond head. It's not until England's Queen says something that gets both their attentions that they meet eye to eye across the room.

"The French and British peoples, for all their individual diversity and ages-long rivalry, complement each other well—" she pauses, casting a subtle look to Arthur that Francis almost misses, "better perhaps than we realise."

The fact that her words are spoken in French only seems to add to her point, and a message Francis can't decipher is directed at the green eyed nation. Arthur must understand it though, as he ducks his head and his Queen smiles, clearly pleased with the result.

Maybe, Francis considers, she's right.

He chooses not to dwell on it further. The rest of the night passes in wine filled celebration, but not before he catches a part of his own boss's words, "-when Britain and France work together they achieve great things."

Great thing indeed.

X

December 24th 2018

It was through that very tunnel Arthur came to him today, the man's odd fear of flying making it the quickest route between them. Three hours and twenty minutes from house to house to be exact. They've danced around each other long enough Francis thinks. He thinks of all the times in the past he's dodged the issue, turning to jokes and pokes at each other instead. Of all the times he could have said it, of all the times he turned away, thinking nothing more of the flutter in his belly or the race of his heart.

Age old friends spending a rare Christmas off together was how this night started. Now it's up to Arthur how it ends. Will he build back up his wall, plug up the holes and block out the world once more, or take a chance and and leave the bricks loose, spaces wide enough for Francis to slip in…

The man stares down into his cold tea as if it hold all the answers he seeks. Maybe it does, Francis thinks, Arthur has always been one for magic, and divination is one of his party tricks. Drunk party tricks, but tricks all the same.

Finally he looks up and Francis holds his breath. That same delicate and hopeful look of years past echoing in his green eyes.

"One hundred and twenty years." He says distantly.

"Eh?"

"I remember one of the engineers saying that the lining of the tunnel is designed to last for one hundred and twenty years." He smiles, softly at first then growing bolder as he talks, "It's been twenty and the world hasn't ended. What's another century between nations?"

Francis grins, bright and happy. Because he knows England. He knows Arthur. And this is Arthur, this is his way.

His I love you too.

X

Author's notes: And then England got up and made some more tea…

This was fun, I'm bad at romance but that won't stop me writing it! Anyway Findus I hope you like this short fic just for you :)

Headcanon time: I think nations would be aware of when new land connects are made to other nations, and England, as an island nation would be more acutely aware of the closing connection and it kinda scares him. Not that he'll admit it, at least not sober anyway. After all, England was historically very against any sort of land bridge to mainland Europe believing it to be a security risk. Something along the lines of 'the sea is out ultimate defence, why would we risk compromising that?' not to mention they just didn't want to work with the French on it. But yeah, I think the tunnel, as relatively small as it is compared to the nations, would have been an important turning point in the FrUk relationship.

Historical notes: those are direct quotes from the Queen and the French President at the time. (The Queen totally ships them) The tunnel ended up going over budget by 80% and people were not happyTM. The tunnel is built to last 120 years and today you can get from London to Paris in a little over 2 hours or so. Also they didn't quite meet in the middle, England tunnelled further than France. America has also considered it one of the seven modern world wonders. And one of the first proposed tunnels from the 1800's included a rest point to change horses and a air port on a sand bar in the middle.

[softboywriting]

Unexpected First Date | A Shawn Mendes Oneshot

Summary: When your date doesn’t go as planned, Shawn steps in to make a night worth remembering.  

A/N: It’s a general AU

Word Count: 3,500

| Masterlist |

You look at your phone and then up to the window beside your booth. There aren’t very many people outside the diner and you’re sure you’ll recognize the guy you’re meant to be meeting as soon as you see him. It’s been ten minutes since he said he would be there. You sigh and open instagram and start flipping through photos.

Worry sets in but you try to chase it out with colorful photos of food and baby animals on your phone. What if he didn’t show up? What if he stood you up? Surely he wouldn’t do that, he liked you. Yes. He liked you. He was just late was all. You shake your head and push the negative thoughts out.

But this was the right diner right? You look over at the front counter where there are stools set all along the front facing the kitchens. There is a big neon lit up sign that read Paxton Street Diner. It was the right place. There wasn’t another diner along Paxton St. and there sure as hell wasn’t another one called the Paxton Street Diner. You look at your phone once more, twenty minutes late now.

Looking up, you decide to glance around to see if maybe you just missed him. Maybe he came in and sat down and didn’t see you. Unfortunately that’s not the case. Other than yourself there were only two other groups of people in the restaurant. There is an old couple on the far side by the restrooms and a group of about five guys at a middle table a couple booth lengths away from you. They look like a rough bunch and your eyes meet with one of them and he smiles, knowing you were looking at him. He’s damn cute too for looking a bit like a punk. He was big, spread out all over the small diner chair, long legs crossed at the ankles and sticking out under the side of the table. He has wavy -ish curly brown hair and a jawline that could cut glass. There’s a lollipop stick that is sticking out of his mouth and he’s just smiling around it at you.  

It takes you a second but you finally look away, a blush rising on your cheeks. How awkward could you be? You turn your attention back to the window and you watch as a couple people with dogs pass by on a walk. The waitress comes out from around the counter and fills up your glass of ice water for the second time now.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna order yet sweetie?” she asks. You glance up and see her name is Marla. “Surely a little snack while you wait for your friend isn’t gonna hurt.”

“No, no thanks,” you smile sweetly and pull your water glass close. “He will be here soon.”

Marla gives you a gentle smile and says, “If you need anything just wave okay?” You nod and she goes off to tend to the other two tables for a bit.

Your date was hour late now. He wasn’t coming. It sort of hits you all at once and you feel your stomach tighten, your heart clench and you rest your head in your hands. Setting your phone down you close your eyes and fight back tears. There’s footsteps beside your booth, the group of guys shuffling out the doors a few feet behind you.

Suddenly you hear someone sit down opposite you and all at once your heart skips and beat and you open your eyes, looking up to expect to see your date. It’s not your date though. It’s the cute guy you made eye contact with awkwardly earlier. “You’re not my date?” you ask, honestly second guessing yourself for a moment.

“I am now,” he says with a grin, sucker stick passing between his lips as he waves Marla over. She comes over with a couple of menus and places them with a big smile. “Give us a sec Marla?” he asks and she nods, turning away to go back to cleaning up behind the counter.

“What are you doing?” you ask with a little laugh as you sniff, trying to act like you hadn’t been crying.

“I’m taking you on a date,” he mumbles, eyes going over the menu he’s holding in front of him. “I’m Shawn by the way.”

You can’t help but stare at him. This man was just something else. Who just sat down with a crying girl and acted like they were on a date? Who did that? “I’m sorry, Shawn was it? I don’t need you to pity me. It’s okay, I’ve been stood up before.” It was a lie. You’d never been stood up. It hurt a lot and you wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up and cry.

Shawn looks over at you with a displeased glare. “No one should get stood up, and especially not someone as cute as you.” He reaches out and cups your cheek with his hand, thumb brushing away a tear under your eye. “Don’t cry, who ever this guy is he isn’t worth your time or your thoughts.”

“I-” you start but just stop because you’re not even sure what to say. This beautiful stranger was sitting before you calling you cute and wiping away tears and telling you exactly what you needed to hear. Was he an angel? Because in this day and age guys just weren’t this sweet right?

“Aren’t you hungry?” Shawn asks and you look down at the menu in front of you. “I recommend the pancakes, they’re to die for.”

“Didn’t you just eat?” you ask as you look at the menu distractedly. “With your friends?”

Shawn shakes his head and takes the sucker out of his mouth. “I wasn’t hungry then so I just had this.” Marla walks over and readys her order pad. Shawn smiles at her and sets his menu down. “We’ll have the strawberry pancakes,” he looks at you, still smiling, “and we’ll have a couple sides of bacon.”

“Anything else sweetie?” Marla asks, this time looking to you. You shake your head and she tears her order off the pad. “Alright, it’ll be right up kids.”

“How did you know I liked strawberry pancakes?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

Shawn laughs and wraps his sucker in a napkin on the table. “Well you look pretty sweet so I figured you must like sweets if you looked like one.” He grins and rests his chin on his hand. “It’s also my favorite.”

You laugh and lean back against your seat. “What a coincidence. It’s also a favorite of mine.”

You and Shawn spend nearly an hour and a half talking and eating pancakes and bacon. He tells you about how he became an EMT because he was inspired by Grey’s Anatomy and becoming an EMT was much less schooling than becoming a doctor. You tell him about how you started baking when you were very young and now you were a head baker at a bakery in town that was owned by a family friend. The two of you swap a few stories about his tattoos and your piercings you used to have when you were younger. Shawn is amazing to talk to. He may look like a bad boy, what with how he was dressed in all black with tattoos up and down his right arm but he was a sweetheart.

The two of you are standing outside the diner after Shawn insisted on paying for the meal and you look at your phone to see what time your Lyft was showing up. “Thanks for a really nice dinner. It was fun getting to know you,” you smile and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“You’re incredible, I’m so glad I sat down with you. But y’know,” Shawn says and pauses, looking up and down the empty street. “I’m not one to end a date with just a meal. Are you up for a little more of a crazy night?”

“More of a crazy night?” you ask with your eyebrows raised. “What kind of crazy?”

“Just some fun, nothing too wild,” Shawn winks. He puts his arm around your shoulders and walks you toward some parked cars nearby. You pass the cars and he stops at a black sport bike and takes the helmet off the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this. Unless you wanna just get your ride home and be done?”

You look down at the shiny black helmet and up at Shawn. Why the fuck not? It was time to live a little and who better to do it with then this beautiful honey. “Alright, I hope you know how to drive this thing,” you say as you put the helmet on and snap it closed under your chin.

“I know exactly how to handle it babe.” Shawn gets on the bike and you get situated behind him with your arms around his chest. He walks the bike out of the parking space and tells you to hold on tight before taking off down the street and toward downtown.

The bike is fast, very fast. You hold on with your hands gripping Shawn’s jacket for dear life as he weaves in and out of traffic. At one point he comes to a stop at a light and you open your eyes, looking at the bright lights of the downtown walkways and taking in where you were.

“Shouldn’t you be more careful. I thought you were an EMT, shouldn’t you like be extra safety conscience?” you yell over the traffic noise as Shawn takes off again.

“I gotta have a little fun sometime honey!” Shawn shouts back and turns the bike sharply down a narrow street toward the outdoor shopping mall that you’d been to a few times. He slows to a stop and parks outside a darkened cafe.

You get off and hand Shawn the helmet and look around. “Shopping mall?” you ask.

Shawn hangs the helmet and walks up to you, putting his arm around your shoulders. “It’s a nice place, the lights in the trees really give it a romantic feel.”

“And this is a romantic date?” you giggle and Shawn squeezes your arm gently.

“Not if you don’t want it to be.”

You smile and walk along the shop fronts with him. There are loads of place to go into, small businesses with everything from trinkets to furniture. Most of them are getting ready to close up but there is a tattoo and piercing shop up ahead and you can already see Shawn eyeing the sign. “Did you wanna-” Shawn’s phone rings and cuts you off. He pulls it out and glances at it before pocketing it. “You can answer, it’s okay.”

Shawn pulls the phone out again and swipe it with his thumb to answer the facetime call. He steps away and holds his phone out. “Hey dad,” he says softly as he steps toward the edge of a sidewalk. “What’s up?”

“What is the wifi password again? I know you put it on the fridge notepad but your mom accidentally used the note for a shopping list.”

Shawn chuckles and says, “It’s mendes47344”

“I knew I was close!”

“Dad,” Shawn whispers, glancing over at you and you just smile. “I gotta go.”

“Hmm? Oh did I interrupt something?”

“No, it’s fine, goodbye Da-”

“Ohh you’re with a girl then!”

Shawn groans and you walk over to him. “Hello,” you giggle, stepping into frame. “Your son is a sweetheart.”

“Oh god, goodbye Dad!” Shawn laughs and puts the phone in his pocket. He turns to you and you smile innocently at him. “Why did you do that? Now they’re going to ask me about you and I’m going to have to tell them I just met you at a diner by chance.”

“Why would they care how we met?” you laugh and walk toward the tattoo shop.

“I dunno! But they probably do?”

“We don’t!” a voice says from Shawn’s pocket and he pulls his phone out. “Surprise, you didn’t hang up kiddo.”

“Bye, for real now,” Shawn says and clicks the end call button and pockets his phone once more. “Hey! Where are you going?” he asks as you step into the open door of the tattoo shop.

You look around the place and its lovely, very clean and themed in black and white. There are images on the walls, past clients and sketches to choose from. Shawn hurries in behind you and puts his hand on your lower back. “Do they hurt?” you ask him and he raises his eyebrows.

“They do but it’s not as bad as you might think, it depends on the location.”

You reach for Shawn’s arm and trace the guitar on his forearm where his sleeve was pushed up. “Did this one hurt?” you look up at him and he looks at you tenderly. “How many do you have?”

Shawn pulls his arm away gently and shrugs his jacket off. It’s then that you see a fairly large tattoo on the back of his bicep in addition to his guitar and the swallow on his hand. “I have four currently. Maybe I’ll make it five tonight.”

“Really?” you ask with big eyes. You hadn’t intended on actually getting anything, let alone him getting something. “Doesn’t it take a while though? Do you even have a plan?”

A man appears behind the counter waves at Shawn and Shawn waves back with a friendly smile. “Hey Mac! Do you have some free time?”

“Sure, of course. I think Laila is busy though, if you don’t mind me tatting you then I have time available,” Mac says as he comes around the counter and up to the two of you. “Is this your girl? She’s cute.”

“Oh um,” you look up at Shawn and he puts his arm around you.

“She’s my date tonight, and no, I don’t mind if you do me Mac. I was thinking about getting the one that Laila and I have finished working on.”

“And can you do me?” you ask suddenly, looking between them. Both men give you a surprised look. “I-I mean if I can?”

“What are you thinking about getting sugar?” Mac asks and puts his hands on his hips.

You look down at your wrist as you say, “A feather, really small right here.” You point to right below where your inner wrist bends. “I’ve always wanted it but I’ve been too chicken to get it.”

“I can do that in no time. Pick out any feather and I can make it to fit. Shawn, I know what you’re looking to get but I’m not sure I wanna take it on since it’s Laila’s sketch.” Mac rubs the back of his neck nervously. “It’s her ‘baby’ y’know?”

“That’s alright man, I know she’d wanna do it. Besides, my date here just made this night interesting. I’m curious to see what she picks out.” Mac nods and says to take your time choosing a design, that he would be at the counter when you were ready.

Shawn walks over to you at the design wall and crosses his arms. “It’s permanent you know.” He looks down at you and you nod. “Are you sure? I mean, don’t let me sway you or anything. I just don’t want you to think you need to get it just because we’re here. I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Shawn, if I hadn’t met you and if I hadn’t gone on this completely unexpected date with you, then I’d never have gotten the courage to get this tattoo.” You grab a few drawings off the wall and look at them. “I’ve wanted a feather for a long time, to remind me of my grandma. I’ve just never had the balls to walk into a shop and do it. But with you, I dunno, it just feels right? Like this was the time here and now.”

“What if you end up hating me? I know you like me right now and everything but things change. I don’t want you to associate me with this tattoo because I was here.”

“Shawn,” you say and lay your hand on his forearm. “Even if I never see you again after tonight, I’ll still be happy with it. You’ve just given me the courage, even if you left right now, I would still get it.”

Shawn sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I’m crazy?” you laugh and he nods.

“Who gets a tattoo on a spur of the moment date? You’re an absolute mad woman.”

You shrug and grin at him. “Hey, you offered me a crazy night. Are you backing out?”

“Fuck no.”

You chuckle and say, “ It’s something I want anyways, and hey, at least it’s not your name on my ass. Now that would be crazy.”

Shawn breaks out in laughter, his face turning pink as he has to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. It makes your heart swell knowing you made him laugh like that. His eyes were all crinkled up, smiling so hard his cheeks looked like they were going to cramp up. He was stunning.

Ten minutes later you were sat in a chair with your arm rested palm facing upward while Mac prepped your wrist to start working. Shawn is sat down beside you on a stool to watch and you can’t help but suddenly feeling nervous. Your fingers of your free hand grip the seat’s armrest and Shawn notices. He grabs your hand and rubs his thumb over your fingers.

“Deep breaths,” Shawn smiles and you look over at him. “It’s not that bad.”

“Alright, here we go sweetheart,” Mac says and you hear the ink gun come to life. The hum of the gun gets your heart racing faster and you squeeze Shawn’s hand as you close your eyes and expect the worst.

The pain is almost like getting stuck with a bunch of pins over and over really quickly. It hurts at first and you almost jerk your wrist away but you don’t. After a minute or so it just becomes a little numb and you adjust to the temporary discomfort. It’s really not that bad.

“Hey, breathe,” Shawn laughs and you take a deep breath and he smiles. “There you go.”

“It’s not so bad,” you say with a pained voice because it was starting to hurt again as Mac got closer to the bone. “Talk to me, keep me distracted.”

“Do you wanna do anything else crazy?” Shawn asks, hand still in yours and thumb rubbing over your fingers. “Skinny dipping? Eating whole habaneros? Doing crazy shots at a bar somewhere?”

You laugh softly and shake your head, looking up to the ceiling as you say, “No, not that crazy. But maybe a little crazier?”

“Crazier?” Shawn laughs.

“Take me home?”

“Like drop you off when we’re done? That’s not that crazy.”

You look at him and he looks confused. “I meant home with you.”

“Oh. Oh!”

Mac gets to the finer details at the bottom of the feather and it’s almost directly on top of the bone and it hurts like a motherfucker. Tears prick your eyes and you swallow hard as you let out a little cry. Shawn stands up and looks concerned. Mac looks up at you and you nod, letting him know to keep going. “Keep distracting me, Shawn.”

“Look at me,” Shawn says and you look up at him through your watery eyes. He leans down, cupping your face as he kisses you softly. You take a deep breath through your nose and he wipes away a tear with his thumb. “Is this distracting you?” he asks and you nod. His lips are soft. He keeps the kiss innocent; no teeth or tongue, just his lips on yours, but it makes you flush and your heart race for a whole new reason.

Mac wipes at your wrist and you hear the ink gun shut off shortly after. “Alright, you’re done. Take a look sweetheart.”

Shawn pulls back, eyes locked with yours, fingertips lingering for a moment on your jaw before he drops his hand and you look down at your wrist. The tattoo is gorgeous, exactly what you wanted. “It’s lovely, so cute just like you,” Shawn says with a smile as he leans over to get a good look before Mac started wrapping it up.

“Mmmhmm,” you hum and reach up, threading your hand into Shawn’s hair. “Now, about what I said earlier.”

Shawn looks over at you. “I’d love to take you home,” he says and the grin on his face is to die for, a perfect mix of sexy and trouble. Your night was bound to get even crazier and you were so ready for it.

[mamacyno]

The Possibility of Love

When it’s Day 15 of #RenewTimeless watch and the Timeless Writers are kind enough to shower the fandom with deleted scenes, new fics happen.  That’s just the way life is.

Here’s my take on episodes 2x01 and 2x02 (including the deleted scene) from Wyatt’s perspective.  This was also partially inspired by the Lyatt Meta that I posted yesterday. (See shameless plug link here.)  Enjoy!

Also on AO3

GIF Credit: @lyattgifs

“You’re in love with Lucy.  Just admit it.”

Wyatt hears Rufus say the words, but his mind immediately rejects the suggestion.  This mission wasn’t about saving a woman he loved, it was about saving their teammate.  So, sure, saving the world sucks sometimes, but that’s the job.  And to do that job, they need their historian.  Still, his friend didn’t voluntary enlist for this life like he did, and he is genuinely sympathetic to Rufus’ situation.

“I’ll admit the road sucks,” he offers not wanting Rufus to dwell any longer on everything that was going wrong back in the present.  The mission isn’t over, yet, my friend.  We need to stay focused.

Hours later when they finally locate the Mothership, they stop in their tracks when they realize that Lucy, Emma and her mother are already there.  They quickly find cover behind some bushes and watch the three women heading toward the ship with a man on a gurney.

“Damn it,” Wyatt curses under his breath.  “There goes the plan of blowing it up.”  He studies the area between their hiding spot and the ship, calculating the best tactical options to spring his attack.  He suspects that only Emma is armed, but without knowing how much of a Rittenhouse true believer Lucy’s mother is, he doesn’t want to take any chances.

“Wyatt, look!” Rufus whispers nudging Wyatt hard.

Suddenly alert, Wyatt looks up.  His heart skips a beat when he sees Lucy standing between the muzzle of Emma’s gun and two nurses behind her.  What the hell is she doing? he asks himself immediately rushing from his hiding spot toward the scene.

Out of fear that taking a shot at Emma would result in Lucy or the nurses getting hit in the cross fire, Wyatt fights his soldier instincts and instead goes for the hostage option. Aiming his gun at the injured soldier’s head, he calls out to Emma, “I can.”

It takes everything in Wyatt’s body to keep calm when Emma grabs Lucy and points the gun at her head. Please be a good mother and tell Emma to let her go, he silently begs Carol as he doubles down on his gamble that this zombie on the gurney is more important to them than Lucy.

Wyatt finally exhales when Emma pushes Lucy toward them.  Mission accomplished.  He’s ready to tell the team to start backing away when Lucy begins pleading with her mother.  His heart breaks for her when Carol rejects Lucy’s entreaty to go with them, but he remains focused on getting them out of harm’s way, especially when Emma taunts her about Amy.

Wyatt follows Lucy and Rufus into the darkness regretting not going against his word and killing Emma then and there.  He only realizes later that he was afraid to, because then the secrets of what Emma meant about forever preventing Amy’s existence would die with her, and he couldn’t do that to Lucy.

 *******

Upon their return to the present, Wyatt hangs back near Lifeboat while Jiya and Agent Christopher help Lucy get settled in her and Jiya’s room.  He happily lets her shower first while he makes her a sandwich and cup of tea.  She didn’t say much on the walk back to the Lifeboat, but he could tell that she was thinner like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.  He could relate given that he himself had barely eaten or slept in the past six weeks.  But that was over now.  The team was back, and they would need their strength.  He can’t help but smile as he takes a bite of his own sandwich en route to his room to get ready for his shower.

He passes Lucy walking out of the bathroom.  She’s wearing sweats that are much too big for her which only further emphasizes her smaller frame.   Her damp hair leaves wet spots on her shoulders, but the hollow look on her face shows that she doesn’t care.  Wyatt immediately recognizes the numbness with which she moves. He’s seen it a million times as his fellow soldiers return from battle.  Confident that he’ll be able to get her over the hump once again, he tells her that he made her something to eat, and that it’s waiting for her in the kitchen along with a cup of hot tea.  She gives him a weak smile and appreciative nod, but she continues walking silently toward her room.

After his own shower, Wyatt dresses quickly to check on Lucy.  He heads straight to the kitchen and finds the food he left for her untouched and the tea cold.  Sighing, he picks up the mug of tea and walks to the sink to dump it out.  Rufus walks by on his way to join the others near the computer console. Not wanting the food to go to waste, he offers it to Rufus, who immediately accepts it with a muffled “thanks” after taking a huge bite of the sandwich.

Wyatt nods back at him and walks in the other direction in search of Lucy.  He finds her standing in her room looking completely lost in her surroundings.

“It’s not exactly what you were expecting to come home to, huh?” he says from the doorway.

When she tells him that she wasn’t expecting to come home at all, he immediately becomes concerned.  That’s not the reaction he expected.  Most soldiers, including prisoners of war, are relieved that their hopes of coming home have come true, and rarely do they admit that they had ever given up hope.  

He takes a seat across from her and listens to her confession to killing an innocent man that day. He assures her, as he would a fellow soldier-in-arms that survival means making difficult choices.  She laments how she lost hope thinking that he and Rufus were dead.  In a lapse of better judgment, he asks Lucy if she’s sure that her mother wouldn’t have let Emma kill her, and through her reaction he is once again reminded that in this team he is the only true soldier.  Not only was he trained to be physically tough, but emotionally, too, and he regrets forgetting that as he watches Lucy break down before him.

Wyatt rushes to her side to comfort his teammate and friend.  Remembering how he never gave up hope that she was alive, he offers a promise that fueled him for the past six weeks.

“You haven’t lost me.”

He holds her tighter as her body shakes and heaves and tears threaten to fall down her face.  He’s willing to stay by her side all night until the tears stop and all memory of her willingness to die for their mission fades. He is surprised to feel her hand on his neck and cheek.  The sensation makes him suddenly conscious of the feel of her forehead and hair against the other side of his face.  He hadn’t realized their faces were so close to each other.  He feels her pull head away slightly, and he looks down to try and get a glimpse of her eyes to see what she’s thinking.  

In the time that they’ve known each other, they have developed a level of understanding.  They can communicate through their eyes and how they say each other’s names when they call out to each other in panicked moments or otherwise. But they have not yet learned to communicate through touch, so the sensation is confusing to him.

He looks down, but he can’t see into her eyes, because they are looking at his mouth.  He takes a breath and finds himself looking at her mouth as well.  Her hand continues to rub his neck pulling him incrementally closer to her now parted lips.  Unsure that she herself is aware of what is happening, he looks up once again searching for her eyes, but they are now closed.  In the nanoseconds that follow, Wyatt questions if this is what she really wants.  He knows he wants it, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of her compromised emotional state.

Before he can give in though, the decision is made for them when Jiya appears in the doorway.  He and Lucy immediately pull apart, but he keeps his arms around her, rubbing her bicep reminding her that he won’t leave her. They look at each other briefly before standing up to follow Jiya to rejoin the others.

A few hours later after the team finishes speculating further on Rittenhouse’s plans and just how many sleeper agents they have left scattered in history, Agent Christopher leaves for home and, Connor retreats to his room in the supply closet with a bottle that he thinks no one sees.  

Jiya and Rufus suggest watching a movie to help get their minds off of the doom and gloom talk of Rittenhouse sleeper agents changing the course of history without their knowledge. Lucy understandably declines and retreats to her room for some rest.  Wyatt resists the urge to follow her and offers to make the popcorn while Rufus and Jiya argue over which movie to select.

Halfway through the film Wyatt begins to feel like a fifth wheel as the movie’s main characters share a passionate kiss and the two lovebirds on the loveseat beside him snuggle closer.  Wyatt stands up with an exaggerated stretch and tells the others he’s going to turn in for the night.

As he walks down the hallway toward his room, Wyatt thinks of Lucy, who hasn’t left his mind since their almost kiss. He feels his heart warm as he remembers the feel of her breath on his mouth and the anticipation of what was meant to come next.  

But was it really meant to happen? He asks himself.  He can’t deny that his feelings for Lucy are growing, but he refuses to let his mind even consider the possibility that it’s mutual.  He’s a broken human being, she’s not, or at least, she wasn’t.  His heart aches remembering how desperate Lucy became while she was held prisoner. She was practically suicidal, and he will never forgive Carol Preston for bringing her daughter to that point.  

In that moment he swears to himself that now that his mission to save Lucy was successful, his next will be to save her from following the same dark path he has gone down. He shudders at the thought of her becoming as reckless and closed off as he is.  She’s better than that.  She deserves more than that.

He stops walking and finds himself a few feet from the doorway to Lucy’s room having walked past Rufus’ and his own while deep in thought.  He’s about to make a U-turn when he notices under her closed door that her light is still on.  Just looking in the direction of her room reminds him of what transpired earlier that day.  He lifts his hand to the left side of his neck recalling the feel of her soft skin and the smell of her hair.  He wonders if he imagined the urgency with which she pulled his face toward hers.  

There’s one way to find out, he tells himself as he walks swiftly to the door and knocks softly before opening the door louder than he intended.  He stops himself from calling out her name as soon as he sees her sleeping form lying on her cot.  He exhales a deep sigh, grateful that she’s getting some sleep which she needs as desperately as she needs food.  

He can see in the dim light that she has kicked off her covers or was perhaps too tired to pull them up over herself.  Feeling a draft in the room, he walks up to her bedside to pull her bedsheet over her body. Seeing her sleeping peacefully fills him with calm and hope that she will soon be back to her old self.  He bends down to take a closer look at the face that he’s missed for six weeks.  He gently brushes a stray hair from her forehead and leans down to press his lips to her brow.  

This small act confirms for him that she is in fact here within his reach.  He hopes that knowing she’s just down the hallway will help him to finally get a full night’s rest himself. But he knows that the thoughts that threaten to keep him up tonight will be visions of what would have happened between them had Jiya not walked into the room.

Deep down he hopes he didn’t imagine the want he interpreted in her movements, but he worries what it could mean if there’s even a chance that she wants the same thing that he does.

Rising to exit the room he remembers what Flynn read to him from Lucy’s journal back in that dusty hotel room in 1972:

“Wyatt’s obsessed with his wife’s death.  He needs to let go, move on.”

After failing to save Jessica last year, Wyatt began to come to terms once again with the fact that there was nothing he could do to erase the guilt he carried for causing his wife’s death.  He cursed himself for giving into false hope that having a time machine at his disposal could change that.  It took over half a decade, but he has finally reached the final stage of grief and accepts her death.  He would even go so far as to say that he’s no longer “obsessed” with it either.  Yet knowing how he failed to love and protect her the way she deserved will forever haunt him.  

But he knows he can protect Lucy – and Rufus, and for now, that’s enough.  Any possibilities of love in his future will take a backseat to making sure that Lucy is okay and able to recover from whatever hell her mother and Rittenhouse put her through.

 *******

A few days later Wyatt sees Lucy lying on the uncomfortable sofa in the common area reading pages from the Rittenhouse manifesto they found in 1919.  With Rufus and Jiya in the hangar busily working on the Lifeboat and Agent Christopher and Connor sitting near the computer console, he decides to take a chance at getting Lucy to talk to help her get over this particular hump.

Wyatt had asked Jiya during breakfast how well Lucy seemed to be adjusting to being back and these rather unique living quarters.  She told him in confidence that she could tell that Lucy wasn’t sleeping even though she was trying hard to hide it.  Jiya explained that she is naturally a light sleeper, and every time she turned to her side, she could see her roommate lying on her back with her hands folded across her abdomen and staring at the ceiling.  

Feeling only slightly guilty for breaking this confidence, Wyatt uses the information to try to coax Lucy to tell him what happened to her while she was held prisoner.  He is hesitant to hear the full story, because he knows it will only cause the anger to rise in him, but he had made the promise to himself to help in Lucy’s recovery.  

He attempts the same counseling techniques used by all of the shrinks that talked to him upon his return from the Middle East.  He validates the concern with facts.  He reminds her that it’s the team’s worry and concern that is driving the question.   She, however, is not on board with this plan, and she reacts the same way that he did once upon a time.  She dismisses the subject, stands up and walks away.  

That’s our stubborn professor, he remarks to himself, but before he can follow her, the Mothership alarm blares throughout the bunker.

A few minutes later when she suggests going to Flynn for help with finding out what Rittenhouse is doing in 1955 South Carolina, Wyatt becomes convinced that she is still courting danger.  Eventually everyone accepts the fact that she’s right, because she is.  There are no better ideas available to them, and Wyatt can’t help but to admire her resolve in convincing them.  And there’s our bossy know-it-all, he thinks feeling slightly relieved to see some signs of the Lucy he thought they lost.

*******

When they arrive at the race track in Darlington, Wyatt can’t contain his excitement.  He knows his fanboying is distracting them from the mission, but he honestly can’t help himself.  He also doesn’t’ miss the humorous reaction in Lucy’s face while she watches him gush and fawn over the cars.  If this temporary break from being the mission-focused soldier brings that smile he misses back to her face, it’s completely worth it.  

This is by far Wyatt’s favorite mission.  Finally, they have travelled to a time and place where he gets a chance to meet his childhood heroes not to mention walk among a sea of genuine stock cars.  He even gets to impress Rufus and Lucy for once with his history knowledge.  So, this is what it feels like to be the brains on a mission, he chuckles to himself.  But it’s not just NASCAR history that he shares with the team, but inadvertently his own personal history.  First about his misspent youth as a teenage bootlegger and then the story of his tumultuous past with his father.  

With the exception of the time he told Lucy about his Grandpa Sherwin, Wyatt never voluntarily talks about his past.  It’s not that he’s trying to keep secrets from anyone, it’s more that he believes personal stories like those have a time and a place.  He knows why he opened up to Lucy about his grandfather, but he’s not exactly sure why he felt compelled to tell Wendell about his past.  Perhaps it was a tactical move to build a rapport with their new ally, but he’s sure it was more than that.  After years of trying and failing to prove to his father that he was worthy of his love, Wyatt had begun to look back on those years learning how to fix cars as a waste of time and effort.  To finally have someone appreciate and admire his skills was like finally hearing his old man say the “Good job, son” that he longed to hear as a kid.  

Hiding in the cramped trunk of a bootlegger’s car, however, wasn’t exactly what he had in mind as his reward for fixing Old Rusty.  But at least they were heading in the right direction to finish their mission.

Wyatt’s protective instincts piqued again when he noticed Lucy’s uneven breathing, but that didn’t stop him from teasing her a bit to try to get her to relax and loosen up.  Recalling how his embrace seemed to comfort her before, Wyatt offers to let her hold on to him again.  There is no hidden agenda in his offer, but as he breathes in the smell of her shampoo once again and feels her warm skin on his neck, it takes effort on his part to keep his own breathing even.

“Is all that stuff you said about your dad true?” she asks.

Wyatt tries to beg off the question with a silent exhalation. As Lucy continues talking, he quickly realizes she’s not asking him for more details, but rather seeking advice for how to deal with her own parental issues.  Knowing how his relationship with his dad affected nearly every decision he made for years, he feels compelled to be open and honest with Lucy in hopes to spare her the pain that he endured alone.  

He tells her that pretending that he didn’t love and admire him was futile, because it wasn’t true. A child will always love their parent even if the parent doesn’t love them in return or does something unforgiving like hit them or kidnap them.  He tells her that it’s natural to blame yourself for the lack of love you receive in return.  But the most important thing he tells her is that once you know for sure that you’re not to blame, it’s okay to move on.  “Nothing ahead but the open road.”

They feel the car slow to a stop signaling that they have arrived back at the track, and it’s critical that they remain quiet and still.  As they lay there still holding each other even though there are no more potholes and bumps in the road, Wyatt focuses on the conversation happening on the other side of the metal chassis.  His mind wanders slightly as he admires Lucy’s strength and resilience in the aftermath of being kidnapped by her mother.  It took him decades to get over his father, and here less than two months later, Lucy is showing signs that she is able to begin to move forward and leave her past in the past.

I could learn something from her, he tells himself as his words about the “open road” echo inside his mind.  Maybe there’s an open road ahead of me, too. Ahead of us even.  

He is literally shaken from this thought as Old Rusty lurches forward, and he rolls atop of Lucy. With the tension of being discovered gone, they both laugh heartily. As their bodies still, he feels a familiar pull on his neck.  It’s not as firm as the last time, but rather a gentle, coaxing pull as if offering him the option to resist without hurting her feelings.  The thought of pulling back never crosses as his mind as he instead turns toward her so that he can look into her eyes.  This time he wants to be sure that this is what she wants, he needs to be sure, because if he wasn’t expecting the car to lurch just seconds ago, he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

Lucy moves her hand to gently caress his cheek.  She returns his gaze confirming the silent wish in his heart.  Assured that this what they both want, he leans in, and their lips part.  

And then they are both blinded as light streams into their private sanctum.

 *******

Back in the present, Lucy walks into the kitchen area running her fingers through her still damp hair. She finds Wyatt sitting at a table staring at a laptop screen with his back turned to her.  She clears her throat as she approaches and sees that he is scrolling through a Wikipedia page about Wendell Scott.

“Shower should be free shortly,” she tells him.  “I think Rufus is just changing his bandage.”

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbles.

“What’s wrong?” she asks taking a seat in the chair beside him.

“Nothing,” he says looking up at her pushing the laptop toward the middle of the table.  “I just hoped that history might have changed for the better for Wendell after we left.”

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I’m afraid it will take more than one NASCAR racer to change hearts and minds in the south in the 1950s.”

Wyatt nods leaning back in his chair with a frustrated expression on his face.  He puts his hands on the edge of the table top to push his chair out so he can head to the showers. Before he can stand, however, Lucy places her hand over his.

“Wyatt?”

He sits back down turning his hand so that he can enclose hers in his.  He looks at her but doesn’t say a word.

She glances down at their hands, and he can see a faint blush rise to her perfect cheeks.  He uses his free hand to place his fingers under her chin and tip her face up to look into his eyes.

“What is it, Lucy?”

She smiles and nervously tucks her hair behind her ear with her own free hand.  “It’s just that we’ve had a couple of – umm – close encounters, if you will,” she begins, “and I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed – umm -- hesitant.”

Wyatt returns her smile and with his hand still under her chin, he leans toward her.  “I just want to be sure that this is what you really want,” he whispers to her.

She gives an almost imperceptible nod in reply and meets his lips with hers.

The feel of her lips on his is more liberating than he had anticipated.  It’s as if suddenly all of his doubts that he could love again and fears that he was worthy of love from someone as perfect as Lucy Preston dissipates in the air around them.

As Wyatt moves his hand to reposition it so he can pull her closer to him, the door alarm sounds triggering an immediate reaction for them to separate without a single body part touching any longer.  

They both listen closely as they hear Connor and Agent Christopher’s voices approach from the entrance.  Recognizing that they are about to be rudely interrupted yet again, they exchange frustrated smiles once more and burst out laughing.

“One day,” he promises.

“One day,” she agrees.