#because at this point silence would be more encouraging to me than update comments !

[causticsunshine]

just made the mistake of checking my ao3 inbox knowing full well any comments i’ve gotten + several older comments sitting in there are just people asking for updates or when x is going to be finished with nothing positive or encouraging or anything at all about the fics themselves

like ik a good chunk of people don’t follow authors they like on ao3 on other socials so i know most people haven’t seen my posts talking about this in the past + how much it actually bothers me, stresses me out and makes me not want to write etc. and i’m not gonna do so again but like. why do so many people think leaving comments just asking for updates or when something is going to be finished is at all helpful or encouraging to a majority of writers artists what have you?

this is all it feels like to me

[ashwhowrites]

If you are taking angst prompts still maybe a mix of 3 and 5 with Steve? Maybe Steve has been flirting with the reader and there are definitely feelings there between them but another pretty face catches his attention and suddenly the flirting with this new pretty face?

Can end angsty or fluffy though! Dealers choice

I will gladly write this for you! My plan is to write it and see which ending flows to me better. I hope you like it! If it is not what you wanted, please let me know I will rewrite it for you

Update- the ending is sad! More of a fluff to angst

It sucks. Because I want to hate you, but I can’t.”

“You made me think I actually mattered.”

Y/N and Steve have been friends ever since Robin introduced them. They just clicked and got along well. But lately, her feelings for Steve have taken a turn into a less friendly destination. His eyes were suddenly more beautiful than anything. And his smile just seemed brighter. And his hair looks much softer. And she has a feeling he feels the same. For around two weeks, they have been flirting non-stop at work and at group hangouts. He'd compliment how she looked every day, never failing to make her blush. She wasn't the most confident, but she did try to make sure her attraction to him was known. From soft touches on his arm when he made her laugh. A smile that always seemed bigger when he was around. Plus, Robin called them out for "eye-fucking during work hours." That comment turned them both red, and they stammered out excuses. But today, Y/N decided she didn't want this banter back and forth, she wanted him. She put in extra work into her appearance for work today. Her hair was styled nicely, a shiny gloss coated her lips, and she wore Steve's favorite necklace that she owed. It was impossible not to look as it hung directly between her breasts.

 As she walked in, her eyes made contact with Robin, who did not bother to hide her smirk. "Well well, it looks like someone is dressing to impress." Y/N blushed and shrugged, "I'm going to do it today, Robin." She exclaimed excitedly. Robin's smile beamed, "About time. He's in the back. Go get your man." With a big smile on her glossy lips, she ran straight into Steve. "Slow down, gorgeous." He laughed. "I want to ask you something," she said, a tad nervous. He nodded along with an encouraging smile. "Would you want to go out on a date tonight?" The silence was starting to make her sick. Her heart felt like it was going to fall out of her stomach and puke it out. But the smile that lit up Steve's face eased her worries. "I thought you'd never ask." The date was set. They were going to a carnival that the town was having for the month. She wore a long-sleeved, slightly tight shirt. A pair of ripped jeans and sneakers. Her hair was thrown up; she did not want it to blow into her wet lips all night. They were walking hand in hand around the park. Steve bought cotton candy for them to share and covered her arms in his jacket. The night was going well. They smiled, laughed, and more soft touches were shared. She was so glad she took the first step in asking him out. She wanted him for way too long. "Alright, I'm doing the most cliche moment in recent history. I am giving you a giant stuffed animal, "Steve announced as he walked up to the balloon booth. He perfected his stance and threw darts into the balloons. Hearing the satisfying pop and ring of a bell had announced to the couple he had won. "Pick your poison, gorgeous." He had a bright smile on his face. He hasn't felt this smitten in a long time, ever since Nancy. He loved this feeling. Seeing her smile grow as she pointed to the giant stuffed elephant had him swooning. The guy handed over the elephant. She turned to Steve with a glossy smile and said, "Thank you, Stevie." The nickname melted his heart. If Robin was here, she'd have a field day. His heart skipped faster as she leaned in and smashed her lips on his. He could feel both their lips stretching into smiles as they tasted each other. He could feel his lips getting wet and sticky from her gloss, but he didn't care. She pulled away with a giggle, "Sorry I kind of turned your lips pink." She went to wipe it off, but Steve's hand stopped her. "No, I will wear this proudly." It had been a few weeks since the first date, and she felt so special. He picked her up for work and brought her home. And he even got her flowers the next morning, stating how he would love to do it again sometime. She was gushing to Robin about how perfect everything had been going. They've been on three more dates and kissed many more times. By the third date, they were making out in the front seat of Steve's car in the middle of her driveway. She wanted him to ask her to be his girlfriend, and she was willing to wait however long it took. ~~~ But now, as she watched this gorgeous girl walk up to the counter asking for movie recommendations, looking like an actual model, her stomach turned sour. She didn't miss the way Steve checked her out, from her hair down to her expensive shoes. Steve gladly took her under his wing and walked her through the store. His eyes never once reached Y/N's. Her stare seemed to be burning in his head, but it was like he didn't care. He was starstruck by this new girl. She put on a fake smile and continued to help the other customers. Sadly, that wasn't the only day the girl showed up; she came every single day. Robin told her she always showed up and asked for Steve's help only. Robin was good at reading people. She knew what Steve was doing was hurting her best friend. She wanted to punch Steve in his perfect face. It was like she had just completely vanished from his life. He barely talked to her. When she called to hangout, he was busy with her. She knew she couldn't be mad at him because they weren't dating, but she felt led on. Why make it seem like she mattered to him if he was going to blow her off? Why would he kiss her if he wasn't interested in being with her? Did he just want a quick fling? She had so many questions. It has been two weeks of Steve ignoring Y/N for this new girl. She couldn't stand by and watch him flirt with this girl right in front of her, like she just didn't matter. She needed it to stop and she needed him to know he was hurting her. At the end of the shift, she walked to his car. Before she could get a word out, Steve beat her to it, "Sorry, I can't give you a ride tonight. I'm meeting Lexi at the hideout. " She felt her heart shatter right there. He finally acknowledged her just to say he was blowing her off for Lexi, again.

"I wasn't coming for a ride, Steve. I haven't gotten one from you in two weeks.” The harsh and bitter tone slipped out stronger than she wanted it to be. She didn't want to be hostile, but it was so hard. He just didn't care anymore, and that hurt.

 Steve was taken back by her tone, but before he could question it, she beat him to it. “I need to talk to you tonight at my house. I'm not taking no for an answer. Come before the hideout or after. I don't care. " And she headed to her bike and rode off to home. Steve was frozen. He had never heard her so bitter, angry, and mean before. She was always so sweet, gentle, and more. He quickly got in his car and ran home to change, then went to her place. Y/N was waiting on her bed, tears soaking into the stuffed elephant that felt more of a painful reminder now than a happy memory. Robin told her all about King Steve, but she said he changed. Now she wasn't so sure. Maybe he doesn't stay satisfied for long. Or maybe she was just the problem. A cough caused her head to whip up. There, Steve stood with a sad look in his eyes. Seeing her cry into her elephant caused his heart to hurt more than he wanted. He wanted to smile at the memory, but he had a feeling he fucked up. "Your mom let me in." He took a seat next to her and reached for her hand. It felt like a blow in the gut when she ripped it out of his reach. She threw the elephant to the floor and hugged her knees. "I want to ask you something," she started. It felt like déjà vu. She has memories of when she last said that led them to the best date of her life. A date that now felt like a painful reminder that it didn't mean anything to him. "Are you dating this Lexi girl?" She asked, and it fucking hurt to ask out loud. The fear of the answer was hanging above her head. She didn't want to reach for it, but she needed the truth. "No, I'm not. We are just hanging out. " 

"But you like her?" She took his silence as a yes. She could see the guilt swimming in his brown orbs. She sighed and tried to collect herself. "You made me think I actually mattered to you, like you really liked me. I thought we were working towards a relationship and you just hung me out to dry. " She wished she could stop crying. She hated feeling this way this weak in front of him. He had never seen her cry before, and knowing it was because of him made guilt build in his stomach. Regret filled his veins, seeing her break down, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix this. “You do matter. I do really like you. I'm sorry. I just got caught up. Please let us work this out. Just you and me. " He felt like he was begging. If he just stayed focused on her, none of this would be happening. She shook her head at his words, "No you don't, Steve. I was just the one girl who made you feel wanted. kept you warm until someone else came along. My feelings don't matter to you; my feelings aren't important to you; and you don't want to be with me. If you wanted me, you would have looked elsewhere. " It hurt to say, but it was the truth. She was smitten by him. She didn't even notice anyone else. It wasn't the same for him. "It sucks. Because I want to hate you, but I can't. " She whimpered out in between her sobs. His heart felt heavy. He collected her in his arms, letting her tears soak into his shirt. He apologized in her hair, but he knew it wasn't enough. He lost her, and he had no one to blame but himself. "Lexi is waiting for you. Goodbye, Steve. I'll see you at work. " And with that, she stood up and went into her bathroom. She needed to be alone, and she prayed when she came back he would be gone, and he was.

[nostalgia-tblr]

7, 8, 9, and 12

ooh, several!

7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

Generally not receiving it affects me more than receiving it does, because posting to silence or to less response than you'd like/are used to/expect/whatever is really disheartening. I put all this effort in and then nobody said anything and I don't *know* this means nobody liked it (and sometimes other metrics like kudos says they did!) but this is what my brain ends up fixating on. I think I mentioned in a post recently that it doesn't make me go "that's it I shall never write again!" but it does mean that when the urge to write is weak I sometimes *think* about working on something or starting a new idea and then just go "eh, what's the point? it won't get me any of that sweet sweet interaction." Currently I am dreading the (I assume) inevitable update to The AU that gets zero comments and then I fall into self-doubt but still need to continue writing and posting it despite that. That won't be fun. Maybe I'm too emotionally unstable to be posting creative works online, but I keep doing it anyway. I need encouragement and it doesn't always appear and then I feel bad that I *do* feel bad because As Everyone Knows one should only write and post for ourselves and it's Bad for fanfic writers to want people to engage with their fics and whatever so... yeah. It's not good. It's not ideal.

8. does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Yes, but only the ones who write or read fic themselves or do something I consider to be equally nerdy :D I wouldn't tell the others they wouldn't get it and they'd just think I was weird. (I am weird maybe but not because of that!)

9. what's your writing process like?

It's changed in the past year from sitting down and starting maybe not at the beginning but writing more or less in order from whichever point and then going back to add the rest when I get to the end, to writing a lot of notes and fragments and then trying to glue all that together starting with the bits that seem most interesting at the time. Which is good in terms of I think there's more "stuff" in my fics because I write every new idea down as I get them and the process generally takes longer so I have more time to think of those ideas, but it's bad in that there comes a point where there are no fun or easy bits left to write but it won't be finished before I have written the difficult bits (connecting tissue, exposition, plot set-up, that sort of thing) and so the task of writing is suddenly A TASK indeed and unappealing and I get stuck for ages with something half or mostly written but nowhere close to postable. And I don't know how to change that or even if I really should. Because these fics are longer and I've always had this weird inferiority/imposter thing about how short most of my fics are.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?

Music or silence as seems needed in that moment. (This is unfortunate as I am currently getting a lot of loud TV noise from a neighbour so silence is rare and unpredictable. Argh.)

[fushic0re]

i know we’ve gotten used to demanding reblogs and comments from readers but if you think about it, the way we write and interact with others is also a huge factor on why some are not getting what they want. there are authors here who garner high and consistent engagement. why? because they are good at what they do and they don’t guilt trip anyone for it. they get 100+ anons daily without having to beg the tl for it because they write fics that make you want to scream and ramble, and also because they are welcoming, responds to feedback/doesn’t ignore replies people leave (i know many of us are guilty of this) and because they know how to get people to talk to them (definitely not through making REBLOG AND COMMENT OR I WILL DEACTIVATE 👹 posts). i understand the frustration of 10 reblogs and a hundred likes because i’ve been there too, i am there, but it’s not really a good look to threaten and demand people to leave comments and reblog our fics. they don’t owe us anything, and we don’t owe them anything either. of course there are anons who demand updates and we like to call them out by being like “then reblog my fic first! 🙄” but chances are, 98% of them do. idk, i keep seeing these demanding posts everyday and i get it (i can’t even crack 1k+ likes lol, need to improve and be more creative with plots) but it’s not the right approach… sorry if this comes across as rude and offensive, i’m not trying to be, just giving perspective.

to say "hey you're not getting engagement bc you're not good or don't interact with your consumers the right way" is also such a shitty thing to say when that's not always the case. i've read novel worthy fics on here from the most approachable, kindest people and they barely break 50 notes on their works which is absolutely insane to me. i see people hosting sleepovers/celebration events, asking how everyone's day is going, basically going out of their way to engage with viewers because that's just who they are as people. they're kind. and yet, they're also left in the dust. as a writer, you should know that this happens. people on here are TRYING their absolute hardest just for their works to be SEEN because they love them and are proud of them. that statement is extremely insensitive.

tumblr isn't the same anymore, which means we have to navigate it differently. this means speaking up about how tumblr algorithm doesn't do anything for us and instead, we need to support each other by reblogging. if this is an issue that people are passionate about, they deserve to speak up about it as much as they want rather than be silenced for the sake of "uwu my followers won't like me bc i'm speaking up about an issue uwu".

on this blog, i promote speaking up and standing by what you believe it. i don't give a shit if it makes anyone not want to reblog my fics bc i'm "begging" and it "bothers" you lmao. i'm not gonna bend over backwards and make myself smaller for a measly reblog.

also, no one is "threatening" to leave without reblogs. at least to the people i follow or those i have spoken to about this issue. we're simply pointing out logical arguments; if you kept working at something and weren't being met with any results, would you keep doing it? no, because that's counterproductive. if creators aren't feeling encouraged, they're gonna stop creating. that's not a threat. that's not "guilt tripping". that's fact and you just not being able to handle it.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) Part 4

A/N- Hoping this one has come out a bit happier than the last instalment! I’m trying my best to not write Mycroft too out of character and focusing on how much more emotion he had displayed in season 4.. I have a few more chapters planned out so far and I am hoping to, at the very least, update weekly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, please, don’t forget to leave a comment letting me know what you think! Kind words or constructive criticism are always welcomed and inspire me to write more! Thank you!

Word Count: 4416

"Did you fancy doing anything else today? Well, this evening I suppose suits better." You asked Mycroft, clearing up the plates from dinner. Dinner here being a term used loosely- after the emotional turmoil only a few hours ago at the revelation of both yesterday's events and your inner attractions, neither of you particularly felt like cooking, or eating for that matter, and settled on a sandwich just to provide some energy.

The energy of the room had felt different now, now that everything was in the open, now that the pair of you had finally broken that barrier to move further in your relationship. It was nice, calming. The pair of you weren't children, the confirmation of shared attraction didn't mean you immediately jumped each other, or feel the need to be constantly touching in some aspect or another- but the mere idea of knowing that the attraction between you was mutual, and that you wanted to act upon that was more than enough for now. It felt incredible.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" He hummed back, standing from the small table in the kitchen to help you with the washing up- not that you weren't fully capable of doing so yourself, it just felt nice acting a little domestic- electing to wash the dishes himself and leaving you to dry them and put them back in the cupboard. You shrugged, closing the cupboard's door and leaning against the counter.

"St James' is just round the corner isn't it? We could go for a walk? The weather is oddly nice for September." You suggested, grinning as you watched Mycroft look down at his current attire of jogging bottoms and a band t-shirt. You didn't need the power of a Holmes to know what that face meant. "Compromise. You don't have to wear the joggers in public, but you also cannot wear a suit, I swore against it."

"If you're suggesting for me to leave my home in my undergarments you've completely lost your mind." You looked at Mycroft and allowed his brain to think a little more. "Oh bugger you can't mean-"

"You and I both know you have a pair of jeans in your wardrobe Myc. Joggers or Jeans, the choice is yours." Mycroft opened and closed his mouth multiple times before rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded Latin. "Oi at least have the decency to do it in French so I have a chance of understanding what you say when you swear at me." You quipped, jokingly throwing two fingers up at him as he gave in and sulked up the stairs.

"Tu seras la mort de moi." His voice was still quiet, but loud enough for you to understand him.

"Et pourtant tu serais perdu sans moi." You shouted back, teasing a little. Mycroft didn't answer but smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, agreeing with you completely but too high in his pride to admit it. Downstairs, you rummaged through the other bags from Anthea, feeling thankful as you saw that she had equally bought you some hoodies too, pulling on a maroon one before grabbing and sliding on your boots. A few minutes later you heard Mycroft's voice from upstairs, muffled completely excluding the 'goodbye' that sounded as he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. "Planning my arrest were you? Should I be expected to enter the park to MI6 agents dragging me into a car and shipping me off somewhere for forcing the British government into denim?" You turned around and saw him in his change of attire, whistling approvingly at the sight of him in the dark grey pair of jeans you had bought him a few years ago- 'because you cannot walk into a pub wearing anything purchased on Savile Row, Mycroft'- and the navy blue blazer he had chosen to match with them; the small evidence of The Who's logo peeking out slightly between the lapels. It was seldom Mycroft wore such casual clothing, but feeling welcomed by your reaction certainly made him more comfortable. Maybe at some point you'd tell him it's because those jeans make his bum look incredible. Mycroft's cheeks flushed and he shook his head, ignoring the noise of encouragement you had made.

"MI5, actually, but do not be too alarmed- I've insisted they only use force if absolutely necessary." He teased, hoisting his scarf from the coat rack by the front door and expertly wrapping it around his neck. You jabbed him lightly in the arm, knowing he was joking but equally wanting to make sure the phone call wasn't from Sherlock already pestering him about something or another. "It's fine, truly. Nothing to cause government upset.. only public." You went to question what he meant but was instead caught off guard by him eyeing you up. "Are you really going out.. in that?" Mycroft gestured to your clothing and for a brief moment you felt a little insecure, frowning slightly at him. He caught on immediately and apologised. "No- I mean.. You will likely get cold, will you not? A hooded sweatshirt isn't the warmest item of clothing I can offer you." You grinned at his concern and just passed him his beloved umbrella (it wasn't raining, but that didn't make a difference) before opening the front door.

"Myc I have pulled bodies out of the River Thames wearing nothing more than a pencil skirt and a blouse, I will be fine." You grabbed his hand and tugged him outside, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to argue back but he knew any attempt would be futile- you both knew that you could be more stubborn than Mycroft and so he didn't wish to cause harm on what could be a splendid evening. You took your normal position beside Mycroft, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, while his rested in his pocket, the other holding onto his umbrella handle. The chill of London's air brushed the back of your neck, leading you to pull the hood of your jumper over your head before continuing your walk, not allowing Mycroft to have the pleasure of knowing he was right. but also not missing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed- of course he bloody did.

The short walk to the park was in a comfortable silence. Mycroft found himself thinking over today's events, how even he couldn't have predicted that this would be how it would end. He was certain you would have left earlier, he'd even prepared himself for the chances of a punch to his nose in anger, and so never in his right mind did he expect you to stay, let alone embrace him while he cried, forgive him for the unforgivable, to... kiss him. He felt childish thinking back on it, but he kept replaying that moment over in his mind. It wasn't a proper kiss, it was barely there at all, and yet, if Mycroft thought hard enough he could still feel the light pressure of your lips on his, and it left him eager for more.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Your voice distracted him as you walked down the final street before the park. He blinked, looking down at you, at your joint arms and offering a smile.

"Just that I didn't expect today to happen the way that events turned out." You opened your mouth to make a comment about how Mycroft knew everything but he cut you off. "I deduce, I cannot predict the future, Y/N."

"But you can mind read?" He raised his other hand, one finger to his mouth in a 'shhh' motion and you grinned.

"Penny for yours?" You hummed in response as you looked at yourself in the reflection of a car window and pouted, rounding the corner to walk through the park's gates.

"I look like an egg." Mycroft let out a rare laugh, caught off guard by your answer. "That you do, my dear. But a rather beautiful egg." It was your turn to flush now. Getting any form of compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rarity, and when they did come to surface they were usually on one's intellectual skills, or the times where you'd go out to a fancy restaurant and he would claim 'your dress' was beautiful, but never you directly. Your lack of response made Mycroft nervous and he spoke again. "Apologies, upon reflection that was a very backhanded compliment." You squeezed his arm and nudged yourself in closer, welcoming in the warmth his body was emitting.

"No no, I am incredibly flattered to be deemed a beautiful egg." You laughed. "It would make a lovely epitaph don't you thi-." He tensed. "Yeah, sorry, bit soon." You continued your walk for a little further before something clicked in your mind and you stopped in your tracks. Mycroft stumbled a little at the sudden cease in movement and shot you a confused glare. "Myc.. There's nobody else here."

"Excellent observation, Y/N. I now understand why you're so well respected down the Yard."

"Git. I meant.. we're in one of the most tourist centred parts of London, in the early evening, and there's nobody here." Mycroft raised his nose a little in the air, a movement witnessed by anybody else that would be mistaken for smugness, or being pretentious. But on Mycroft you knew it meant he felt a little embarrassed, raising his head ever so higher so you couldn't see the dusting of red on his cheeks. "The phone call... Mycroft bloody Holmes did you abuse your power as a government official to rent out the entirety of St James' park so that nobody would have to see you in your jeans?" He avoided your gaze and you began to laugh, removing your hand from his arm as you wiped a tear that spilled down your cheek out of amusement before tugging him over to a bench that was a few feet away.

"Should I not have?" His tone was light, relaxed knowing that you weren't mad with him and that you found the situation entertaining.

"It's not that.. It's just that nobody else WOULD." You rubbed your numbing fingers together and tucked them inside the sleeve of your hoodie. "You. Are an extraordinary man, Mr Holmes. You never cease to amaze me." He smiled softly, tentatively reaching over to take your half sleeve covered hand into his own pale one.

"And you, are freezing." He commented. You dismissed his assessment and instead focused on the view in front of you, the slight appearance of the London Eye poking above some trees from across the Thames.

"After living here for so long, sometimes I forget how beautiful London truly is." You spoke, shuffling the rest of your hand from your sleeve to lace your fingers between his. He hummed in agreement as he watched on. "And you stole this view from thousands of visitors this evening for the sake of your own dignity and so we could be alone. What do you have? People guarding every entrance? A few loitering around somewhere to make sure there were no stragglers? Christ are they armed? It just so.. so.." Mycroft felt himself become uncomfortable.

"I can be a very selfish person Y/N, you know that."

"I was going to say sexy but now I feel as though I'm not being as sympathetic to the tourists as you were expecting me to be." Mycroft tensed again and you leant to rest your head on his shoulder. "You should probably try to get used to that. I've been waiting a fairly long time to actively be allowed to say things like that to you and it not sound really weird, so I'm making up for lost time."

"How long?" His voice was quiet, likely his mind recovering from you, for the second time that day, calling him such a thing. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was extremely flattered, but he just found it very hard to believe that you truly thought that way about him; that anyone could. You thought for a moment, childishly using your fingers to count.

"How long since I realised I had a thing for you? As of today it's been 5 years, 3 months and 17 days.. or, in less creepy terms to not make it seem like I've been counting, 2 weeks before I broke up with Thomas. It didn't feel fair to keep dragging him along, especially when I started to look forward to meeting you for dinner much more than I did meeting him for our weekly date night. He's a lovely guy and deserved more than that. I tried for those couple of weeks to get over it but I couldn't." Mycroft stayed silent but you could practically hear his brain whirring. "How long did I wish that you somehow felt the same way about me? Probably 5 minutes after the last thought." You laughed, feeling ridiculous for sounding like a school girl with a crush. "What about you? Pining after me for long or just spontaneously after I kissed you?" You joked, trying to make the whole ordeal feel a little less embarrassing. Mycroft shifted in his seat, laying his focus in the warmth that he could feel spreading to your hand that he held in his. He wasn't the type for large exclamations of emotion, or really speaking about the way he feels at all. But, upon hearing your revelation, he bit the bullet and spoke.

"I have never been the kind of man to experience typical human emotion. Until yourself and Gregory came along, I hadn't even the experience of having acquaintances, let alone.. friends." His eyes stayed forward, watching as the London Eye rotated slowly and focusing on its movements. "Approximately 6 months prior to the time you have mentioned, I began to realise that the way I felt towards you was far different to the way I felt about Gregory, and not the same way I feel towards Sherlock. I pressed the thought into the back of my mind for the better part of a year, before Sherlock told me that you were 'obviously' experiencing some kind of affection towards me, which I told him was preposterous, but from then the thought of you in that aspect felt welcoming. I had never expected in my life to have those kinds of emotions for anybody, let alone have them reciprocated, but I still chose to ignore them. I chose to keep you as my friend rather than risk losing you at all.. Then Eurus happened. Seeing you on that.. screen. Knowing what they could do.. Knowing I could lose you anyway.. it flicked something inside of my brain that made me regret not talking to you about it sooner. I was trying to work out the right way to bring it up, but then you did it for me." The side of his mouth flicked up into a small smile and disappeared, the embarrassment of talking so much on emotion taking over.

"You still look cute when you're embarrassed." You commented, not wanting to elaborate on his wordings more. It meant everything to you that he had even said that much, so you weren't going to push him further out of his comfort zone by pestering on. "Though as much as I'd love to look at your little flustered cheeks in this moonlight, I have to admit that you were right and I am bloody freezing, can we go back?" You took your hand back from his briefly to rub against your other one, a feeble attempt to bring warmth back into your fingertips. Though warmth soon enveloped round your neck as you felt Mycroft begin to wrap his cashmere scarf around you, folding and wrapping it expertly until you felt comfortably warm, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne that loitered in the fabric.

"I'm always right." He grinned smugly, standing from the bench and offering his elbow out to you once more. You nudged it away, missing the disappointed look on Mycroft's face, before instead grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers between his and tucking them into his pocket for warmth, your other arm folding over your body to hold his arm.

"I'll prove you wrong on that at some point, mark my words." You beamed, starting the walk back to Queen Anne's Gate and relishing in the warmth of the taller man beside you. Mycroft couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on his face from your action, choosing himself to push closer and close the gap between you even more. He swiftly pulled his phone from his pocket, leaving his umbrella dangling from his wrist, as he made a quick call to Anthea.

"I suppose we better let the tourists have their park back.. at least for now." He spoke, more to you than to Anthea but nonetheless she relayed the message to security who began to pack up and reopen the gates to the public. It had barely been a minute before they had all left, all except the PA in question who watched on fondly upon seeing the pair of you leaving, fighting the urge to text the man that it was about damn time.

***

The walk back was incredibly quick and you soon found yourselves walking back through the front door, discarding layers of warmer clothing, Mycroft opting to put the sweats back on in place of his jeans.

"I'm thinking we have a cuppa and then head to bed? I'm knackered." You proposed, flicking the kettle on and settling back to rest on the edge of the kitchen counter. Mycroft hummed in agreement, reaching to grab the necessities. You quickly kicked off from the counter and wandered back into the front room, pulling Mycroft in tow. "Seems as good a time as any to have some music on, Greg made me this mixtape a few weeks ago. He said it's some classics I already love, and a bunch that I'm going to, so it sounds pretty promising." From behind you Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "If you're about to chastise me for calling a CD a mixtape, don't waste your breath. Mix-CD just sounds horrendous." He stayed silent, inwardly amused at the fact you hadn't even seen his face and yet knew exactly what he was going to say, and you called him the 'mind-reader'. The Kinks began to play quietly through the speakers, 'Have a Cuppa Tea' fittingly being the first song to play on shuffle. Usually you despised any type of mixtape, or 'best of' albums, claiming rather strongly that they defeated the point of artists bringing out the original albums, ruining the story behind each one. But when it came to Greg you trusted him completely with music taste and had never been disappointed thus far. The click of the kettle in the kitchen sounded, making you walk into the other room and prepare your drinks- you hadn't bothered asking Mycroft the way he had it, you had that burnt to memory years ago. Perching back onto the sofa besides Mycroft, you handed him the beverage and sighed in content.

"You missed the Sex Pistols. Forgive me if I cannot hear you for the next 20 minutes, I have a feeling that my ears have bled." He teased, taking a sip of his tea and settling it on the table beside him. Before you had a chance to answer, another Kinks song began to sound in the room, the slower rythm of Waterloo Sunset.

"You're going to pay for saying those things, you know I love the Sex Pistols." You pouted, moving your own tea to the coffee table. "I think, Mr Holmes, you need to dance with me in ways of apology." You grinned, standing up and holding your hand out to him. "It's a rare slower song from Lestrade's musical repertoire so I'm not expecting you to start headbanging or anything.."

"Do people slow dance to Rock music normally?" He asked, smiling.

"No they don't.. but when have you ever been a man who follows the rules of normality?" He took your hand at that, standing himself up and leading you to an emptier part of the room, tea forgotten. You softly placed your hands on his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, his reaching round to settle on the small of your back as you began to sway together slowly, the only sound that could be heard was the music and Mycroft's erratic heartbeat that he was sure meant he was going to have a heart attack. "See, this is nice." He hummed in agreement, the vibrations of his deep voice reaching his chest and vibrating against your cheek. "We could have done this years ago.." You commented, thinking on all the lost time you had with Mycroft, all of the years you had listened to music together and could have danced, holding each other as close as you were now.

"We'd have struggled being as Gregory only gave you this CD a few weeks ago.." You laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"You know what I mean.. oh the power of cowardice and fear." You closed your eyes, holding onto this moment as though you had never wanted it to end. Alas, the song began to come to a close, and yet neither of you made an attempt to move. The instrumental introduction to your favourite Clash song began to play and you grinned. "Now this is a song. I'm surprised Greg put it on here, I'd have thought he'd be sick of it by now with the amount of times I play it at work." As the vocals began you felt Mycroft stiffen in your arms, the fingers on the hands on your back began to dig into your skin slightly, not painful, but protective and his heartbeat picked up pace even more.

"Could we skip this one? Please?" His tone of voice was different this time, not the calm, relaxed voice that he had earlier, nor the playful one he had only moments ago. He sounded.. unsettled.

"You're joking right? Mycroft this relationship will have a rocky start if you force me to turn of The Clash at all, let alone bloody 'Death or Glory.'" He tensed again hearing the song's title.

"Please.. it's the one.." Your brain began to piece together his words and you lifted your head from its position on his chest, looking up and seeing the pained expression on his face. Of course, out of every song in the world, this was the one you were listening to when Mycroft said he saw you on the screen, inches away from death. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm okay, I'm here, alive. This is my happy song, and I have so many wonderful memories from it." It wasn't a lie. The sound held memories of countless car rides with Greg, it was the song that played when you had the phone call about your promotion at work. It had even been playing when your sister phoned up to let you know that she was pregnant with your niece. Both times. It was a bloody good song. "I understand why you don't like it, but you just need to associate it with something better, give it a new memory." You moved your arms from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, shifting one hand to place onto his cheek as you reached yourself up on your tiptoes to become closer to his height.

You caught his focus, making his eyes land on your own rather than being dazed as his mind went back to you dancing on that screen. You leaned yourself in closer, just enough for your lips to ghost over his own, before closing the gap. Unlike the last peck you had given him, this was a far more passionate kiss, giving him the emotion you had kept pent up for the last five years. His grip on your back softened, one hand reaching to your upper back to push you closer to him, his lips moving against yours beautifully. His body began to relax, the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he leant himself forward, easing you back flat on your feet. Had you have not known any better, you would have never guessed that Mycroft had never kissed somebody before; he was just a bloody quick learner. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip softly, grinning as he let out a quiet moan. The need for air soon took over and you allowed yourself to separate, not moving any further than leaving your foreheads touching. "There. Now when we hear it, that's what you need to think of instead. Christ knows I will be." You laughed, your hands guiding themselves from his neck slowly down his chest and pushing him back slightly. "I'm going to go shower, so meet me upstairs? I know I promised more Hardy but I would really like to go to sleep if it's all the same to you." Mycroft only nodded, feeling you peck his lips once more before disappearing out of the room. The song had finished by now, having been replaced by who Mycroft believed were The Rolling Stones, but he wasn't really listening.

He stood still in his spot, mind replaying over the moment as he smiled fondly to himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs along with your voice, muffled but clear enough to understand that you were still singing along to the last song. Placing his fingers against his lips, Mycroft tried to imitate the pressure you had placed on them moments ago, thinking about how your lips felt against his, properly this time, not just the two second thing on the sofa this morning. His chest felt warm, stomach flipping and in a rare moment Mycroft felt genuinely happy. In all his life up to this moment, caring had never been an advantage, had always led to him getting hurt. But maybe, just maybe, you were right about how you were going to prove him wrong one day. And he hoped to whatever sentient being that may or not be watching over him that you were going to prove him wrong about that.

[mischiefmanaged71]

Turning Tables (3/8) - Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Joaquin work together to track down the Flag Smashers, but yet again, she is the middle woman between Bucky and Sam as they butt heads. 

Author’s Note: Continuation of the story into Episode Two of TFATWS. Love the banter between Sam and Bucky, especially when Walker turns up and they team up to direct all of their anger at him. Joaquin is my man, my soft boi. I need more of him in the next two episodes, otherwise, I’m going to be a wreck for a while. Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged! There will definitely be two more parts…who knows, maybe I’ll add more or individual one-shots!

Warnings: anxiety, the smallest drop of fluff

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem! Reader

You leaned back in your chair, feet crossed in front as Joaquin read through documents at his desk. Following up on leads was the top priority right now with the rise in communications of the revolutionaries’ known as the Flag Smashers. 

Word Count: 2.4K

Joaquin stood by his word and incorporated Sam and Y/N in the investigation. They had been at the Airbase for a total of 3 hours and 49 minutes, reading through documents and following up leads using the database resources. 

You rest your hands on your stomach as you shut your eyes for a moment. The bags under your eyes had become more noticeable in the past couple days, what with sleepless nights and long hours. All of which led you to grow closer to the coffee machine in your small apartment.

The nightmares had grown worse in the past week, haunting more than the occasional dream. Sometimes it was just the darkness that irked you, which you’d usually resolve with a bit of light. More recently, they formed into horrific events where you couldn’t save Sam or Bucky. The worst instance was last night’s terror.

This time, Joaquin showed up instead. 

Instead of the usual guilt that strung you up, an aching sorrow and horror overwhelmed you as you lost control. 

The fire was everywhere.

It burned until nothing was left.

Until the last edge of life was gone.

Even as you grasped for the tip of control to stop it, the flames extended further and further.

You couldn’t stop them,

And that terrified you.

It had its grip on your throat, ever-so-slowly compressing your windpipe as you clawed for the surface.

“Y/N?”

You inhaled sharply, opening your eyes to Joaquin’s concerned gaze as he leaned across the desk.

“You alright? You dozed off there.”

You nodded your head, slacking your jaw to recognise your feet touching the ground, the cabinets along the walls and lastly, the man sitting behind the desk.

His concerned gaze is glued to your widened eyes which scan the room, almost as if you weren’t completely aware.

“Yeah...I haven’t been getting much sleep is all.”

Joaquin nodded, returning to the words on the document,

“I’ve noticed. You’ve been a bit jittery the past couple days.”

“And...that’ll be the caffeine.”, you trailed, as you stood and stretched your limbs out.

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

Joaquin glanced up from the desk, shaking his head as a smirk grew on his face. The bruise under his left eye had slowly been healing from the past mission, along with a large cut along his forehead.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Oh really? Then what’s the face for?”

“What face?”, he laughed and stared at you incredulously.

You leaned your hands against the back of the chair as pointed at him,

“That face that says I’m judging you.”

“This is not a judgemental face. This is the face of someone who is concerned about you.”

You’re quiet, allowing Joaquin to continue as you grip the back of the chair. Averting your eyes to the floor, your stomach plummets. Thumps palpate in your chest as your blood seems to pump harder.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

You gulped down your anxiety, making eye contact with Joaquin so as to convince him and yourself as you spoke.

“...Yeah. I’m fine.”, you nodded your head and smile with the lack of enthusiasm that brings his attention to it. Joaquin cocks his head to the side, trying to see deeper into your mind.

“Y/N-”

The door bursts open as another uniformed soldier leans in the doorway.

“Lieutenant, I’ve got an update waiting for you, Sir.”

Joaquin stood from his seat, nodding his head at the officer.

“Alright, thanks, you can hand it over.”

The soldier nods his head, leaving the folder on the desk before shutting the door. You huff out a sigh at the tension and silence filling the office. Joaquin gathered up the remaining papers on the desk into neat piles, tidying the space.

“Look, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m electing not to sleep and I’m getting more work done.”

“You can’t live like this, Y/N, you’re gonna run yourself into the ground.”

“Yeah well right now, I’d rather not face those fears. Got bigger fish to fry right now.”, you purse your lips and nodded towards the folder.

You exit the office, wandering the first level of the base offices. Your arms press against the railing as you drop your head and listen to the bustling of people and machinery echo across the base. Slumped over the railing, you concentrate on counting your breaths as you hear Joaquin’s feet stomp closer to you.

Joaquin leans next to you on the border as you refuse to move, knowing that your façade of calm will chip as soon as you look at him.

“Y/N, if somethings bothering you, you should tell me. I know you feel that keeping it to yourself is better than admitting it but trust me, it’s a lot worse.”, he leaned down to meet your gaze as a stoic blank expression overcame you.

Your throat tightens and clench your jaw to suppress the sob building in your chest. 

You’ve always been alone with your thoughts, threatening to crack under the constant pressure behind your skull. The Avengers had been an unconventional setting but you created close relationships with a few of them. Some you lost along the way because of uncontrollable things but you wonder. 

You wonder if maybe something was wrong with you.

If it was your fault why they always left.

Why no one stuck around for long.

Tears glimmer, threatening to fall but you exhale a long breath out, turning to him. You twiddle your fingers, jaw clenched as you choke out the words in a whisper.

“...okay.”

Joaquin’s posture straightened as you stepped away from the railing and nodded your head in agreement.

“I’ll try. For you, Flyboy.”

He hummed and a small smile grew on his face at the nickname. 

“That’s all I ask.”

Looking over his shoulder, you recognise a familiar face. 

“Hey, Wilson.” you called over Joaquin’s shoulder, causing Sam’s eyes to flicker between the two of you.

“Hey, Y/L/N. I see you guys are spending extra time together…”, Sam implied with a smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Sam’s implications, nudging his arm.

“It’s about time he kept me in the loop.”

He recognises the dark circles under your eyes and how tired you look but elects to ignore it. 

“You alright?”, Sam asks.

You look up at Joaquin as his lips twitch upwards in a small encouraging smile. His hand slides across the railing, hovering next to yours as you reply.

“I’m right where I need to be.”

You trail off as you notice Sam’s stiff posture and tension as he glides his hands into his pockets.

“How are you?”

After the huge declaration of America’s new ‘Captain America’, you were infuriated with the SHAM. Walker had done nothing to deserve that shield. 

It was Sam that Steve chose. 

It was Sam that deserved the shield.

You can only imagine how upset he is feeling. 

Sam almost shrugs, tilting his head as he doesn’t know how to express all of his feelings about the situation.

You all glance towards a screen as a poster of John Walker holding up Steve’s shield is shown.

“Seems like a good guy. You met him?”, Joaquin asks.

“No.”, Sam replied.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“Yeah. No sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist. You’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich.”

“I’ll be in the air with Joaquin so you can keep us updated…”

You trail off because your attention phases to Bucky Barnes’ entrance. With the fury in his step, you can practically visualise the daggers Bucky is sending towards Sam as you descend the stairs.

“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

“Good to see you too, Buck.”

“This is wrong.”, Bucky interjects.

Bucky follows Sam, cutting him off to interrogate. 

“Hey, hey, look, I’m working, all right? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait.”

Bucky narrows his eyes,

“You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

Sam is aghast, “No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen. You think it didn’t break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?”

“Steve didn’t want this.”

“Oh, my God. What do you want me to do? Call America and tell ’em I changed my mind? Huh?”

Joaquin rests a hand on your shoulder, bringing your attention back to him,

“I’m gonna go ahead and set up before we leave.”

You nod, acknowledging him, gripping his hand,

“I’ll be right there.”, sending him a reassuring smile.

You watch as Sam and Bucky tussle in an argument over the shield and then the mission.

You find yourself striding up to them as Sam stomps off alone towards the plane.

“Hey stranger.”

Bucky turns around and his eyes light up in recognition. He flicks over your tired eyes and sombre expression.

“Sam didn’t know this would happen.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have given it up in the first place. It doesn’t belong there.”

“Bucky… I know how much that shield means to you... But you have to understand that Sam did what he thought was the right thing. We have to accept that. It’s what Steve wanted.”

“This is not what Steve would have wanted, Y/N.”

Bucky is fuming at the thought of the man parading as Captain America.

“I know, I know, Bucky. But we gotta work together to solve this one.”

“Just like always.”

He hummed, looking at the plane.

“Fine, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m mad at him.”

You sigh but agree because you know your boys are stubborn.

*****

You sit up on a crate as the plane flies below the drop-off zone for Sam and Bucky. You were sitting this one out to surveil with Joaquin from above.

“One minute to drop off, Sam.”

You watch Joaquin as he assesses the distance below and the time on his watch. The cuts and scrapes on his face have mostly healed but the blue and purple bruising under his eye remains. 

“So what’s our plan?”, Bucky asks Sam who ignores him as he positions his com in his ear.

“Great. So no plan.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance, sitting back down in his seat.

“Thirty seconds!”, Joaquin yells, looking out into the open air.

“I’m reconsidering sending those two out there alone.”

You glance anxiously between Sam and Bucky as the tension in the plane stirs.

“But they’re not alone, because they’re going together.”, Joaquin points out.

“That’s the part I’m worried about.”

You smile unconvincingly at Joaquin as you listen to the men bicker.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck.”

Bucky rejects Sam’s use of the nickname,

“No, you can’t call me that.”

“Why not? That’s what Steve called you.”

You roll your eyes at the childish banter between the two. You were considering the amount of logic and coordination between the two of them but then again, you were too tired to get on board for this mission.

“Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan.”

“Why couldn’t Steve be here?”, you whisper sarcastically.

“Fifteen seconds to drop.”

“I have a plan.”, Sam defends.

“Really? What is it?”

Sam ignores Bucky, jumping from the plane. Joaquin peeks his head out in amusement as Sam ignites his suit and flies off. He still wears that look of amaze on his face since the first time he saw the suit.

“Great. Where’s the chute?”, Bucky asked, looking around.

“We’re at 200 feet. It’s too low for a chute.”

“I don’t need it anyway.”

Joaquin perked an eyebrow, glancing at Bucky from the side, 

“You sure about that?”

“No! I know that look Bucky and I swear-”

“Yeah.”, Bucky sighs, yelling as he drops from the plane.

You and Joaquin both stare out into the open air as Bucky plummets into a tree, slowing his descent.

“What. An. Idiot.”, you exclaim from beside Joaquin.

“That looks like it hurts too.”

Pulling your sleeves down, you shiver and pull back from the open door to return to your seat. 

“He’ll be fine. I think.”

Joaquin slides the door shut as its seals with a hiss. 

You retract back into yourself as your thoughts return in the quiet.

Luckily, Joaquin is there to push them back.

“Hey, join me upstairs? I’ve gotta track activities for Sam from up here.”, he waits for your answer.

“Sure.”

He steps aside to let you walk up the steps first, sliding behind you as you reach the second floor. His hand ghosts over you back, guiding you across to the computers.

You flirt around the screens, leaning your hands against the metal frame. Joaquin’s hand roams around different radars and dials as he reads them. You watch from your spot as he concentrates, although, his eyes float up to check on you, every so often. You’ll pretend not to notice the suppressed smirk that threatens to rise on his face at your stare. 

You push that brewing anxiety aside but not without strain. Not without a little help from that pure and inviting calm that Joaquin brings.

***

TAGS:

@asoftie4bucky @remmysbounty @cjsinkythoughts @bubblegum28universe  @farfromjustordinary  @hocusbowie @alainabooks143 @marvelnerd18 @samscaptain @alexlynn16 @dontstahpmemeow @plllover86 @petewentzfrommcr80  @literallyjustfanfiction @captainbarness @parkjammys @the-and-sign-anon @nialeesato 

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates! 

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

[eijirohno]

alright so he’s blocked me so I can’t reply to the original thread but here’s my full story. My name is Miki Moon, I’m 19, and I want to tell the whole truth.

PrincelyMagik/HimboKing/Jesse is a toxic individual, and their server Apex HQ is his personal arena for shit stirring: a thread

Update: (Monday, November 2, 2020) he’s since changed his discord to ParanoiaIncarnate#0796 and his tumblr is now HimboKing

Let’s start at the very beginning. About a week ago, Jesse invited me to Apex HQ, immediately obsessed upon meeting me in another server, and introduced me to Apex HQ as “the girl he’s been simping for” and according to Jesse himself and his friends, I was the subject of conversation in several calls, streams, and chats, and members of the server recognized me even though they hadn’t met me

Jesse basically would ask me to show pictures of myself, like selfies and mirror photos of my outfits to the chat and then encouraged other members to comment on my appearance along with him while he called me things like ‘Hot Lady’, and associated most everything about me with my appearance.

other members of the server would speak to me and he’d tell them to stop it or would make them delete messages if they got too flirty for his tastes, even though I hadn’t expressed romantic interest in him whatsoever.

On October 28th, Thursday, he private messaged me

(I attempted to gently reject him and change the subject. This was my second mistake, after allowing myself to be sexualized and degraded)

After this point, Jesse began treating me differently, and essentially ignored me or talked over me. On Friday, after what I thought was a teasing, playful conversation, I left my phone for a short moment to attend to something personal, and Jesse had assumed I went away because of something he’d said bc I jokingly said “nvm Gn!!!” in character as Ferdinand

He privately messaged me and said we need to talk, and while confused, I agreed and asked what was up. He then told me I’d talked over several members of the server, was annoying and an attention whore, and mentioned a conversation and a minor issue I thought had already been resolved and moved past.

I attempted to explain I hadn’t realized I had been ‘problematic’ and tried to apologize and ask questions for my own clarification. I was informed I was guilt tripping and not being genuine.

This private dm was also being screen shared to other mods without my prior consent. (And Jesse intended it to be without my knowledge but I wasn’t dumb enough to not see the chat and that his status said ‘sharing their screen’) and they spent about thirty minutes calling me a liar and a fake and tried to say I was dragging names of other mods. I hadn’t.

I reluctantly agreed to an ultimatum that basically told me to stay quiet unless I could stay ‘on topic’ or I would be banned. They tried to force me into silence, and refused to both listen to my apologies and speak to me privately.

after this, I returned to the chat after a short break and continued like normal, and no one in the chat had been notified of anything I’d supposedly done- yet. I carried on conversation like normal both Friday night and Saturday morning

Early Saturday morning I reached out to another mod privately, and apologized to them. They ss my conversation and forwarded it to Jesse, who messaged me Saturday afternoon.

He sent a private dm telling me to “play nice” and when I said that my conversation with the other mod was none of his business (since it wasn’t in the server) and he then decided I was being “hostile and feigning offense” and he was “tired of my shit”

He then proceeded to try to goad an argument out of me, but by midday Saturday I’d already started receiving information as to what kind of person he is, so when I told him I knew what games he was playing and that his mind games wouldn’t work on me- he jumped straight to insulting me and called me a bitch bc i said it was like the drama I experienced back in high school.

After that, he banned me, sent a violent gif, and told his server they’d confirmed I harassed mods and was a fake individual who lied and faked my whole personality and everything I said- which was absolutely NOT true

This image was sent to me by a friend in the server who has since been banned for defending me.

Several former victims and friends of Jesse have since reached out to me, and confirmed I’m not the only person who has experienced this. In fact, I’m the fourth documented person to have problems with Jesse in Apex HQ alone.

Yesterday, before he blocked me on tumblr as well, I’d made this thread underneath where he advertised Apex HQ to hopefully prevent anyone else from experiencing the hell that is that server as well as ‘friendship’ with Jesse. Someone close to him reached out, only knowing his side of the story, and accused me of lying, with only the ss of the later argument that Jesse had shown them.

I’ve since shown them more of the ss, as well as some other information, and they deleted their reply and made amends, which I’m grateful for. I hope this makes some of the others still in the server realize the truth as well. I’m more than happy to share evidence and proof to anyone who doubts me.

Please. Stop viewing his twitch streams. Don’t join this server. Take away his power over smaller or newer Apex fans. DNI with him if you kin Felix. He will sexualize you because he associates you with Felix.

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “Situations”

A/N:  WHAT?! BACK TO BACK UPDATES?! Yes, you're not dreaming, it is happening and even I, am surprising myself. I'd like to thank you all for the support even though I haven't written in a while. I've never received much more heartfelt messages and comments. With much encouragement, this next chapter wrote itself quickly. :) I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground

XXXXX

“Are we on for lunch next Friday?” she asked, three blocks away from her home. 

“Actually, I’ll be going on a two week business trip to London.” Jamie answered. “I need to look at our office down there, catch up with our staff and clients” 

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mention it earlier. But my schedule is going to be cramped.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s work!” Claire bumped his arm with her elbow. “Message me when you’re back and settled and let’s catch up then.” she followed, hoping to keep communication lines open in line with what seems to be a long break. 

“I will.” Jamie noted that offer. “How about you? How is your week looking?” 

“Uhm, between my rounds, surgeries, and department duties” Claire counted with her fingers for emphasis. “My days are pretty much full. Lunch, late evenings and the weekends are generally my free times.” The answer also serves as an indirect information Claire hoped Jamie would figure out about how unpredictable her time and availability is.

A brief silence and then Claire asked the question that was on her mind since the afternoon. “Erm, why didn’t you tell me you were popular?” 

“What?” Jamie chuckled. “What is the world are ye talking about?” 

“It has come to my attention that you, Jamie Fraser, apparently, is one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors.” Claire said and Jamie groaned. 

“Ugh, how’d you find out?” 

“Geilis mentioned it earlier. Apparently, there are magazine pictures that I should see. She’s showing me her copy on Monday.” she added, earning another joking sigh. “I wondered why it never came up and/or why you didn’t tell me?” 

“One, I thought you, at least, knew. I mean, it was in a national magazine. Second, it’s not the first thing I share with the people I meet. How would you feel if I said, ‘Hi, I’m Jamie Fraser, did you see my photo on Tatler?” he saw her tilt her head and stick her tongue in feign disgust. “Exactly.” 

“I guess that’s a valid point. Still - I guess, I’d rather knew about myself first or you.” 

“I’m sorry, Sassenach. It just comes with working at a local, historic business, keeps us afloat, ye know. I’ll warn ye ahead of time of any write-ups about me out there.”

“What’d ye call me?” Claire stopped walking.

“Hmmm?”

“You called me a Sassenach?” she raised her eyebrow. 

“Aish, it’s not as bad as ye think it means. It just means Englishwoman, an outlander, not from Scotland.” Claire didn’t look convinced, forcing Jamie to explain further. “It was my first thought about ye when you slipped under my umbrella. I guess it kinda stuck and is what I’ve been calling ye in my head.”

“Mhmm, alright.” She shook her head and smiled. “This is me” 

Jamie looked at the Georgian building and took note of the place and surroundings. “I guess, I’ll see you in two weeks.” 

“I’ll see you in two weeks” Claire waited briefly if Jamie had anything else to say or do but when he didn’t move, it was her cue to leave. “Bye, then.” 

“Bye.” Jamie watched Claire enter her home and when she was safely in, he walked back to his car, berating himself if he missed a big opportunity. 

--

Claire reached the emergency room and immediately asked for a patient in the nurse’s station. “Tammas Baxter?”

“Bed 4” She quickly went to where the nurse pointed and opened the curtain to find a pale, sickly, boy, a frightened grandma, and a fidgety young lady. 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Claire Beauchamp and I’ll be checking on Tammas today. Are you his family and what seems to be the problem?” She asked the ladies on the other side of the bed as she examined his physical state. 

“Yes, we are. I’m Mrs. Fitz, his grandma and this is Laoghaire, his cousin. He came home from school this afternoon and just started vomiting and developing a head and stomachache.” 

Claire leaned down and smelled Tammas, having a hunch already on what the boy might be going though but she needed to confirm. “Tammas, my name is Claire. I know you’re in pain right now but I need you to tell me something so we know what medicine to give you, okay?” The boy nodded weakly. 

“Did you eat this?” Claire shared a photo on her phone and despite his frailty, everyone saw the panic in his eyes looking from Claire to his grandma. Claire looked at the old lady as she soothed rather than scold her grandson, telling her he was in no trouble and just needed to tell the truth. With that, the boy turned to Claire and gave a nod to confirm her suspicions. 

“Thank you, good lad.” Claire patted the boy and proceeded to order her treatment to the nurses. “Get blood and urine samples, hang an IV and start to give him a dose of anti-poisoning” 

After getting a clear from the nurses, Claire invited his guardians outside to explain his situation better. “Hi, Mrs. Fitz, was it?” the older lady confirmed and she proceeded to explain the situation. “Tammas ingested a plant called Lily of the Valley. It is incredibly poisonous and you made the right decision to bring him in immediately. We caught it at the right time and we’ll treat him with fluids and medicine and we’ll observe him in the next couple of days until his situation improves. He’ll be just fine.”

Mrs. Fitz sighed in relief and then hugged Claire which she returned. As a pediatric surgeon, she’s already used to these moments but it always warms her heart when it happens. Mrs. Fitz then asked her niece to check on admitting Tammas and left. They checked on Tammas again, the boy now asleep after being medicated. 

“I’ll check up on him before my shift ends. I’ll ask the nurses to page me if anything changes on his condition.” Claire said, signing his chart and placing it back on the caddy. 

“Thank ye, Doctor.”

“Please call me Claire” 

“Ye know, it was my nephew who told me to go straight to the ER and look for Dr. Beauchamp. He didn’t mention, though, that Dr. Beauchamp was a pretty lady.”  

A blush threatened to creep Claire’s cheek but she kept her composure. “Jamie called ahead as well, told me that you were coming. I was free and was able to come down to the ER. I’m happy to help” 

“And how did ye know it was poisoning right away?” 

“I dabble in medicinal herbs sometimes. The plant has a distinct smell that I picked up while I was examining him. Jamie also had a hunch and told me about a tradition with the boys about eating the plant as a right of passage. Between those two, it kinda showed itself.” 

“I see. And how long have ye known Jamie?” Mrs. Fitz found the opening and she took it. 

“Not too long.” Claire smiled and answered honestly. Just then, Laoghaire returned with documents for them to sign and she excused herself out. 

As Mrs. Fitz finished the paperwork, her thoughts flitted back to Claire. When she asked about Jamie, she somewhat expected the lass to immediately gush all over him as what she’d experienced with his previous affairs. 

But what she found, instead, in their short conversation thus far, was a genuineness that was incredibly refreshing to see. She didn’t know the extent of their relationship, yet, but for whatever’s worth, she knew Jamie found a good one. 

---

“You were right, it was poisoning. Yep, no - he’ll be fine now, Jamie. We’re treating him and should be able to go home in a few days.” Claire put the phone on speaker as she signed documents in her office. It’s been a week and a half since they last saw each other and due to the nature of their jobs, they’ve texted sporadically, just catching up or checking in, here and there. But, today, the emergency forced them to communicate more directly and urgently to which each of them welcomed.

Jamie was on the other line, wanting to hear the update himself. “I told the lad not to do it and he still did. Mrs. Fitz might not have a thing to say anymore to him but I might have” 

“Like you were not a ten year old that broke the rules before.” she gruffed. 

“Still, my da told on me.” 

“Jamie, I’m sure Tammas would have plenty to hear about it by the time you come back.”

She heard a sigh on the other end and she knew she’d saved the lad against more scolding from his family. “Yer right. I’ll just settle for a really, really stern look and not give him his presents” 

He can hear her roll her eyes and moved to change the subject. “Who accompanied Mrs. Fitz, Sassenach?” 

Claire smiled, still not use to the name but truthfully, she liked it because it came from him. “A granddaughter, I think her name was Laoghaire.”

“I see.” he said plainly and Claire caught on. 

“Anything you’d like to share?” she pressed but instead the call ended and rang again, this time a video call. 

Claire was surprised but took a quick look at her mirror and accepted the call. 

“Yes?” 

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how are ye” 

“You called after I mentioned Laoghaire. That is suspicious.”

“There’s nothing to tell other than, she might have a wee crush on me, Sassenach.” 

“A wee crush. That explains the weird look she gave me earlier today.” 

“What weird look?”

“Like she was sizing me up or something. Didn’t last long, though, Mrs. Fitz had her do all the errands earlier. 

It was Jamie’s turn to make a face and shrug. “Don’t let her get to ye, Claire. I’m no interested in her” 

“Oh yeah? Why so?” she quipped back. 

“For starters, she isna my type and…” 

Claire cut him off, “Alright, alright, no need to say more” a laugh bubbling as Jamie looked so serious on her screen. “Anything else, you need to say, Mr. Fraser? Some of us have to work here.” 

She saw Jamie scratch the back of his head, turn red, and hear the shuffling of his feet. “Erm, Claire, would you be free this Saturday evening?” 

She looked at her calendar, “My schedule is free so far” 

“May I have the pleasure to take you to dinner then?”

“Are you asking me out, James Fraser?” Claire asked, eyeing him adorably. She was not at all surprised that their lunches would eventually become dinners. It was only a matter of time. If they we’re not interested in each other, they had stopped meeting a long time ago. 

“Aye.” Jamie replied, anticipating her answer.

“Pick me up at my place around 7:00?” 

“It’s a date, then.”

[marvel-movies-bucky-barnes]

Moving Forward

Summary: You are Tony’s sister and in love with Bucky, but Tony still doesn’t trust Bucky post-Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky x Laela (reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Thor Odinson, Wanda Maximoff,

Warnings: Fluff, some kissing, light spoilers up until Captain America: Civil War, angst, self-doubts, mentions of brainwashing, comforting

Word count: 3,346

Author’s note: This is really my first fic I’ve ever written and posted. Please be kind and enjoy! I am in the process of going through the Marvel movies chronologically for the first time, so I HAVE NOT FINISHED THE MOVIES YET! Please don’t comment spoilers past Spiderman: Homecoming in Marvel’s chronology! I appreciate reposts and comments!

Requests: OPEN

*NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER*

You would think that a man who had nothing left to lose would be ready to throw himself to the fire. You would think that a simple retrieval mission would be as routine as putting on your shoes before you walk out the door. You would think that spending ten years living under the protection of a hotheaded brother with an egocentric mind would warrant the basic privilege of a release from the iron-fisted grip on your whereabouts.  

According to Natasha, all this thinking is what gets me into trouble with Tony in the first place.

“I don’t understand.” Grabbing Tony’s arm, halfway lifted to the coffee mug balancing precariously on the edge of the counter, I spun him toward me. I knew full well that he could have dug his feet in his tracks if he had wanted to, yet he yielded. “Why will you take me and not him?”

“You know why. And if you weren’t so naïve, maybe you would wake up from this daydream you’re living in and realize that I’m right.” A shadow must have crossed my face—one all too familiar to the team who was lounging against pristine furniture a room over, feigning ignorance to our conversation. As I glanced over my shoulder, a dozen pairs of eyes darted around, immediately finding innate fascination in the stitching of the carpet and the chandelier gently swinging above the banister.  

“Laela—,” Avoiding eye contact, he slid his fingers into the iron hand of his suit, hissing when the cold metal bit into his skin. As if he hadn’t worn it enough times to have the basic instinct of turning on the heater first. Cool granite hit my skin as I hoisted myself up onto the counter. The silence was deafening, or maybe it was the blood roaring through my ears—hot-headed, the only way the Stark family knows—until he finally dropped his head in defeat. “One.”

One pin drop could be heard; one collective breath was held by the rest of the team; one last nerve of his that I was getting on? The possibilities were endless. Biting my tongue, I waited as patiently as could be expected as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“One mission,” he relented, swearing lightly as if he were battling against conscious. “You have one hour to get him ready. Starting now.”

I saw those dozen pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of Tony’s head, mouths hung open like fish out of water. When I glanced past Tony and made eye contact with Steve, his eyebrows shot to his hairline and he motioned me quickly toward the door before Tony could change his mind.  

“One hour!” Tony hollered after me as I backpedaled out of the room, tripping over the leg of Thor’s chair on the way.  

My feet had a mind of their own as they carried me up two flights of stairs and three different hallways before I knocked gently on the heavy oak door next to my own. I had originally picked my room at the far end of the mansion for the view of the coast, the endless stretch of ocean providing a comforting hum of white noise while I slept.  

I like to think Bucky had picked his for the sounds of the ocean as well, though I imagine the rush of the waves works to calm more than his insomnia.

When he didn’t answer, I let myself in. I was shocked, in the beginning, at the stark contrast between his room and the other bedrooms in the house. The walls—completely bare save for the navy paint coating—were shockingly distinct from my own, which were covered in photos and haphazardly hung posters. Walking into his room now, I see how calming the blankness of the walls can be for Bucky, especially if it mirrors what he’d like to feel inside his own mind. A clean slate in his room; peaceful, blank walls. Stillness. The hope that these can be replicated onto himself.  

I can’t help but think back to one of the first nights we shared in this room.  

I had woken up in the middle of the night to a cold bed. Frantically grabbing at the sheets for the familiar touch of a warm hand or even the cold bite of the metal on his arm was futile, and I shot up ramrod straight in our bed to see him leaning against the railing of the balcony, fingers digging into the wood and unclenching, repeatedly.  

It was a sight I had come to be familiar with.  

As it was happening in this moment, I had done nothing more than walk over to him and lean my elbows against the railing and watch the waves, knowing that this was something that I couldn’t fix—something that he hadn’t wanted me to fix. I had made it clear that there was nothing in him that needed to be fixed, but I gave him the space to work through the storm clouds surrounding his head.  

That was all the other needed at times, I believe; someone there to ground us as we battled against our own demons clawing at our heads.  

Tonight, Bucky’s elbows leaned into the railing, the metal biting into the splintering wood. He didn’t seem to notice. His shoulders eased a fraction of an inch as he heard me approach, something that had taken him months to be able to do around anyone.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“HYDRA. Winter Soldier Operative.” A short, clipped response. Unspoken words hung heavy in the balance; thoughts I knew he wouldn’t breach right now. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence—it never was with me and him. Though a hundred questions came bubbling to the surface, I held back. Sparing him a sidelong glance, he shook his head lightly.  

He didn’t want to talk about it. And that was all right.

“I was thinking,” I mused, reaching over to take Bucky’s arm in my hand and tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t it be nice to get away? Somewhere the Winter Soldier won’t follow?”

It was naïve thinking, I realized almost immediately. Just as Tony had said (not that I would ever admit to this truth). Naïve to believe that we could escape the mission, if only for a few moments; naïve to believe that Bucky could take himself out of world he had formed through escapism.

“I can’t change the past, doll.” He focused on one point across the ocean while I centered on the dips and divots of the vibranium.  

“No one’s asking you to. But you don’t need to let it define you.” Reaching up, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. It had been blowing in his face for God knows how long; I knew he wouldn’t have bothered to fix it himself any time soon.  

“The Winter Soldier is in the past. HYDRA can’t get to you anymore. This Bucky,” tapping my finger against his heart, I looked up at him, “this James—he’s the man I fell in love with.”

His withering stare finally softened as his shoulders relaxed all the way. Something clicked in him when he heard James—something he only hears from me.

“You’re here because Tony finally released his grip on you, is that it?” he quipped, softening his words by pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I could hear Tony yelling from downstairs, so I had asked JARVIS for the mission update before you came up.”  

“You don’t have to go. You know that; no one would hold it against you.” As he opened his mouth to protest (most likely about how Tony would hold it against him if he had so much as buttered his toast wrong), I gently cut him off with a squeeze of his hand. “I do think it might help get things back on track with Tony, though, Buck.”

“He still doesn’t trust me.” Bucky’s eyes hardened, turning back toward the ocean.

“Prove him wrong.”  

His silence held more than he knew, and he seemed to realize this as he gave a brisk nod and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek before turning to change into his gear.  

_______________________________________________________________________

On the plane, as luck would have it, I had scored the seat between Bucky and Tony, Bucky being across the aisle from Steve, Bruce and Sam as well. He kept up quiet, polite conversation with Bruce and Sam on the way, his hand resting on my knee and his voice soft. While he was distracted, I took the opportunity to nudge Tony in the right direction.

“Talk to him,” I encouraged, pressing on when Tony narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about him.”

At his bark of indignation, I cut him a look sharp as glass.  

“You have misjudged him since the moment you met him,” I snapped, fingers curling into a fist. “We are a team. You want me, you get him, too. That’s how this works.”  

Though I had pitched my voice low to avoid the others overhearing, Tony stiffened, and I could sense Wanda attempting to shift the energy of the plane as the rest of the team began stumbling over their words to affect cluelessness about the situation. Five metal fingers tightened lightly over my knee and I laid my hand atop his without breaking eye contact with Tony.  

“Bucky didn’t kill our parents.” A sharp intake—whether from Bucky or from Wanda, I couldn’t be sure—sounded throughout the aircraft. “The Winter Soldier did. HYDRA did. Since coming back, Bucky’s done nothing but try to beg for your forgiveness, your understanding, and you’ve been a brick wall—to him, to Steve, to me. And deep down, I think you’re just scared to admit that you could have been wrong about something.”

My breathing rattled in my lungs.

The metal of Bucky’s fingers clicked together as they pressed into my knee.

A quiet rustle of Thor’s cloak and Natasha spinning a dagger between gloved fingers.

The soft tap of Steve’s shield against the seat of the plane.

One

Two

Three beats of  

A b s o l u t e l y   n o t h i n g.

As I turned back toward Bucky, his metal fingers tapping lightly into the fabric of my jeans, one-two-three, one-two—a grounding tactic he told me he once used at HYDRA’s base—I shook my head, willing to accept that there was nothing I could do for Tony to put his ego aside and take in what I was saying when—

“You’re right.” Tony let out a breath I knew he had probably been holding around Bucky since the Winter Soldier operative. Low enough for only me and Bucky to hear—though he directed his words at me—two words I never thought Bucky would hear from him (whether indirectly or not) fell past his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“James is—Bucky’s —not the Winter Soldier. He’s not the man you’ve painted him out to be. I love him for who he is, not what he has or hasn’t done. He’s done more for this team and for me than you care to notice. Maybe if you’d put your enormous ego aside and have a conversation with him, you would see that.”

Tony’s eyes darted between mine for five—six—seven beats, his lips pressed into a fine line. Five metal fingers continued tapping a pattern onto my thigh. One breath.

“I know you love him.”  

A dozen pairs of eyes bore through Tony with a steel gaze, unabashedly pinning him in place with a single look.  

“Let’s see what he’s got.”

_______________________________________________________________________

I’d normally call a successful mission any time our team made it out alive, though I knew Tony didn’t see it the same way. Today was different—while half the team victory was winning the battle against a terrorist organization set to infiltrate the city, I would say that Bucky and I found our own victory in our small interaction with Tony on the plane.

“I’ve been thinking, Laela,” Bucky murmured from where we lazed across the chair on the veranda. I waited for him to continue and looked up at him, but his gaze wasn’t on me—it was trained on the ocean once more. I knew he was sifting through his thoughts, tangled in a knot from the last twenty-four hours—likely from before then, even. “I’ve been thinking about 1942.”

“The war?” I twisted a strand of his hair that had fallen into his eyes, not wanting to press too much on a sensitive subject. Tucking the strand behind his ear, I met his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Laying my head back down on his chest, I counted five heartbeats before he finally let out a breath.

“Yes. But not now.” His plated fingers brushed against my knee. His fingers tapped a rhythm against my knee—one-two-three, one-two. Grounding himself in reality. “I remember everything detail. About the war, about the HYDRA operative. Going under. Every moment.”

I knew as much, though he rarely talked about it openly like this.  

“Tony stopped me when we came home from the mission.” The tension in his arms wrapped around me vanished on that word—home. “After you had gone up to bed, and I told you I would meet you up there. We started talking—one of the first real conversations I think we’ve ever had. He asked me—”

I waited for him to finish, knowing that whatever he had to say must have been as difficult then as it was now.  

“He asked me about HYDRA. About the Winter Soldier.” As my body tried to jerk toward his, he gently pushed my shoulders back to lay against his chest. “It’s fine. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t press—shocking as that is.”  

“Did he ask about anything else?”

“He asked about you,” he admitted. At my baffled expression, he snorted and added, “Relax. He didn’t threaten to murder me and hide my body, if that’s what you’re wondering. He asked about what you said on the plane.”

Racking my brain, I remembered how heated I was toward Tony in the moment.  

“You hadn’t told him that before, had you? That you loved me.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a question. A statement, really. Still, I felt a flush creep up my neck as I tried to find a point on the horizon to focus on. Bucky knew that I loved him but didn’t always understand why. I hadn’t heard the same from him, and it was fine—honestly.  

I would break off pieces of my own soul to give him, bit by bit, if it would give him some peace, just to let him know how loved he is.  

“Have I ever told you the first memory I have of you? At the HYDRA base, when you and Steve had come to break me out?” Without waiting for an answer, a shaky laugh fell past his lips as he lifted his hand from my shoulder to comb his hair back.  

“You had barreled through the door, right on Steve’s heels. HYDRA had been poking around in my brain, and I didn’t have control of what I was doing. But I was aware of what was going on around me.” His eyes met mine then, and my breath caught in my throat. “Tony was screaming from the sidelines for you to get the hell out of there when those HYDRA agents were about to storm the base. But you grabbed my hand and insisted that you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

His eyes glazed over, shifting his reality to that moment. My fingers tightened against his hands, both flesh and vibranium, letting him know that I wouldn’t leave him behind in this moment, either. Showing what I couldn’t put into words.  

“I hadn’t done anything to prove to you that I could be trusted, and you were willing to lay your life on the line for me. You were the first one to speak to me after returning to the house. Other than Steve, you were the first one to make any effort to get to know me—the real me. James, not Bucky or The Winter Soldier.” His lips curved up in a genuine smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and scrunched his nose and brought a pinch of color to his cheeks. Something that he didn’t show a lot. “You were the first one to call me out on my shit. Everyone else was too scared to even approach me.”  

The room was silent now, but a comforting silence, one that wrapped itself around us as we gazed out toward the ocean.

“I know I have a lot to make up for. Not just to Tony and the team, but to you.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he silenced me by pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of love before I met you. The team—I've noticed most of them coming around, too. The other week, Clint was going on a supply run, and he asked me to come with him. I don’t think he had spoken to me more than a handful of times before that.”

“That was all you, Buck. The others are finally starting to see who you are in here,” I brought his vibranium hand in mine to tap against his heart. “Something they should have begun to do a long time ago.”

He settled into the chair on the veranda and pulled me tighter against his chest, his hair brushing against my cheek. I didn’t push it away. We sat like that, wound together in a comfortable silence, until the ocean breeze started to send a chill up my arm.  

“It’s nice,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Feeling like I’m starting to belong somewhere. Like I have something to live for. Everyone from my past live, back in 1942—they're gone. Aside from Steve. I felt lost, for such a long time. Now it feels like the pieces are starting to fit together again—like I have people who love me in this life. Like I have a family.”

“You do have a family. We will always be there for you, whether you see it or not. And, though they may not say it, they love you. Almost as much as I do.” Laying my hand against his cheek, I gently turned his face to look at me, to recognize my words. I tapped against his heart—one-two-three, one-two. Grounding ourselves.  “I love you, James. For what’s in here. I always will.”

I take it he hadn’t heard those words enough; his eyes lit up, brighter than I had ever seen, and a soft smile slowly spread across his lips.  

“I love you, Laela.”

I’m not sure how long we laid in that chair, watching the tide crash against the rocks, my fingers tracing the grooves of his hand. All I remember is two arms, one flesh, one metal, hook under my legs and back and walk us back to the bed. I remember those same arms encircling me just moments later. I remember Bucky’s breathing slowing to a gentle brush against my neck as his snores softly echoed throughout the room.

I remember waking up before him the next morning and studying every line of his face, every divot of his vibranium arm, taking in every snore that escaped past his lips. I remember feeling love—his for me, and mine for him—all-encompassing in the quiet moments we had shared together.

Looking at him, finally comfortable in his own skin, relaxed in a way I knew he had never felt before, I knew I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

[eunjidrabbles]

YAYYYY your asks are finally open!!! hi hi im the anon may i ask for a hwasa one shot wherein reader is courting hwasa but hwasa doesn't find fem! reader attractive. after one date, hwasa decides that reader isnt really her type which r is bummed about but respects her decision. however, one day hwasa finds r's genuine character and somehow, she falls for r's charms uwu angst to big big fluff please! sorry this is long :3 i really like tropes like this thank youuu!

Just One

(I realized writing hurt/comfort stuff soothes my soul a lot. Probably because I like making it hurt and then I feel bad and try to make it warm and fluffy so no worries. Longer requests help me with plotting out the story.

Edit: Sorry this took longer than expected, I just started my first day of work again and guess who is now a barista? Also Wheein’s solo album just dropped today so go give it a listen ya’ll)

Word count: About 2.4k

-

Ahn Hye Jin is a goddess. Everyone who has seen her either loves her, or hate her because they want to be her. With beauty, fame and charisma that goes off the charts, who could blame when you were to be drawn in like a moth to the light? Of course given the opportunity, you chose to chase after her disregarding the fact there were probably many others like you. It was a chance given, and it would be foolish not to grab at it. Be it getting your manager to buy her favorite drinks so you can drop it off for her whenever she was at the company practicing, leaving little notes with a container of food for her to heat up when she stays back for more practicing on her own or even occasionally popping by the studio when you had some free time off your schedules, you did you best to let your presence be known to her. Management didn't know of your crush, brushing it off as admiration for your senior whose group literally built up the company, and you'd prefer for it to stay that way lest you get kicked out barely a year into debuting. Hyejin however, knew of your intentions. You've made it clear to her when you gathered up the courage to manage to stammer out a "I like you." Before you could hear whoops from Wheein and feel the stares coming from the other two older members directed at you.

Over time, you've managed to also worm your way into the rest's hearts as they realized how pure your intentions were, and how far you'd go to try take care of their strong-headed maknae. Seeing as to how Hyejin has never properly rejected you, they slowly started putting in words for you whenever they spot your gifts for her, planting what they'd hope to be the seeds that will help make their youngest happier. It started from "Look at how thoughtful she is!" To “Hey look, guess who dropped by again today~?” Each time, she would only smile and wave away at her member’s teasing as she accept her gifts with a smile.

The small interactions with Hyejin and the rest of her members were great as you slowly got to know them more, just as friends. Sharing jokes and they would sometimes even invite you up for a meal together. It wasn’t until a few weeks later of skirting around your very obvious infatuation with Hyejin did you actually put up your mind to do something. Nodding to yourself, you gathered up the courage and knocked on the door. Cheers were heard from inside and as routine, Hyejin came to the door to open it for you. Passing over her drink with a smile, she stood waiting accepted it with a small chuckle and thanks. Right before she turned away, you called out to her. Looking back at you questioningly, you took a few deep breath to try settle your pounding heart. “One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you that I’m serious.” You could see her eyes widen in surprise and slowly cover her mouth with her hand. You shift nervously, not daring to break the eye contact. She was the one who looked away first and her gaze fell to the ground, seemingly deep in thought. Noticing the longer than usual interaction, the rest of the members curiously peeked over one another to observe the situation. Putting the pieces together, Wheein shared glances with the older members and back to her best friend and voiced out her thoughts. “Why don’t you give it a shot?” Slowly looking over to her, Hyejin studied her expression, followed by the encouraging looks Moonbyul and Yongsun was giving before going back to her own thoughts for a bit longer. All the while you stood, head slowly lowering, feeling your throat and chest slowly coiling and tightening on themselves while you prepare yourself for the rejection incoming. “So what do you have in mind?” Snapping your head up, you find her staring right at you. You could almost hear your own heartbeat as you let out a breath you didn’t even notice you were holding. Glancing past her, you see the enthusiastic nodding and thumbs up given to you by the rest of her members and you pulled out your phone. “I’ll text you the details?”

As far as records go, the company only saw this meet up as a nice meal between a member of their top girl group and their solo artist. You’ve managed to book a small table at a café that you were introduced by a few friends. It was a cozy little place near an alleyway, just a little out of the way of where the crowd would usually go. Settling down in the corner, you were both handed a small menu. Skimming over, you decided to place an order of a cup of coffee and a macaron for a sweet treat. Hyejin took a little longer to look through the menu but also ended up with just a cup of coffee. There was an awkward tension in the air as you constantly try to find topics to speak about to engage the woman sitting opposite of you when all you could get in reply was a few words in reply. With a smile, you could only nod and let the silence blanket the both of you as your drinks and snack came. Every time you looked up from sipping your drink, you could see her silently in her own thoughts and decided not to bother her lest she finds you annoying. It was when you were on the last few sips of your drinks did Hyejin finally speak up.

“I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t think we’d go well together.”

The words echoed in your head as they processed into what she was trying to say. You swallowed down the harsh reality that hit you right in your chest and nodded with a small understanding smile. “Thank you for at least giving me a chance, and of course, being honest with me.” Nodding back, Hyejin went back to sipping her drink as the silence once again settled between the both of you, this time for you to quietly nurse your heart. Setting down the empty cups, the both of your stood as you pulled out your phone and texted your manager to pick the both of you up. While waiting outside the café, Hyejin couldn’t bring herself to look at you. A part of her felt that she had led you on, despite it just being that she couldn’t understand of her own feelings. To make everything simpler for everyone, the best choice would be to reject and ignore it. A hand coming towards her in the corner of her eye surprised her, and with that she finally look at you again. “Friends?” Raising your eyebrow, you silently prayed that whatever happened wouldn’t ruin whatever relationship you had between her and her members. “Friends.” Raising her hand to shake yours, a smile bloomed across her face in relief that you held no anger towards her.

You understood that it will definitely take time to get over the fact that you had a crush on Hyejin, so you chose not to avoid it. Instead, you faced the rejection straight on, and went up to Mamamoo’s studio even more often to interact more with everyone whenever you had the time. Every now and again, you’d also have a member or two pop up in your studio to join in the chaos, much so adding up to your manager’s headache of trying to keep your appearance as an idol intact, knowing well fully that the random moments you shared with the group would most likely air out as update episodes in your mini vlog series. It took a while to realize that by taking a step back from pursuing Hyejin, that you got so much more closer to her. The awkwardness melted away and what was left was a healthy friendship.

It also took a while for Hyejin to realized how much more she had been looking to spend time with you. Or that the increasing number of comments in your vlog series were commenting on how much and fondly she looked at you. It became almost a daily thing to exchange greetings from dawn and annoy one another through text till dusk fell. It got to the point where whenever her phone’s notification rang, does she perk up and rush to it and if it was not a reply from you, she would falter and according to Wheein, “Look like a kicked puppy.” If you had a schedule when she was free, she sometimes tag along with an excuse to keep you company but if you could see her behind all the staff, you’d notice her intense gaze as she studies you. The way you moved, the way you laughed, and even to the way your chest rise and fall as you breathed. Part of her knew what was happening, but she refused to act upon it. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who risked your career to chase her only for her to reject you, and now suddenly changing her mind. You on the other hand didn’t seem to notice all the extra attention you were getting from her and it annoyed Hyejin to a certain extend. She wanted the smiles you gave to everyone directed to only her. She wanted the jokes you shared and the laughter you gave to just be shared between you two.

It drove her crazy, the more she explored her feelings for you. It made her feel things that scared her. Scenarios would appear in her head as she watches you interact with others. Your words would race through her mind as she goes about her day. Images and memories of your gifts and notes pulled on her heartstrings. Maybe. Hyejin silently thinks to herself. Just maybe, I might be crazy. Chuckling to herself as she stopped in front of a set of doors, she sighed. That’s still better than letting someone else hold you, right? Looking up at the sign that stated the opening hours, she pulled out her phone to do a quick check of the time and pushed open to step through the set of doors.

The bass vibrated throughout the entire room as music boomed from the speakers in the practice room. Your eyes were trained upon your form as you connected each movement of your body to flow with the beat of the music. Seeing how focused you were on perfecting the dance routine, your manager could only sigh in failed attempt of trying to make you promise to not overwork yourself when your comeback was right around the corner before leaving for the night. At some point through the evening, you had shed your hoodie, leaving you in a cooling sports bra and sweat pants. Despite the lesser layers, you were drenched in sweat, and your hair had fallen from their ponytail, leaving them sticking uncomfortably to your face and body. Your body cried out in exhaustion as you slowed to a halt along with the music and panted to catch your breath. Slowly pushing yourself upright again, you groaned, body resisting the idea of one last run through of the routine. Right as you were about to hit the play button on your phone again, the soundproofed door of your studio swung open.

Your squeak echoed the room and your eyes darted up and widened in surprise to meet hers through the mirror’s reflection. It took a second for your body and brain to relax when you realized that the intruder meant no harm when you noticed both her hands were occupied. Slowly turning and walking over to the back of the studio where she had moved from the door, you look at Hyejin questioningly before your gaze dropped to the contents in her hands. Instead of putting it down onto the table, she waited for you to walk over to her to pass you the warm cup of coffee and a paper bag. Carefully hold the cup in one hand, you opened the bag to see a lone macaron sitting inside. A wide smile bloomed on your face when your body understood that the sweet treat was a form of energy for you to function and you eagerly pushed it up the bag to take the first bite. You then remembered the very person that delivered it to you and with your mouth full, you could only smile even wider to her as you closed your eyes in bliss as the sugary snack awoke your senses again.

“One date.”

Your eyes snap open as your jaw stopped its movement.

“One date. Just give me one date. I’ll show you I’m worth your time.”

Your smile slowly dropped as you processed what you just heard. Looking back down at the bag and the cup of drink, you recognized the name imprinted on its sides. It was from the very café you two went to on your first and last date. Forcing yourself to look busy by continuing to slowly chewing the one bite in your mouth, you subtly turned your head towards the mirror to look at the woman, not daring to risk eye contact by looking directly at her. Even from the mirror, you could see her intense gaze, as she fidgeted her hands behind her, anxiously waiting for your answer. 

“So? What do you say?”

Swallowing the now mushy mess in your mouth, you slowly looked right back at her. Lifting the drink to your lips and taking a small sip, you looked for traces of this encounter merely being a bad joke of the rejection you faced at her hand a few months ago. When you could find none, you slowly lowered the drink and sighed. Even at such mundane actions, you could see her tense up in anticipation.

You chuckle suddenly, breaking the silence and causing Hyejin to flinch. That in return made you chuckle even harder when her look of confusion and surprise slowly melt away as your laughter went on. Finally taking a breath to stop, you smiled and answered her.

“I was hoping it will be more than just one.”

[solalunar-eclipse]

SYCS - 1 Year Anniversary

Chapter title: Set In Stone

Word count: about 4000 words

Next

Author’s Note: On July 26, 2020, I posted the first chapter of Scars You Can’t See. One year later, I’ve written five stories of varying lengths and am currently working on a sixth (wow)! My writing’s come a long way since then, and a lot of my improvement is thanks to everyone who encourages me to continue said writing, whether it’s through likes, reblogs, or comments. Thank you all so much for your support so far! :)

This is a rewrite of the very first chapter of SYCS, since the original could use a little fixing. Some important notes: I’ve edited a few parts of the story to be more in character, Chapter 2 starts in a different place after this updated version, and I’ve also fixed up chapter 13 because apparently I forgot to finish the motif I started?? Somehow??? At least I remembered eventually...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (revised) story!

Before, Shadow had always been able to just ignore what it meant to work for G.U.N.

He’d managed somehow to convince himself to brush aside the fact that the soldiers he worked with (had been coerced into working with) wore the same uniforms as those who killed Maria, his dear sister and first friend. To push away any idea that he couldn’t deal with serving the same organization that had once wanted him dead. (It was the only way to stay with his friends, of course he could deal.)

The same thing went for using guns during the Black Arms invasion- even though he’d had amnesia, he remembered enough that he’d needed to rely on adrenaline near constantly just to make it through those times. Despite this, he had still taken the better part of a month to recover afterwards.

His memories of that day were particularly fresh for a while.

Once the invasion had been successfully repelled, G.U.N. had hired him to work for them very rapidly, as a matter of fact. During the process, some of the people along the way strongly suggested that if the organization wasn’t able to keep an eye on him, then…well, then they’d be very displeased. 

Shadow knew all too well that you did not want G.U.N. displeased with you.

The hybrid felt nothing but exhausted as these thoughts whirled through his head for the hundredth time. They’d only become a major problem recently, ever since the military organization had begun to require him to resume using guns on his missions. Every single time he touched one, the cold steel left his palms slick inside his gloves and made his head swim with flashes of memories too often repressed. Still, he had to use them- he’d be taken off missions entirely if he refused, and Shadow would never leave Rouge and Omega in the lurch like that.

However, his mental health had been growing ever worse these past few weeks as a result. He thought (hoped) he’d done a good job of hiding it from Rouge and Omega, but Shadow had been sparring with Sonic noticeably less. The hybrid had struggled with the idea of inflicting more violence on others in his spare time, and the hero had asked him about it several times, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Shadow shook his head, pushing his doubts and worries away just as he always had before. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by his thoughts- they might spill over into missions if he wasn’t careful. Forcing himself to focus on his schedule for the day and nothing else, he walked out of his room to take on whatever might come his way.

…

He was skating through the halls of an old, decrepit building (currently being used as a hideout by Eggman) on a mission. A robot stepped into his path.

Shadow hadn’t used his weapon yet on this assignment. He remembered the thinly veiled threat after his first refusal- we may have to remove you from missions if you cannot handle this responsibility- and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He shut his eyes, whipped out the firearm, and pulled the trigger. Flinching at the sound out of instinct, he refused to open his eyes until the gun was away, when he didn’t have to see it anymore. The robot lay on the ground, a smoking hole in its center. He tried to ignore the lingering sensation of the G.U.N. logo embossed on the handgrip in his palm.

Shadow felt the floor tilt for a moment under him before he regained his bearings.

He refused to look at the machine as he rushed by.

…

The exhausted hedgehog curled up in bed at night, unable to keep himself from hearing gunshots over and over and over. He fought against the memories of that day, refused to let them spill over into his thoughts.

Yet despite his best efforts, he knew he’d dream of it again tonight. He knew that he’d wake up screaming with her name in his mouth and the sight of blood still burned into his eyes. It had happened every night since he’d received the weapon.

Shadow swallowed down his fearful apprehension over what would come next. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to close his eyes, even though he wished to do the exact opposite. Dreams were not real. He could not let them hold power over him.

But still, he shivered as he tried to fall asleep.

…

He and Omega were standing in the center of a courtyard, broken badnik scrap lying all around them. This mission was supposed to be easy, just a simple in-and-out. Take out the bots, grab the intel, and go.

Rouge had asked them to cover for her as she searched for information in the abandoned computers alone. Shadow hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her alone but agreed grudgingly anyway.

He looked down at the firearm he held in his hands and tried his hardest not to cringe.

Flashes of memories threatened to surface again, of escape pods and gunshots and too much blood-

“Shadow.”

He jumped, not expecting Omega’s loud voice so suddenly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have been distracted for nearly ten minutes. Are you unwell?”

Shadow sighed, projecting a relaxed attitude. “Everything is fine. I was simply thinking.”

“About what?” Omega asked curiously.

“Nothing much.”

Silence descended upon the two again for a minute. 

“Shadow.” the E-series robot repeated.

“What.” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he’d intended.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. You looked distressed.”

“I’m fine, alright?” Shadow insisted. “Just- forget it, Omega.”

Omega stepped closer. “Past experience has informed me that you tend to hide important thoughts from others. Therefore, I will assume that this is essential knowledge until proven otherwise.”

“It’s not important.”

The robot placed his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The latter wouldn’t admit it, but the weight was comforting, in a way.

“This is not adequate proof. Do you not trust me, Shadow?”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Omega. You know that.”

“Then talk.” Omega’s processors whirred for a moment, before adding, “Please.”

The hybrid’s shoulders slumped- he knew his friend wouldn’t stop until he told the truth. “I was thinking, how weird is it, that I work for the same organization that ki-...caused my sister’s-” He paused on the word, fighting not to trip over his sentences. “-death and...attempted to cause mine. Among other things. And how now...I must use weapons like the ones that took her from me...to harm others.” He sighed, nearly worn out just from the effort of discussing that event’s existence.

Omega jerked away from him, startling Shadow. “G.U.N. is the organization that killed your sister?” he asked, sounding- if it were possible- shocked.

“And the one that locked me away in cryostasis for 50 years, yes.” Shadow said, feigning calm.

Omega made a staticky noise that sounded like a sharp exhale. “Shadow. Why did nobody tell me this before? And why in the name of Chaos do you still work here?”

Shadow looked away, hiding the bitterness in his expression. “Multiple reasons. One, the organization has somewhat cleaned up its act, as far as I can tell. Two, it wants to keep me under surveillance, since I am still ‘potentially dangerous’ to them...and consequences would be severe if I did not obey.”

He tapped his heel on the ground. “Also, it was one of the main avenues for us to become heroes. Unlike Sonic and his friends, we don’t have the luxury of fighting someone who wants us to know where they are. And you know we didn’t exactly have the best record with law enforcement beforehand.”

“Still.” Omega replied. “I am highly opposed to the concept of fighting in the name of such an organization. Have they at least apologized to you? Or admitted their wrongdoing?”

Shadow frowned, thinking. “No, actually, they never did.”

Why did he have to bring this up? There’s no point in talking about what’s past. Let’s just get over it and move on.

Omega looked down, his eyes dimming slightly. “Processing.”

He was still processing by the time Rouge arrived, and remained mostly silent for their exit, post-mission briefing and the entire ride home.

Once the three had gotten inside, Rouge faced the E-series robot. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re never quiet, but you’ve barely said a word since I got back.”

“I am considering an important decision.” Omega said.

“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, folding her arms.

“My potential resignation from the government organization known as G.U.N..”

“Wait, what?” Rouge gasped. 

Shadow shouted out from the other room simultaneously. “Omega, what are you thinking?!”

“Current logic process is as follows: G.U.N. hurt one of the few decent people on this planet and my friend fifty years ago by murdering Maria Robotnik and many others aboard the ARK, as well as imprisoning him for said fifty years against his will. It has not apologized or shown remorse for those actions. Therefore, this organization clearly has no respect for Shadow, and therefore I refuse to aid them one moment longer.”

Shadow appeared at the robot’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Omega, but you don’t need to do that for me. I’m alright with this.”

(He was lying, of course.)

“Hold on a minute here, Omega’s got a point.” Rouge said pensively. “I started working here so I wouldn’t go to jail for stealing, but I’ve served my ‘sentence’ ages ago. Honestly, I kind of hate it there anyway? Like, nobody even respects us and it’s got way too much bureaucracy and too many outdated ideas. It’d be much better if it was just the three of us doing our own thing away from them, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, hon, you’ve got to start standing up against those guys. I know you were going through a major existential crisis a while back when this all started, and that was the main thing you had to deal with. But now that you’ve started to figure everything out, it’s time to stop letting people treat you this way! We don’t have to give G.U.N. anything. They never helped you at all.”

“Agreed.” Omega said. “This organization does not deserve you- or any of us. They have wronged you, and though forgiveness is supposedly a ‘virtue’, it is likely so only when it is deserved.”

Shadow stared at the two of them. “That was...actually kind of philosophical for a minute. And convincing.” He huffed, frustrated, his hands curling into fists. “I just…how would I even go about dealing with my grievances with an entire military organization? I would need proof...and I don’t want to damage my standing with the government. G.U.N. can easily claim that I have gone rogue.” 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the various insecurities at the corners of his mind. “I’m just...should I really be digging all of this up again? I’ve finally started to get over it…”

“Okay, so first of all, hon, you’d better not let G.U.N. walk all over you just because they can make up fake blackmail.” the bat insisted. “And second, you’re clearly not over it. Shadow...I can hear you when you wake up from your nightmares, you know. You deserve some kind of closure to help you, and if G.U.N. won’t give it to you, then you have to take it.

“Also, here’s another thing- how much worse would you feel if G.U.N. hurt someone else, and we had never said anything to warn anyone?”

Shadow stiffened, feeling ill again. The very idea was abhorrent. That another person’s Maria could be lost due to his silence...“That...that would be unimaginable….” he breathed.

“Exactly.” Rouge replied. “So, consider it.”

Shadow frowned. “I...I’ll keep it in mind. But we should at least see if they’ll do something first before we try to attack them. We might be able to convince them to make amends, after all. I mean, if we fight, we’ll be completely out of a job, and I don’t know if the funds from Club Rouge will be enough to keep us afloat- if we succeed. It’s too risky, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then we can definitely stick with that to start.” the bat said. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken any of their apologies if it were me, but it’s not my life, it’s yours. So I’ll be right with you no matter what you decide to do, okay?”

“As will I.” Omega added, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Rouge. Thanks, Omega.” the hybrid said, finally allowing relief to show on his face as he looked at his friends.

He couldn’t help but feel that with them by his side, everything would be alright.

…

They talked through most of the night about how to bring it up, what they would say, and even where they would sit to keep Shadow feeling as safe as he could. The hybrid had final veto power over anything the other two suggested, and he tried to keep the wording of the speech he’d give as controlled and polite as possible. 

However, he tried not to bring up the “maybe G.U.N. still thinks I’m a weapon to be stored and used, not a person” topic during his proposal. Those insecurities could wait for another day.

They fell asleep late at night, all three in the same room- Shadow made a blanket nest on the floor, Omega plugged himself into the wall, and Rouge was on her bed.

Pleasantly enough, Shadow didn’t have any nightmares that night.

…

“You want us to do what?” 

The head of the public relations department stood behind his desk, cutting a slightly dominating figure in front of the team in his room. Omega could easily detect an increased heart rate in Shadow. He was not betraying any nervousness externally, however, and the robot was impressed by his friend’s willpower.

The PR head sat down, and he gestured for Team Dark to do the same. However, since there were only two chairs in the room (as they had known), Omega remained standing. Among other things, it would allow him to more easily defend his friends should the talk go awry.

“I’m afraid we just can’t do that kind of thing...Shadow.” He said the last word like it was distasteful, like it didn’t belong in his mouth. (Or, perhaps, like he wanted to add a “Project” or “Experiment” to the front of it, but didn’t for fear of a missile to the face delivered by Omega.)

“Why not?” The hybrid asked. “Sir,” he forced himself to add politely. “Don’t you agree that it was wrong? That G.U.N.’s soldiers shouldn’t have done...what they did?”

“I am incredibly saddened that Miss Robotnik’s death occurred in the search for you, and that the head of G.U.N. at the time considered you unworthy of any basic living rights.” the PR leader said, sounding more than anything like he was reading a script off a teleprompter. “However, I am not going to make a public statement digging up something that happened fifty years ago.”

Rouge leaned forward in her chair furiously. “So you’re just going to pretend it never happened? What about the trauma Shadow experienced? What about the fact that this kind of thing could happen again?”

The leader looked at her coldly. “I can assure you that this is an isolated incident, and that such an occurrence has not happened before or since.”

“But you can't just-! Can’t we speak with the commander?” Rouge gasped, outraged.

“I can, and I will. And you know very well that the commander is taking a well-deserved vacation, and we are not to disturb him for any reason except an emergency. Now then. Did you have anything else you needed?” he said smugly.

Omega was so, so close to just arming the missile launcher anyway.

Shadow looked up at him carefully, clearly going over the words in his head. “Sir. May I respectfully ask why G.U.N. considered it necessary to arm me? I can apply lethal force if necessary in other manners.”

The PR head frowned. “Close quarters are not necessarily a safe space for you, Shadow. We need you alive, and if that means you’re farther back, then so be it.”

“But- me? Destroying with impunity? In such a cold, distant manner? That’s not what G.U.N. wants to see from me, I thought. And with my experiences, I really don’t think-”

The human folded his arms. “Don’t worry about thinking, just worry about completing your missions on time. And what’s past is past, right? Now then, I expect no more complaints from you three. This meeting is concluded.”

Shadow stood up stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Rouge froze. “Wait, Shadow, you’re not just going to-”

“We’re leaving, Rouge. Now.” Shadow said firmly, but the two other members of Team Dark could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. Omega remained silent, but internally was playing a very nice simulation in which he repeatedly punched the head of the PR department.

Once they had exited the office and walked through the facility for a while, Shadow leaned heavily against a wall. “He’s not sorry at all.” he muttered. The robot didn’t need his sensors to tell that he was experiencing far too many negative feelings at once. It wasn’t healthy for organics to deal with all that all the time…

“Agreed.” Omega said. “I would not be surprised in the least if he was lying throughout all of it.”

Rouge sighed, before pulling an unresisting Shadow into a hug. “Honey, I’m...” She paused for a second. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to cope with people like that, ever.”

Shadow closed his eyes quietly and stood like that for a long time. Eventually, though, he spoke up. “.....I know what we have to do. I...I know we need to fight, like you said last night. I don’t feel ready, but just…it has to happen.”

Omega looked down at them both. “You two go out to the car. I will go and get your sister’s files myself while you take a few minutes, Shadow. I am bulletproof and the most likely to make it out unscathed, and if I need help I can call.”

Rouge rolled her shoulders briefly, her wings flexing. “Alright. I’ll be ready to get out of here the second you get in. Sound good?”

“Alright.” Omega agreed. “Let’s go.”

The robot marched down the halls, on a mission. He stopped first to gather everything from their office- or at least all of their personal items. They might need them later, after all. He placed them into his empty chest compartment (he hadn’t refilled on weaponry in a while) and moved on. 

The lower levels of the G.U.N. facility were darker and less well-maintained. This was most likely on purpose, to keep people from wanting to go down there. Omega, however, did not fear the dark. He had a flashlight, and a hulking five-foot robot was usually enough to scare most creatures.

Thankfully, the guards stationed throughout these levels knew him, and simply stepped aside to let Omega pass. Quite a few of them were honestly nervous down there themselves, and barely even noticed him.

He noticed a small door marked ‘Records Room- Classified’ and knew he was in the right place. The door did not give him access, but that was alright. Rouge had hacked the system a while back and given herself the highest clearance possible...and now Omega had her spare card.

Once he was inside, he scanned the cabinets methodically until he found the file marked ‘Maria Robotnik’. Inside were papers detailing her death and her life. Everything one could have wanted to know about her was inside. 

The red stamp on the front reading ‘Terminated’ was pretty ominous, and Omega briefly wondered if he would be able to remove it. He considered the possibility that Shadow would not be quite so pained upon seeing it if the stamp were gone.

It was unlikely, and so he moved on.

Omega exited the room, hoping that the guards in the security monitor room were slacking off. They often were, so he calculated at least a 70% chance of exiting the facility without incident. He placed the file inside his compartment and continued on.

Being a robot meant that he could not act nervous. Therefore, nobody questioned him as he walked through the halls and outside, where he saw Rouge talking to Shadow inside their black-and-red car.

The hybrid appeared to be rather panicked about the whole plan, so as Omega slid into the backseat, he placed his hand on his friend’s head for a brief moment. “Everything is going to be alright, Shadow. I promise you that.”

Shadow sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices what we did.”

Rouge pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires and didn’t let the speedometer dip below fifty until they got home.

“Right.” she said, once they were all inside. “We’ll probably have G.U.N. beating down our door by tomorrow morning, so let’s make sure they don’t catch us still here by then. Omega, refill your weapons and pack us some clothes and stuff. Shadow, you just try and chill. I’m going to look over this file.”

As Rouge flipped through the pages, Shadow decided that he needed to see these for himself and walked over to stand behind her. Before long, though, he recoiled in shock upon seeing that when G.U.N. discussed Maria’s death, they justified it. Made it seem like Shadow was the villain. A monster. A weapon.

“Shadow?” the bat asked.

“...yes?”

“You know we can’t use this by itself, right? We need more proof. Like, video proof.” she said, sounding resigned.

“I know.” he said quietly, disappointed that so little had changed despite the fact that half a century and some new management had taken place. 

Omega cursed out G.U.N. from the other room in response and came over to them, his eyes in their ‘angry’ shape. “We need to stop them now. This revolting organization does not deserve to spend another minute active anywhere on the planet.”

“Let’s get them, then.” Rouge hissed, clearly furious as well. 

Shadow felt terribly apprehensive, but despite that, he agreed as well. “Then they won’t be able to hurt anyone else in the future.” he said, sounding more determined than he had in a while.

“You ready, guys?” the bat asked, holding out her hand in the midst of their little group.

Omega allowed his giant metal hand to hover over hers. “Always.”

Rouge looked at the hybrid. “You sure you’re up for this, hon?”

“Not entirely…” Shadow admitted, but took a deep breath and held out his hand too, allowing Rouge to guide his hand to Omega’s, just like she had so long ago. “...but I need to do it, and so I will.”

“Then we’ll expose them, Shadow.” she said confidently. “And we’ve totally got this, because we’re doing it together.”

And as they all clasped hands for a moment, before breaking off to head to the garage, Shadow felt like they really had a chance to succeed.

[jesus-otaku]

Title: Peculiar Familiarity (part 6)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Marichat

Word count: 2241

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A long-overdue update for a giveaway prize for @kwiibi-blog​. I feel so bad about this just sitting in my folder for so long. (I typed this part up like 2 years ago during the time I was away from Tumblr and completely neglected to post it.) I really hope the long wait has been worth it.

I mentioned this when updating the fic on AO3 so I’ll mention it here as well: I am no longer nearly as active in the ML fandom as I used to be. There is so much fandom salt and drama that it has been hard to find the same initial joy I had for creating ML content. Most of my writing lately has been for original projects rather than fanfic. But because I hate leaving things incomplete, and I think everyone reading my fics deserves to get the endings they’ve waited for, I am trying very hard to regain my lost motivation. My goal is to at least wrap up the multi-part fics I started, even if I don’t necessarily write the other fics I originally had planned. Any questions about this can be directed to my ask box!

“Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss.”

________________________

“You've been keeping secrets from me, Princess,” Chat Noir sang as he dropped through the trapdoor into Marinette's room.

She whirled away from her desk to look up at him, and her face was white as a sheet. “S-secrets? What secrets?” Her lips were twitching up in an attempt at a smile, but it was very obviously fake. “I—I'm not keeping any secrets, don't be silly! I mean, why would I not have told you that I was—I mean—that is, if I was—I mean—nope, no secrets here!” She broke into nervous laughter. “None whatsoever.” Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

Chat was a little taken aback. That was a much more…intense reaction than he had been expecting. He climbed down the loft ladder to join her at her desk. Leaning on the desk with one hand, he replied, “You never told me you and Ladybug were in touch with each other.”

Marinette gaped at him. It must not have been what she had thought he was going to say, because some of the color slowly started to return to her face. “That's—I—you never asked.”

“No,” he agreed, “but when you said I should talk to Ladybug about the whole hand-kissing thing, that—you could have just told her yourself.” It would have spared him a lot of embarrassment, that was for sure.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I think it was better that she heard it from you,” she replied. “Otherwise it might have made it seem like you were avoiding her.”

He hesitated. She did have a point there. And embarrassment or not, his conversation with Ladybug had cleared up a miscommunication he hadn't even realized they'd been having. “Still,” he said, “you could have at least said something.”

“You never asked,” Marinette countered. She leaned forward, propping her hands on her knees. “So, um, what did I—I mean, Ladybug say? About the hand-kissing thing, that is?”

Chat gave her a thumbs up with a smile. “She gave it the all-clear. Hand kisses are now exclusively yours, Princess.”

She grinned back at him. “Lucky me. But that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I never said you had to ask her permission,” she pointed out. She folded her hands in her lap. “I just said you needed to tell her you were going to stop kissing her hand. Did she say anything about you stopping?”

Great. Not only was Ladybug going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Marinette, now Marinette was going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Ladybug. He was so, so doomed. “She said I didn't have to,” he answered slowly, watching her to see her reaction. “She would have been okay with me kissing both your hand and hers. But I didn't want to do that to you after saying I would make it a you-and-me thing only.”

All of the color had returned to Marinette's face now, and if it hadn't been for the fact she had been so white just a minute ago, he would have thought he saw a dusting of pink on her cheeks. He quashed it instead as the act of an overactive, hopeful imagination. She'd been so pale that the natural flush of her face probably just looked overly pinkish by comparison. “Thank you,” she mumbled. A little clearer, she added, “It means a lot, you know. That you would change your dynamic with Ladybug just for me.”

Feeling suddenly very embarrassed, Chat looked around the room at just about everything except for Marinette. His eyes locked with the little black stuffed cat that perched on the shelf above her desk. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don't have to thank me for anything. It's not like things are going to change between me and Ladybug, not really.” But then he remembered that odd look of resignation that had been in Ladybug's eyes last night, and he had to wonder if things wouldn't change even the tiniest bit. She'd almost seemed upset.

As if she could read his mind, Marinette asked, “Are you sure about that? We—You two seem pretty close.”

“We're still going to be friends,” he replied, hating that word—friends—just a little less than he would have expected to. His friendship with his lady had always come first, no matter how badly he wanted to be something more. That priority had somehow become clearer the more time he had spent with Marinette. He waved a hand dismissively, as if her concern were a minor one. “A little thing like kissing your hand won't change that.” Oh, but that look in Ladybug's eyes last night…

A tiny smile made its way onto her face. “Ladybug is really lucky to have a friend like you. I would've been a lot more worried about things changing than you are.”

He braced his baton against the floor and leaned forward on it. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me, then, Princess. Since you're friends with her, too.” God, what was coming out of his mouth? He was going to be the end of himself, pursuing a conversation like this. But still, he couldn't stop himself from continuing. “I'm sure if you sing my praises, she'll reconsider my romantic advances.”

The statement startled a laugh out of her. “Okay, I take it back,” she giggled. “She's lucky, but she's not that lucky.”

Well, ouch.

Even though he knew Marinette meant it only in good fun, and that she would never intentionally say something to hurt someone else—out of all the people he'd met, she was one of the most well-attuned to preventing akuma attacks—her reply stung. So much so that his heart may as well have physically ached. The amusement he'd allowed to creep onto his face was gone in an instant. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Her expression dropped into horror. Had she not realized what she was saying? “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like that—I was just—you're great, but—um, you and Ladybug are—we're—I mean—ugh, I don't know what I mean anymore.” She buried her face in her hands, and there was a definite pink tinge to her cheeks now beneath her fingers.

Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss. He was stunned it had taken him this long to realize it. Chat Noir tucked away his baton and went to kneel in front of her chair.

“Hey, Princess,” he coaxed softly. She peeked out at him from between her fingers. That much, at least, was encouraging. “What's wrong? Forget about me and Ladybug for a second. Did something happen?”

Her eyes scanned his; for what, he wasn't sure. Slowly, her hands slipped away from her face, and she set them back in her lap. She sighed as if resigning herself to something. Her gaze dropped to the floor between the two of them. “It's just—well, I have this…friend. And he's a great friend, don't get me wrong,” she added hastily, before he could have even thought to comment. “I'd trust him with anything, no matter what.”

“But…?” he prompted. There was obviously a “but” coming.

She gave a halfhearted sort of shrug. “I don't know. It just feels like things are…weird between us right now.” Her eyes were still glued on the floor as she began twisting her fingers around each other in her lap. “Like he's…I don't know, distant?”

He hoped she wasn't talking about him as Adrien. He'd done his damnedest to get closer to her, to make her feel more comfortable around him, to see at least some inkling of the way she acted around Chat in her interactions with Adrien. Those attempts had so far only ended in more pronounced stammering and occasional awkward laughter. It wouldn't have entirely surprised him if she was referring to him as Adrien.

He just really, really didn't want to be the one she was referring to.

Marinette seemed to take his pensive, anxious silence as a sign to continue, because she kept talking. Almost like she couldn't stop herself. “And I guess I just can't help wondering if maybe there's something that I did, or if there's something else going on in his life that I don't know about, or if he's just sick of hanging out with me.”

Chat took one of her hands in his before she could wring her fingers white. Her eyes finally snapped up to meet his again. “If he's sick of hanging out with you, then he's an idiot,” he said, with far more feeling than he had originally intended to put into his sentence. “You're amazing, Marinette. Anyone would be lucky to call you their friend.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I know I am.”

That tiny little smile made its way back onto her face, just enough to lift the corners of her lips out of miserable worry. So gently that he almost thought he imagined it, she squeezed his hand back. “Thanks, Chat Noir.”

Kneeling there with her hand in his, he almost kissed her hand before coming to his senses and shooting her a wink instead. Even with both her and Ladybug's permission, he couldn't just go around kissing her hand willy-nilly. “Anytime. It's a knight's sworn duty to protect his princess, even from her own self-doubt.” The comment made her smile spread wider, and the weight of worry lifted from his chest.

And it was strange, how much this reminded him of another time, with another girl, begging her to believe in him and in herself when she hadn't thought she could be enough.

Then Marinette was getting to her feet, her hand was sliding away from his, and the moment of familiarity was gone. “So,” she said, “are you up for being walloped at Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tonight?”

He wanted to say yes so very badly. Wanted to prove that he'd meant what he'd said, that anyone who didn't want to hang out with her was an idiot. But curse it all, he had a photo shoot tomorrow morning at eight and he would never hear the end of it from his father if he showed up at his photo shoot with anything less than a full night's rest.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, trying to infuse as much regret into the words as possible. Her smile still dropped. He cursed the name of photo shoots everywhere in his head. “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement with my bed. I've got someplace I have to be early tomorrow, and I need my cat nap or I'll never make it through the day.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the prospect of getting up early during a weekend. “On a Saturday?” she asked incredulously. “That just sounds like some form of torture.”

Chat grinned. At least they were of the same mind on that point. “It probably will be, but a commitment is a commitment. I'm a cat of my word.” He stood and began to back his way towards the ladder to the trapdoor. “I can come back tomorrow night,” he added hopefully. He didn't usually visit two nights in a row, but since this visit was so short, maybe… “And you could wallop me then.”

“Bring plenty of fighting spirit, because I've been practicing,” she replied, smiling once again. He was struck for the hundredth time by how very familiar the teasing tone of her voice was, and not because he had heard it from her so often now as Chat. When he took another step back towards the ladder, she asked, “Aren't you forgetting something, Chat Noir?” Her smile had turned impish.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment of staring to realize what she was referring to. By the time he had put two and two together, she had already stepped closer to him and offered her hand. “Oh. Right. How foolish of me.” He took her hand in his and couldn't help marveling at how well their hands fit together. Almost exactly like his and Ladybug's did.

But Marinette wouldn't push him away from the gesture, not tonight and not in the future. That wasn't who the two of them were together. Marinette wasn't Ladybug, and he was a little bit of a different Chat Noir when he was with her. Not as flirty, not as hopeful, not as self-aggrandizing.

If he thought about it, maybe he as Chat Noir acted the way he wished he as Adrien could act with Marinette.

Minus the hand-kissing, of course.

He pressed his lips to her hand, lingering just a moment longer than was really necessary. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and there was the faintest scent of the bakery clinging to her. It almost made him not want to pull away.

He did still have to get up early in the morning, though, so he forced himself to straighten and release her hand. She had already agreed that he could come back tomorrow. This was only goodbye for a day. He'd survived longer than that without her before. Chat swept her a bow. “Until tomorrow, Princess.”

Her smile spread into that glimmer of sunlight that had nearly made his heart stop last time. It almost made his heart stop again now. “Until tomorrow, Chat Noir. And thank you.”

[unmanageable-day]

Come to me

masterlist

previous chapter: 21

PART 21.5 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. ‘Gentleman’ seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you’re stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x S.Coups

WC / warnings. 2k / soft makeout sesh (can you call it that when no tongues involved??? or maybe its more like pecks session)

TAGLIST. @samemagicpoint​​ @unravellyn​​ @nonuuu​​ @seventeeneration​​ @skylions-den​​ @wooziverse​​ @infinitemoods​​  —  [ send ask or dm if you’re interested to be added in the list! ]

You found yourself being confused, sitting on a couch in a corner of a barbershop, flipping page after page of an outdated magazine mindlessly. Sometimes you stole a glance towards a man whose hair was getting cut and dyed. The man who dragged you there and made you accompany him. The reflection of him in the mirror threw a big smile at you.

"How do I look?" he asked as soon as he and you walked out of the barbershop.

"Just looking like S.Coups. What do you expect me to say?" You chuckled.

Grinning, he casually put his arm around your barely clothed shoulder. The direct contact to your skin simply got you flustered. This was the day you regret ever purchasing a skimpy top with spaghetti strap.

Early in the morning, a friend of yours, Somi, came crashing at your place, forcing you to go out with her. She even dug your closet to find an outfit that was not your everyday wear. And that was how the long forgotten floral sleeveless top was found. You cursed why it was found in peak summer season like this. It just made Somi so eager encouraging you to wear it. She even prepared a pair of jeans, mules, and a handbag that would match the top, according to her. And you can't say no when she looked at you with her pleading eyes.

"We will look awesome, Unnie. You see, the color of our top mixes so well together. We have to take pictures. I promise this cafe has the best ambience. You should update your insta, your feed is so dull because you shitpost too much on Twitter," she excitedly rambled.

You never wanted to go home so bad after Somi dragged you here and there until noon. The hot weather quite bothered you, especially that you felt more exposed than usual. Usually you would have your outer whenever you wore sleeveless shirt. Today was an exception because Somi hurried you and you couldn't grab an outer from the closet.

When Somi accidentally spilled some coffee and you may or may not have purposely wiped your hand that got chocolate sauce on your shirt, you thought it was a good chance to buy new clothes. The baby sister rushed you to the closest store, but you were wrong to think you could choose yourself. Because she immediately took 2-3 pieces of another sleeveless top even with spaghetti strap, pushed you to the changing room, and when you were done, she went straight to the cashier and paid the bill.

Wandering around the store before catching up on Somi, you intended to buy some outerwear. But your hands stopped as you were bewildered when someone called you. And it turned out to be Seungcheol shopping by himself. That was how Somi ditched you with a lame excuse because she got overly excited to see you with a fine looking guy.

"Afternoon snack? Boba milk tea?" Seungcheol offered with his gummy smile. He surely appreciated you waiting for him for more than 60 minutes at the barbershop.

These days you found yourself hanging out with him a lot. You surely remembered how flirtatious he was the first time you met him. He was definitely one person you wanted to avoid, or at least to not hang around with that much. Because, one, he was friends with Joshua Hong, and two, you can't stand him flirting and being cringey all the time. The weird thing was now you can't say no to him. This man strangely found his way to you and somewhat won a small part of your heart.

"Or maybe not?" you said as you looked up in the sky. The sunny day had turned into cloudy as the sky got darker. It looked like it was going to rain soon. The little handbag you carried cannot even fit a little umbrella you always brought anywhere anytime. Now you were panicking, already thinking to call a taxi to go home before it rained.

"I think it's wiser to go to my place since it's closer from here. I'll take you home when the rain stops."

"Your place?" you quietly asked, looking concerned. You remembered the three of them lived together. Joshua told you in the first weeks of your internship, about Jeonghan being sulky everyday because of how loud he was when the blender was working to made smoothies aka to provide your breakfast.

You were this close to running away with a taxi as little rain drops started falling and you could feel the cool breeze against your bare skin. Unfortunately not a single vacant taxi was sighted.

"Um.. nobody’s home. Jisoo and Jeonghan are going out," he explained, as if he could read your mind. The longer you took your time contemplating, the grey shade in the sky was getting more visible. Little rain drops started getting bigger and you were running out of choices. "Come on, we don't want you to get wet, do we?" Seungcheol gently took your hand and lead the way.

Again, you can't say no and you cursed yourself for being very indecisive. All you hoped now was this wasn't a bad idea, although you already had a not so good feeling about this.

"Phew, just in time," he remarked as the two of you reached the apartment lobby when the rain suddenly fell heavily. "Let's get upstairs, dry ourselves, and I'll lend you my jacket."

You shook, reassuring him that you were okay. "I'm fine," you said, wiping off the wet trace on your arms. But as soon as you entered the living room, you couldn't deny the chilly temperature that suddenly crept up your body.

"Towel?" he offered, handing over a pink colored fabric.

You muttered thanks as you continued wiping your arms and shoulders.

"Here, wear my cardigan." He tossed a black knit-wear before heading to the pantry to make some hot drink. "Don't just stand there. Go sit on the couch, turn on the TV or something," he chuckled.

You nervously made your way to the couch and sat up straight. Soon, Seungcheol joined you with two cups of hot peppermint tea. Seeing his cardigan crumpled in your hands, he took it and helped to put it around your shoulder. "Feel better?" he asked warmly as he adjusted his seat beside you. Nodding your head, you smiled back at him.

"The rain doesn't look like it will stop soon. Let's just wait a little bit longer, okay?"

It wasn't like you have other better choices anyway. Going home by bus or taxi and get drenched in the middle? No way.

"Is there anything you want to watch?"

"Not really. Just don't trick me to watch horror movies like Joshua did."

"He did that?" He chuckled. "That was messed up, I bet."

A nervous smile was curved on your lips. You were surprised yourself that you still remembered that one time watching movie with Joshua. That was something nobody ever knew. It just slipped off your mouth when Seungcheol asked.

His choice finally was a classic, award-winning movie. Seungcheol can't keep his mouth shut throughout the movie, commenting every scene or comparing with other movies. He subtly scooted closer, and the pointing gesture which he often does eventually decreased. His loud talking also started to become quieter.

"Why?" you spoke, noticing the sudden silent.

"Nothing." His lips pursed into little grin, his eyes finding yours. "Lean on me?"

At first you were hesitant. But there was something about him that always managed to mesmerize you. His opened arms, the warm smile on his face, and his soft gaze hypnotized you. The next thing you knew was you already resting your head against the crook of his neck, his arm looping around your shoulder, his hand fixing the oversized cardigan on you. You can smell his scent. Although the perfume did not have a strong aroma, it was quite fit to your liking.

The movie was reaching the end and post credit scene. Yet none of you did anything but enjoyed the silence with each other's company. You could feel Seungcheol's hand rubbing your upper arm gently. He clearly didn't have intention to release you from his embrace. In fact, he had never wanted to be as selfish as now.

"I wish the rain stops soon," you mumbled. You tried not to squirm too much. But not fidgeting at all didn't help to deal with the current situation. You started to wonder why you just threw yourself at him.

"I wish we can stay like this," he mumbled, almost whispering.

You pretended not to hear that. Suddenly you felt his lips slightly grazed against your forehead. You flinched but you couldn't go anywhere. His arm was still around your shoulder, securing you in place.

You knew this wasn't right.

"Um, we shouldn't.." you mumbled as you squirmed trying to sit up, hoping he would loose his firm grip but to no avail.

By the time you spoke breaking the silence, Seungcheol had readjusted his position, twisting his upper body so you were trapped between his arms. The back of your head stuck against the sofa, which you wished there was no headrest there so you could have escaped from this situation. Without warning but very slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, one of his hand creeping towards your hand that had your fingers curled into a fist. His thumb gave little rubs on the back of your palm, suggesting to be more at ease and also to open up so he could hold your hand properly. You could feel his minty breath as he leaned in closer and your noses brushed each other. In a matter of a second, his lips was pressed against yours then he slightly pulled away.

"I know I shouldn't.." he slowly whispered before going for another peck. Or two, which made you unconsciously gave in and shut your eyes as he sneaked his hand to hold the side of your exposed neck. And there goes another kiss. "But your lips.." Kiss. "So soft." Kiss. "And sweet." Kiss. "I think I could taste something like strawberry." Kiss.

You had no idea what had gotten into you accepting his kisses like this. You probably forgot how to breathe. If it wasn’t for the way he always took quick pauses between his kisses, you could have suffocated yourself. Not to mention, the way he gently rubbed the back of your hand, which somehow it worked to comfort you (and you probably will hate yourself for this).

What were you even thinking? Did he lead you on? Did you lead him on?

Slowly releasing your hand, his arm then made its way to wrap around your waist before finally planting the another kiss, a bit longer than the previous ones.

As he pulled away, you slowly opened your eyes and met his. The first thing you recognized was his long lashes and the thick brows. That was the first time you were struck by how pretty he was. Still holding you close, his hand traveled to tuck some hair strands behind your ear.

"Seungcheol, I..."

"Keep it." He cut your words with another peck.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Utterly shocked by the presence of someone else, you turned your head abruptly only to find certain someone to be as surprised as you were. "Jisoo.." you mumbled his name, your eyes quivering looking at him with the rest of the guys who dropped their jaws. You hurriedly released yourself from Seungcheol's arms and stood up. Yet you didn't know what to do. Should you explain what just happened? But then what is there to explain? And why should you?

Joshua didn't speak a word after that. He just locked his fiery eyes at Seungcheol, probably waiting for him to say something. Jeonghan and the other guys were nervous at the tense situation that they wouldn't dare to open their mouths.

You took a glimpse at Seungcheol. He was just standing beside you, one hand on his waist and the other one brushing his fringe. He looked like he did nothing. As if nothing just happened.

Jeonghan initiated to break the silence. "Y/n, it's still raining outside. Mingyu will take you home. Is that alright?" he asked you softly, approaching you then very subtly and gently pulling you away from Seungcheol.

You hesitantly nodded, not sure if you could just leave without saying anything. But what would you say at this point? Once again, you stole a glimpse both at Seungcheol and Joshua and weakly said, "Okay." before Jeonghan, Soonyoung and Mingyu escorted you out. 

[doc-pickles]

the storm & the wind

Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.

hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.

also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

+

The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.

“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”

The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.

“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”

The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.

“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”

The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.

“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”

“I forgot… I was in a rush.”

That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.

“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”

She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”

“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”

There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”

“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”

She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.

“I’m Brooke.”

+

The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.

Paul.

She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.

“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”

Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”

Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.

“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”

“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”

Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”

“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”

There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”

Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.

“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”

The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.

“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”

Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”

“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”

There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.

“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”

“Little Women?”

“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”

Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.

A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.

‘Keep running.’

-

So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.

She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.

When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.

Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.

And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.

“You mind?”

Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”

“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.

“I'm your intern for the day.”

“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”

“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.

There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”

The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.

-

Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.

Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.

When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.

It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“I was pregnant.”

There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.

“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.

“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”

Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Nine of ??)

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

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

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

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

Satan/ F!Mc

Trigger Warnings: possibly for depression?

Word Count: 2,322

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, of course.”

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

“Yes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A ball? In my honor?”

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

“He also loves throwing balls,” Luke added.

“Also that,” Diavolo admitted.

“Well, I’d be honored. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“For a whole ball to be planned?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pride and Prejudice right?”

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

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

“Wait… You’re joking.”

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

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

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

“You had a copy though, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. You awake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks Luke,” Mc sighed, sitting up.

“Anything for my little sister.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay. The guests are starting to arrive.”

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

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

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

Part Ten