#but besides them my other muses are *gestures at appreciation and love*

[navybrat817]

Sunrises and Sunsets

Pairing: Ranch Hand!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to watch a sunrise with you.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, tooth rotting sweetness, a bit of sass, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @bigtreefest requested for Ranch Hand!Bucky to either Go for a Swim (smut) or dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff - this won with my muse) with prompt #1 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up before the alarm went off thanks to Bucky. He normally did his best not to disturb your slumber if you didn't have to get up right away, unless he wanted you and you would gladly forgo sleep for that. But the soft kisses he placed along your shoulder and neck weren't rushed or needy. In the darkness you reached for his hand and felt him smile against your skin when you took it. It made you smile, too, and your heart beat faster in your chest. Waking up beside him was a gift.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing some of the hair from his eyes when you turned to face him.

“Morning,” he whispered back, kissing the center of your forehead. “Time to get up.”

“No,” you groaned. You didn't glance at the time, but your inner alarm clock knew you had a few more minutes.

He chuckled and nipped your other shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Yes, Sunbeam,” he said, his tongue tracing the spot he bit. “Gonna watch the sun come up together before breakfast.”

“Why?” You asked. Today wasn't a special occasion or anniversary that you were aware of. He would have reminded you at some point or vice versa.

“Because I wanna watch the sunrise with you,” he replied, sliding a finger under your chin before you could hide your face in his chest. The room was dark, but you felt his gaze plead with you to get up. “Please?” He added for good measure.

With another groan, you gave in. “Fine,” you sighed, trying to hide your smile as you stretched under the sheets. You lucked out with Bucky when it came to small romantic moments. What other man would wake you just to watch the sunrise together? “Sun, breakfast, caffeine.”

“Turning on the light,” he warned, giving you time to cover your eyes when he leaned over to flip the lamp switch. He was thoughtful like that. “I didn't hear 'sex with my amazing boyfriend' on that list. Kinda hurts my feelings.”

You giggled and removed your hand, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. “Sex is for after I have my caffeine.”

It was his turn to groan. “Fine,” he mocked in his best imitation of you, making you giggle again. You didn't always laugh this early in the morning and not every day began this bright, but every day was a bit lighter thanks to him. “C’mon. You can sleep later.”

“Whatever you say, Buckaroo,” you said as you sat up. You slid your feet into your slippers, your stomach fluttering because you know you didn't put them back in that spot yesterday. “Thank you,” you said, wiggling your toes.

“Can't let your feet touch the cold floor now, can I?” He winked, stretching as he stood up.

Your throat tightened. It was such a tiny gesture in the grand scheme of things, but it was the little things that mattered. They showed that he paid attention and cared. You tried to do the same for him, like cooking his favorite meals or drawing him a bath after a hard day. You hoped it was enough.

“You’re so good to me,” you said, holding your hands out so he could help you stand.

“We’re good to each other,” he said, pulling you up with ease.

The rough pads of his fingertips rubbed along your skin, a physical reminder of the work he put in day in and day out. His hands made a difference in the world and your life, his calloused touch telling hundreds of stories. Being part of his journey and creating a new story together was something out of a dream. The beauty of it was that your story wasn't over yet.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“I’ll tell you when we go outside,” you replied, not wanting him to miss any of the view. “Do you need to put a shirt on?”

He pulled a hand away to pat his pocket before he smirked and pointed to his washboard abs. “These give me plenty of heat.”

Your gaze went to his torso, heat of your own spreading from your core. Working day in and day out kept him in great shape. He belonged on one of those cowboy romance novel covers. Or a calendar.

I could make a killing with a ranch hand calendar featuring all the guys.

“And for breakfast, I'll make you some humble pie. A big ol’ slice,” you teased.

“Mmm. Pie for breakfast. You do love me,” he joked.

“More than anything,” you smiled.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth, tilting your world on its axis like always. “Love you, too.”

“You have to if you don't care about my morning breath,” you smiled.

He grabbed a couple of blankets as he led you out to the front porch, just in case there was a chill in the air. Another thoughtful gesture. Instead of taking you to the porch swing like you expected, he took you down the steps and laid out one of the blankets in the grass where you sometimes had picnics together.

“Why aren't we sitting in the swing?” You asked.

“I mean, we could sit in the swing and I can put my arm around you.” He sat down and spread his legs out in front of him, patting the spot between them. “But it’s easier to hold you like this and I wanna hold you when the sun comes up.”

“You’re such a sap,” you smiled, happily taking the spot between his legs. “But I like that.”

“You do know I’m only a sap for you, right?”

“I do,” you said, spreading the other blanket across your legs. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.”

“Too late. Everyone knows,” he smiled.

“True,” you said, tilting your head and taking the opportunity to kiss underneath his chin before you looked back at the horizon.

Exhaling, you pressed your back against Bucky’s chest and revelled in the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around you. He occasionally reminded you of the sun. He had fire within him and brightened your world just by being there. But to him, you were the sun.

We're each other's sun and moon.

“So, you just felt like watching a sunrise with me?” You asked.

“Just felt like it,” he agreed, holding you a bit tighter. “I’ve watched sunrises and sunsets more times than I can count, but it’s just different with you.”

“Why is that?” You asked.

“It may not make sense, but the sunrise just looks more beautiful and hopeful because I have someone to share it with. And people say sunsets are a way to reset, but I’m just thankful because it was another day I got to spend with you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple as your heart swelled. “Each day is a blessing because you're in my life.”

You were on the verge of spilling tears, but managed to keep them at bay. “I feel blessed, too,” you whispered.

His chest shook as he chuckled. “I really am a sap.”

“Yeah, but you’re my sap,” you said, tracing the palm of his hand. It was a special thing to bring out that side of him. “You know how you asked me what I was thinking about earlier? I was thinking how your hands can tell so many stories. I think your wrinkles will tell stories, too.”

“My wrinkles?” He asked.

“Yeah. Each is a chapter in your story. Just like every scar,” you answered. Bucky thought every mark on your body was a thing of beauty. You wanted him to feel the same way about his. “They’ll say how you survived hard times. How you lived your life. How you loved.”

“You’re a sap, too,” he teased, catching your elbow before you could ram it into him. “Easy, I’m kidding. I think that’s a beautiful way to look at it.”

There was beauty all around you with Bucky.

“Well, the thought of getting older used to scare me, but it doesn't seem so bad because I have you. We won't have to do it alone. We’ll grow together,” you smiled, gazing at the sky that seemed to stretch on forever. “So when we're older and you have wrinkles and gray hairs, I want you to keep doing this: Wake me up for a sunrise just because you felt like it. Just because you wanted to share one more beautiful moment with me.”

“You wanna grow old with me?” He asked, his voice thicker than you expected. “And on those days, you’ll still love me? Wrinkles and all?”

“Of course, I do. And of course, I will,” you promised. You would love him no matter what. “And you’ll still love me when I grow old?”

“Forever and always,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder when the sun began to rise.

Your heart raced as the hues touched the land you two shared, painting a canvas in glowing rays. He was right that the sunrise was more beautiful and hopeful because you had someone to share it with. And while you were certain there were others watching the sky, this felt like a new dawn just for the two of you.

“It really is breathtaking, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, making your smile widen as your cheeks warmed.

“You flatter me, Buckaroo,” you said affectionately.

Bucky took a deep breath by your ear as you continued to look at the view. “Marry me, Sunbeam,” he whispered.

With wide eyes, you spun around in his arms. You didn't know it, but to him you looked like an angel with the rays growing brighter around you. “What?” You asked.

“Shit. I was supposed to ask you, not tell you. And I was supposed to have something special planned, but I keep carrying this around in case the time’s right and this just seemed right.” He swallowed before he reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small box. “It isn't much. Sure as hell isn't what you deserve and I'm sorry for that,” he said. You covered your mouth with a gasp when he opened it. Simple, beautiful, and a diamond that sparkled like the sun. To you, it was the most beautiful ring to ever exist. “But I love you and I want you to be my wife. I wanna grow old with you and I don't wanna tell the story of my life without you in it. I-”

“Yes!” You shouted into the morning air, knocking him on his back. You were lucky you didn’t knock the ring box out of his hand. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”

“I wasn't done with my proposal,” he chuckled.

“I don't care. I said ‘yes’. Now’s the part where you put the ring on my finger,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. He managed to slip the ring onto your finger with you stretched out on top of him. A perfect fit. “It’s beautiful. Don't ever apologize for giving me something so beautiful.”

The proposal was beautiful, too. It came from the heart at a time he knew was right. You couldn't ask for anything better.

I have the whole world because of you.

You swore you saw the sunrise in his eyes as he framed your face and smiled up at you. “Love you, Sunbeam.”

“Love you, too, Buckaroo,” you whispered, giggling. “And guess what?”

“What’s that?”

“I can change sex with my amazing boyfriend to fiancé,” you smiled.

“Why don’t we skip to that part? I’ll make sure you get some caffeine after,” he smirked. "Deal," you giggled again, leaning down to kiss him.

The sun continued to climb in the sky behind you as he deepened the kiss, bathing you in light as you celebrated the next chapter in your life together.

And with his ring on your finger, you knew you’d forever appreciate every sunrise and sunset even more.

Anyone else get a cavity from this sweetness? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[artistsfuneral]

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

[doumadono]

Synopsis: initially hesitant about adopting a cat, Shoto finds his reservations gradually melting away as he discovers the endearing charm and companionship the furry creature brings

A/N: this story was commissioned on my Kofi page by my lovely @indignant-alpaca - I'm sharing it with her kind permission 🌸 If you like my writing, please consider supporting me via my Kofi page

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST KO-FI COMMISSIONS

In a quaint apartment on the outskirts of the city, Shoto Todoroki found himself faced with an unexpected addition to his life — one that would soon melt the icy barriers around his heart.

His girlfriend, Y/N, beamed as you carried a fluffy ball of fur into your living room. "Shoto, meet Mochi," you announced, presenting the tiny calico kitten nestled in your arms.

Shoto eyed the feline with a stoic expression, his dual-colored eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and reluctance. "A cat?" he questioned, his tone revealing a hint of skepticism.

You nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I thought it would be great to have a pet. They say cats bring good luck."

Shoto arched an eyebrow, his signature stoicism intact. "Luck, huh?" he mused, as Mochi stretched out her tiny paws, giving a small mew. "I don't need luck."

Undeterred, you gently placed Mochi on the floor, who immediately began exploring her new surroundings.

Shoto observed from a distance, maintaining his cool composure. "She's small," he remarked.

You giggled, "Well, she's a kitten. But just wait until you see her charm."

As if on cue, Mochi approached Shoto, her curious eyes fixated on him.

"I'm not a cat person," Shoto declared, attempting to assert his indifference.

You nudged him playfully. "Give it time, Shoto. Cats have a way of growing on you."

Over the next few days, Shoto found himself begrudgingly amused by Mochi's antics. The mischievous kitten would bat at his shoelaces, pounce on invisible prey, and curl up on his lap during quiet moments.

You couldn't help but notice the subtle softening of Shoto's expression as he interacted with your newfound furry companion.

Another evening, as Shoto sat reading a book, Mochi nestled beside him, purring contentedly.

You seized the opportunity. "Looks like someone's warming up to you," you teased.

Shoto sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Maybe she's not as annoying as I thought."

As days turned into weeks, the bond between Shoto and Mochi deepened in ways neither of them expected.

Mochi, once a mere distraction, became a constant presence in Shoto's life.

Mochi's preference for Shoto became evident. She would follow him around the apartment, ignore your attempts at play, and eagerly await his return whenever he stepped out.

One evening, after a long day of hero duties, Shoto found himself slumping onto the couch, exhaustion evident in his eyes.

Mochi, sensing his weariness, padded over and gracefully leaped onto his lap. She nuzzled against his chest, her purrs resonating through the room.

Shoto, surprised by the comforting gesture, couldn't help but stroke her soft fur absentmindedly.

But Mochi had other plans. As Shoto attempted to get up, Mochi protested with a small meow and refused to budge. It was as if she sensed when he needed a moment of respite, providing a gentle reminder to slow down.

In the mornings, Shoto found Mochi perched on the windowsill, her eyes fixed on the world outside. He joined her, silently appreciating the quiet moments shared with his feline friend.

You often caught them in these contemplative instances, a smile playing on your lips as you witnessed the unspoken connection forming.

One weekend, as Shoto worked on his training routine in the living room, Mochi decided to participate. She playfully swatted at his shoelaces, darting around him in a display of agility that mirrored his own. A small smirk tugged at Shoto's lips, and he found himself engaging in a playful dance with the energetic kitten.

You, capturing the adorable scene on your phone, couldn't resist sharing it later. "Looks like Mochi is teaching you a thing or two."

Shoto raised an eyebrow but didn't deny the truth in your words. Mochi had indeed become an unexpected mentor, reminding him of the simple joys in life and offering companionship in moments of solitude.

As their connection grew, Shoto started incorporating Mochi into his daily routine. Whether it was a quiet moment of reflection, a shared glance during meals, or an impromptu play session, Mochi became a source of comfort and joy for Shoto.

One evening, Yuki found them curled up together on the couch, Shoto absentmindedly stroking Mochi's fur while she purred contentedly.

"I guess you're officially a cat person now," you teased.

Shoto merely glanced at you, a small smile gracing his face. He couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed within him.

Their cozy little family, consisting of an icy-hot hero, his girlfriend, and an adorable cat named Mochi, found harmony in the unexpected bonds that formed. And as the trio shared quiet moments together, laughter and love echoed through the apartment, proving that even the coldest hearts could be thawed by the warmth of feline companionship.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Valentine’s Day, A Flying Graysons One-Shot

The following is a sort of one shot that’s just decided to come up to me on this lovely Valentine’s Day which seems appropriate enough. I don’t feel there’s really much a plot present, this is just some family based fluff for funsies sake.

It’s dedicated to my good friends @confusedhummingbird @spider-jaysart @lightdusk96 @camo-wolf @theredheaded-stuff @sbd-laytall @starlightbelle @adalineozie @discowingneckline @celaenaeiln @sillymanwithocs @mothnem and many more.

If you can leave a like, but especially reblogs and replies to this one, it’ll be greatly appreciated. I will address any to all constructive criticism and comments.

With that out of the way, on with the show….

Two pairs of feet, one clad in slippers and the other small one without anything on, very lightly padded on the carpeting of the trailer right outside the main master bedroom. Within said bedroom, was lying the third member of their troop, their little performing, their small family; she was peacefully snoring underneath the blankets draped over her, her two feet, bare with the red nail polished toes pointing upwards, mostly perfectly still, and most peculiarly a cardboard ID tag like one can find in the most morbid of places hanging off her right big toe, poking out of one end while her dark red unbraided hair was uncovered at the other. The two figures outside the room, a father and his 9 year old son, are quite prepared for such a day like this. It’s not every single day when people close to each other, like their small little family, can give each other heart shaped gifts or any other sort with that message that carries within them. The message being of “You are a person that’s always there for my heart and I cherishe you in the unique way we do”.

With Dick Grayson’s hands carefully holding the wooden dinner tray, packed with a plate covered up by the microwave bowl and besides it some utensils, napkins underneath them, and a plastic glass filled to the top with orange juice, he can jump in excitement internally as doing so for reals can risk accidentally spill that carefully prepared breakfast his father John and him have spent the better part of this earlier morning making. John though can see the excitement in his son’s bright blue eyes, the eyes of his mother, which cannot help but make him sport a gentle smile on his face as he tends lightly ruffles his son’s jet black hair, his own, to calm him a bit.

As John carefully peaks inside the bedroom with his sleeping wife, he realizes it’s time to finally carry out this little ritual he had been planning since earlier in the week. The peaceful sight of his beloved Mary ‘dead’ asleep must unfortunately come an end sooner or later. That breakfast isn’t gonna stay warm forever and she can sleep in maybe later afterwards, given it was a day off for everybody at the Circus. As such, with a tiny gesture for Dick to keep quiet until John gives him the all clear, he steps into the bedroom by himself, gently as to not wake Mary up that rudely, at least not with such loud noise.

After making soft footfalls on his slippers to the bed itself, John briefly explores a particular question; how should he wake Mary up? He can try lightly shaking her shoulder, though he can recall the many times he tried, she’d simply roll onto her side and still sleep. Stroking a free hand on her hair is another certain option though not without its own drawback of potentially Mary just further pulling up her blanket to further cover herself and resume her deep sleep. Then there’s the tried and true method of opening the blinds to their bedroom.

No, no. That’ll be rude as John can muse as both Dick and him have went through on some nights. Now that one is off of the table. Which leaves really only one option. An option, John would usually save for more very special occasions including anniversaries and Mary’s birthday. But since given everything that Dick and him had prepared for this very day, might as well go for it, which he does slowly making his way to Mary’s two bare feet poking out of the blankets with that tag around her toe.

As for explaining the mere presence of a tag meant for the recently deceased which can be found in the medical examiner’s offices and mortuaries worldwide being found here in this mere simple trailer bedroom, Mary having her father’s side of her family a majority of cousins, uncles and aunties being a friendly macabre collection of medical examiner, morticians and even the occasional grave digger would do wonders for her own sense of humor. After all, what better proof of someone being ‘Dead Asleep’ than the tags often associated with the most sincerely dead. The fact Mary writes down so many details on her tag from her date of birth, location and ‘cause’ being ‘Tending to a Son Motherly-Induced Exhaustion’ makes John chuckle very lightly underneath his breath. After all, she calls out in her motherly ways Dick and his antics, risks and quirkiness in public yet here she is with a Medical Examiner’s ID tag which came from her modest collection of tags from macabre souvenir shops across the world in a dead sleep. But John ain’t got no time for such playful calling out his beloved’s hypocrisy, he’s got to instead playfully wake her up from her breakfast.

As such, with firm yet gentle grip on the tag in his hand, John very lightly moves it not off her toe but back and forth, making the string on Mary’s toe brush up on the stem and space between it and the index toe. Soon enough, John hears the exact reaction he was hoping for as Mary began to giggle from that light brushing of the string, rather loudly. At least now John has a confirmation for his hypothesis on where Dick got such a sensitivity in his feet from. After slightly going faster and continuing for another five minutes, Mary sits upright, the blanket falling off her beautiful face and laughing up a bit. His work done, John lets the tag go, still attached to the toe while Mary catches her breath.

Once she’s finally relaxed and to her almost immediately surprise, John delivers a loving kiss to her lips, which Mary responds by fully committing to it. The two look into each other’s eyes right after finishing said kiss. Somethings like age and experience changed between them over the years but that one spark, a spark of trust, a spark of respect, a spark of love was present in their eyes and they two cannot help but admire so much, as had the years before.

Finally after a minute, Mary breaks the silence between them “I’ll admit, John, that was probably the best way to wake up to today” she says with an all too bright and gentle smile that can melt the heart of any cold roustabout. John’s heart melted almost instantly with delivering another kiss this time to his wife’s cheek.

“At least that’s something we can agree on”, John agrees with a sort of proudness and joy in his voice. It was then Mary spots a certain brush of black hair hiding behind their bedroom door. The owner of that hair giggles in excitement, his time had come.

With that, Dick lightly kicks the door open, doing a small sideways flip on both sides and finally some backwards walking before finally arriving at the bed next to his parents, tray of food perfectly intact. Such a gesture earns a hearty laugh from John align with a hair ruffle and from Mary a big side hug.

“Hey, gotta bring some flare and style into getting you from breakfast, Mom” Dick says as he puts the tray down on Mary’s laps with an absolute confident and probably to an extent a show off ish tone to him. But at least he has some right in being a show off. Finally though, that tray on her and the microwave anti-splatter bowl covering her meal, Mary takes her chance to lift said bowl off.

Even though it seems way too early for it, Mary cannot help but get slightly watery in her eyes for what was in the plate; a stack of three blueberry hotcakes, covered with maple syrup and blue cake frosting, said frosting spelling out ‘Happy Valentine’s Day! From John and Dick’ then to the sides of them, a clump of appetizing potato hashbrowns and finally a modest serving of Vanilla Greek Yogurt. Clearly, their little early waking up this beautiful morning had proved being what exactly she can enjoy. It’s a surprise sure but a pleasant one.

A sentiment she shares as while careful not to spill her food, Mary reaches over to give her two boys the biggest hug and kisses to them imaginable. A big hug the two in turn give back to her without any words needed. John and Dick look at each other with bright smiles and big wink of their eyes.

Mission accomplished. Now, time to actually eat the food since for the kitchen itself…..let’s just say they both know what Mary would have them being cleaning up for most of their day off.

[sasster]

Consequences

Childhood woes. :)

[Doc]

--

 "Please stand still," the young purple blood whispers to the three animated dolls sitting on the desk before him. "If he knows about you then he will want to hurt you."

All of the dolls turn their heads as if looking to face each other and then give him an understanding nod.

Just as he is able to scoop them into a drawer, the door to his room swings open. Standing in its place is a yellow blood, about a head taller than him, he scans the room over from his spot to see if there is anything different from the last time he'd been in it.

Luckily, Ailzea has become very good at concealing the things that are important to him.

When he is satisfied with the fact that there is nothing new, his gaze settles in on the purple blood at his desk.

He smiles.

"Father Roatus says you've been up here for too long," he starts, waving a clawed hand. "Thought that you'd like some company."

Ailzea says nothing at first, turning his attention back to a book on his desk. He thumbs through it idly for a moment.

"I am much happier when left to my own devices, Favion." 

Through his peripherals he watches as he moves deeper into the room.

"Are you? Bet that's when you smile."

"Smiling isn't the only way to show that someone is happy."

Favion hmms as he drops himself on the bed beside the desk.

"You'll be bored in here. I'm just going to keep reading."

"Just following the old man's orders. I can find a way to entertain myself."

Ailzea turns another page in the book, a sigh nearly parts his lips but he knows better than to display any level of annoyance to his childhood friend.

"Enjoy sitting in silence then." 

For a short while the pair does just that. They sit in silence together, Ailzea’s nose in a book and Favion busying himself with an old wooden brain teaser he found near the bed. His company is much preferred this way, when they can exist near each other the same way they did before the discovery of the former's powers.

The amicable silence dies quickly.

“Hey Ailzea, you always act like someone just died. Why are you always so serious?”

“Is morose not a better word?”

Favion sucks his teeth.

“Does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to broaden your vocabulary.”

“Appreciate it, O Great Reviver,” he retorts with mock irritation as he drops the brain teaser and focuses his attention on him again. “I think you could stand to have a little more fun is all.”

“Our definitions of fun are not the same, Favion.”

“Alright then. Give me your definition again.”

Ailzea says nothing for a moment, electing to first finish the page he was on before closing the book. Then he gestures broadly to the arrangement of books and puzzles that litter his desk. The small collection he has here pales in comparison to what was left behind at home when his ancestor came for him, the mostly empty shelves that line the wall of his room are a promise that the more he behaved and did what was asked of him then the more he will be rewarded.

“Yeah, yeah. You like reading.” The yellow blood muses dismissively as he gets up and brings himself over to the desk. Something else holds his attention. “Make anything new lately?”

“He does not approve when I do.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“The answer is implied.”

“Is it?” He asks, reaching across him to grab one of the two wood carvers tools that caught his attention. He twirls the rasp he swiped between his fore and middle fingers. “Making friends?”

“Of course not.” Ailzea’s voice is even.

“Of course not.” Favion echos in a mocking tone.

“I spent the morning using that rasp to bevel out the corners of the puzzle you love to fiddle with and complain about.”

“How thoughtful. And the blade?”

“To shave off splinters.”

Favion eyes him suspiciously for a moment, then he sets the rasp back down near the stack of books.

“How boring.”

“This is my definition of fun.” 

Favion meanders around behind Ailzea, gaze shifting to the bare shelves around the room. Being keenly aware of the vast collection of books the young necromancer used to keep, he knows better than anyone how cruel it is to have him surrounded by a reminder of what he no longer has. An empty room save for a bed would have been better than what he was given.

“Does it kill you being locked away in a room so empty that it suffocates?”

“Are you working on your villain speeches? It’s a bit heavy handed, my friend.”

He laughs in response.

“I do not need material objects to feel whole. I am happy with what I have,” the purple blood continues, gathering up the books and spare tools as he stands to put them back in their places. With his back to his visitor he carries on speaking. “It would serve me no purpose to mourn what I don’t have. As happy as that would make the two of you. I am content.”

Ailzea shelves the books first, arranging them by priority of what he wants to read next. Quiet settles between them quickly. Because he always picks up and drops conversations the way that he does, Favion’s sudden silence brings with it no cause for concern.

That is until the sound of drawers opening behind him hits his ears. Ailzea turns on his heels to face him.

“Ah, there we are,” Favion says as he opens the second drawer, hand hovering over it and eclipsing the view of the inside. He sits back in the chair.

“Favion please leave them alone.”

He reaches into the drawer and pulls one of the wooden figures out by the arm, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes.

“Is it alive?” He asks, though he does not need the answer.

The dolls with life in them always move more loosely than the inanimate, even if they stay as still as they possibly can.

“Favion, please stop.”

Ailzea’s plea falls on deaf ears as Favion gives the doll a rather rough rattling. It looks so small in his claws.

So small and helpless.

“C’mon little guy. Wake up.”

It is easy to tell that Favion is pressing his nails into the poor things hand, a small crack sounds as it starts to splinter.

“Favion. You need to stop.”

“Why? You just said you won’t mourn what you don’t have.”

Then, without thinking, Ailzea plunges the carving knife that he held so tightly in his hand that his knuckles started to turn white into Favion’s neck. The yellow blood barely has time to react before it is pulled across his throat in a jagged and unpracticed line. When he reaches up to wrap his hands around it to stop the bleeding, the doll hits the desk and almost immediately scrambles across it with the other two to find a new hiding place.

He slumps back into the chair, head rolling back to fix Ailzea with a vacant stare.

Ailzea freezes, nothing but the sound of his small friends scampering about to accompany the smell of blood that began to stain the room.

“Why are you so difficult, Favion?” He asks the empty room, running a bloody hand through his own hair. “A question better for when you’re back I suppose.”

With no hope of being able to move the dead weight of a troll he will have no doubt struggled with while alive to lay him down the way he would prefer, he instead situates himself between the corpse and the desk. He forces both eyes closed on his way.

“I was almost enjoying your company this time.”

His powers ignite, signified by the spark of light in his eyes, and he places both hands over Favion’s chest. Thanks to the meddling of Father Roatus, he is acutely aware that this motion is not necessary for the power to work. He just likes to feel the thrum of the transfer of life in his palms.

The death was not so long ago, so the return to life takes no time at all. In seconds the offending wound starts to close up, leaving only the surrounding blood as evidence that anything occured.

The lights in his eyes fade away as his power deactivates and he lets out a sigh, pulling away from Favion once he feels his heart starting to beat again. He feels the sting of having grappled with a volatile spirit and tucks marred hands away into his pockets.

They will not scar.

By now his friends have found their way to a new hiding spot and Ailzea finds that he can breathe easy.

He looks down at the yellow blood whose eyes snap open at  the same time and anger twists his features into a terrifying expression.

Favion growls, claw shooting up to wrap around Ailzeas neck. He digs his nails into tender meat as he stands, bringing the purple blood along with him to his full height.

He growls again and shakes him when there is no reaction.

"What the fuck was that? Who the hell do you think you are?! Again?"

Ailzea says nothing, focused more on keeping his breathing steady.

Suddenly, Favion pauses. Realization dawns on him as he gives the smaller troll another shake.

"This is fear then?" He grins.

Once again, Ailzea does not respond. His joy is short-lived.

“I let it slide the first time. I can be very forgiving you know,” as he speaks he balls his free hand into a fist. “That was clearly a mistake on my part.”

“You forced my hand.”

“Now you’ve forced mine.”

Before he can make good on that promise, a third voice fills the room.

“That is quite enough. The two of you,” the Reverend’s voice is humored as much as it is commanding. He does not stick around, satisfied that his orders will be followed as he continues down the hall. “You can play later. Favion, join me.”

The yellow blood sneers as he releases his hold on Ailzea and wordlessly follows after him.

[acourtofthought]

I think part of being a courtier is looking and presenting yourself in a certain way, like having good manners and proper speech. And I think it's very clear at how naturally Elain and Lucien embody those things.

Though she was bundled in a threadbare blanket, her gold-brown hair—the hair all three of us had—was coiled perfectly about her head. Eight years of poverty hadn’t stripped from her the desire to look lovely.

Lucien said, “True. But indulge me: you’re a human woman, and yet you’d rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. / surely we’re not so miserable to look at.”

Though the tunic isn’t as pretty as a dress.”

Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress,

“And my nose?” I said, feeling it before he answered. “Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me. The familiar gesture made my chest tighten to the point of pain.

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien muttered something about not needing to be monitored, and we all looked at him with raised brows. He just lifted his hands, claimed he wanted to freshen up, and headed down the hall.

Elain studied her hands, turning them over. “I hadn’t realized … how ordinary it looked.” “You’re still lovely,” Mor said a bit gently. Elain offered a half smile. “I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant.”

“I—I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit. / Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided.

Lucien, at least, had taken up residence in an elegant apartment.

The male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.”

he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

“I should get refreshments.”

“I’m going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.” “Do you mind if I help myself to the other?”

“There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?"

“Please don’t wait on my account”

Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply.

Elain nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “So I’m very pleased to hear of this Valkyrie business.

Their similarities, without really even knowing the other, are uncanny and I think they're going to appreciate finding their match in that when they do come together. Feeling pride that their mate also shares in a desire to present themselves to the outside world in a certain way.

I feel there's another side to it all though, things that contributed towards how they came to be that way........

Ignoring this”—he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face—“surely we’re not so miserable to look at.”

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds.

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted.

She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

While Elain and Lucien do genuinely seem to enjoy formality in certain settings, it carries over into their intrapersonal relationships in a way you wouldn't expect around friends and family. There are multiple examples where it appears Elain and Lucien are dying to say more but they hold themselves back...

When I finished, Tamlin was silent, Lucien practically buzzing with whatever repressed words he was dying to spew.

Don’t give me that look, Lucien. Silence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin’s voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

“She needs fresh air.” “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.”

“Checking in?” Lucien asked quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my face the portrait of boredom. He gave me a knowing look, continuing to the door and grabbing his heavy overcoat and scarf from the hooks mounted on the wood paneling beside it. “The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her.”

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.” Lucien stared at me, long and hard. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.”

“I’m not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.” Cassian gave him a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Who says it’s an act?” Lucien let out a long sigh. “Very well, then.”

Elain murmured a soft plea to Nesta, which earned her a hiss in response.

“I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.” Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice, and said to Nesta, “Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?” Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help.

So many in Elain's life have had expectations of how she should behave and who she is (Rhys even acknowledges this) and I don't think she knows how to break that cycle and just be herself around her family for fear of letting them down.

And Lucien has constantly been punished. By Beron, his brothers, Tamlin, Amarantha, the IC, anytime he shows less than impeccable manners or draws attention to himself. He's expected to not speak up, not make waves, do as he's told.

These are two characters who are constantly fighting an internal battle as to what others expect of them and how they should behave.

I love thinking that Elain and Lucien will be one anothers safe space. To not only appreciate the side of themselves they present to the world with their manners and desire to look a certain way, but to know that behind closed doors, they can be whatever they want, whenever they want. That neither has any expectations that they need to be anything more or less than when together.

Lucien and Elain don't just seem like mates or future lovers to me, they seem like best friends who don't even need demati powers to know each other inside and out.

[noodlingway]

First kiss? 😊

Thank you so much for the prompt! Sorry it took so long to respond. I'm crawling out of the depths of a long block and I greatly appreciate it!!

Here's some ThanUri, back in their Studium days... Rated M (but just barely), cw: alcohol consumption

“Don’t tell me this is your first time?” 

“Prithee… My first…?”

“First time at a tavern?” Thancred smiled mischievously. “Old Louisoix has you studying for that archon exam every waking moment and mayhaps in your sleep besides, I’ll wager. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never seen the inside of a tavern before.”

“Ah. Nay, tis not–”

“Or did you think I meant…” Thancred tipped his head toward the scantily clad performers and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I confess, I have yet to…” He trailed off, uncharacteristically lost for words. 

“What’s that?” Thancred asked, distracted by the dancers on stage. He reached for the bottle and refilled Urianger’s glass and then his own. 

"Nay, tis nothing."

Thancred shook the last drops of wine from the bottle and gestured to a passing waitress for a refill. He grinned and winked at her and she rolled her eyes. 

“She hath met thee before, twould seem.” Urianger couldn’t help a little jab at the hyur. 

He laughed, “Hey, now, we just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Tis more likely thy mouth than thy feet that didst get thee into trouble.”

“Oh yeah?” Thancred smirked, his full attention back on the Elezen now. “And what do you know about trouble?”

“I know that thou art its embodiment made flesh.” Urianger nearly whispered the words, but he could see that Thancred heard every syllable. Their eyes were locked, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. They seemed so much closer on the bench than they had been just a moment earlier. His lips suddenly felt dry and he licked at them before he could stop himself. 

Thancred’s eyes flicked down to the movement at Urianger’s lips. The star shifted. The rogue was looking at him the way he looked at that waitress, or the gleaner he’d flirted with on their walk to the tavern that night; the way Urianger had seen him look at countless others. But somehow it felt different. Mayhaps the effect was more intense when one was the intended target of such attention. 

He found himself musing on what it would be like. To flirt, to kiss, to make love. Had he been missing out on more than he’d thought? He glanced at Thancred’s plump lips, slightly parted, warm breath so close now he could feel it. What if he just leaned forward…

“Urianger?” Thancred whispered.

“Hmm?” Urianger was wholly transfixed.

“Are you trying to kiss me?”

“Am I?”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.”

Thancred pushed himself forward, closing the distance that Urianger had left uncharted. Their lips met gently, softer than he’d expected. He had no idea what to do, but thankfully his body took over. He pressed in, mirroring the other man’s movements, and when a tongue caressed at his lips, he opened readily, greedily. Thancred tasted sweet and tangy, like the wine and fruit they’d been eating, but something else, something so distinctly him. 

He wanted more of it. Needed more. He reached up to lace his fingers into white locks and–

There was a loud thud, and Urianger felt all his breath, his heart and soul as well, yanked free of his chest as Thancred pulled away. 

“Your wine.” The waitress eyed them both up and down, an expression of disgust for the hyur, and was that pity for Urianger? With a final ‘hmph’ for good measure, she turned and stomped away.

Thancred cleared his throat. “I, uhh–”

“Forsooth, I believe I was correct.” Urianger reached for his glass as casually as he could manage. 

“How so?”

“Twas thy mouth that got thee into trouble after all.”

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part twenty five)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 711

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Grooves is finally going to realise his feelings. Only a little longer until they admit their feelings. Enjoy!

Grooves sipped his mug of coffee, watching as Conductor trudged into the room.

He'd left the owl to sleep after Conductor had finished watching his reel.

Conductor had been nice enough to let Grooves stay and watch the rest too.

"Sleep well?" Grooves asked, watching as the coffee machine dispensed into another mug.

Conductor let out a grumbled string of words, snatching up the mug and downing the piping hot liquid.

"You need to say goodbye," the train chimed.

"Yeah, I'll go chat to Roxie in a bit," Conductor said. "Sorry about the, uh- the mess I was in the other night."

"Hey, no, don't apologise," Grooves replied. "You were there for me at that interview when I was out of it."

Conductor crossed over and sat down beside him in the booth, resting his head on the tabletop.

"Thanks Grooves," Conductor mumbled.

"Roxie is outside!" The train announced.

"Let her in then." Conductor waved a hand.

The ceiling lights flickered in a pattern, flashing in a row from one end to the end they were sitting at.

"So, how is the train, um, alive?" Grooves inquired.

"I don't actually know," Conductor laughed, sitting back up.

"She doesn't know either. The Express was like this when I got her. I've got the records from her previous owners and they didn't know either."

"So you're saying you've done peck all to solve the case?!"

"I appreciate you quoting my movies darling, thanks," Conductor said with a grin.

Grooves' chest fluttered slightly as his friend turned back to him.

"It's crazy, right?" Conductor mused, the corners of his mouth still pulled into a smile.

"Y-yeah," Grooves stammered, face heating.

The door at the other end of the carriage slid open and the lights flickered back to normal.

Roxie made a few gestures as she walked over, sitting down across from the two of them.

Conductor shrugged, signing something back.

Roxie looked between Grooves and Conductor, cocking her head to the side.

Conductor rapidly signed something before standing.

"I'm cold, I'm going to get my coat," Conductor announced, jogging up the stairs in the room.

"What was on the tape?" Roxie asked after he was gone.

"I think he should tell you himself," Grooves answered.

Roxie frowned, leaning back against the wall.

"Dad got me to go to a theatre club when I was younger. Apparently I had talent. I didn't enjoy it though," Roxie reminisced, propping her feet up on the table. "Dad got kind of upset. But Mum understood; she was nice about it. That was one of the last happy memories I have with her before she died."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You two would've gotten along really well. For more than one reason," Roxie chuckled after she said the last part, smirking as she looked over at Grooves.

"What do you mean?" Grooves asked. Roxie shook her head gently.

"You both loved acting. And you both love Conductor," Roxie whispered.

Grooves started to protest before Conductor came back out from upstairs, running back down to the booth and sitting beside the penguin. He'd put on his dark coat, buttoned tightly around him.

"What'd I miss?" Conductor asked, talons tapping out a tune on the tabletop.

"Hamilton songs on the brain?" Roxie teased.

"Shut it, peck neck," Conductor replied with a slight laugh, resting his head on Grooves' shoulder.

Roxie sighed, looking between the two of them.

Grooves looked at Conductor out of the corner of his eye, a faint heat rising in his cheeks.

He'd never seen Conductor so happy.

"Are you cold or somethin'? I can go grab your coat," Conductor offered, indicating Grooves' puffed up feathers.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Grooves protested.

Roxie stood up, reaching over and quickly ruffling the feathers at the top of Conductor's head.

"I've got to get back. But I'll come visit the studio some time. And perhaps even come to your movie premier," Roxie said.

"Our movie is gonna win all the awards this year," Conductor bragged.

Roxie let out a bark of laughter, waving goodbye before she left the carriage.

Grooves stared at The Conductor.

"What?" The owl asked.

"You called it our movie."

"And?"

"It's the first time you've called it our movie."

"I couldn't make it on my own."

[evieismol]

Big Bend Chapter 12

Previous Chapter

Word count: 1135

Warnings: mentions of people being scared of giants I guess? Otherwise nothing really for this chapter

“Hannah’s niece was excited to meet you,” John said as he stepped out of the elevator and onto Easton’s desk. The giant was presently eating a bowl of oatmeal. He straightened up upon seeing John, taking a moment to swallow before answering. He pushed the bowl away from both of them.

“She seems like a sweet kid,” Easton said.

“You don’t have to stop eating,” John said, glancing over towards the bowl.

“I was getting full anyways,” Easton said with a small shrug. John raised his eyebrow at that. There were two reasons behind that. First, he’d noticed that Easton never ate around people - John had thought it might have been a coincidence the first few times, but by now was fairly sure it was a purposeful choice to not alarm the humans. The same way he tended to always smile with his mouth closed.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m really not scared of you,” John said. Easton looked down, giving an awkward laugh.

“Was I that obvious?” He asked after a moment.

“A little,” John said. “And I’m sure some of the other humans would appreciate the thoughtfulness, but you’re not the first non-human being I’ve worked with. Or the scariest.”

“Well, that’s a refreshing change of pace,” Easton said.

“Seriously, just eat the oatmeal,” John said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Thanks,” Easton said gratefully, pulling the bowl of oatmeal back over towards him. “Abbey didn’t seem scared of me either. I love that about kids,” he said after taking another bite of oatmeal. “I mean, I totally get why people are, generally. It’s still nice when they’re not, though.”

“I think that’s understandable,” John said.

“This is entirely unrelated, but I was talking to my friends from New York earlier, and they mentioned coming to visit possibly,” Easton said.

“Your human friends?” John asked. Easton nodded. “I’m still dying to know the story behind that one.”

“It’s a long one,” Easton said. “I mean, I don’t mind telling it, though.”

“I have nowhere to be,” John said with a shrug. “Besides, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

“I almost never hear the entire quote,” Easton mused. “Well, anyways, we met, I think six years ago in human years. Like two on Aphiria? I’m bad at math, there’s a reason I studied flowers. Anyways, they were in some trouble on Earth and ended up jumping through a portal they found.”

“Jumping through a random portal. Must have been some trouble,” John said.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Easton said. “It’s more their story to tell than mine, but basically they were in a bad financial spot, and ended up falling in debt with some bad people. Like, seriously bad people. Jumping through the portal was a last resort after one of them was injured. I was out for a walk along a trail near the portal and thought I heard voices, and obviously I offered to help them.”

“I guess they’re lucky you came along,” John said. “How’d the other Aphirials take their presence?”

Easton looked down. “We didn’t tell anyone for a while. I wasn’t…sure how people would respond to them. We ended up telling my sister eventually, and she helped them get back to earth.”

“Your sister’s on the Earth-Aphirial committee that recommended you, isn’t she?” John asked.

Easton gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah…go nepotism, I guess. I really didn’t ask her to do that, I swear.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like an undeserved recommendation, at least,” John offered. “You seem to do a good job interacting with humans.”

“I really try,” Easton said. “I always wanted to see Earth, ever since we learned about it in school when I was a kid. I mean, you guys have such a diverse planet. Like, this park alone…it’s gorgeous. Not to mention the people. There’s so many of you, and so many different countries and languages and cultures…it’s incredible.”

“That’s why you took the job, then?” John asked.

“I guess so. It’s kind of why I wanted to be a park ranger to start with,” Easton said. “Getting to see new things, getting to share them with people. Seeing the same wonder I felt the first time I learned something…I love it. Why’d you decide to work for the IMA, if you don’t mind me asking?”

John chuckled. “Well, I don’t have nearly as touching an answer. Joined the marines to afford college, and after multiple tours overseas, ended up being recommended for recruitment for the IMA. I like the job, though. Like you said, there’s always something new.”

“Like a giant alien park ranger?” Easton asked, amusement in his voice.

“Among other things,” John said with a smile. “So, what was that about your friends coming to visit, before we got sidetracked?”

“Hm? Oh, right! They were saying they might come visit for the Fourth of July. That’s another thing I love about Earth - all the new holidays.”

“Does Aphiria have holidays?” John asked.

Easton nodded. “We do. Not as many, though. At least the main ones. They’re based on the solstices there.”

“That sounds interesting. You know, I think you know far more about Earth than I do Aphiria,” John said.

“Well, I’m always happy to ramble about it anytime you’re curious,” Easton said. “I feel like that’s probably the case for most humans. There’s not a lot of like, academic or historical research. The only reason I know most of what I know is the friends I mentioned.”

“Suppose that’s true. I don’t think most humans have even met an Aphirial. Though, that mightbbe changing if they’ve come to the park recently,” John said.

“Likewise with Aphirials and humans. I think all we really learned in school was like, ‘mysterious tiny planet’,” Easton said.

“Well, there might be a bit more lore about Aphiria floating around on this end, but I wouldn’t assume any of it was particularly truthful.”

“Yeah…I’ve heard some of those stories,” Easton said. “And seen how people generally react to me at first. Not that I can blame them - I mean, there is some truth to the whole carnivorous giant alien thing. I’m sure I’d be a little freaked out too if I was on the other end of things. If anything I appreciate the effort to not just like, run away screaming.”

“Fair enough,” John said.

[himbos-hotline]

Fictober prompt four: "How would that even work?" fandom: AEW [fanfiction] Name: You know that I'm greedy for love. Word count: 2296 words Ship: Not really any ship here. The family ship of RJ City and Jay, mentions of Violent Brothers and the polycule. Also implied OWC and Adam squared. Characters: RJ City [trans edition], Jay Orton mentions of Adam Page and the other memebrs of the Polycule. Triggers: Heavily implied smut, RJ is a trans woman because I am a trans man and I said so, OH! theres mentions of dentists here and Jay being scared of them Authors note: I know this is late but I got hit by depression which caused a creative block. Crakc fic taken seriously again. This fic is spondered by monster energy drinks and anxiety! Taglist: @itsnoosetome @the-house-of-cards

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“Hey auntie…How are you awake this early in the morning?” RJ chuckles, sipping wine out of a lipsticked stained coffee mug. “A lot of caffeine. I see you're subscribing to that mindset too.” She uses the mug to gesture at the half drunk energy drink that Jay rolls between his fingers.

The flashing of their phone startles Jay from his slumber. It flashes in an aggressive pattern that makes her feel slightly nauseous. Phone calls early in the morning normally mean two things; Adam needs to be picked up from the closest bar or interviews. 

There's movement beside him that makes the bed springs bend under his hips. Jay huffs watched the larger frame shift, highlighted by flashing light as she shifted to face the opposite way, picking up their headphones from the table. The world powers into sound and Jay huffs. 

“Y’phones ringing..dya want me to answer it?” 

Adam sounds tired and Jay feels almost angry at whoever is on the other end of the line. “It's okay darling. Go back to sleep.” He muses, sitting up against the pillows. With their legs straight and uncovered, Adam rolls to press his face against their thighs. “Comfy?” 

“Mhmm.” He yawns and Jay bends over to kiss his temple before reaching out and grabbing the phone. An ever too familiar number stares back at them and as Jay swipes their thumb across the screen, they weave their fingers between blond strands, the pads of their fingers skating across fresh wounds. 

“Yello?” Jay hums, listening to the soft way Adam whines in his sleep, wrapping a loose arm around the other's middle. It’s uncommon for the two of them to get a bed to themselves and by the jay his legs stretch out, he’s making the most of it. 

“Ah hello!” The voice is bright and Jay squints, almost like the sun was shimmering out of the girl's voice. “Jay, my darling niece. How would you like to do your aunt a favor?” 

“It depends on what that favor is auntie RJ.” There’s a tired edge to Jay's voice, a tiredness that's playful and childish. “I am not-” 

“Doing an interview. Yes yes. But Wheeler has had to cancel and we need one of the BCC members. I know it's short notice.`` RJ sounds desperate and Jay imagines her pacing, lips pressed together in an anxious almost tearful glimmer. 

They press zeir lips together, curling his knees to her chest when Adam moves to sit behind them, lips pressing against the pulsepoint of her neck. “Y'know I don't like interviews.” They flash a warning glance at him, squeaking when his teeth sink into flesh. It's soft and as his teeth brush against their skin; Jay knows its gentle encouragement and bribery. “Fine. Lemme get dressed and I’ll tell grandpa that I'll be late for training.” 

The squeal that echoes from the woman on the other end of the phone makes Adam pull back, cheeks red in the early morning sunlight. Jay giggles, rubbing his thumb across his lips. Adam blinks for a few moments before letting his lips part. “It starts at seven.” 

The line clicks off and Jay squints against their screen. Thirty minutes. Jay flicks their eyes up to Adam, who is softly sucking on their fingers, watching as his pupils dilate before expanding. “We don't have time, baby. Maybe afterwards?” 

Adams lips part again, letting Jay's hand cup his cheek. “S’kay. Dya want me to drive you?” His eyes blink slowly and he shifts to kneel on the opposite end of the bed. Jay shifts letting the blankets fall between them. 

“No, I'll be okay. Stay here and wait for Cole, Kenny should be back soon.” Jay watches excitement swirl in his eyes and breathes out a laugh through his nose. “Send me pictures?” 

He muses, squirming into the nearest shirt that they can find. It hands loosely off his small frame and when Adam struggles out a cough Jay looks up. 

“You're wearing my shirt.” He whispers, crawling the way over the bed, letting his legs frame Jay as they pull on pants. “It looks really good on you.” He wraps his hands around the collar, using it to pull Jay into a kiss, smirking when the other parts their lips and hums into his mouth. “Be a good boy and go to the interview.” 

Jay nods mutely, cheeks red and eyes sparkling. “Yes sir.” Jay has to use his bare legs to stabilize themselves as he shrugs on a jacket and wobbles as he pulls on shoes. Adam chuckles softly and kisses their temple, tumbling back into bed when he hears the hotel room door close. 

The bright lights of the Hey EW set makes Jay’s temple pulse like someone had taken a jackhammer to their skull. They’re bright and highlight Jay’s small frame as he takes a seat. Perched on the edge of the chair, Jay feels like an anxious child, their feet hang in free fall. RJ appears almost like a ghost, clapping their hands either side of his shoulders. 

“Hey auntie…How are you awake this early in the morning?” 

RJ chuckles, sipping wine out of a lipsticked stained coffee mug. “A lot of caffeine. I see you're subscribing to that mindset too.” She uses the mug to gesture at the half drunk energy drink that Jay rolls between his fingers. 

Her calm movements and soft laugh settles Jay’s anxious mind. “Yeah, Hanger kept me awake for most of the night.” Jay yawns, taking a long gulp of their drink. RJ’s eyes seem to sparkle with curiosity as she taps the papers against her legs. 

“Showtime!” She sings and Jay nearly chokes on his drink, feeling the bubbles burn in the middle of his chest. Using the back of their hand he wipes his mouth and places the drink on the floor by her feet. 

The light on the camera blinks red and Jay stares at it for a few moments, jolting when Rj leans forward and music floats out a small box on the table. Wide eyed and confused Jay looks towards their aunt, blinking as the music fades away. 

“Welcome to hey E.W. I’m  RJ City and I'm here with my guest this week, Gray Orton. Hey!” 

Jay blinks silently for a few moments whispering “hey…” RJ smiles and Jay breathes a sigh of relief. Interviews had never been a strong point in his career but RJ’s eyes are soft and inviting and the stress that squares Jay’s shoulders melts away slowly. 

“So.” There’s a shuffling of papers and a sip of wine. “You’re from chicago. Yes?” 

“Yeah. Born and raised.” They glance at the camera man who rolls his hand for the two of them to continue. The silence doesn’t feel awkward but it makes anxious warmth flood the bottom of their stomach. “Which people find weird since y-y’know Ortons and..and Saint louis.” Jay they chuckle and the other woman smiles,  glancing over her glasses at her. 

“Yes. They do go together quite well. Anyway, Chicago. Are you familiar with the work of the villainess and star Velma Kelly? They say she murderer her husband you know. If you were to end up in a cell block what would you have done?”

Jay blinks soundlessly for a few moments, picking up and tapping theri can of drink with round nails before going. “Murder.” RJ raises both eyebrows and Jay squirms awkwardly, pushing long sleeves over their hands before draining the can. 

The two of them sit in silence for a few moments before RJ crosses her legs and flicks through the papers. “Right….So the female division. You are clearly not a female. I clearly am.” She gestures to herself and Jay stifles a small giggle, nodding in agreement. 

“Yes. Trans women are women and I am only a part-time woman. Only when it's funny.” RJ seems to find that funny, laughing . Jay laughs too and leans back. 

“Would you tag team with someone like Brit Baker?” 

“No.” Jay answers quickly, raising a hand to cover their mouth. “You know about my Dentophobia. I have nothing against Brit, she's great and I am-” Jay pauses, not sure how to politely state that she sometimes screws Brit’s boyfriend on the weekend. “Involved with her boyfriend. I just hate what she does for a living.” 

RJ nods, patting Jay on the knee before pulling back and shifting their weight to rest against the chairs. Jay keeps his back straight, hands now resting on her lap as she pulls a knee close to his chest. He rests his chin against his knee and smiles. 

“You already have a tag team. The Blackpool Combat Club-” 

“Yeah. They’re like my family. They're great! Wheeler especially. Im sorry he couldn't turn up by the way-” 

“Yes yes. Maybe next week, tell him that I would like to see him, yes?” RJ rolls theri wrist and Jay cracks a half smile, tilting their head to the side as he listens as the woman continues the question. “You’ve seemingly been adopted by one Jon Moxley. Tell me about that.” 

“Mox is like my brother. He’s completely insane but a great laugh and sometimes, rarely but sometimes, gives ya good advice. Hits like a bitch though which is great for when we’re tag teaming-” 

“We’ll fix the cursing in post!” RJ jumps in and Jay stares down the camera in apology, mouthing a small ‘sorry’ down the lense  before looking back towards their aunt. “Do you have a tag team name? And what would it take to get Moxley on the show? Does he answer your phone calls?” 

Jay chuckles, shaking his head. “Not really, he doesn't really understand technology. Gr-Regal sometimes calls us the violent brothers. So if we had to pick a tag name maybe that?” Zey shrugs, placing both feet back on the floor. Jay taps the lapel microphone and removes it. Squirming out of their hoodie is easy and she's careful to place the microphone on the open collar of his stolen shirt. 

“Well that shirt looks very familiar.” RJ's voice takes a playfully flirtatious edge and Jay raises an eyebrow, letting their eyes wander down across dark blue, tasseled fabric and a blush coats the apples of their cheeks. “Does that belong to a certain cowboy?” 

Jay swallows, feeling the last of the energy drink bubbling up his throat. “Yeah.” There's an aura of fake confidence floating off the simple word and Jay glances towards the camera again, staring down the lense at Adam, apologizing for the questions that are bound to tumble out of their aunt's mouth. 

Rj’s head tilts forward, gazing over the rim of her glasses, eyebrow raised in surprise. “Are you close with Adam Page?” 

Suddenly Jay remembers teeth pressing against the pulsepoint of his neck, eager hands tumbling over thighs. Heavy breaths and eager whines slip into his ears and Jay is quick to remove his hearing aids, pretending to fiddle with the settings before replacing them back. “You could say that, Kenny too. And Cole…and Wheeler. We’re a partnership.” 

“Like partners in crime? Partners in love? Could you give me any more details?” 

“Both. All. Whatever way ya thinking, that's what we are.” Jay leaks confidence and pride, bolstered by the memories that circle in their head and the blush that creeps across the base of his neck and the heat pooling deep in his stomach. 

“Okay….” The word is drawn out and RJ rolls her eyes, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. He raises his hand and wiggles his fingers. “How would that even work?” 

Jay giggles. “With great difficulty. But it does…they’re great people. .” theri voice is softer now, calmer as Jay breathes in the smell of Hangman off the stolen shirt. “Is this done? I have training in an hour and Regal won’t be happy if I’m late. He’s already slapped me once and-” Jay rubs her jaw and their aunt nods, flicking through their notes quickly. 

“Well I have learnt absolutely nothing from this interview but it has been fun. Tune in next week where we’ll have another guest who won’t admit to crimes as calm as that. I have been RJ City-” 

“And I’ve been Gray Orton!” Jay raises their hand and waves “goodnight everybody!” 

Music starts and ends and the light on the camera finally turns off. RJ slumps against the chair and tilts the mug against his mouth, pulling it away to shake the last drops of red wine onto his tongue. “You did great kiddo. But seriously what's the deal with you and the others?” 

“Nothing…and everything.” Jay mumbles, pulling their phone out of their pocket. It flashes, vibrates in a pattern that indicates texts and the warmth in Jay’s stomach burns brighter as he scrolls through the pictures Kenny had sent him. “Sorry I have to go auntie.” Jay lets their phone screen turn dark. 

“How did you get five wonderful men when I can’t even get one”? RJ asks, standing to help Jay shrug on her hoodie. 

“I ask myself that all the time…Claudio is free. Would you like me to ask if he wants to go to dinner? I watched the interview Auntie. We all saw how you looked at him- just ask him out, he won’t stop talking about ya”

RJ turns a dull shade of red and Jay chuckles. “Sure. What's the worst that could happen with Claud and I?” 

Jay giggles, walking towards the exit. “You could get a handsome young man to spoil you rotten?” 

“Is that what yours do?” RJ asks, following Jay to their car. Jay is silent until he’s behind the wheel. 

“Only if I’m good.” The engine turns over, spluttering before starting to purr. “I have to go. A certain cowboy is getting a little tied up without me.” 

The car backs away. Leaving RJ chuckling and waving goodbye. Three hours later her phone buzzes. A text from Claudio 

There is a restaurant I want to take you too. Wear something nice. ;)

[distantpagesandpapercuts]

@cold-steel-eyes

Continued from here.

"Oh, it's no problem at all." He simply laughed off her concern for him. Not wanting her to fret about something that isn't much of a big deal in his eyes, but still appreciative for her need to look out for the courier. Buck usually does fine in colder temperatures, since his body tends to stay on the warmer side, it's his colleagues that he worries about. It was a simple gesture that he would have done for anybody, he only hoped that she would understand his other purpose. He almost wanted to sling his arm around her shoulder and bring her closer to him, but he respected their boundaries and the last thing he wanted to do was make the brunette uncomfortable with his gesture. He liked Kira, very much, and would like to pursue a possible relationship with her, but only when it was right by her. The pair walked down a cracked sidewalk near Freeside, passing many of the locals as they went about their day. It was always a treat to spend some time with each other. The two of them are often busy with their own respective line of work, so time like this is always a treasure to Buck. He just hoped to make it a bit more special. Then he remembered. "Actually, I just recall hearing about this new coffee house that opened up not too far from here," He honestly wasn't that much of a coffee drinker, but he knew Kira always enjoyed them in between her work schedule. Besides, he could always substitute it with a tea or hot chocolate. Plus, from what he heard out of the mouths of others; they had the best apple dumplings this side of Nevada, and he'd been more than eager to try them out for himself. "Perhaps, we could stop by for a moment and get something to warm you up?" "My treat." His grin was easy but the noticeable shade of red that seemed to cover his pale face had betrayed his relaxed demeanor and showed his romantic intentions.

He insists it's no problem, but it's obvious from the way her golden eyes stare at him from behind her glasses that she's watching him. Waiting for even the slightest hint of his discomfort. A which point she had every intention of insisting that he take the coat back. But for the moment, he seemed fine.

It was a kind gesture, but Buck was nothing if not kind. Always. He was the kindest person she'd ever met. Always smiling despite there being not terribly much to smile about out here in the wastes. Kira found herself gravitating towards it more often than not. If only to sort of bask in it. He radiated it to her when he was nearby- his smile was contagious. It made her feel nice, warm even. It was enough to temporarily dispel her doubts of him. No one could be that happy out here. Not genuinely. Could they?

He musters the strength to be kind in a world that offers more pain than anything.

She hopes she can be like that one day.

Until then, she'd have to settle for these spotty visits. Both were fairly busy in their work. Kira studying and Buck travelling. So when these opportunities arose, Kira found herself making excuses not to show up for classes or work. Today- she was too sick to help the already too sick.

Truthfully, whenever the Followers needed to send word out for supplies? She would take it down to their little pony express and search for him. If only as an excuse to see him for a moment. More often than not he wasn't around. But it didn't hurt to try.

Hm?

"Coffee? Was there a surge in supply? A crop came in? How exciting." Kira liked coffee pretty well, she preferred tea if she were honest. But she drank quite a bit of coffee in order to keep up with the demands of her work and studies.

He mentions warming her up and she smiles up at him, noticing the color of his face.

"That'd be lovely, thank you. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion that it's not me who needs warming up. You're already turning red from the cold. Poor thing," She muses this softly and with concern.

"Lead the way."

[sigmadolos]

@nonhumen​ said: ‘RELAX’ (haha doa dazai braiding sigma's hair thank you)

soft hair touches ‘RELAX’ for your muse (sender) to run their fingers through my muse’s (receiver) hair  

   It is exhausting work to memorize everything. It is not that the angel STRUGGLES with it; he can recall all at a moment’s notice. But the sheer volume of memorizing thousands of people and everything about them every day is an extensive task even for him. His head falls forward for a moment, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against his hands. As much as he might scold the other angels about their lack of sleep whenever they came to visit, he might be worse than them all. But there was work to do, always more to memorize. As endless as the drinking horn connected to the sea that the Norse God Thor had to drink from.

   His eyes snap open at he touch to his hair and he stills for a moment like a critter debating to bite or flee. But there are very, very few who are allowed into (or could get in regardless of permission) the manager’s private study, warmer and more personal than the grand one he used for casino matters. Books, files, trinkets, and completed or partially completed works decorate the space to yield hints of the man. Despite the initial concern, Sigma cannot deny that  it does feel nice. He turns his head slightly, allowing a tired eye to glimpse Dazai before the momentary stiffness in his shoulders melts like ice thawing beneath the sun’s warm rays.

   WHY Dazai has suddenly decided to do this, he doesn’t know. Nor does Sigma dare to breathe life into the question. It lives and it dies solely as a fleeting star in the manager’s mind. He simply accepts it for what it is. Minutes pass and relaxation settles more on him like a weighted blanket. As pleasant as it was for Sigma, it also seemed to be entertaining Dazai so that the other angel wasn’t running about the casino causing problems or testing his patience. (And for what? Sigma never truly bared his fangs at any of the angels despite the blood he’s spilled and the lives he’s manipulated as a manager - the false safety of the casino manager. Still, Dazai was PERSISTENT if nothing else.)

   Strands of hair tug backwards and Sigma’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he voices no protest. Was Dazai....braiding his hair? It felt like it, blending white and blue strands together like ice and water dancing together on the ocean caps. It is strange to be the one to be doted upon. More often than not, Sigma was used to being the one to keep an eye and tend to the others even without request. A blanket here, a scolding to sleep, a hot meal set beside them, things like that. But it was nice. Especially by surprise, when he hadn’t even known that Dazai was aware. Of course he was, he was Dazai. 

   Half-closed eyes reveal the manager’s relaxation, a momentary break from the burdens and noise. Though he loves his casino,  nothing real is without its struggles. Lashes flutter to open more when he feels his hair set free - and he briefly thinks that it is done. At least until he hears Dazai shuffle around and feels the braid lifted again, and then a subtle floral scent. Had...Dazai tucked in some small flowers? A glimpse to the vase confirmed a few missing sections of baby breath flowers. His head turns, gazing up towards the other angel for a moment.

   Surprisingly, he finds his golden tongue mute on what to say. There’s nothing to be GAINED other than perhaps a reprieve from boredom. Even so -

   “  Thank you.  “  Sigma offers the words gently, a genuine smile resting softly on his lips as he gazes up at Dazai with silver warmth. No matter the reason, it was still an appreciated gesture, especially to one who’d tasted cruelty far more often than kindness. His gaze lowers, toying with the end of the braid with a smaller, unconscious smile. 

[shiningstages]

Mother’s Day in a month, and Father’s Day the month after...................*cackles at all my muses with dead parents*

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again. 

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized. 

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

[junowritings]

Hello! I just saw your Kalim x reader and my heart went boom!

Is there any chance that I can request a Neige Leblanche x Fem NRC student Reader?

*Where Neige falls for her quite literally and romanticly when she is setting up for VDC. But turns out his love is somewhat forbidden in a sense.*

please and thank you! Also, question! Have you seen Yuuekn for the twst manga? He's really cute in my opinion! Have a good day!

I’m so happy to hear that you liked that hun I had a lot of hun with it~! Also I feel like writing Neige on Vil’s birthday’s gonna get me cursed but it’s fiiiine~

Also HELL YEAH I’VE SEEN YUUKEN. That man threatened Crowley with a kendo stick what a legend I can’t wait for the next volume! --------

You were only supposed to oversee the others working as VDC was being set up, to go around checking on others progress and non-too-subtly marvel at all of the booths as they were being built and arranged in the appropriate locations. 

Admittedly, you were probably only allowed free reign so you didn’t get in the way of the performers as they got in some practice for the final show. If the sharp look Vil had given you when as he’d practically herded you out was anything to go by, making yourself scarce till things cooled down was your best course of action, so you’d taken to keeping track of the backstage team, if only to see all the work that went into making this long awaited event happen. 

It was just pure chance that one of the second years had caught you wandering between equipment and mistook you as part of the team. Before you knew it, he was handing you an imposingly large set of speakers and asking you to get them moved back to the stage, and perhaps if you’d been more firmer about refusing, then you wouldn’t have been scrambling towards the main area, weighty equipment in tow as you hauled them alongside you. 

Fortunately, the work you’d been dragged into suited you just fine; you’d worked a few backstage gigs during previous school events, thanks to the headmaster’s brilliant idea to leave professional work to a bunch of minimally trained students (seriously, what does Crowley even spend the event budget on?). Thankfully, you were well prepared, and it looked like the other ‘volunteers’ were grateful for the extra set of hands too, as before long you were being approached by some of the first year workers, asking for your advice or help because they weren’t sure what to do.

You’re overseeing one such first year as he sets up the wires for the overhead lights, peering over his shoulder from where he’s crouched and guiding him when needed. When he plugs in the last of the cords he turns to glance up at you, wordlessly seeking your approval.  

You grin and flash him a thumbs up. “Hey, great job. Told ya you could do it.”

At your response the student visibly relaxes, standing up and rolling off the stiffness from being stuck in such an awkward position for so long. He gives the lights a quick once over before shuffling back, releasing a sigh as he muses aloud. “Looks like that was the last of the tech setup; do you think we’ll be needed anywhere else?”

You give a noncommittal shrug. “Probably not; unless we’re needed down by the clubs I think they’re all set.” 

Honestly, the work’s pretty much done by this point, and you’re sure that sooner or later you’ll be getting a call from Rook letting you know it’s time to rejoin the group. You’ve got to admit, you’re looking forward to seeing all of the boys’ hard work pay off - you know they’ve been busting their butts to polish their routine and you’re sure their nerves are kicking in right about now.

Maybe you could bring them something back from the stalls? A good luck charm or something to snack on to ease their nerves a bit - you’re sure Ace and Kalim would appreciate some of those ‘pick-me-up’ treats from those food stands they’d been eyeing near the entrance...

Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye mid-musing, and you find yourself pausing as you cast your gaze towards the stage. There’s several people on stage, and you know at a glance that they’re not part of the crew - the pristine white and blue uniforms were a dead giveaway as is, but as you watch the small group move along the structure you freeze, eyes narrowing.

Are those...kids?

You can’t be certain, given that you’re pretty sure this is a students only event, however you’re transfixed on watching them chatter happily to one another as they point at the different decorations strung up all over the venue. There’s one boy among them that you notice, namely because he’s the tallest of the small, merry group; his smile is bright and gentle as he laughs along with his friends, guiding two of them by the hands so that the group doesn’t get separated. 

The sight is cute, no one can deny, and it's enough to tug a smile at the corner of your lips. The student beside you notices your silence and follows your gaze, gasping when he spots who you’re looking at.

“Wha-Neige is here already?!”

“Neige?” You look between the student and the boy, confused. 

Now where have you heard that name before…

Your eyes widen when you remember. Of course, Neige Leblanche! That guy you’d seen from those interviews! You remember how miffed Vil had gotten when at the sight of the soft spoken boy when they’d worked a shoot together, just about dragging you and Rook out with him before Neige had even finished his segment. Apparently they were rivals or something, but you’d never gotten the chance to ask before Vil had shut that conversation down the moment it started.

Remembering the tempered scowl on Vil’s otherwise pristine face brought a frown to your own. What was it about this guy that he’d hated so much? The more you watched Neige the more he seemed about as nice as you’d expect, regarding his friends with a soft smile that radiated nothing but warmth and kindness as they swarmed around him, all smiles and laughter. 

One of the boys tottered away from the group, wandering over to the edge of the stage to look down at the people still milling about. His fingers were wound into the scarf around his neck, pulling it up close to his face as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking around with curious eyes. Eventually, he spotted you off to the side and you found yourself smiling as you offered a small wave.

The boy’s face brightened and he didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, waving back and letting go of his scarf long enough for you to see him smiling back at you. You chuckled a little at the sight, but the little moment doesn’t last long before his face suddenly scrunches up, discomfort crossing his face.

“A-Achoo!”

He sneezes violently enough that it completely knocks him off balance, and your face pales when you watch him start to topple off of the stage. People have wrecked their ankles just trying to jump from that height, so the moment you see him start to fall you’re running to catch him, arms stretching out before you’ve even reached him.

“Ah! Snick!”

Neige notices his friend beginning to tumble and crosses the stage before you get there, calling out the boy's name as a hand reaches out to grab the back of that peach scarf and uses the garment to pull him upright. You’d have been relieved if the momentum of yanking him back hadn’t sent Neige falling right off in his place, and now you’re running to catch a different boy as you watch him go over the edge.

Fortunately, the split second difference between him and Snick gives you enough time to reach him, and Neige lands in your open arms not a moment after you get there with a gasp at the force. Mentally congratulating yourself for the good catch, you look down at the boy nestled in your arms, who looks back up at you with a surprised expression.

His hair’s skewed, hat having landed somewhere in the fall as soft black strands fall over his face and brush against his lashes. He’s close enough that you’re pretty sure that you can hear his heart hammering in his chest, and his eyes are wide - you guess he’s still shaken from the tumble - but up close you can see just how striking they are, a deep brown easing into a honey color.

‘No wonder this guy’s an actor,’ you find yourself thinking. ‘He looks like he’s straight from a painting.’

You shake the thought away and focus on the moment, lips parting to ask. “Are you okay?”

For a beat, Neige blinks up at you, speechless before breaking from his apparent reverie with a start.

“O-Oh! Y-yes, thank you.” you watch a pink hue rise to his face, dusting across his cheeks as he brings  a hand to fix his collar, gaze never straying from your own.

Your expression softens at the response. How cute.

“Niege! Neige, are you okay?!”

A voice calls out, and you look up just in time to spot Neige’s gaggle of friends as they race down the stage stairs, moving to converge around you and the boy in your arms. The one who yelled - with silver hair and glasses - seems relieved when he sees Niege is unharmed, and Snick looks on the verge of tears as he shuffles to his friend’s side, bumbling apologies between sniffles.

Neige smiles and reaches out a hand to affectionately ruffle Snick’s hair. “It’s alright; I’m fine, everyone.”

The spectacled boy turns to you and bows. “Thank you so much for your help!”

You shuffle anxiously at the praise. “Ah, well, it’s no sweat, really - I’m glad I caught him in time! Heh…”

Both you and Neige sneak a look at one another, and as your eyes meet you become acutely aware of the fact that you’re still holding him to your chest. Masking your embarrassment with a cough, you loosen your grip enough for him to ease back onto his feet. He smooths out his sweater and you lean down to grab his hat, shaking it back into shape before moving to place it back onto his head. 

You don’t think twice about tucking some stray strands of hair behind his ear until he lets out a soft “Oh!” and you fluster, bringing your hands to your chest as he mirrors the motion.

“Thank you for catching me!” he hums, words sincere as he gives a little bow of his own.

“It’s no problem!” you give an idle wave, rubbing the back of your neck as you add. “Besides, the headmaster would have my head if another school’s student got hurt on our school grounds!”

Neige raises a brow at your words, but laughs along with you when you chuckle.

“So, you guys are entering VDC, right?” you venture a guess, changing the subject, and you watch the group nod in various degrees of agreement.

“Yes! I’m looking forward to seeing everyone perform!” Neige beams at the mention of the event. “Are you a member of the NRC team…?”

He trails off, realizing he doesn’t know your name; when you tell him, he repeats the name back to himself softly, as though making sure to remember it.

“As for me? I’m not on their team, well, technically.” you find yourself hesitating for a moment. “I’m more of a manager, cheering on the team and helping out with set-up. Though, Vil’s been handling most of the work, heh.”

“Vil?” he parrots back to you, looking visibly delighted at the name Happy to ramble about your friend, you’re quick to continue.

“Yeah! He’s been working really hard with everyone to polish their performance - I swear, you’re gonna love it! He’s actually-”

“(Y/N)-!”

You freeze, head whipping in the direction of the voice, spotting Vil striding in your direction as the crowd parts seamlessly to move out of his way. You grin as you watch him approach, but your smile falters a bit when you see his expression. Though his face remains carefully neutral, you’ve known him long enough to recognize that he’s positively seething, and you have no idea what’s got him so angry.

Still surprised to see him, you shift to face him. “Oh, hey Vil! What are you doing-?”

“We need to go.” Vil’s voice is stern, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder guiding you away from Niege and back towards the way he’d come from.

“Wha-why?” you sputter, confused.

“The event’s nearly starting, and we’re up first - you’re going to be late.”

He punctuates each word carefully, though gives you a surprisingly soft smile and brings his free hand to rest against your back when he notices the confusion visible on your face. “The others are waiting for you.” he adds, as though working to ease your concern as he continues to walk with you.

“O-oh, okay.” you fumble for a moment before craning your neck to look back at Neige, giving him the brightest smile you can muster as you wave.

“See you later, Neige! Good luck with the performance~!”

Neige returns the wave, soft smile betrayed by furrowed brows as he watches your retreating form disappear back into the bustle of people. For a few moments he tries to spot you in the crowd before reluctantly giving up, bringing a hand up to his chest and lightly grasping his sweater between his fingers.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbles aloud, hoping to himself that this isn’t the last time he sees you today.

[rubysunnday]

Hi!! If this doesn't catch your eye, then feel free to delete this.

Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise meets Reader and realises that R would be perfect for one of her brothers (you can decide which one)? Eloise then tries to matchmake them or even just introduce them to each other??

so, this is love

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N/N.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Eloise, you can give me the sad eyes all you want, my answer is not going to change.”

“But if you just -”

“Eloise, I will burn you with this cigarette in a minute - stop it.”

Eloise slumped back against the tree and gave Y/N a glower that would rival Anthony. Y/N - who’d been friends with the Bridgerton’s for almost four years - ignored the glowering glare her friend was giving her and puffed on her cigarette.

“Are you coming to the ball tomorrow?” Eloise asked, dropping her glower. She reached over and snatched the cigarette out of Y/N’s hand.

“Yes, of course,” Y/N replied, frowning. “You know I am - no.”

“One dance.”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

Eloise practically growled. “Oh, come on, Y/N! You love Colin!”

“Yes, as a friend, El,” Y/N replied, scoffing. “Don’t you dare try and set me up with your brother.”

Eloise sighed but held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, I won’t. But you’ll still come tomorrow?”

“I don’t really have much choice,” Y/N muttered. “I promised your mother and Anthony.”

Eloise smirked. “She’s terrifying, isn’t she?”

“Put together with Anthony, I felt as if I was going to be executed if I didn’t say yes!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “He glowered at me, El. Glowered.”

“Ah, yes, Anthony Bridgerton’s infamous glower,” Eloise said, nodding. She handed the cigarette back to Y/N. “Now you have to come.”

Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh as she took the cigarette. “Very funny, El.”

“What’s funny?”

Y/N jumped and almost fell off the swing she was sitting on. “Jesus Christ, Benedict!” She exclaimed, putting a hand on her chest. 

“Sorry,” Benedict said, struggling not to smile. He sat down on the swing next to her and held his hand out for the cigarette. 

“Oh, we’re all just sharing now, are we?” Y/N muttered, handing the cigarette to him. 

“We were just talking about how Mother and Anthony managed to make Y/N agree to attend the ball tomorrow night,” Eloise said, picking at the grass around her.

“He glowered, she smiled,” Y/N muttered, shuddering either from the sudden gust of wind or the memory of being cornered in Anthony’s office.

Benedict laughed and choked on the smoke he accidentally inhaled. “Once they corner you, there's no escape, believe me, I know!”

Y/N groaned, slouching as much as she could in the swing. “I don’t want to go, though - no offence.”

“None taken,” Eloise called, shaking her head. “I don’t want to go either.”

Y/N groaned again and leant back on the swing, tilting her head back until her hair was touching the grass. She pushed herself back and forth with her feet as she contemplated her impending doom, half listening to the conversation Benedict and Eloise were having.

She’d never been one for balls - she was a introvert like Eloise - and preferred hiding in her house (or Bridgerton house which was quickly becoming a second home to her) reading a book. 

When she’d first entered society she’d been a wallflower. Y/N and Eloise had met at a ball and had bonded over the fact neither one wanted to be there. A few balls later and Y/N found herself dancing with Colin Bridgerton.

It hadn’t taken much before she fell down a rabbit hole titled Big Crush on Colin Bridgerton. 

Not that she would ever admit it to anyone. Unfortunately, Eloise had found out and - after much badgering and nagging - Y/N had reluctantly admitted that she was right and ever since then, Eloise had been determined to set her up with her brother. 

Y/N had been avoiding Colin ever since Eloise had found out, not that she thought he’d noticed.

Y/N tilted back a bit further and yelped as she lost her balance and fell onto the grass. “Oh, right, that’s it, I’m not going,” she moaned, staring up at the tree and glowering at the inconvenience that had just occurred to her. 

Benedict snorted as he stood up and held out a hand to her. “Oh, stop complaining, Y/N/N, you’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Y/N begrudgingly took Benedict’s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet and pull a twig out her hair. “Yes, and then the entire ton can glare at me because I’m friends with the most eligible bachelors in London.”

Benedict smacked her on the back of the head and Y/N slapped his arm in retaliation.

“Children,” Eloise called - sounding scarily like Violet. “Y/N, you are coming whether you like it or not. In fact, I’m going to make Benedict come and get you at noon tomorrow so you can get ready here.”

“And so I don’t run away?” Y/N added, raising an eyebrow at Eloise.

“That too.”

Y/N muttered something that sounded suspiciously like she was cursing the entire Bridgerton name, but she nodded. “Fine. Benedict can come and get me.”

“I’m so glad I’m appreciated by you,” Benedict said sarcastically, putting an arm around her shoulders. “It’s such a refreshing change.”

She wasn’t hiding.

There just happened to be a significantly large potted plant in front of the chair she was sitting in. 

Y/N had to admit that she did look beautiful. The midnight blue dress sparkled in the dozens of candles dotted around the room and her hair had been pinned up with jewelled violet hair pins that Violet had leant her for the night.

That didn’t, however, change the fact that she didn’t want to be there and was trying her hardest to avoid Colin. 

Eloise, however, had had the opposite idea and had been glued to Colin’s side the entire night, trying to find Y/N and make her dance with her brother. 

“Is my Mother’s orange tree plant providing subtle enough cover, Y/N/N, or would you like a cheese plant as well?”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at Anthony. “I know you’re joking but I wouldn’t mind if it happened to appear next to the orange tree.”

Anthony chuckled and sat down next to her, offering her one of the glasses of lemonade he’d been holding. “You can’t hide behind a plant all evening.”

“I’m doing a pretty good job of it so far,” she retorted, sipping on the drink. “It is a very nice plant.”

“Why are you hiding?” Anthony asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Your sister is trying to set me up with Colin,” Y/N muttered, glowering at the plant as if it was Eloise’s face.

“Who? El?” “Yes, Eloise,” Y/N snapped. “Once that woman gets an idea she physically cannot let it go until she’s finished with it.”

Anthony laughed. “You’re hiding from Eloise?”

“She’s terrifying when she’s on a mission, Anthony,” Y/N replied, turning in her chair to look at her friend. “You’ve seen her with the whole Whistledown fiasco.”

“I was wondering why she’s been glued to Colin’s side or night,” Anthony mused.

Y/N groaned, dramatically throwing her head back against the wall. “I’m doomed, Anthony. Doomed.”

“Let it never be said you’re not dramatic,” Anthony muttered, sipping his drink. “Want to dance?”

“If I dance she might see me. I should hide behind foliage when possible.”

“She’s not a predator, Y/N. Besides, you promised me a dance,” Anthony said, standing up and holding his hand out.

“No,” Y/N grumbled, taking his hand and letting him drag her onto the floor, “she’s an apex predator.” 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Yes, alright, she’s an apex predator. Now, I know you don’t like my family tonight but please try to avoid stepping on my toes, these shoes have just been polished.”

Y/N resisted the childish urge to stamp on Anthony’s foot, just to prove a point. 

The dance was a slightly energetic one - a far cry from a waltz, thankfully - and Y/N found that she was actually enjoying herself. Anthony spun her around the room and lifted her up into the air, watching her giggle with excitement with a triumphant smile.

The song slowly came to an end and they bowed to each other. Y/N giggled again and hugged Anthony.

“I enjoyed that, thank you,” Y/N said, almost beaming. “Oh, fuck.”

Anthony, forgetting that Y/N had spent too much time around them and probably knew more swear words than he did, gaped at her. “What?”

Y/N nodded behind him with fear in her eyes. “I’ve been snared.”

“Y/N! There you are!” Eloise called, barging through the crowd and dragging Colin behind her. Colin followed his sister with an amused smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“And I’ve been dancing with Anthony,” Y/N replied, trying to avoid looking at Colin. 

Eloise’s eyes narrowed at her for a second. “Colin has a question to ask you,” she said, pushing her brother forward.

Colin stepped forward and Y/N was forced to look at him. She titled her head up - no matter what height she seemed to be, he always seemed to be taller - and met his gaze. She struggled to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he made eye contact with her and smiled.

“I was wondering if you would like to waltz with me?” Colin asked, gesturing to the band who were preparing for the next dance.

“Waltz?” Y/N asked, staring at him.

“You don’t need anyone’s permission, do you?” Colin asked, frowning. “I just assumed with you being an only child -”

“She has my permission to waltz, brother,” Anthony said, stepping forward and standing next to Y/N. “I am her chaperone after all.”

Y/N gave Anthony a glare of betrayal. “Yes, of course,” she said, turning back to Colin. “I’d be happy to dance with you.”

“Excellent,” Colin said, taking Y/N’s hand.

As he led her to the dance floor, Y/N glared at Anthony and Eloise, who she now realised had teamed up together. They both looked far too pleased with themselves and when they began to follow them onto the dance floor she realised she had no way out.

“Are you alright?” Colin asked, eyeing her with concern as Y/N sighed heavily. “I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“I’ve been outside,” Y/N lied, nodding to convince herself. “Away from... people.”

Colin chuckled, nodding with an air of understanding. “Yes, I understand.”

Colin moved his hand on to her waist and Y/N tried not to make the sharp intake of breath she took obvious. His hand rested on her waist and the small of her back, just below where the back of her dress ended and exposed her skin. His other hand grabbed hers and, despite the white, silk gloves she was wearing, she could feel the heat of his hands. 

“Y/N?” Colin asked softly.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to his and she was engulfed by the pure delight, love and enjoyment in them. The crinkled slightly as he smiled at her. 

“Yeah?”

“We have an audience,” Colin said, nodding to his left. 

Y/N followed his gaze and tried not to groan aloud when she noticed the entire Bridgerton family - minus Eloise and Anthony who’d annoyingly joined them on the dance floor - watching them.

“Oh, for -” Y/N cut herself off and sighed. “No, it’s fine,” she said, looking back at Colin. 

“Are you sure?” He asked.

The orchestra finished tuning and the first notes of the waltz began.

“Yes,” Y/N said, smiling a pure smile of joy for the first time that night. “It’s perfect.”

They began dancing around the room to the gentle melody of the waltz. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” Colin asked suddenly.

Y/N blinked in surprise as he spun her. “You noticed?”

She mentally cursed herself because that was not what she meant to say. 

“Of course I noticed, Y/N,” Colin said, frowning. “I go to talk to you and you’re not there. You’ve disappeared off with Hyacinth or Benedict.”

Y/N sighed, realising she wasn’t going to get away with lying. “Ok, fine. I have been avoiding you, Colin.”

Y/N cursed in her head as Colin spun her away to Anthony (she was beginning to suspect the two Bridgerton siblings had purposefully joined them in the dance to make it even harder to talk to him).

“Bad time,” she growled to Anthony.

“Eloise forced me too,” Anthony replied, unfazed by the anger that was directed at him. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Y/N asked, looking up at him.

“Of course, Y/N/N.” “Am I... suitable for Colin?” She asked, finally voicing her main concern and the reason she’d been avoiding him. “I know I'm not a perfect lady - and I have hardly any dowry and that my family is all but non-existent -”

“Y/N,” Anthony said softly, cutting her off. “You are more than enough for my brother. I don’t care about anything except the fact that you love him.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but Anthony cut her off before she could.

“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, Y/N,” he said gently, twirling her. “You are practically a Bridgerton already, why not make it official?”

Y/N’s eyes widened but before she could question him, she was spun back to Colin. 

“So, we were talking about you avoiding me,” Colin said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Y/N let out a stuttered breath as Colin moved his hand up slightly, his fingers brushing over her bare back. 

“Colin... I...”

“I know,” Colin said gently, looking her in the eye.

Y/N faltered. “You know... what?”

“Why you’ve been avoiding me,” Colin elaborated. 

“Oh?” “Eloise told me.”

“Oh.”

Colin laughed. “You’re change of tone is so telling - you are rubbish at hiding your emotions.”

“Yeah, well I’m obviously not that bad,” Y/N muttered. “What did Eloise say, exactly?”

“That you like me and she’s been trying to set us up for the past few weeks,” Colin replied, twirling her around a few times. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Y/N shrugged slightly. “You’re a Bridgerton, Colin. You could have any woman in this room - the majority of whom are far more suitable than me, an orphan with hardly any dowry and a grandmother who doesn’t care -”

“But I want you, Y/N,” Colin said, moving his hand from her back to tilt her chin up.

Y/N allowed him to lift her head up and gazed into his eyes. “You... want me?”

“I did just say that, didn’t I?” Colin quipped, his eyes twinkling.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Haha, very funny.” She paused. “But... you do want... me?”

“Of course I do!” Colin said, surprised that she was even doubting his affections. “Y/N, I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked into me and nearly fell down the stairs.”

Y/N let out a snort that she quickly disguised with a cough. “Thank you for saving me, by the way,” she replied, smiling. “That would have been interesting.”

“Especially since you almost took Benedict out with you,” Colin added.

Y/N laughed, throwing her head back. “Oh, god, don’t remind me!”

Colin moved his hands to her waist and lifted her into the air as the music reached its climax. He slowly lowered her back down, his hands staying on her waist, and Y/N felt the sudden urge to take him there and then.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” Colin said softly, his voice almost a whisper in her ear. “I love everything about you. I love your clumsiness, your eye for art, the way you sing... I love you.”

Y/N looked up at him. “I love you too, Colin.”

Colin smiled and stepped closer to her, his hands tightening on her waist. 

Someone bumped into Y/N and she fell forward into Colin - the man catching her and holding her up against him.

“Stupid heels,” Eloise cursed, wobbling and grabbing Anthony’s arm to steady herself. “Oh, hi! How was your dance?”

Y/N bit her lip and looked at Colin, struggling not to laugh. “Someday, Eloise,” she said, turning to look at her friend, “I’m going to be hanged for murdering you.”

Eloise took Y/N’s arm. “If you get caught I’ll be disappointed.”

“Who said I’d be caught?” Y/N questioned. “I just assumed your brothers would hang me themselves.”

The two women laughed as they walked off to the drinks table, chatting vividly about a subject women probably shouldn’t be talking about.

“I love her, brother,” Colin said, turning to look at Anthony.

Anthony chuckled and smiled, patting him on the back. “Yes, I noticed, Colin,”