#can you believe it . a blue eyed puppy and a golden eyed puppy . in love...

[sunflawyer]

if jimmy were a beanie baby, which one would he be?

YOU !!!!! YOU HAVE ASKED THE GOLDEN QUESTION OF ALL TIME

JIMMY BEANIE BABY PLUSHIE IS MUDDLES

brown fur, blue eyes, sweet smile = JIMMY !!

AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUNNY... HE COMES IN A PACKAGE WITH ANOTHER BEANIE BABY NAMED NOODLES

AND THEY'RE DATING

SO MY CONCLUSION IS;

SUNFLAWYER CANON 😭🤎🧡

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

[honey-dewey]

Groceries

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,712

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, one mention of Tom, but this is mostly fluff. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Reader takes the boys grocery shopping. I’m sure that can’t go badly, right?

You grabbed your keys, swinging them around your finger and heading into the living room, where the boys were settled. “I’m headed out.” 

Frankie looked up, putting his drink down. “Where to?” 

“The grocery store,” you said. “If we’re hosting the game tomorrow, I’m gonna need more food.” 

“I wanna go!” Ever the golden retriever, Benny hopped up, eagerly bounding to the door and practically vibrating by your side. Frankie, just as much a puppy as his best friend, followed suit, giving you his biggest pleading eyes, knowing full well those damn things were your kryptonite. 

“Fine!” You said, opening the door. “Get in the car before I change my mind. Pope, Ironhead, you in?” 

Both of your other boys were slower, getting into the car with more difficulty. Frankie, by your side in the passenger seat, smiled as you started the car. Santiago and Will, both in the middle, cracked their windows, allowing Benny, in the way back, to be hit with the fresh air and curb his motion sickness. 

“I cannot believe you are all coming,” you grumbled, backing out of the driveway. 

The drive was short, and before you knew it, Frankie and Benny were out of the car and fighting over who got to sit in the cart. 

“My significant other is driving!” Frankie pointed out, gesturing to you, waiting with the cart. 

“Okay?” Benny countered. “You sat in the cart last time!” 

“Boys!” Both heads turned to you. “We need two carts anyway.” 

Almost instantly, Frankie was getting into your cart, grinning. “I love you.” 

“Yeah yeah.” You gave the rim of his hat a small push, so it dipped below his eyes. “I swear I’m engaged to a toddler.” 

“Engaged?” Santiago said, stopping in his tracks. “Fish, you proposed?” 

You held out your hand, showing off your engagement ring. “Yeah. Last week. Sorry we didn’t tell you. There was the game to plan for, and then my parents got super emotional about it, and then his family insisted on having a party, and it all slipped our minds.” 

Benny smirked. “I knew.” 

Will gasped. “You traitor! Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was coaching dear Fish through it!” Benny said. “He was a ball of nerves.” 

“He dropped the ring,” you said, navigating the cart down the produce aisle and grabbing a thing of raspberries, tossing it to Frankie and moving to examine the pomegranates. “Twice.” 

While the boys teased Frankie, you and Santiago browsed the produce, grabbing a few veggies and fruits. You tossed a bag of broccoli onto Frankie’s stomach, snapping him out of his conversation. “Hey, dorks. I haven’t got all night.” 

Will gave Frankie’s shoulder a shove and pushed Benny’s cart down the next aisle. He helped Santiago pick beer, Benny shouting suggestions while you took Frankie to the bakery. 

“I love you,” Frankie said happily as you put a pack of his favorite lofthouse cookies in the cart. 

“Love you more,” you said, absently pushing the cart through the bakery and grabbing bagels. “Wanna look at those ridiculous cakes that are like, 90% frosting and food coloring?” 

Frankie lit up. “I am marrying you for all the right reasons.” 

You laughed, steering the cart towards the cakes. Frankie eagerly pointed to one that was, as you’d said, mostly brightly colored frosting. The baker, a younger girl with pink and blue hair, waved to you. “Getting ready for the game?” 

“Yep!” You said. “I’ve got all the boys here with me. And speak of the devils,” you added, hearing the rest of your group join you. 

The baker greeted the group. “Oh! Frankie, how’d the proposal go?” 

Frankie grinned. “Well, I got a yes.” 

“Congrats!” 

“Okay how the hell did your grocery store baker know but not us?” Santiago demanded. 

“She helped me make the perfect cupcake!” Frankie said. 

You snorted. “The cupcake you dropped down my shirt?” 

Yet again, the boys teased Frankie for his proposal mishaps while you rolled your eyes and looked over the premade pie crusts. 

“Frankie! Boys! C’mon!” You shouted eventually. “I can’t be here until midnight.” 

The boys followed you down a few more aisles, Santiago, somehow, proving to be the responsible one as he helped you fill out your grocery list. He put two boxes of crackers in Benny’s cart, looking at you. “Dairy next?” 

“Snacks, then drinks, then cereal, then frozens, then meat, and then dairy,” you said, running over the list. “That’s just how the store is arranged.” 

Santiago shrugged. “Works for me. To the snacks!” 

The snack aisles were a very dangerous place. You were suddenly the only voice of reason as the boys eyed the chips. 

“One bag of Doritos, and one bag of pretzels,” you bargained with Will. “Get the stupid honey ones Frankie’s addicted to.” 

“Excuse you!” Frankie said, grabbing a box of granola bars and settling back down in the cart. “Those things are amazing.” 

“I’m not saying they aren’t,” you agreed, reaching over Benny to grab dried fruit. “But you might be addicted to those damn things.” 

Will put both bags in the cart. “Anything else?” 

“Microwave popcorn,” you read off the list, nodding to Santiago as he walked off to grab it. “Two bags of M&Ms, one bag of black licorice twizzlers, one bag of jelly beans, and five Hershey’s bars.” 

“The chocolate comes in packs of six,” Will said, beginning to grab the candy. “It’ll work, right?” 

“Yep!” You said, using the back of Frankie’s head to cross things off your list. “Next aisle, before I get conned into buying anything stupid.” 

“Can we get sour gummy worms?” Benny’s hesitant voice said from behind you. 

You turned. “Why?” 

Benny fiddled with the bag, an almost guilty look on his face. “They were Tom’s favorite.” 

You sighed, melting a bit. “Of course Benny.” 

Benny smiled, fidgeting with the bag as you ushered everyone into the drinks aisle. 

“Frankie, hon, how are we on coffee?” You asked, examining the coffee and finding your brand. 

“We need more!” 

You stood, holding the coffee and putting it in the cart. “Can I trust you to grab me a box of ginger ale?” 

Frankie nodded, climbing out of the cart. “You want the name brand, and not the, and I quote, shitty stuff, yeah?” 

“You know me so well,” you said happily. “I’ll get your tea.” You grabbed two boxes of chamomile tea, which was the only stuff that helped Frankie sleep through the night. Tossing the boxes into Benny’s cart, you examined the aisle, trying to remember what else you needed. “Okay, I think we’re done here. If I forgot something, it’s on you to grab it,” you said to Will, who smiled and nodded. 

The next aisle was simple. You left Benny, Will, and Santiago at the aisle’s entrance while you took Frankie down to grab his cereal. He reached up, not even bothering to get out of the cart as he grabbed a box of cereal. 

“Frozens!” You announced, turning down the frozen food aisle. “Will, can you grab two frozen pizzas and a bag of meatballs? Pope, you’re on game snacks. Mozzarella sticks, pizza rolls, and taquitos. Benny! Stay there and look cute! Frankie, you’re on veggie duty.” 

Your boys assembled, dutifully carrying out the tasks you’d set. Meanwhile, you tucked a few pints of ice cream in the cart, winking to Benny as he pointed to his favorite flavor. 

When he returned, Frankie climbed back into the cart, setting the bags of frozen veggies beside him. “I got green beans, corn, and peas,” he said. “Did we need anything else?” 

“Nope,” you said, resting your elbows on his shoulders. “What’s left on the list?” 

Frankie scanned the paper. “Bread, bagels, meat, milk, yogurt, cheese, and butter.” 

When you had all your boys back at your side, you kept moving, examining the meat selection the grocery store had. “Babe, how many pounds of ground beef do we have?” 

“Uhh.” Frankie began counting off on his fingers while you smiled and grabbed a pack of bacon. “Four?” 

“So not enough,” you decided, grabbing two more. You sent Santiago to grab chicken breasts, keeping Will and Benny with you as you looked over the sandwich meat. Eventually putting sliced turkey in the cart, you nodded to Santiago as he handed you the chicken. 

“One more aisle, I promise,” you said, heading towards the dairy section. “Then we can go back home.” 

You grabbed a carton of regular milk and a carton of lactose free milk, handing them both to Benny. Then came the cream cheese tub, the butter, the yogurt, the sliced cheese to go with the crackers, and you were finally swinging back through the bakery to grab bread and bagels before heading to the checkout. 

After checking out, you herded the boys back to the car, loading everything into the trunk and making sure everyone was buckled in before slowly turning out of the parking lot. 

“Did we have fun?” You asked the car, turning the radio down a notch so you could hear them. 

“Yes,” all four of your passengers responded, each with varying levels of awareness. 

It was a struggle to get the groceries in the house and put away. Benny was shot, passing out on the couch almost immediately upon re-entering the house. Everyone else did their best, but Will tapped out after hauling everything in, and Frankie and Santiago barely made it through the process of putting everything away.

“You got ice cream?” Frankie asked, holding one pint and staring at it. “God I fucking love you!” 

You laughed, putting the cereal in its proper cupboard. “I love you too.” 

Eventually, you were on the couch, Frankie by your side and the rest of your boys in various other places. You scratched absently through Frankie’s hair, flicking through movies until finally settling on a calming kids movie about dragons. Since his return from his final mission, Frankie hadn’t been too keen on action movies. Something about the explosions set him off. 

“Babe?” 

“Yes Frankie?” 

Frankie looked up at you, eyes partially closed. “Thank you for taking us to the store. I don’t think Benny’s been grocery shopping since we got back.” 

You smiled, kissing Frankie’s nose. “Anything for my boys.”

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey could I request one for Harrison where the reader is shy and she doesn’t think he’d like her (more then a friend) because he is outgoing but he suprises her by making sure she’s comfortable in crowds and pubs and such

A/N : I just got carried away. Don’t know this is what you wanted exactly but tried my best. Hope you like it.

Pairing : Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Warnings : none

Definitely my type

Childhood crushes are totally a whole different deal. It evolves with time starting from a miniscule infatuation it turns into something strong and enticing. You grow fond of every little thing of the person. Everything that person does makes your heart beam with joy. And these feelings are even more stronger when it is your next door neighbor.

Harrison Osterfield, the name itself makes your heart skip a beat. You knew him as the skinny blue eyed blonde who used to be always your savior. You were an introverted, shy kid. Socializing wasn't your thing, crowds scared you, you couldn't even answer back to people so you were easy to pick on and bullied upon. But Harrison was always there for you. Fighting your fights and protecting you like a prince in shining armor from the story books or as would Harrison preferred to be called like batman. 

But once puberty hit him it was as if the hormones amplified the best features of him a thousand times. Those captivating blue eyes, golden beach wave hair and that perfectly toned torso could take anyone's breath away. It would be a lie if you said that in all those lonely nights you never had those inappropriate thoughts about him. 

You liked him no correction, you loved him. You loved everything about him , be it his heartwarming smile, his goofy antics or the major dork vibes he used to radiate. You wanted to tell him about your real feelings but your introverted self never allowed that. Plus you knew very well that you were never a match. He is a fun loving, extroverted person and not to mention a famous model and actor as well. His friend circle is mostly from the film industry and you could never fit into that life. Whereas you on the other hand were a normal, boring person with a not so model like body, why would he even be interested in you? You tried to get over him so many times but every time you tried you were drawn right back to him. 

You now stand in front of Tom's house. You would rather call it a frat house because the boys live here like typical college frat guys. You rang the bell and as expected Harrison opened the door. 

"Hey Y/N, what's up?" 

"Hey, I actually made some lasagna today, so brought you guys some. 

"That so kind of you Y/N, come inside."

"No thanks I just came to give you this, that's it. And don't want to disturb you guys"

"What rubbish! Come inside we would love to have you with us." You followed him into the house. 

"Hey Y/N what a pleasant surprise. How are you?" Tom asked pausing the video game he was busy playing with Tuwaine

"I'm fine Tom."

"Y/N made lasagna for us." Harrison chirped. 

"Hope we don't end up puking in the toilet later." He snickered. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I better leave." You said putting down the tray in your hand on the table. 

"No Y/N wait." Harrison stopped you. "Tom seriously?" Harrison raised an eyebrow bemused. 

"Hey I was just joking. You actually saved us from the hassle of cooking tonight so thank you."

"So what are you doing tomorrow night?" Harrison asked. 

"Nothing just spending time with mom and dad, eating and watching some Christmas movies."

"Why don't you join us then we are going to the local pub tomorrow. There will be a quiz and drinks, it will be fun."

"Umm you know I'm not a social butterfly and I don't want to be a burden for you guys it's better I stay at home."

"C'mon Y/N a little fun will never do any harm and we all will be there so you have nothing to worry."Harry reassured you. 

"Please Y/N, I would be really happy if you come with us." Harrison said with puppy eyes And how could you say no now. 

''Uh okay."

Next day as decided Harrison came to pick you up in the evening and meet the boys at the pub. You were seated in the booth with the boys. They were already on their second drink cracking jokes and having time of their life. You on the other hand chose to be a passive listener to their conversations occasionally sipping on to your drink. They participated in the quiz with great enthusiasm and were talking to strangers with such ease. You were mentally regretting of agreeing to come with them now that you realise you are no fun and Harrison may have just asked you to join out of courtesy. 

"You okay?" Harrison asked seeing you absent-minded. 

"Not exactly" you said sheepishly. 

"You wanna go home?'' 

"Yes please" 

"Guys Y/N and I are gonna take off."

"What so soon?" Harry frowned. 

"She isn't feeling well." 

"Oh okay then you leave we will be home by midnight."

"Yeah bye then enjoy the night." Harrison says before leaving. 

"Yeah bye you guys" 

You and Harrison walked out of the pub. There was complete silence for the first few minutes as you walked side by side before you broke the silence. 

"Sorry you had to leave your friends and come with me." 

"Hey it's okay this is actually much better walking down these illuminated streets in this wintery night rather than sitting there and just drinking."

Your hands brush against each other a couple of times as you walk. You feel your cheeks heat up on such a cold night. You brush your hair behind your ear as you steal glances of him. A strong urge was growing inside you to finally confess to him you don't know how you are gonna do it but you wanted it badly. You had enough of this constant pining and brooding over him. You soon reach your house as you stand on your front porch. 

"Okay then goodnight, Y/N and merry Christmas" 

"Yeah goodnight and merry Christmas." Harrison turned to leave. This is the chance Y/N it's now or never you repeated in mind. 

"Umm Haz!" you called as he turned back. 

"I want to tell you something." 

"Yes love what is it?" you took a deep breath and spoke. 

"I know we have been best friends for a long time but I like you." and there it was out in the open "I mean not the like, like the genuine kind of like. You are understanding right?" 

"Y/N.." Harrison said calmly. 

"Haz just let me get this out please!

I had a crush on you, longtime, since childhood. I know I'm not your type and you don't feel the same way for me that's fine, totally fine I get it I'm boring, shy but I just want to get this off my chest. I know you are thinking what kind of weirdo I'm confessing to having a crush on her best friend.." You kept on rambling when Harrison held you by your face and kissed you catching you off guard as your eyes went wide. He pulled away after sometime. 

"And you kissed me. Wow" you shook your head "I mean why?" you were still in shock. 

"Sorry should have asked you but there was no other way to stop you." 

"And now you listen to me." He cradled your face with his calloused palms. 

"Y/N I like you too, since we were kids. I love to spend my time with you. I have always wanted to tell you this but everytime I literally freaked out thinking what if you didn't feel the same way for me. I just didn't want to ruin our friendship."

"Really?" you couldn't believe your ears. 

"Yes Y/N I love you."

"I love you too Harrison." your eyes were wet. 

"And you are definitely my type." he said with a goofy smile. 

"I know that kiss was a crappy one and since we are standing under the mistletoe." You both looked above your head at the mistletoe hanging at your front porch smiling before glancing into each other's eyes again. 

"Can I kiss you Y/N?" 

"Yes you can." You giggled. He knelt down to capture your lips in a soft and delicate way. The mistletoe above was a silent witness to the beginning of a new love story. 

Requests are open.

Taglist : @peaches-parker @hollanddolanfangirl @starcoadrienette2 @spideyth ​ @allthisfortommy @thenoddingbunny-blog ​ @larrystylinson-sus @bloodyscarlet @itstaskeen @dummiesshort @tutuabby28 @dramaholic18

[zuffer-weird-girl]

May I request that Overhaul gets hit by a quirk that puts him in a AU where his angel is ship's angel? Like they have a meeting then she comes in and sits next to shigarki . Then overhauls like wtf , ik I already requested but that previous one was cringy so yeah.

He couldn't even walk anymore on the streets in peace. A sick person just had to at least bump with his shoulder or arm. Each. Time.

Grumbling a curse or two to the person who just waved with a "my bad!" kinda of apology he just continued to his walk home, eager to take a shower and put the jacket to wash later after being on contact with someone on those filfh streets of Japan.

The weather seemed to close a bit as he narrowed his eyes at the sky... The weather cast just swore this morning that it was going to be a sunny day and there were grey clouds just above him?

He sighed... well, guess he was just going to hear you whinning about your lost date. Just yesterday you had almost begged to him to go out on the evening and he begrudily end up agreing to your wishes due to those cursed puppy eyes you always brought up to him.

He arrived and arched an eyebrow at seing his subbordinates not there. Working as they should be but just simoly brushed off as them slacking off and went to his quarters.

"(Y/n)?" He called nonchantly while pulling his jacket aside while looking around the room, weirded out to not see your things or even clothes you usually peft to him to pick up.

At not receiving an answer he sighed, a bit of worry grow inside his chest and mind but he once again decided to brush off. Maybe you were off to your shenigans with Mimic or even Rappa. The meeting with Shigaraki was in about a couple of hours, and he had told you about it to appear along... so you must be there..

Or else someone better expect a punishment.

.

.

.

Tapping his foot on the floor he started to worry at not even hearing from you. Chrono and mimic just entered the room and he was about to demand where you where until he heard Shigaraki mumbles.

"I see you came late. Pintuality usually is soemthing I apreciate." He sighed while trying to ease back on his seat.

"Do I look like I care?" The red eyed villain spoke back as his eye twitched before his gaze went wide as you trailed after Shigaraki.

"(Y/n)." He sighed, mentioning for you to come to him. Others would underatand his sigh as some sort of annoyance sign but no. It was a relieved one...

Until you just let out aa confused sound as Shigaraki's eyes narrowed at him.

"Can I ask why the hell you know my girlfriend's name Overhaul?" Tomura hissed as Chisaki did the same threatening glare as he standed up.

"I beg you pardon?" He growled as you nervously touched Shigaraki's shoulders with a smile.

"Tomura, baby calm down please." He could sworn his chest just contracted enough to suffocate his heart at the moment he heard you saying such a pet name to the other man.

Suddenly your eyes were on him as you arched an eyebrow.

"Im sorry Overhaul." He shivered at hearing his villain name getting out of your lips "But I believed we... never met before?"

He stood there with wide golden eyes at your words... this was a joke on him, right? A fucked up joke.

"Overhaul sir." Mimic's voice broke his racing thoughts "I believe thats the only thing that guy said is right. This chick was there on the first meeting."

"That's simply impossible." He growles at his subbordinate as you scoffed and crossed your arms, Shigaraki with a hand, pinky stood out, on your shoulder.

"Impossible? I saw you killing Magne in front of my own eyes!" You hissed in disgust and anger, something he never thought he would hear it in this angelic voice of yours that was always complimeting and speaking lovely words to him.

He stood there horrified before sitting down with a hand on his hair, tugging a bit as hive grew on his hand and forearms as he shook his head once.

"No. That's not- There is a mistake.. (Y/n) and I- This must be a disgusting quirk afyivate on me or something this just cant be happening-"

His eyes burned for some reason, he felt like puling and screaming at the same time yet something just caged him onto it before he could at least blink for once...

He felt air come back to his lungs as he almost let out a gasp before blinking... he was back at the street he was hours ago and the sky was bright blue with no clouds as he previously saw it earlier.

The guy who had bumped to him had gone just like he saw but a bunch of paramedics were around him before he slapped one of their jands away at seing they were about to touch.

He ran as fast as he could to thhe yakusa. Not even bothering to take off his shoes as he rushed through the halls of his house and almost kicked the door of his bedroom open.

"(Y/n)?!" He panted, desperation rising on his skin and mind at seing you were not there before he heard some noises and saw you getting out of the bathroom with a confused look.

"Kai?" Your eyes widened in worry at his appearance, hair uncharestically messy, the visible part of his face with hives spreading and skin red as drop of sweat dropped, rushing towards him you cupped his face on your hands without thinking about his mysophobia "What happened to you love?! Are you okay?!"

You gasped as his arms suddenly wrapped around your waist as he rested his face on your hair as you blinked.... awkwardly hugging back since he was never one used to affection or touch even from you.

"Kai?" You called as he breathed in shakily before humming "Is everything alright? What happened?" You carresed his back a bit as he simoly blinker, his desperate expression slowly coming back to his usual stoic one as he carresed your hair and rubbed your back.

"... Now it is. Forgive me darling" he pushed you gently apart from the hug as he pinched his nose while breathing in "Just some sick using his quirk on me aparently."

"Oh" you giggled, the sound music to his ears "That explains a lot! You're going to take a bath now I presume?" You asked with a smile as he took off his mask and kissed you out of no where.

"Precisely" he muttered after the kiss "I expect you to join me as well since we're going to that place you pove so much after pestering me until the point driving me nuts."

You widened your eyes and felt your cheeks get hot at his words as you qatched him unfold his tie around his neck and going straight to the shower.

"B-but-? But didn't you have a meeting today?"

He simply stopped, back towards you and face towards the ground in silence before you saw his shoulders twitch.

"... I just feel like giving my angel some more time... and besides-" You saw the tips of his ears getting a bit red as he coughed on his fist "I cant deny I miss.. you-" and with that he went to the bathroom leaving you a flustered mess.

You let out a giggle before shaking your head... Kai was always a mystery to you...

[subarubi]

Last Dance

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It was a broken deal from the start, just one dance and Bucky Barnes will leave you. 

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+. Angst. This is sad. I’m sad, sorry bout it. Fluff. Light smut. I think I wrote ‘ass’ once. 

--

He’s on a date with a sweet dame at the soda fountain when he first sees you looking like an absolute vision. Scowl and all. And when you smack the boy leaning over you from behind, he’s certain you must be some angel fell from heaven. An angry one sure, but an angel still. With downy feathers and doused in golden light. His heart, big and red and beating strong, trembles at the sight. He’s felt flutters in his stomach before and let out uncontrollable smiles when pretty lips press kisses to his cheek, but never has his heart stuttered like that.

Tip to tail, Bucky Barnes trembles, tingles as you walk towards him with fire in your eyes and dark lead drawing your lips into a frown.

Him! You’re walking towards him, kitten heels pounding into the checkered floor and Bucky’s mouth falls slack mid-flirt. His date protests, face twisted sour, but he can’t bring himself to do more than stutter over an apology. Jeez, he sounds like Steve, jaw falling open and offering her nothing but a strangled gurgle.

Ten feet feels still too far as you tie your coat closed tight, spitting venom over your shoulder at the disgruntled man with a red handprint across his cheek that trails after you.

In front of him, right there before him you stand a heavenly storm and he can’t help the breathless “Hi...” that escapes his lips.

You fix Bucky with a strange look, narrowed eyes flitting across the handsome planes of his dazed face. It doesn’t matter how you’re looking at him though, at least not to Bucky. No, all that matters is that you’re looking at him, damn the residual anger still dragging your brow down. He feels fuzzy all over, lights fading into twinkling stars and chatter softening into a low hum like all the cheesy pictures Steve sees. 

What feels like an eternity to the Brooklyn boy only really lasts about fifteen seconds before you’re glossing over him and focusing instead on his date, Rita. “Can we get outta here, Reets? I think I’ve had my fill of drugstore cowboys,” you ask, curiously side-eyeing her date that seems to have a few screws loose. 

Rita sighs, lifting her hand from where she’d placed it on Bucky’s bicep, “But-”

“I can walk you home!”

Bucky cringes as the both of you stare at him following his outburst, a little too loud and a touch too eager. He can feel Rita glaring daggers into him and while Bucky does feel guilty for being a complete jerk, he can’t help himself to stop staring at you with that hazy look in his baby blues.

Your friend coughs loudly, interrupting the drawn out eye contact as you scrutinize this strange man she had chosen to spend the night with. You’re almost thankful for it, the reprieve from those deep pools that seem to shine with your reflection in them. 

“Ya know what, you two-”

“Bucky,” he supplies with a lazy smile stretching across his pink lips, even if you didn’t really ask. Your face scrunches up and really, he has never seen a woman so beautiful. 

“Right... Reets, you and Bucky enjoy your night. I’ll find my way home just fine,” you smile tightly, already making leave. Anything to get away from the starry-eyed man who didn’t seem to concern himself with anything else but you-- not even his date, your friend.

The swinging door and the soft ting of the shop bell accompanies the fleeting image of your skirt flaring behind you and Bucky’s suddenly cold. You’ve taken all warmth from him, any semblance of the burning giddiness that’s seemed to overpower him in the short time since he first saw you. Steve teased him before of a similar feeling. Those infatuations that burnt too bright, too fast and then, in the blink of an eye fizzle out pathetically. 

This doesn’t feel like that. This feels like if he lets you go without getting your name and some hope of seeing you again, he might never be able to breathe again. 

Really, what is happening to him? 

“Listen, Rita...” he sheepishly mumbles, gathering his own coat.

Rita glares at him with enough force to level Brooklyn, eyes ablaze in disbelief, “Bucky Barnes, I swear if you leave me right now...”

Bucky straightens, his whole body buzzing with the need to run after you. His eyes may be glued to your figure floating past the shop windows, but he has at least enough in him to guiltily offer, “I am so so sorry. Will you get home alright?”

“Will I-” Rita’s rising volume starts to draw eyes, “Are you serious? You’re going after her? My friend?!”

“I really am sorry,” he fumbles in his pocket for some cash, slapping it down on the counter. Barely glancing at the shop owner Bucky asks, “Make sure she gets home alright, Tommy?” 

His feet start moving on their own volition, worn brown soles headed for the door before he even has the chance to hear a reply. He knows Tommy is a good man and that Rita will be fine. But him? Well, doused in the cool November air and whirling around left and right trying to find you, Bucky can feel the tightness in his face, a deep frown threatening to settle over him. 

Bucky hears you first, clicking heels-- those robin’s egg blue Mary Janes with the daisy eyelets that he’s surprised he even noticed-- mixed in somewhere between an errant car horn and distant music. You’re a flurry of wild hair, tawny peacoat waving in the wind as you chase down a yellow cab. His lips pull into a grin as it leaves you in the dust, cursing colorfully under your breath. 

“Hey!” Bucky shouts to get your attention.

“Oh,” your lips fall slack at the sight of him briskly walking to close the distance between you. There’s cute little lines on your scrunched up nose that Bucky just wants to kiss away. “Everything alright? Is Rita okay?”

Bucky nods eagerly, unable to calm that wide smile that makes his cheeks ache or his racing heart that unconsciously sends his chest into a soft heave, “She’s fine, jus’ wanna make sure you get home alright. ‘Specially after that handsy jerk back there.”

It might’ve been cute, a nice gesture that would’ve soothed over the harsh sting left by some other man earlier in the night. It could’ve made you smile and set butterflies loose in your stomach and all of the other feelings that your girlfriends talked about. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?”

You expect a lightbulb to flick on over his head, for him to head right back into the shop at the reminder, to break out of whatever odd stupor had kept him from rational thought. But it never comes, he just nods softly and sways on his feet, hands stuffed into his pockets looking relaxed and very much unbothered by your question.

“Well, Billy, don’t suppose it’s proper date etiquette to leave your girl to walk home her friend, is it?”

He tries not to let the misnomer hurt too bad, settles instead for a brief grimace to relieve the pang in his heart. Bucky kicks himself for not properly introducing himself before. Maybe if you hadn’t been so absolutely disarming, he would’ve been able to offer more than a quiet whisper of his name. Maybe then it would’ve stuck and he would’ve gotten yours in return. 

“It’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. And if it’s all the same to you, Angel, can’t we just pretend I’m just walking my girl home?” 

You snort, honest-to-god snort and it only endears you to him more. He thinks at this point he’s half in love with you and any more he might just propose on the sidewalk. It’s crazy, he realizes. But his mother always said sane is boring. 

“Are you thick in the head or just a plain jerk, Bucky Barnes?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s eyes bug out of his head.

You roll your eyes and that’s it for him. His knees scream at him to bend down on one of them and beg you to be his forever. “You do realize Rita’s my friend, right? The girl you left to do whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

He’d thought he was flirting, being cute, the right side of cheeky. Apparently not. Bucky clears his throat, smile falling just a bit into something softer, shy if you’d believe it, “I ain’t ever met a dame like you, Angel. What’s your name? Please, I gotta know.”

Quiet, less full-on than before, you can appreciate how handsome he is. That bashful blush across rose petal lips, stirs you up inside. You vaguely remember Rita gushing about meeting him the 'most beautiful man across all five boroughs’ and laughing at her hyperbolic tendencies. Dark chestnut quaff, chiseled jaw with a dimple at his chin, frosted blue irises-- ‘most beautiful’ may not be something you can say for certain, but he is a downright dish. Too bad he’s apparently a perfect mix of thick in the head and jerk. 

“What’ll it take to get you to leave me alone, fat head?”

Truthfully, Bucky will go if you really want him to. He’s not so arrogant to overstay his welcome with women who want nothing to do with him. He won’t try and change their mind about him because normally, they’re right. 

“A dance?” He can’t help himself. 

His heart, the big and red and beating strong one, feels like it blooms flowers out of his chest when you seem to actually ponder the idea. You've lost a lot of your initial fire, eyes cast downwards, brows pulled together in thought, hands fiddling with a button on your coat. Another flash of you that Bucky just catches a glimpse of that makes him feel like a little boy. 

“So if I dance with you, you’ll never talk to me again?”

“One dance and I’ll disappear, if that’s what you want,” Bucky reluctantly replies. He’s pretty sure the one dance is gonna make him want a million, but he’ll honor your wishes. 

You spare a glance up at him, and god dammit he looks like a puppy. A puppy you’ve kicked and you just want to wrap him up in your arms and tell him you’re sorry for whatever it is you’ve done and- what?

“You’ll keep your hands chaste?”

“Scouts honor.”

“Right here?”

“Right here,” Bucky smiles, the soft one that you like a lot more than the too big one you saw him flash Rita earlier in the night. Rita! You’d almost forgotten that the next morning Rita will have that sour look on her face and be cursing his name. And you’re supposed to tell her just how much of a jerk he is and how she deserves better than men like him. 

“But there’s no music...”

“Sure there is, Angel.” 

Bucky gestures to the shop behind you as he already sways gently to the faint sounds of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet from the windows emanating warm light that paints everything rose. 

“You’ll stop calling me Angel?”

“But you are.”

The words catch in your throat and you can only manage a flustered “um” in response. You’ve not exactly shown Bucky Barnes your best side tonight. He’s witnessed you slap a man and storm out of the soda fountain dramatically with the ugliest angry face you could muster. You’ve called him the wrong name and then fat head and you’ve rather rudely told him to ‘bug off’ in no uncertain terms. And you’re an angel for it? He really is crazy.

You ignore it, shaking your head and holding a hand out to notarize the agreement. 

“Okay, deal.”

It’s a broken deal from the start. Bucky knew it, you knew it. 

As you sway back and forth in your apartment, bodies desperately clinging to one another, some part of Bucky, the unselfish part of his love that only wants to see you happy, wishes you’d never said yes. That you left him in the rear window of a taxi or even gave him a good wallop for pestering you so much because you’re breaking his heart-- because he’s breaking yours. 

“Angel, I-”

“Can we just dance, Buck? Please, just let me hold you.”

Your tears are warm and wet in the hollow of his neck, eyelashes drawing small streaks of mascara over his pulse. Every time your trembling lips brush over his throat, peppering it with soft kisses like bolts trying to anchor him to you and Brooklyn, Bucky feels like his heart-- the one that trembles just for you-- just might shatter. 

One of the fingers clutching tight balls of his fresh green uniform, he’d hoped to be wrapped in a gold band some day. He imagined a matching one of his own, gleaming proudly in the sun for all to see that he is yours and you, his. He tells you all of this because he thinks it might make you feel better. Give you hope and something special to plan for when he gets back. Steve will have to hold on to the rings, of course, because Bucky can’t be trusted to not lose anything important. 

He bites his tongue thinking that the sentiment might include even you. 

You’ll get married at the courthouse because once he’s back home, he won’t want to spend another night not being your husband. It’ll have to be in secret because his and your Ma’s will murder you both for not having it in a house of god. That’s okay, though, because Steve will be there with the rings and Rita, who never fails to shoot him scathing glares, can reluctantly hold your flowers. It’ll be perfect. He can’t wait. 

“Bucky, please...” you sob, not really sure what you’re asking for. 

Please let’s just dance. Please hold me tight and never let go. Kiss me, touch me, give me something, everything. Please stop making promises you can’t keep. Please stay.

His answer is to softly cup your jaw and brush his thumb over your chin tenderly. To duck down and press his lips to yours lightly, sweet and slow with a saltiness that you can recognize as tears. Yours, his, the world’s. 

It’s quiet, only the static of a finished record that still twirls around the gramophone and your soft sniffles filling the dark room. You’re still swaying as Bucky holds you tighter to him, the hand over your jaw slipping into the back of your hair, the other gliding from hip to the small of your back.  

He hasn’t stopped touching you since he got his orders. At dinner he kept your left hand tightly grasped in his across the table, wouldn’t let go, even when you needed it. At the Stark Expo, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and littered your face with kisses when he could, sometimes drifting a hand on the curve of your ass. He wanted to go dancing, to get to hold you close for a couple more hours and see you smile-- touch up the image of it etched in memory so that he won’t forget on the nights he’s surely going to need it. 

You end up at home instead, not really dancing like he’d wanted, but better still. Just wrapped around each other with pale moonlight lighting the high points of your faces, the rest in shadows. There’s some semblance of dancing. Your hands began on the tops of his shoulders and his respectably on your hips. 

On the bed, Bucky’s shivering weight pressing you into the mattress, your shaking hands curl around his back and dimple the hot expanse of skin there. He’s whispering all those hopes and dreams into your skin, marking it as a promise with a kiss and lave from his warm tongue. Bucky’s sweet on you, he’s made sure all of Brooklyn knows it, so he’s always sweet with you. You feel grotesque, eyes puffy with snot dripping from your nose, but he calls you the most beautiful things, stares at you like you’re an angel. 

He marvels quietly at the sight of you beneath him, skirt rucked up and the top half of your dress pulled down so his lips could find familiar ardent trails. Bucky’s fingers trek the path from your bobbing throat that’s still half sobbing down the center of your chest, curving around you to slot themselves between your ribs. He’s unusually sloth-like in every movement, eyes lazily tracing your familiar curves, hands palming your flesh that vibrates with need unhurriedly, drinking up all of the soft sounds of pleasure that spill from your lips. You know what he’s doing and you can’t keep the tears at bay when he meets your eyes again. He’s committing every part of you to memory, looking at you like it’s the last time. 

Bucky thinks perhaps the worst and best thing he’s ever done was dare to look at you long enough to fall in love. 

He’s crying too when he finally takes you, muttering ‘I love you’ so many times that it starts to sound like ‘I’m sorry’. Punctuating every thrust with a desperate kiss that makes him love you more and more and himself less and less. He never deserved you and you loved him anyway and now he’s off to war unable to fight the deep upset at the idea of you at home waiting for him. Wondering if he might die before he ever gets the chance to do the decent thing and marry you, make an honest woman out of the love of his life. 

“Bucky, I-” you choke out, legs locked around his undulating hips, feet pressed into the backs of his thighs.

He smiles the soft one you love so much, but it wavers as he balances himself on one trembling arm, bringing the other up to brush damp hair from your face and hushes you soothingly as he picks up pace. 

Bucky ruts into you with his forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked so close and all you can see is blue and a reflection of yourself that is more beautiful than you see in the mirror. 

This is how Bucky sees you and your heart burns at the realization. 

You moan in the small distance between your lips, as you feel it bubbling up inside; all that Bucky has always tried so desperately to show you, he’s pushing into the warmest parts of you and begging you to understand. Love and adoration and something so strong you don’t think there’s even a word for. It mounts in your tensed gut, cresting with a hard thrust that has you wailing and clutching him so tightly you think you’ve melted into him. You’re sure of it. He’s taking every part of you with him. 

After he’s finished simultaneously filling you with all of his love and ripping your heart out of your chest, there’s not much else to say. No more tears, no more declarations of love and apology. Just this emptiness as the two of you lay a tangled mess of numb limbs, waiting for the sun to come up and take him off to war. 

Bucky kisses your forehead softly, and manages to push a whisper out of his throat raw from sobbing and crying out your name, “I’ll come back to you or I’ll die trying.” 

[thefinalyeehaw]

(Obey Me Fic) Deathly Hearts {Ch. 2 - The Great Mammon and the Third-born Brother}

The House of Lamentation was more refined from the usual image of an academy's dorm house. The entrance hall was a grand room; vaulted ceilings emphasized its vastness. The walls were luxuriously decorated with oil paintings and golden light fixtures. Two stone statues of dragons sat hunched over at the curve of the dual staircases as if to attack any unwelcome guest. The floor shined with a fresh layer of wax on the wood surface, a long, intricate runner stretched across the length of the shiny floor ending in another room beyond the grand hall. The rug looked to be recently laundered, definitely by the command of Lucifer.

"This is the House of Lamentation. It's one of the dorms here at R.A.D. Well, it's not JUST one of the dorms. It's the dorm reserved for student council members." Mammon's voice echoed as he strolled into the center of the hall. He gestured lazily around like a bored tour guide.

His fluffy white hair contrasted the dark colors of the entrance hall. Killian noticed a trend with the demonic brothers; all were extremely attractive. Mammon was a handsome demon with a slender yet athletic physique, his tan skin reminiscent of warm chocolate. His golden-blue eyes reminded her of gold and sapphire; a few necklaces she owned came to mind.

Before meeting Mammon, Mattie and Killian were introduced to three other brothers. First, there was Asmodeus, the fifth-born brother, beautiful with wavy champagne hair. The demon's orange eyes held a yellow gradient, reminiscent of a human world sunset. The fifth-born spoke with saccharine words and coquettish mannerism. However, the reaper wasn't blind to the way his gaze slid down her physique before shooting her an impish smile. Killian scoffed in response, quickly neutralizing her face when Diavolo looked at her quizzically. She knew Diavolo would ask her later about it. Fucking Great.

Next, the fourth-born Satan, devilishly handsome as Lucifer. Golden blond locks, reminding Killian of a particular bothersome angel, and smoldering green eyes, blurring into yellow, heavily contrasted the hall's gothic style. Killian grew unnerved as Satan spoke, sensing the unbridled rage concealed by the poise of a gentleman's demeanor. Unlike Asmodeus's seduction failures on Killian and Mattie, Satan's wrath was concerned, to say the less, for many reasons. Many included the safety of her and the human as she doubted the Avatar of Wrath was exceptionally patient with others. Since he greeted the reaper with the warmth of an iceberg.

Last was Beelzebub, the sixth-born brother. Standing the tallest of the other demons, except for Diavolo. A disinterested frown etched on the towering man's handsome face, violet eyes stared blankly at Mattie and Killian. Clear hints of muscles barely hidden underneath his rumpled uniform as Beelzebub shifted slightly. He spoke bluntly to them before complaining about his hunger to Lucifer, prompting a glare from the firstborn.

Although Killian would admit rooming with attractive demons for a year is a plus, to an extent. Honestly, she might have flirted a bit with Mammon or Satan if one wasn't so full of himself and the other being a ticking bomb of rage. The arrogance practically bleeds from Mammon's attitude from the moment he barged into the assembly hall, spewing useless threats and shooting glares at her and Mattie. But, of course, he is a totally insufferable bastard. Even better than Lucifer appointed him as the unofficial babysitter of her and Mattie as luck loved to fuck Killian over sometimes.

Mattie strolled further into the room, eyes twinkling at a stone dragon statue. They hovered a hand over the stone, fingers mimicking the curved designs on the dragon's chest. "So, I guess we are members of the student council, then." They awed. Killian smiled at the child-like curiosity on the human's face. "It seems like it. Although, oddly, mostly all of the council are brothers."

Mammon's face soured at the reaper's words, the second-born began to rant, "Lucifer, Asmo, and the others take every chance they can get to insult me. Callin' me scum, sayin' that I'm a money-grubber and stuff...but I'm an officer on the student council, same as them. The elite of the elite, the top of the R.A.D. social pyramid." Mattie and Killian exchanged looks as they watched as Mammon grew more riled, thriving the captive attention of two new members.

Mammon's gesticulation grew more dramatic as he became more impassioned with the speech of his sheer greatness, "In other words, I'm a big shot. A REAL big shot. Like, even regular big shots are impressed by what a big shot I am. So don't you go thinking that I'm just some ordinary demon. I'm nothing like those other peons walking the halls here!"

Killian grinned, "I doubt any of those 'peons' would dare to compare themselves to the great Mammon." Mattie hid a laugh behind their hand as Mammon puffed out his chest proudly. Apparently missing the sarcasm oozing from Killian's words as she studied a painting of an unsmiling couple dressed in Victorian attire.

"Exactly!" Mammon exclaimed, believing Killian's words as the human let out a snort behind him. The second-born cleared his throat "...Anyways, the long and short of it is that us seven brothers all live here together." He quickly summarized, his golden-blue eyes never leaving the emotionless porcelain mask as Killian turned around. "It's time I show you to your rooms. Follow me, and ya betta not get lost!" Swiftly pivoting on his feet, Mammon ascended up the left staircase. His stomps clicked against the marble steps.

Mattie hurriedly followed the demon up the stairs as Killian lagged behind; a bulletin board pinned to the wall against the second landing caught her attention. Although she was a princess, Killian enjoyed working. As a young reapling, Killian helped her nanny with simple tasks such as cooking and cleaning. As an adult, she performed countless jobs in the human realm, accumulating vast life experiences and skills. Maybe she'll ask Diavolo about part-time jobs in the Devildom when their first meeting is scheduled.

Unlike Mattie's tasks as a R.A.D. student, Killian's tasks included monthly meetings with Diavolo, a check-in on her progress in the Devildom. The prince's eyes shone as he cheerfully commented on how he looked forward to their sessions. It seemed he was suggesting the meetings were like a hang-out between old friends and not a conversation between a student and the headmaster of R.A.D. Not wanting to curb the prince's enthusiasm, Killian expressed how she also looked forward to it as Lucifer stared her down like a hawk.

"Hey, don't just stand there with your jaw open. Hurry up, or I'm gonna leave ya behind." Killian's eyes moved towards Mammon standing at the top of the staircase, arms crossed impatiently. "If there's something you wanna ask me, you'd best do it now," Killian snorted at the demon's growl.

Mammon acts like a snarling dog, but he becomes a meek puppy whenever someone bares their teeth at him. On the phone, the demon behaved imperious, dismissing any time she or Mattie brought up what Lucifer had told them as if he was an important king wasting precious time on peasants. After Mammon's audacity to shout through the phone, Killian's patience wore thin. She quickly figured out the Avatar of Greed had a cowardly side. He yelped when the reaper subtly threatened to rip his tongue from his body if he ever interrupted her again.

The slip of cowardice vanished quickly as Mammon regained his crass persona. Although she unintentionally wounded his ego, the drop gave insight into how Killian could handle Mammon if his overconfidence got out of hand again. "Nothing in particular. I just got lost in my head a bit, sorry," Killian flashed an apologetic smile, quickening her climb up the stairs.

Mammon eyed her, determining whether to question the reaper further. "Hmph...fine then." He grunted, not caring enough to pry. "Now, I'm gonna give you a piece of advice, so listen up. If you wanna survive even a day here in the Devildom, you'd better listen REAL close to what I'm about to say." Mammon stopped to turn towards the two exchange students.

Golden-blue eyes observed them, shifting between the two curious students. He leaned close if he was about to reveal a big secret. "If it ever looks like a demon is about to attack you…" Mammon's voice dropped low. Killian ignored the shiver down her spine at the huskiness.

"...run away. Either that or die," Mammon stated, drawing back to gauge the reactions. Mattie blinked, their eyebrows furrowed in sheer confusion, their mind progressing Mammon's advice.

"Huh?" They muttered under their breath as Killian raised an eyebrow.

"How about this? I vote for YOU to die, Mammon." A venomous voice hissed. The three turned as another demon stormed down the hallway towards them, orange-blue eyes glared daggers into the second-born.

"D'ah…! Levi…" Mammon paled, eyes widened in surprise like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The second-born stiffly gestured to the fuming demon, failing to school his features. "Uh, l-listen up, human! This here is Leviathan, the Avatar of Envy. He's the oldest of us brothers." His voice slightly trembled.

Mammon coughed as a fake smile appeared on his face. "Since his name's sorta hard to say, you can just call him Levi!" He began to usher Mattie and Killian further down the corridor, trying to flee the anger of the third-born.

Levi's glare intensified. "Mammon, give me back my money. Then go crawl in a hole and die." He demanded, stomping closer to the white-haired demon. Unsurprisingly, Levi was just as attractive as his brothers, with fair skin that lacked any blemishes or scars. His indigo hair was styled nicely with sweeping bangs, framing his orange-purple eyes that glowered at Mammon.

Mammon winced under his brother's angry stare, "Come on, I told you I'd get it to you! I just need a little more time. … And you still want me to die even after I give it back? That's real harsh, Levi!" Need more time? Sounds like famous last words. Killian wasn't too surprised the Avatar of Greed was indebted to others.

The frown on Levi's face deepened, "You need a little more time? How much more?"

"A little more, okay?! A little more means a little more!" The second-born tried to reason, but to no avail.

"You've been telling me that for the last 200 years, Mammon." Levi shot back. Mattie made a choking sound while Killian let out a low whistle; that is a long time to wait for the money.

"Hey, no! It hasn't been 200 years! It's been 260! Get it right, Levi!" A pause of silence stretched as the three stared at Mammon in disbelief.

Killian let out a baffled sound, "Why would you correct him on that?" She couldn't believe Mammon actually corrected how many years he owned Levi's money. She must have offended Diavolo in the past, and now he was punishing her by making this idiot her guardian as revenge. Killian made a note to be more cordial to the prince during her stay. Maybe she and Mattie could upgrade to a more competent guide as a result.

Levi sighed at his brother's dumb remark, obviously used to Mammon's lack of filter. "Unbelievable. Seriously Mammon, you're-"

"I'm what? Scum? Is that what you're gonna say?" An unreadable emotion flashed in Mammon's eyes, frowning at Levi.

"-you're a lowlife and a waste of space." Levi continued to spew insults.

Mammon let an offended gasp, "Hey! Come on, that's even worse!"

"Whatever." Levi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms impatiently. "Just give me back my money. I need it to buy the Blu-ray box set of Journey to the Devildom: The Tale of a Little She-Devil and Her Reluctant Companion." His angry face slightly brightened at the mention of the show, "The initial round of copies includes promotional tickets to a live event as a special bonus."

Mammon huffed, growing frustrated with the conversation. "I've got no idea what you're even talking about, but it doesn't matter! Because I don't even have any money to give you. How am I supposed to give back money I don't have, huh?!"

"So then. You're telling me you refuse to pay me back?" The air in the room grew thicker as the tension built.

"...What? You looking for a fight, is that it?" The smirk on Mammon's face fueled the boiling tension as the air pulsed with solid auras. The situation was becoming increasingly dangerous. Demon fights were notoriously nasty to witness. Killian feared Mattie and her were about to get stuck in the crossfire of one.

"Mattie," Killian spoke low, catching the human's attention as they watched the brothers' bickering. "Stay behind me no matter what happens." She felt almost bad as Mattie flinched at her words. Their eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. With the potential of the bickering becoming a brawl, Killian knows she can easily defend herself if someone happens. Still, Mattie doesn't have the power to protect themself from something as brutal as a demon fight. Mattie said nothing as they quickly followed Killian's order, stepping behind the tall woman, partially hidden behind her slender frame.

Killian raised her right hand slightly, her thumb stroking the obsidian ring on her ring finger. She felt the familiar tingle of energy warming her arm as it swiftly spread through her body, ready to activate her scythe at a moment's notice.

As if sensing the mounting stress of the room, Mammon turned his attention to the two exchange students. Killian remained rigid, her arm raised to her chest with feet firmly planted to the carpeted floor. The porcelain mask was void of all expressions. Two piercing blue eyes glowed in the shadows of the eye slits, trained on the scene as if waiting for an opening to defend. Mattie stood semi-hidden behind the alert reaper, watching the scene, fear etched on their face as their frame slightly trembled.

"Listen, you two. You remember my advice from before about what to do when demons attack? Well. You're about to witness that for real. So…" Mammon inched backward, walking a bit further in the hallway. Killian's eyes widened at Mammon's flighty action, wasn't he about to—.

"Hold on. I thought your advice was to either run away or—damnit, Mammon! That ass...he ran off…!" Levi screeched furiously as Mammon sprinted down the empty corridor, vanishing past a sharp turn.

Mattie stumbled out from behind Killian, taking in a shaky breath as their eyes stared down the hallway where Mammon had once been. "What just happened?" Shock trembled in their voice, gawking at the fact the second-born had just ditched Killian and them at the first sign of trouble.

Killian heavily sighed as she relaxed her stand, rolling the tension out of her neck and shoulders. It wasn't indeed a surprise Mammon escaped at the first mention of conflict. She figured that the second-born brother was a coward. Rarely do cowards actually fight, usually fleeing as Mammon had done. "Do you realize what just happened? Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me!" The third-born retorted as Levi glanced over to Killian and Mattie, irritated by his older brother's escape. "Or maybe I should say he used both of you as sacrifices."

"I think it is a little bit of both," Killian commented. However, she didn't appreciate the slight blame behind Levi's words as if they were naïve toddlers swindled for their candy.

Levi ignored the two as he rambled, "I'll admit that Mammon is one of the scummiest scumbags you'll ever meet...a total lowlife. But still, that was pretty dumb of both of you letting him use you like that."

"Excuse me?" Killian placed her hands on her hips, angrily gritting her teeth.

Levi was too ensnared to notice the increasing amount of magic slipping from the frustrated reaper as he chose to continue his rant. "This is EXACTLY why reapers and humans are—Wait a second. Humans....yes, that's it...Suddenly, I've got an idea." Levi turned towards Mattie; his face grew a focused expression as he studied the human.

"You know what? Never mind." Mattie yelped in surprise as Levi's hand reached out and grasped their wrist, tugging them deeper into the house's unknown bowels. "Either way, you're coming with me."

Levi let out a squawk, jumping as a warm hand gripped his wrist. "No. We're coming with you." Killian stated, smirking at the glare Levi shot in her direction. "We're both exchange students, guests in your house. It is rude to ignore a guest, right?" Slipping on a polite smile as she not-so-gently tugged Mattie from the third-born's grip.

Where the human goes, I go, remained unsaid, but the warning was apparent in the reaper's tone. Killian wasn't dumb enough to let Levi drag Mattie away, to allow a demon to carry a human away in unknown territory. If Mammon was any instance, it showed that the brothers weren't as reliable as Killian initially thought. It was already apparent the disinterest of some brothers towards both Mattie and Killian. She already wanted to punch Lucifer, and she hadn't even known him for a day!

"Well, yes...but no! I don't want to bring a bunch of normies to my room!"

She ignored whatever the fuck a 'normie' was supposed to as she shot back, "Then, tell us right there and right now. If it is revenge on Mammon, you can tell us. I doubt he will be for a long while." The straightening of Levi's back revealed his idea did involve revenge. Taken back, Levi muttered about 'stupid normies' as he tried to make a decision, fidgeting.

Mattie shot a concerned look to the reaper, who gently patted their shoulder in reassurance. Killian predicted it was up to her and Mattie to properly survive this year. Telling Diavolo would only make matters worse and just piss Lucifer off more if he had the demon prince breathing down his breath. Not to mention how complaining to Diavolo would only hurt her reputation further. She couldn't afford that, especially this early in the program.

Fuck, she wanted a cigarette.

Killian felt a buzzing in her pocket. She reached into her jean pocket to retrieve the vibrating D.D.D. There were four unread messages from Mammon.

Mammon: Heya, I suddenly remembered I have some business I gotta take of. So, if ya need something, just ask Levi.

Bullshit.

Killian scoffed at the winking demon emoji Mammon had sent. It was a blatant attempt to placate her after his vanishing act.

Mammon: Oh, and just to make sure... Don't go around tellin' stuff to Lucifer, ya got that?

He sent a glaring demon emoji, which Killian promptly sent back to Mammon. But, of course, she wasn't planning to tell Lucifer to begin with. She might be a royal, but Mammon being a cowardly bastard wasn't worth the energy for a conversation.

She smirked as Mammon quickly sent a nervously grimacing emoji back. Oh, she had an excellent idea as she tapped the keyboard.

Killian: Okay, I won't tell Lucifer.

Killian: But Mammon, the next time you put on that stunt, you won't have the chance to run.

Killian slipped the phone back into her pocket, ignoring the buzzing on her thigh. Glancing back up at Levi, she grinned. "So, what is your good idea?"

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

I finally had the time and energy to edit this!!!

I hope you enjoy this chapter, please reblog and heart it if you want (constructive criticism is also appreciated!)

Stay in-tuned for the next chapter: How to train your Avatar of Greed (with blackmail).

Thank you!

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Death Takes a Holiday” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Azrael and Raphael are stuck trying to give relationship advice to a woman stuck in a literal Hallmark Christmas Movie, but she's just not getting the message. Raphael is having the time of his existence, but Azrael isn't too sure how much more Christmas cheer he can take. (2257 words)

Notes: Written for @theantichristmaszine 2020, and inspired by @dianacrimsonia's Ineffable Opposites au where Aziraphale is Azrael, the Angel of Death, and Crowley is the Archangel Raphael. Diana's art for this fic can be seen on their Insta: dianacrimsonia. Please go give them all the love :)

Read on AO3.

“So let me get this straight …” Azrael plants both hands on the table, staring down in frustration at the starry-eyed red-head in front of him “… you’re prepared to leave it all, your entire life, everything you’ve built from the ground up on this miserable cesspool of a planet … for love?”

A smile, serene in its decision, content with a shiny vision of the future, answers him before a single word slips past perky, coral-tinted lips. “Yes. I am.”

Azrael slaps the wood as he pushes himself upright. “That’s rubbish, that is.”

An amused tilt of the head sends crimson curls spilling over a narrow shoulder. “How can you possibly believe that? How can you go through life not realizing that love is the greatest God-given force in the universe?”

“How did he get you to do it? Hmm?” Azrael asks, purposefully dodging the question. “You’ve been here, what? Three days? A week tops? What magical spell did he cast that would lead you to make such an asinine decision?”

“Well … we went on a hayride,” manicured fingers count off, “we went Christmas tree shopping, watched the candy puller make candy canes, listened to carolers ... Oh! We had hot chocolate and then ...” A pause, followed by a dreamy sigh “… he kissed me. At this cafe. Right here at this picnic table, as a matter of fact.”

Azrael jerks his hands off the table top as if burned, scowling at the bench beneath his bent right knee as if it were diseased. “We had hot chocolate and then he kissed me,” he mimics, dreamy sigh and all. “You are, without a doubt, the most insufferable creature I have ever met! And if you had a clue who I play Pinochle with on Thursday nights, you’d know that that’s saying something.”

“In her defense, the hot chocolate here is very good,” Raphael offers, taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid in his own Frosty the Snowman mug.

Azrael’s eyes shift away from the infuriating woman sitting in front of him to the equally infuriating angel seated down the bench from him. “Please enlighten me, sunshine, on how you keep getting us into these unsavory situations.”

Raphael raises his eyes, countering Azrael’s glare with a mischievous grin as a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells - Azrael’s least favorite Christmas tune of all time - begins from out of nowhere. “I read. A lot.”

“I may have to confine your literary resources to picture books from now on.”

“We’re here because we’re needed,” Raphael explains to his unamused companion. “Obviously there’s something we need to accomplish. A message we need to send. It’s kind of what angels do during the holidays.”

“Seeing as we’re stuck in a movie on what’s apparently called The Hallmark Channel,” Azrael divines, squinting at a golden emblem that follows them around like a puppy no matter where they go, “I would say that part is accurate.” He turns back to the woman who has done nothing since the moment his attentions went elsewhere, as if she only exists when he’s interacting with her. And even though he’s an Angel of Death, regarded as one of the spookiest, most sinister omens in all of recorded history, it creeps him out.

“Does he have any investments?” Azrael implores, returning to their lost cause. “A retirement plan? A 401K?”

Sara shakes her head.

“Does he at least collect commemorative plates!?”

“Those things aren’t important to him,” she announces superiorly. “Besides, I have enough money socked away to take care of the both of us. We’ll want for nothing, as long as we have …”

“Love. Yeah. I get it. Probably what he’s counting on, the leech. Man almighty,” Azrael grumbles, running a hand down his face in frustration. “Unbelievable! This dillhole should be working downstairs with us!”

“Simon doesn’t want to raise his son around a den of corporate greed!” Sara argues passionately.

“Really?” Azrael scoffs. “What about a den of good schools and culture? Does he believe in those things?”

“All we need is love.”

“What you need, lady, I can’t seem to say out loud.”

“That’s because this movie is rated PG,” Raphael interjects. “You can’t curse here.”

“Pity. Give me exactly five seconds and I’ll make their ratings go through the roof.”

“More like in the toilet. Guidelines for these movies are extremely strict.” Raphael stirs his cocoa, staring wistfully into his cup. “Darling? You do believe in the power of love, don’t you?” he asks, a deep, abiding concern coloring his voice.

“Of course I believe in the power of love!” Azrael stares up at the too bright, too blue sky, mentally venting using every four-letter word he can think up. “But sometimes the power of stupidity is stronger!” He sighs, so long and hard it deserves its own backstory. “Look, lady, love is grand and all, but so is carving a name for yourself and being able to make your condo payments!”

“Love will provide,” is the only reply she gives him.

“This is a nightmare!” Azrael groans, taking a seat opposite his angel and burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Raphael says, gaining a chipper lilt and a gleeful little wiggle. “I’m having a grand time!”

“Yes, well, you’ve eaten seven Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer cookies, drunk three mugs of cocoa, and you bought a quilt!”

“It’s Amish! Hand stitched! Did you see the craftsmanship?”

“You won’t be able to take it with you,” Azrael points out in a taunting, sing-song way.

“The Hell I won’t,” Raphael murmurs, diving into the mound of marshmallows swimming at the top of his mug.

“This Holy Holiday Messenger gig is all well and good, but did you really have to go and get us stuck in an American movie?”

“I had no control over that, love. But look on the bright side (for you) - we’re not going to be here forever.”

“No?” Azrael blows out an incredulous breath through tightly pursed lips, producing a rude sound that turns a few heads. “It’s only going to feel like it.”

“The spell will wear off in twenty-four hours, I assure you. Which should give us plenty of time to …”

Azrael cuts Raphael off with a look that could melt lead. Raphael puts his hands up in surrender.

“Fine. Here - let me give it a go. Maybe all this needs is a touch of Grace.” Raphael scoots closer to Sara, who’s gazing blankly at a tall, overly decorated tree, with moony eyes. “Look, dear, as much as I hate to admit it, my gloomy but pragmatic friend is right.”

Sara turns on him, glaring like he just spit in her cocoa. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Azrael says. “Excuse me?”

“It seems as though you have just as much wrapped up in your life in New York as your young man does in his daydream of fixing up a run down horse ranch that he doesn’t even have the capital to purchase yet. If I were you, I would go home, back to your life and your job. And either the two of you work things out apart and see how it goes, or find someone whose ideals better line up with yours. Someone who is worthy of you, who wouldn’t ask you to give up everything to live here with him. Because love - true love, the kind of love that lasts - doesn’t come from the sacrifices others ask you to make. It’s about the sacrifices you’re willing to make for others, freely and unsolicited.”

Sara stares open-mouthed at the traitor sitting beside her. But as aghast as she appears, there’s a moment when both Raphael and Azrael think a light bulb has gone off. She’ll agree with them, thank them for their time and their sage advice, then be off, winging her way back to NYC. But after a few blinks, she slowly shakes her head, tsking with every turn of her neck. “You guys just don’t understand the meaning of Christmas.”

Raphael shrugs and slides back to his original seat. “Guess not.”

“Don’t fret, my pet,” Azrael teases. “You tried your best. Guess it wasn’t a matter of Grace after all. There’s no getting through to her, is there?”

“We don’t need to,” Raphael says, reconvening with his cocoa.

Azrael frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the person who needed that message has heard it, and has changed their mind about giving up everything for someone who isn’t willing to meet them half way.”

“Who was it?” Azrael asks, sweeping his gaze around, trying to spot the love lost soul in question.

“Someone out there.” Raphael gestures off to his right. “A real life person out in television land.”

Azrael grins at this turn of events, giddy with relief. “That’s … that’s wonderful! Now we can get the Heaven out of here!”

“Uh … n-no.” Raphael fidgets sheepishly with his mug. “I-I’m afraid we’re stuck here for the full twenty-four hours.”

“Wha---? How!? How can that be!? We fulfilled the requirements of the spell, didn’t we!?”

“Y-yes, but …”

“I know the rules behind these ultimatum locked spells! Once you fulfill your duty, then …” Struck by a sudden realization, Azrael turns wide, scolding eyes on his angel. “Raphael! What did you …?”

“I’m sorry, dear! But when I felt the spell start to pull us out, I just … shrugged it off!”

“But I didn’t shrug it off! How come I didn’t leave?”

“Funny thing that.” Raphael giggles nervously, peeking up at Azrael through glittering lashes. “I sort of … overrode it.”

“Raphael!”

“Azrael! It’s Christmas! I have been trying and trying to get you to take time off and go away with me! This twenty-four hours outside of time could be a holiday for us! Look at all the neat stuff they have planned!” Raphael snaps up a festively decorated flier. “Apple cider tasting, cookie decorating, a peppermint eating contest … and look! A Mistletoe Forest! Do you know what that means?”

Azrael crosses his arms over his chest. “It means this entire town has a huge fungus problem?”

“It’s a forest covered in mistletoe! Mist-le-toe!” Raphael repeats as if talking to a stubborn toddler. “You know … if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Parasites?”

“No.” Raphael wraps a glimmering curl coyly around one slender finger. “I was thinking more along the lines of dozens of hidden corners to get caught under and kiss.”

“My star …” Azrael inches closer, lowering his voice in the hopes that only his love will hear him “… if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask. In fact, you don’t have to say a word. Just look my way and bat those golden eyelashes of yours. I’ll kiss you anywhere you want, wherever you want,” he emphasizes with a cheeky bounce of his eyebrows. “We don’t need mistletoe for that.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Raphael breathes in deep, exhales long. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand. I’m sure that I can summon a portal and send you back to your mortuary. Your grim, dreary, lonely mortuary, with that single, sad wreath on the door …”

Raphael sniffs theatrically.

Azrael rolls his eyes.

“Would spending the day here make you happy?” Azrael asks with the enthusiasm of someone about to have teeth pulled sans anesthetic in preparation for a lengthy root canal. “Really happy?”

“Yes,” Raphael answers hopefully, sparkling a vibrant gold like the nebula he is. “Effervescently.”

“I can see that,” Azrael mutters. “All right.” He drops down onto the hard bench, level with Raphael’s beaming gaze, and despite this whole headache, he smiles. What can he say? He loves to see his starshine happy. “Finish your cocoa and come along. We have a PG rating to tank.”

“Ooo! Is that one of your fantasies? Whisking me off to the woods like a cad and having your way with me?” Raphael asks, blithely misreading Azrael’s mood. Too eager to be on their way, he snaps his fingers, transforming his snowman mug into an argyle-printed Thermos to transport his cocoa in. He wouldn’t want to waste good cocoa. Real or not, it’s way too tasty to leave behind. “Oh! Shall I change into a dress? I know! Something Victorian! With a red-trimmed corset and …!”

Azrael catches Raphael’s hand before he can snap his fingers again.

“Raphael! You are a strong, fiercely independent archangel! I would not think to insult you by acting out a fantasy that employs such a flawed and sexist stereotype!”

“Oh,” Raphael squeaks, equal parts stunned by Azrael’s response as disappointed, causing his shimmer to dim. “Oh, I apologize. Yes. Yes, I see your point. I …”

Azrael brings Raphael’s hand to his mouth, a wicked grin spreading his lips as he kisses Raphael’s knuckles one at a time, stopping to swirl the tip of his tongue on the soft web of skin in between, making Raphael’s glow go from brilliant to blinding. “That said - yes. Yes, it is. So please, if you don’t mind … wear the dress.”

***

The Hallmark Channel movie ‘Death Takes a Holiday’, which network execs couldn’t recall green lighting, not a single director remembered directing, nor likewise any of the writers recalled writing, was so insanely popular that, by virtue of a voracious, fan-led letter writing campaign, it ran for three weeks into the New Year, and prompted a sequel for Valentine’s - ‘Death Takes a Spouse’.

[holylulusworld]

Now we are almost even

Request: Would you please write for Bucky & reader, wherein he's in love with Natasha but is forced to marry reader, he's never home ignores her even when she tries hard. She even has to work as a waitress for money, one-night Brock tries to rape her, Steve arrives just in time and saves her. They become good friends. It's on you if you want her to stay with Bucky or get married to Steve. It could be an au where they are not Avengers.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader, Mobster!Steve x Mobster!Reader, Sam Wilson, Thor Odinson, Carol Danvers

Warnings: angst, cheating, feisty reader, language, mentions of sex, tension, talk about ‘family’ business, nakedness, murder, a hint of making-out, violence

Consolation Bride Masterlist

“Well, James. Now we are almost even…” Bucky doesn’t get the sense of your words, not when you kiss Steve roughly, not when you grind against your husband’s best friend's body. Not when you get up to walk stark naked into your bathroom.

“Even…” Dumbfounded your husband's eyes dart between Steve, who at least tries to cover his modesty and you standing in the doorframe of your bathroom.

“I think you didn’t get the part in which I planned to fuck Steve, didn’t you?”

Smirking you stalk toward Bucky to fist his shirt roughly. “I fucked your best friend to have some fun. He’s good, I must admit. You better not believe you pushed me into Steve’s arms.” Now Bucky pants heavily as everything falls into places.

“You knew I would agree to let Steve touch you…” Cursing as you outsmarted him, Bucky grips your waist roughly, to press your naked body to his. “You’re still mine…”

“Now, now…Bucky.” Pressing your index finger to his lips you shake your head. “I’m not yours, Steve’s or anyone’s, James. I’m capable to make my decisions.”

“What did you mean with even?” Steve asks while he struggles to find his boxers.

“Well, Steven. My husband, who tries to convince me he is deeply in love with me fucked Natasha sixty-seven times during our marriage. This means I will fuck you sixty-six more times or let’s say seventy as I need to have my revenge.”

“If I can watch…” Eyes darker than usual Bucky smirks as you pat his cock. “I’d like to see you writhe on Stevie’s cock, imagining it’s me.” Bucky purrs and you, well you start to cackle, slapping his chest.

“Damn, you believe you are best in bed…huh?” While you bicker with your husband about his libido Steve looks at you like a kicked puppy. “Dammit, you made me hurt Steve…”

----

“I was only someone you could use, no one special?” Sitting on the couch in Bucky’s house Steve looks at you with those sad blue eyes he only gives you.

“Stevie…” Before Bucky can protest you straddle Steve’s lap, sliding your fingers through his hair. “I always wondered how you would feel. If your lips are soft and you smell like musk and cinnamon.”

“Y/N…” Your hands fist his golden hair roughly, forcing Steve to crane his neck.

“Shhh…Steve. Let me end my speech.” Your lips pressed against your husband’s best friends’ soft pillows you smirk as Bucky starts to pace around the room.

“That’s…you can’t play with us, Y/N.” James is stopping in his tracks, hating you are kissing Steve. “You are still my wife.”

“That phrase is getting boring, Bucky.” Chuckling you get off Steve’s lap, pecking his cheek before you storm toward your husband to fist his jacket.

“When you fucked Natasha sixty-seven times you didn’t remember you are married. You didn’t remember you pushed me into a storage room to sleep on a hard mattress and for sure didn’t remember I had to work shifts as a waitress as you were too busy dipping your dick into that bitch’s pussy. Don’t you dare to criticize I take what I want.” Panting you glare up at Bucky, but he smirks, loving you turned your attention toward him.

“God, I love seeing you get mad. Could take you on the couch next to Stevie right now. I bet he wouldn’t care.” Bucky’s hands seem to be everywhere at once and for a moment you let him roam your body, touching every inch.

“You know, Steve is way better in bed than you…”

Now Bucky’s face is red in anger and you are sure he will explode any moment but a knock at the door keeps him from throwing you onto the couch.

“Don’t you open the door, dear husband?” Teasingly patting his chest, you brush your lips along his jawline.

“I’ll teach you a lesson sooner or later…” Your eyes darken and your face hardens.

“Don’t forget your place, Barnes. I’m the new boss in town, you are my toyboy and for sure you will not teach me anything. I learned my lessons after we got married, James.” Grumbling Bucky walks toward the door, not seeing the grin on Steve’s face or the way you checked his ass out.

“Boss, I must admit you are a hell of a woman,” Steve smirks as you pat the back of his head. Loving he leans into your touch.

“Submissive much, Rogers?” While you play with Steve’s hair Bucky is eying you warily, not listening to what Sam has to say.

“Did you listen, boss?” Quirking a brow Sam looks over Bucky’s shoulder, smirking as you give him a wink.

“James, let Sam in, for fuck’s sake. Don’t let the man stand outside the room to bear your bad mood alone.” Not amused Bucky mutters under his breath but he opens the door wider, walking with it to let Sam in.

“Have a seat. Maybe my wife wants to bang you too.” Lips curved into a grin you shrug, not giving away you love seeing Bucky all riled up as he fears he will lose you.

“Boss, we need to talk about Brock’s connections. Seems Hydra is showing its ugly head. Last night three thugs tried to poach some of our girls in your club. They declined and those assholes attacked the girls.” Sam explains what happened while you focus on business.

James is watching you talk to Sam, making fast and smart decisions as if being a mobster is nothing new to you.

“We should strike back. If we let thugs attack our girls, they will leave, and I don’t want to know what happens to them at Hydra’s club.” Bucky throws in, clenching his jaw as he looks at the pictures Sam gave him.

“Right. We let the girls dance and strip. Hydra is more into selling girls to any willing pervert. I hate having the clubs, but business is dirty sometimes. At least we need to make sure our girls are safe.”

Pointing at the pictures in your husband's hands you nod. “James is right, Sam. Call Thor and the others. We will strike back and hit them hard. I always wanted to burn down this ugly club outside of town…” Snickering you wiggle your eyebrows as Steve gasped at your words.

“That’s Hydra’s favorite. If we do this, no one can tell if we do not lose more than one building.” Steve wants to be the voice of reason. “Ross is already pissed as Rumlow went missing.”

“Steve, they attacked our girls. We have to strike back, or they will believe we are too weak. If we do not hit them hard anyone will try to take away what’s ours.” Standing close to your husband you take the pictures out of his hands, tossing them into Steve’s face.

“Y/N…”

“Look what those bastards did, Steve. They didn’t just slap the girls, they cut them, broken ribs and fingers. If not for the security they would’ve killed them.”

While you exclaim you are the boss Bucky smirks. He loves you are as stubborn and unforgiving as he is. If not for his stupid mistake you could be his queen, and he, he would be your king.

----

“You will pay for that!” Bucky’s boot hits the man’s face, causing him to fall onto the dirty ground behind the club.

“My, my look what the cat dragged behind a club.” Snickering you slide your fingers over Bucky’s back.

He’s following you with his eyes, smirking as you blow him a kiss. “Three thugs in ugly clothes.”

Kneeling you at the red jacket one of the guys is wearing you laugh as he looks offended.

“Did no one tell you Ronald McDonald wants his jacket back? You’ve got no style for sure. A smart attacker wears black just like my men over there.”

Leaning closer to the whimpering man you point at Bucky. “He’s quite a sight in his tight black pants, the black leather jacket, and boots.” The man nods, trying to get in your good graces.

“Please, we just followed orders…” Patting the man’s cheek you get the pictures of the girls out.

“Orders you say. Did your boss tell you to ruin our girl's faces? Did he tell you to try to rape them? Huh?”

Getting up you toss the pictures into the men’s faces, not looking back before you got your gun out. “I bet he wanted you to scare them a bit, not ruin their lives…”

The first bullet hits ‘ugly jacket’s’ leg, causing him to cry out. “I guess he learned his lesson, boss.” Steve tries to take the gun out of your hand but Thor stops him.

“Boss decides when he learned his lesson, Rogers. Let her…” Thor warns as Steve’s hand falls to his side.

“Y/N, let me or Buck do this. We can…” Steve flinches as the next bullet end’s ugly jacket’s life. Hitting his forehead, you don’t even blink.

“Holy…” Bucky gasps but there’s a hint of pride on his features. His girl is a cold bitch and he loves it for sure. “I need to marry you again to make sure you are my queen.”

“Shut it, Barnes. I like your ass, nothing else. Now swing said ass over here and end this for me. I want to talk to the girls.” Securing your gun, you walk toward the scared women sitting in your black van.

They look like none of them slept in ages and you still can see bruises all over their bodies. No one was kind to these women in years.

“Relax.” Nodding at Carol you take the blankets out of her hands, covering the shaking girls with the soft fabric. “We want to make you an offer. A job offer…”

“Job…” Sniffling one of the girls wraps her arm around a smaller girl’s shoulder, not knowing what will happen to them now.

“Did you ever serve drinks? We need a waitress, dancer, and strippers. Tips are yours; you will have someone to protect you. No sex.” You explain their jobs and the girl’s gasps as you hand them water.

“No sex…?” The girl asks.

“Only dancing, serving drinks, stripping. No sex. No touching.” Nodding Carol hands, you another bottle of water. “I will not lie. Hydra is our enemy, girls. This means you are in danger while working for us.”

“Anything is better than being their slaves. I’ll come with you, just like my sister. I can’t speak for the others, tho.” The girl exclaims and you smirk. You like her fire.

“What’s your name?” Handing the girl with fire another blanket you smile as she straightens her back.

“I‘m Gamora, and that’s Nebula, my sister. We will work for you.” The girl whispers and you nod, liking the way she’s meeting your eyes.

“Then it’s settled. The others can stay in the car, and come with us, or they can leave. Either way, it’s their decision.”

Pointing at Carol you clear your throat. “That’s Carol. She will stay here and make sure no one hurts any of you. Trust me, she can take even Thor down.” The girl’s gasps as you point toward Thor.

“We will come with you…” All girls say and Carol smirks.

“Good.”

----

“They will come with us. No sex, Bucky…” You eye your husband warily, warning him to not disappoint you.

“I know, my little prude…” James smirks, pointing at the club. “Well, isn’t that a nice club? It’s on fire, you could say.”

“Soon, Bucky…soon…” Steve watches you ignite the fire before you all run toward your cars, snickering as the first flames start to feast at the building and the dead thugs inside.

“I guess they learned their lesson…my queen.” Bucky purrs as he pushes you against the car to kiss you roughly. Your tongue slips into his mouth and you fist his hair harshly.

“I’m your queen, James but you are not my king…”

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

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[the-scooby-gang]

Changing the game Chapter 1

The crossover that came to me at 5 in the morning.

Leave a comment. Tell me what you guys think of this plot bunny.

Summary: Petyr Baelish is dead i killed him and now Shaggy Rogers inhabites his body.

Word count: 3015

Catelyn I

The Royal entourage made its way across the gates of the castle like a river of gold and silver and polished steel. Above their heads, standards of gold and crimson of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister flew high above the columns of anointed knights. Wandering knights, sworn soldiers, and vassals followed not too far behind.

Catelyn recognized many faces. Sandor Clegane, by far one of the  tallest men in attendance, was the first to capture her eyes thanks to the ruin that was the right side of his face. The tall golden boy by his side must have to be the Crown Prince, following the giant that was his father, the King Robert Baratheon, that was right in the front of the columns flanked by two white knights. An equally tall and golden man, adorned in golden armor with the helm in the form of a roaring lion followed close by, the white cloak of the King’s Guard bellowing against the cold wind.

The Kingslayer, thought Cat, giving a more thoughtful look to the twin of Her Majesty. Giving a side glance towards her Lord husband, Cat sent a silent prayer to the seven gods, asking that Ned’s dislike of the queen’s family would not bring any animosity while the royal family was under her roof.

Turning her eyes once again towards the gates, Cat could not contain the happy smile that came to her lips. Petyr Baelish, her brother in all but blood, was entering the gates just behind Ser Jaime, a polite smile in his face. He had changed little; his hair was grayer in the temples them when she last saw him, an earring made of gold with a teardrop-shaped emerald lay dangling from his left ear, but besides that, his frame was still small and lanky, with his observing green-grey eyes and his always easy smile.

When his eyes found hers, his already polite smile turned into something more genuine. He dismounted his stead, just as the king was doing the same and followed on the large shadow of Robert Baratheon, to await his time to greet the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

On his right, the dog Scoobert Doo stayed loyal and vigilant over his master, like he had done as he was riding through the gates, and just like in the day Petyr found him in the forest near Riverrun and claimed the dog as his own. Cat never saw a dog as big as Doo and believed she never would. Petyr called him “A Great Dane” and said that he would probably grow to surpass even Uncle Brynden in high if he stood in his hind legs. When Edmure, not more them a babe at the time, asked how could he possibly know that, a smile that Catelyn would come to know well graced Petyr’s face.

“I saw it in a dream, Eddy,” he said with far more wisdom in his voice than any boy of ten had any right to have. Then, he messed her brother’s red hair with his free hand while the other held the puppy with the care one would expect someone to cradle a newborn baby.

That would be the answer to many of the things that he just seemed to know. Petyr and his dreams were one of the greatest talks of the realm sometimes. The Master of Coin was known to go to sleep when faced with a particularly difficult conundrum and come back to the land of the awaken with a solution on the tip of his fingers. Sometimes, if the ambient was calm enough, he just needed to close his eyes to be momentarily taken to whatever plane of reality his answers lied.

She remembers asking him once what exactly he saw when in one of his trances.

“It depends on what I have to ask,” he said with the utmost sincerity. Sometimes Cat asked herself if he was capable of lying “If I need some deep knowledge about how something works I may ask The Wise Lady, with her kind eyes, dressed in reds and oranges like the morning sun. If I need to think strategically, in combat or in holding court, The Lovely Warrior will have a ready answer…”

In here he made a pause as his face had assumed a look of longing, of warning. He looked at his feet and Catelyn could swear that his face was as bright and red as the sunsets that she and her sister saw atop the towers of Riverrun “if my need is to create, be it a stronghold, a weapon, a speech or, be made of rope or words, a trap, The Blue-eyed Lord is the one I seek.”

After a small pause, Petyr smiled, looked at the sky, and said with a soft voice, as if he was remembering something long gone. Happy memories of a life already liven “But they don’t have fixed roles most of the time. Both the Warrior and the Lord can be just as wise as the Lady, as can the Lady and the Lord be as cunning and resourceful as the Warrior, and the Warrior and the Lady can just as easily create wonders as the Lord can.”

That was the answer he always gave when asked. Cat and half of her household believed that Petyr was being blessed by the gods. The Wise Lady was clearly the Crone, giving him advice. The Warrior was in the name, giving him strength.

The only one no one was quite sure of was The Blue-eyed Lord.

Some said it was The Father, giving him the means to work his justice. Some supposed that The Smith was the most likely since the weapons and plans that came to Petyr in the dead of the night were above anything anyone was ever seen. A small group thought it was The Maiden in disguise, solemnly because Petyr was the most flustered when speaking of them.

Cat would laugh every time that particular hypothesis was broth up. She knew Petyr better them she knew herself, and she was not blind to his long glances to any blond knight that trained at the yard every morning when they were growing up. It was always blond men. These were the favored ones in her brother’s eyes: Blond, blue eyed, with deep knowledge about one expecific thing and, as Petyr once told her one summer night, “Good of heart, dumb of ass”.

She never laught so loudly as she did that night. 

“Your Grace. Winterfell is yours” she heard her husband say, lying on his knees like the rest of her household.

“You grow fat.” Said a bumming voice.

The sound of the King’s remark of her husband’s weight pulled her right back into the present. She turned her head just in time to see Ned go back on his feet, look with disbelief to Robert’s own protuberant belly them back at him with a clearly “And you are one to talk?” look.

The king burst out laughing. Clapping him in his shoulders, Robert turned to her next. Everyone had followed in Ned’s steps and rising to their feet.

“Cat!” roared the Baratheon.

Robert enveloped her in his arms as if she was a long-lost sister and kissed both her cheeks, making her once again lose her brother from sight.

By that time, the others were dismounting, and stable boys ran to collect their horses. The Queen, Cersei Lannister, walked in with her youngest children. The caravan in which they had traveled, a huge two-story carriage made of greased oak and gilded metal, pulled by forty horses with heavy traction, was too wide to pass through the castle gate. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, while Robert hugged her.

Many stable boys, knights, and servents that have come with the entourage stayed a wide berth away from Scoobert, the sheer size of the dog enough to scare any men. Catelyn wanted to laugh and she could see by Petyr’s face, so did he. Unless you tried to stab Petyr or her or any of their family, Scooby was as threatening as a pillow and just as cuddly.

The servants of Winterfell were already used to the Great Dane from the many visits that Petyr made over the years, the dog aways by his side. She could already see both Bran and Arya dreaming of mounting the dog as if he was a steed, and she had no doubt that Rickon would be introduced to the unofficial tradition.

She remembers when this rite of passage was born, many years ago, when Robb was newly born and the rebellion was coming to an end. Petyr was as always with Scoob by his side, like the gods intended.

When Ned was explaining that the boy that he was bringing with him, a babe that he had named Jon, one of Brandon’s bastards, was going to be living with them, Petyr and the baby Robb were playing with Scoob. The babe was carefully laid over the back of the dog, green-gray eyes focused like an eagle on the redhead of his nephew with ready hands for the chance that they had to move quickly to grab a falling babe.

Robb giggled happily, without a single care in the world. Jon soon followed him on his furry mount. That afternoon was full of the giggles of babes and the soft trot of Scooby paws against pillows.

Ever since then, all the Stark children would have their first ride, not in a pony as it was common, but on the might back of Scoobert Doo.

 Petyr and Ned had just come back from the war, Petyr under Lord Arryn banner and Ned as the new Lord of Winterfell. Petyr may not have the body expected of a knight, but what he didn’t have in muscle he compensated with speed. Ned would tell her how Petyr was in the field,  looking  like he was dancing in mid his enemies, with the sword that he long ago had made per his instructions cutting through armor and flesh like it was cutting the air while Scoobert shredded the arms of anyone that got to close off his master.

She told her husband the story of that blade. The blacksmith of Riverrun recognized the design as one of the blades of Yi-Ti and Ser Desmond Grell, the master-at-arms asked the then boy of eight were he found such a thing.

“I saw it in a dream, Ser Desmond” answered Petyr “An old warrior was training me. He told me to climb the earth, walk on air, pass through the fire, and brave my way through the water. When I did it,  a Green Dragon gave me a sword just like this one” them he pointed to the newly made blade, one he called katana and later on would name Loyalty. “The Dragon told me that I would never fight like a knight. I will always be too small and light for that. He told me ‘Fight like the wind, like the flowing waters of the rivers. Fight like a samurai”

Ser Desmond had no idea what a Samurai was, but he would find out that to know was not necessary. The boy, like almost anything in his life apparently, was learning his routines in dreams. He was only necessary to fix his stances, give him targets, and look after him and anyone that was going to be his opponent for the day.

Cat shook herself out of her memories. This was not the place or time for her attention to be so dispersed. With a small sigh of relief, she noticed that the king was still going down the line of her children. At the moment he was complimenting Bran’s muscles, telling him that he would make a fine knight.

When the king finished with his inspection and spirited her husband away to the crypts to the Queen’s displeasure, Petyr finally approached her and her children.

“Uncle Shaggy!” screamed Arya, throwing herself in his open arms.

The nickname was born years ago when Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure, and Petyr went riding by the river, looking for a perfect place for an afternoon picnic. Petyr rode like he was born to do so and his hair by the end of the day was so messy that Edmure started calling him “Shaggy Hair” and later on only “Shaggy”. Petyr seemed to love it and it had indeed fitted him like a second skin.

Somehow that particular nickname seemed more personal them any nickname that Edmure had ever given him. In public, Eddy called him “Littlefinger”, since it was the first name he had ever given him and so was the one everyone knew. But when it was just them, between close doors and the seclusion of the sacred forest, the name “Shaggy” was the one to fall from his lips.

Robb had been the first one to call him that. Followed by Jon, Arya, Bran, even Ned could be caught from time to time calling him by the name. Sansa, on the other hand, rarely called him anything that was not “Uncle Petyr”, “Uncle” and “Lord Baelish”. Petyr used to bribe Sansa with lemon cakes when she was younger to call him by his family nickname, but now at thirteen the bribes rarely work like they used to. Sansa was worried about what would be proper to call a member of the Small Council and found it  demeaning for a man in such a position.

She remembers the look Shaggy gave her after Sansa told him this, the day he had come to Winterfell to celebrate her oldest daughter name day. She also remembers how she lost her composure and snorted like a fool when she saw the incredulous expression in his face.

“But look at that! The Hurricane of Winterfell has grown once more” He held Arya as if she weighed nothing. The years of running around carrying a hundred and seventy-five pounds of dog in his arms as if it was a babe had given him great strength. “ At this rate, you will be taller than me in no time”

Arya blushed. Shaggy was by far her favorite uncle and she always shined under his compliments.

Scooby was already licking Bran’s face, not after having sent the boy straight up to the ground. Bran laughed happily and without care. Rickon was looking at the dog in awe and Jon, Robb, and Theon Greyjoy, the protege of Winterfell, burst with laughter.

“Scooby, stop it. He’s going to get all dirty” said Catelyn, but she could not take the small smile of her face.

Scoob followed her orders. Robb helped Bran to get up and cleaned the dirt that covered his back. Shaggy put Arya back on the ground, kissed Sansa’s hand with a small bow with the proper “My Lady” and then turned to Cat, a mischievous smile on his face.

Without warning, Shaggy hugged her, held her out of the ground, and spun her around laughing like a mad man. His laughter as always was infectious and, caring little for the onlookers (something she would severely chastise herself and Shaggy later when she had recovered her wits) she laughed with him.

He put her back on the ground and kissed both her cheeks.

“Big sister, you’re  as radiant as ever,” he said looking her over “I hope that Lord Eddard remains treating you well?” his voice jested, but she saw that his eyes were deadly serious.

Shaggy was loyal to a fault, and since the day he came to live with her family he internalized her house words as if they were his own, just like they had come to see him as one of their own. Family, Duty, Honor. The family was above all else in his eyes, be it blood or chosen family. If her answer had been anything but positive, she knew that Ned would find himself with the angry entity that was Shaggy in a protective fury.

“My Lord husband remains the best thing that the gods could have blessed me,” said Cat with sincerity.

Shaggy smiled and took her by the arm and together they started to walk towards the great hall, her children not too far behind petting Scooby-Doo with love and little Rickon perched on his back.

“If you say so, my lady. But always remember, if you need me in any shape or form I’m just one raven away.” here his voice turned into a whisper “Gods know I would take any excuse to leave that nest of vipers”

They both giggle like they were children again and walked through the immense doors of the keep.

Petyr’s father, before he died, said once that in the way to Riverrun Petyr had fallen asleep one  night and awaked the next morning completely different. He said he was sweeter, more gentle, and caring. He believed that his son’s dreams started that night and that it has changed him.

If that was so, Catelyn sang many  blessings to that day. She would never know how their life would have gone had Shaggy never started dreaming, but she knew what this life had given her.

It has given her a brother.  An eccentric and beloved brother.

“Come along, my dear. We have many things to discuss” he said still in whispers “About propositions that are going to be made and marrieges that, if we play our cards right, will never come to be.”

Her smile soured. She knew what proposition he was talking about. Since the death of Jon Arryn and the letter from Lysa, she had been on edge with the uncoming visity from the king,  bringing the Lannisters to her home. Regarding marriege, she had know about the possibility of Robert wanting to join their houses, but the look on Shaggy’s face told her a deeper rabbit hole that she was not seeing.

Giving him a calculated smile that was easily reciprocated, arm in arm, they entered the hall. 

[ymiwritesstuff]

My Dear Pet

OK SO.. Uhmm.. how should I explain this.. This is a ROLE REVERSAL AU and well.. just read. Maybe it’ll become clear.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 1: Phantom Blood

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: Upon arriving to the Joestar mansion with the intention of becoming a part of the family, your eyes immediately notice a certain blonde noble who catches your attention.

Notes: Role reversal AU, Spoilers for part 1, VERY suggestive themes and language

The carriage you are seated in comes to a stop when you finally reach your destination. Looking through the small window you can see the Joestar manor in all it’s glory. This “glorious” sight makes you scoff and you swing the door open, throwing your suitcase on the ground, which catches the attention of the two males in front of you. Under their curious gazes you gracefully jump out of the cramped wagon and land on the ground like an agile cat. Just a small action to prove your superiority.

When your sharp eyes fall on the blue haired boy -which you assume to be Jonathan Joestar-, he looks confused but quickly an expression of realization dawns on his face. “You’re (Name) (Surname), right?” A smug, self-assured grin appears across your lips. At least this noble brat has some manners. Even if he didn’t he’d soon know your name very well. “And you must be Jonathan Joestar,” you say, voice coated with a layer of false kindness. The sight of this pampered boy makes you disgusted. He has no idea how real life works.

“Everyone calls me Jojo. Nice to meet you,” Jonathan turns to the blond boy next to him, who wears an admittedly charming smile on his face. “This is Dio Brando, he’s a member of the Brando household.” The introduction awakened a certain curiosity in you. You had heard of the Brando family more than you had of the Joestars but knew how close the families were. Dio politely took one of your hands in his and gently kissed the back of it, an action which amused you greatly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. (Surname). I hope you enjoy your time here.” The way his strangely sharp eyes looked at you twisted something inside you and made you even more curious about the boy in front of you. “I do believe the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Brando.” You flashed him a smirk which he immediately caught with his amber orbs. That smirk only grew when you noticed a faint wash of pink on his cheeks.

Jonathan’s highly obnoxious remarks of his dog you barely even looked at went unheard as your gaze remained on Dio. There was something.. Alluring about him. He didn’t radiate that same agitating noble boy’s energy as Jojo did, instead, he looked free in a way. The refreshing aura of freedom surrounded him and despite his sharp, cunning eyes the gaze within them was gentle and kind. It was as if he wasn’t meant to be a noble.

Your (E/C) eyes suddenly catch Jonathan’s dog running at you. A vicious snarl creeps on your face and with one swift movement, you mercilessly collide your knee with the snout of the animal. How dare Jonathan let his disgusting mutt get close to you? Danny lets out a whimper and falls to the ground, shaking from the pain. Serves him right. Both of the males gasp in shock and Jonathan is quick to defend his companion.

“What was that for?!” You respond to his pathetic attempt to defy you by glaring at him with eyes that are burning with increasing toxicity. So this was the heir to the Joestars? He was merely a pampered brat, undeserving of the fortune awaiting him. Your goals were absolute and you would not let this fool get in the way of your plans. You would succeed and your hunger for power would not be quenched and you would do anything to ensure your position as the true heir of the Joestars. No matter what.

~

Just as you expected, defeating Jonathan wasn’t going to be easy. However with the help of a few fake rumors and other lies you were able to destroy his chances with Erina and completely obliterate his friendship with Dio. Just a tiny bit of intimidation to make the girl keep her mouth shut and just a small false rumor about Dio stealing her first kiss was all it took. Jojo had no friends anymore and you were more than happy to serve as Dio’s source of comfort, all the while your true nature was hidden behind a facade. Of course Erina told Jonathan the truth but it was too late for the male to repair his friendship with Dio and was devastated to see him call you his beloved.

For all these years you had maintained your innocent sister’s act and you were finally approaching the end. Soon, your father would die due to a sudden illness that was actually caused by your scheme and the family fortune would finally be yours. However you were a fool to think that it would all go smoothly as your dear brother who had caught glimpses of your mischievous eyes and the feigning tone of your voice, found out about your plan to assassinate your father. And upon confronting you about it, his suspicions were proven correct and he set out to find the antidote for the poison.

Damn that Jonathan. You were so close. You had thought that the thugs on that merciless Ogre Street would’ve finally put an end to the nuisance known as Jojo, but just like a bothersome cockroach, he came back unscathed and with your true intentions revealed, was ready to send you behind bars. But luck was on your side and the moment the spikes of the stone mask pierced your skull, you  transcended humanity and obtained that inhuman power you didn’t even know you were longing for.

~

Your lips curl into a smirk that reveals the tiniest portion of your newly acquired fangs as your brainless servants bring yet another human to your lair. This time however, the mortal brought into your impressive throne room of the dark castle was someone you knew far too well. With a single wave of your clawed hand, you dismiss your servants, leaving you alone with the golden haired man.

“Dio.. What a surprise..” Your low, honeyed voice reaches his ears and he lifts his gaze to look at you, wearing an expression that is a mixture of confusion and -quite surprisingly-, fear. Judging by the condition he’s in; filled with bruises and cuts, bringing him here wasn’t an easy task and the thought of him being a feisty little pet amused you.

“(Name).. W-what is going on?” He looks around him, the unknown surroundings coating him in a layer of nervousness and uneasiness. You let out a playful yet highly sinister chuckle that makes every hair in Dio’s body stand up, his amber eyes locked on your new form. Your slow footsteps echo around the open room, your smirk never fading and your (E/C) feasting on the sight of your lover on his knees. He looked like a lost puppy that was begging for assistance.

“Why do you look so frightened, my dear? Does my new appearance intimidate you?” Once you’re in front of him, you lower yourself to his level and gently caress his face with your claws. Dio notices the sharp fangs in your mouth and immediately remembers the events that occurred moments before his capture.

Jonathan had come to him, frantically trying to warn him about you as he found out that you had managed to survive the fire and he didn’t listen. He couldn’t possibly believe such foul talk about his lover, but now understands exactly what his friend was referring to as the (E/C) eyed monster stared at him.

“He.. He tried to tell me.. Jojo-” His monologue is cut short by your hands grabbing a fistful of his hair and tilting his head back. The sight of his exposed neck excites you, however you must resist the urge to taste his delicious blood for just a bit longer.

“Do not mention that name whilst in my presence..” Jonathan had interfered with your plans far too many times and the mere mention of his name was enough to make you want to rip apart the person who dared to let that name slip. However with Dio, it was different. He had shown undying love and devotion to you and it would be a shame if you lost that devotion. However this didn’t mean that your pet’s miscalculation would go unpunished.

“My dear, Dio..” You gently run your hand across his cheek, the other still keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. “You still love me, don’t you? After everything I’ve done for you..” You say, referring to the time when you comforted him about losing his friend which you caused, trying to manipulate him. It didn’t matter what he thought, though. He wasn’t going to escape. You had grown far too attached to the attractive golden haired man and you wouldn’t let him go.

You press your lips against him and notice him kissing you back, which makes you somewhat delighted. However you weren’t stupid and as soon as Dio tries to push you to the ground in an attempt to overpower you and possibly increase his chances of escape, you deny his attempt and he is the one who ends up on the ground, your form hovering above his. Your pet was misbehaving. Adorable.

“Let me make something very clear, my darling..” Your lips find their way dangerously close to his ear as you hold him in place. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t have been possible but thanks to your new abilities, you were able to physically overpower even someone like Dio. Your hand runs along his chest, gently tracing the flesh under his shirt.

“You belong to me now.. There’s nothing you can do..” Your light touches make Dio’s heart pound faster and something that to you sounds like a moan escapes his lips. You take this as an early sign of submission and look at him with an intense gaze. “Now be a good boy and do as I say and I might heal your wounds..” Your cold hand caresses his face again, however you’re still unsatisfied with the gaze he gives you, as it lacks the submission you were looking for.

Your claws move to his neck and you break the skin, causing the man below you to groan in pain an discomfort. “Who do you belong to, Dio?” You inquire, refusing to stop until those words leave his mouth. He pants and gasps, realizing that there’s no stopping you unless he bends to your will.

“Y-you.. I.. I b-belong.. To you..” He finally says and you retreat your hand from his neck, licking the tiny drops of blood left in your digits. With an amused hum you lower your face to his and kiss him again, savoring the delicious taste of his blood. Dio feels his wounds healing, but knows that any attempt to escape or resist you would only result in more of them. He hates how much he’s enjoying what you’re doing to him.

And you know exactly how much he enjoys your touch and presence when he whimpers and melts under your dangerous touch. You were going to have so much fun with your pet.

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower: The Queen Of Asgard - 6

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2316

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with @avengerscompound​ whom encourages me to kick her

Chapter 6 - Asgard

Thor spent the week with us, mostly with two little shadows chasing him around and climbing on him.  Tony organized the start of the Tower remodel while we confirmed a preschool and school for the twins.

The puppies were settling in nicely.   While they were usually gamboling along after either Pietro or Riley but when they weren’t you could find them doing yoga with Clint and Bucky, or going for runs with Sam and Steve.  Quite often you’d find Tony sitting on the couch reading on his tablet while one was asleep on his lap.

It wasn’t long until Thor’s time was up though and on the morning he, Tony, Steve, and I were supposed to be taking the kids to Asgard I was packing the last of the kids’ things with Wanda.

“I think that’s enough books, Piet,” I said as he toddled over with another clutched in his hands.

“Pappa Steve might need to carry that for you,”  Wanda said to Pietro as I put the book in her bag.  “But mommy is right, no more.”

Pietro pointed as his bookshelf.

“Piet, you know Loki will have lots of books,”  I said.

“That’s right.  I bet there’s a great big library.”  Wanda added.  “And you know what I want you to do for me?”

“What?”  Pietro asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I want you to get a good look all around the library.  Then when you come back you can think about it and I’ll get to see it too.”  Wanda said.

“Otay, Daj,”  Pietro said.

“Thank you, my sweet boy,”  Wanda said.  “You know I would love to go with you.”

Pietro flopped into her arms and hugged her as I did one last check of the bags.  “I think that’s everything.”

“Okay, Piet, you better go say a special goodbye to daddy Clint,”  Wanda said putting the little boy back down.

“Otay.  I find him.”  Piet said and just ran off.

“Piet!  You gotta wait for us…”  I called.  “... and we lost him.”

“Sorry,”  Wanda said.  “I just… you know how he gets.”

“Yeah.  He’s probably feeling a little like you are right now.”  I said getting up and picking up both the bags.

“He’s probably hiding.  Or perching.  Or sulking.”  Wanda said.  “Figured it would be easier to get him out if his baby went to find him.”

“FRIDAY, can you make sure Clint knows that Piet is running around the house looking for him?”  I said.

“Of course, Miss,”  FRIDAY replied.

“You ready, bug?”  I asked.

She picked up another bear and nodded.  She toddled over to Wanda and held her arms up.  “Up, pwease.”

“Since you asked so nicely,”  Wanda replied, picking her up.

She nuzzled into Wanda’s neck.  “Me gamau dut, daj.”

“Mmm…”  Wanda hummed, stroking her hair.  “Me gamau dut.”

We went out to the living room with Riley and the bags and found Steve pacing and counting his fingers while Tony and Sam both sat on the couch, and Natasha was stretched out on the recliner.

“What’s going on?”  I asked.

“Someone is being a perfectionist,”  Natasha said.

“Steve?”  I asked, dropping the bags.

“Did we pack everything?  What if we forget deodorant?”  He asked, not breaking his pace.

“I’m pretty sure Asgard has things.”

“But what if the kids can’t sleep?”

“It’s not a one-way trip, sweetheart.”

“What if they don’t like us?”  He asked.  “Or Piet?”

I came over to him and stepped in front of him, breaking his pacing.  I took his hands and looked up into his eyes.  “They don’t have to like us.  It’s not about us.  And I’m pretty sure if any of them were awful enough to do anything negative to Piet, Loki would personally put a knife in them.”  I leaned up and kissed his cheek.  “This is just a test run to see how it works.  If it’s no good we don’t go back.”

Steve nodded and circled his arms around me.  “Okay.”

“We ready to go then?”  I asked.

“Yeah, I guess we’re ready,” Steve said.  “Our things are already out there.”

They got up and Steve grabbed the bags, while Sam took Riley off Wanda.  “Are you gonna have a bunch of fun on Asgard, bug?”  He asked

“Yep,”  Riley said simply.  “Daddy For is gonna teach me to fly.”

Sam chuckled.  “Is he now?”

“Yep.  Den we can fly togever,”  She said.  “You wike to fly, daddy?”

“I love it,”  Sam said, leaning his forehead against Riley’s.

“I wuv it.”  Riley mimicked.

The others were all outside waiting gathered together on the lawn with the bags for Steve, Tony and I.  There was a long series of hugs and kisses goodbyes between those that were leaving and those who were staying.  While pretty much all of them had been separated from the kids for small periods of time due to missions, it was the first time the kids were leaving the compound for any significant time.

“Now, what?”  I asked, looking at Thor.

“Gather around me,”  Thor said.  I herded the kids over to him while Steve brought the bags over.

“I shall hold the children.”  He said, scooping them back up.  “Now, it will feel like you are being pulled up very rapidly.  Stay as still as possible.  Do not touch the edges of the Bifrost.”

We nodded and moved closer to him.  We waved goodbye and while we were waving a bright iridescent light engulfed us and we were dragged upwards fast enough to make my eyes water.  The next thing I knew we all stumbled forward into a large golden-domed room.  Pietro started crying while Riley just looked around.  In the center of the room, a man with a large golden helmet and golden eyes twisted a sword and pulled it free from a pillar.

“What have you done to my child, you buffoon?”  Loki said striding into the room.  She was in her female form and wore a long green cape over her scaled armor.  Her horned helm looked more like a crown than a helmet.  “Why don’t you come to your Aunt, child?”

Pietro held his arms out and Loki took him from Thor.  “Aundie Woki!”  Riley squealed, kicking her legs.

“My little troublemakers,”  Loki said affectionately as Thor put Riley down and she ducked under Loki’s cape.  “Sorry I was late.  I was finishing up with the festivities.”

“Festivities?”  I asked.

“Yes,”  Loki said with a look on her face like I was the biggest and most annoying idiot that had ever dared to speak to her.

I looked over at Thor completely confused and hoping that he might be able to clear things up for me.

Loki muttered something under her breath.  “You didn’t tell them?  What?  Better to have them ambushed?”

“What’s happening?”  Steve asked.

“Oh,”  Loki chuckled.  “The people are very excited to finally get to see the heir to the throne and their kings chosen consorts.”

For a moment I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.  “Seriously?”

“By the Allfather, you are dense.”  Loki scoffed.

I shoved her.  “Hey!  I’m the one that’s nice to you.  Watch it.”

She chuckled and waved her hand.  “This is a big deal.  There will be a procession and later a feast.  Brother, I can’t believe you didn’t tell them.”

I looked over at Steve.  “I guess they like us?”

“I guess,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Heimdall stepped forward.  “There is a carriage awaiting you outside.”  He said.  “You as the chosen consorts will be awarded special treatment.  You particularly, my lady.  As the mother to the heir, you hold a position akin to the queen.  The children will be of special interest, particularly Riley as the firstborn heir.  They will not be interfered with.  No one will approach them without permission.”

I nodded.  “Thank you.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Are we ready then?”  Loki asked.

I nodded and we were led out to where a group of mounted guards were waiting, surrounding an open-topped carriage.  Thor, Loki, Tony, Steve, the kids, and I all got in the back.  I moved up close to Thor, wrapping my arm around his, as Riley moved to the edge of the carriage and looked down at the rainbow road and Pietro sat in Loki’s lap looking at the horses excitedly.

The whole thing was overwhelming to look at.  A huge golden city loomed off in the distance, sitting on a planet that was a physical impossibility.  Just an island floating in space, water running off the edge into nothing.  We were looking at it standing on a road that looked like it was made of thick iridescent glass that was suspended over space.

It was impossible and beautiful and I couldn’t believe where we were.

“Are you ready, my ctshanzar?”  Loki asked Pietro, who was making soft hiccuping noises as he looked at the horses.

“You may need to shield him,”  I warned.  “It might get a little overwhelming for him.”

“You think I’d let that happen?”  Loki asked.

“No.  Just… You normally see him when he’s in the comfort of his own home.”  I said.  “Not like this.”

“I repeat.  Do you think I’d let that happen?”  She said, narrowing her eyes at me.

“No.”

“That’s better,” Loki said.  “I’m just waiting to hear he’s ready before I get the signal to start.”

“I’m otay, Aundie Woki.”  He said softly.  “I got books I wanna show you.”

Loki gave a signal and the horses started down the road in their procession.  “You’ve got books for me?  I would love to see them.  We’ll have to get you to your room and unpack.”

“I maded a picture.”

“For me?”  Loki said.  “I can not wait to see it.”

I smiled as I watched them.  As hard to read and flat out unpleasant Loki could be, they were always good with the kids.  Pietro, in particular, had a very strong bond with them which finding out that he was not the heir, was a little copacetic really.  They were both excited to see her.

“Undie Woki.  We god two puppies.”  Riley said.

“Two?”  Loki asked.

“Spoddy and Tyr,”  Riley said as she bounced beside Loki.

“Can we see, Fenwiwr?”  Pietro asked.

“I’ll have to consider that, my darling.  He is very large.”  Loki said.  “But I’ll see what I can do.”

I rubbed Thor’s arm and looked up at him.  “Are you okay, my love?  You seem a little stressed out.”

He nodded.  “I should have told you, but I was worried you would change your mind and not let them come.”

My heart broke for him.  I couldn’t imagine how hard it is to see his own kids so rarely because he was bound to Asgard as its king.  I took his hand and played with his fingers and he kissed the top of his head.  “I am sorry I kept this from you.”

“It’s okay.  No more secrets though.”  I said.

“I promise.”

Riley was moving around the carriage trying to look at everything.  She leaned over the edge and squealed.  “Daddy!  Dat’s space down dere!  Dat’s space down dere!”

“Yes, it is,”  Thor said, holding onto her shirt as she leaned over the edge.

She stood up and moved over to Tony, climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around him.  “Its otay, daddy.  I god you.  You safe.”

He smiled and held her close.  “Thank you, bug.”  He looked over at me.  “How’d she know?”

I shrugged.  “She’s a sponge.”

The horses reached the end of the bridge and I began to hear the people.  When we passed through a gate, a loud cheer broke out and Riley looked up while Steve and I tensed.

People lined the streets, cheering and calling out our names.  Mostly Thor or Riley but I heard my name, Steve’s, Tony’s, and Pietro’s in the mix.  Riley climbed off Tony’s lap and moved into Thor’s climbing him to get a better view, which made the crowd roar louder.  Pietro made a small squeak sound and burrowed into Loki’s neck.

I started to twist my hands nervously and Tony wrapped an arm around me.  “You have to fake it, honey.”  He said.  “Shoulders back, chest out, fake smile.”

I nodded.  “Right.  But my heart.”

“It goes in a box.  They can’t hurt it.”

I tapped my fingers on his leg and smiled out at the crowd, but my heart was hammering.  “It’s making me flashback to that day we had to force our way out of the press conference after we went public.  We’ve done other things though.  I go to events with you and it’s fine.  Is it the kids?”

Tony took my hand and squeezed it.  “Do you need me?”

I nodded and he pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.  “You know I love you right?”

I nodded.  “Yeah, I know.”

I looked at the kids to see how they were handling the whole thing.  Pietro was still snuggled in against Loki, but he seemed to be relaxed.  Riley was standing up on Thor’s lap and waving at people.

I tapped my fingers on Tony’s hip.  “We’re on another planet.”

He chuckled.  “I know.  I’m trying to internalize my geek out.”

“We’ll have to geek out together later,”  I said.

“Our little boy is doing better than I thought.”

“He is.  Looks like he’s about to fall asleep.”  I agreed.

“It’s all going to be fine.  Trust me.”  Tony said.

I leaned against him as we wound our way through the city.  They moved up to the gates of the palace and we all got out of the carriage.  I looked up at the palace.  It loomed over us in all its golden splendor.  Two guards opened the doors for us.  “Well, here we are,”  Thor said.  “Welcome home.”

// NEXT

[alien-rainbow]

By Your Side Until My Death(9/?)

Chapter 9: The World We Made

Available on AO3

Princess Artemis, the eldest daughter of the kingdom of Olympus is to be married to her childhood nightmare. In a land where anything remotely magical is banned, Zoë fears for her and Ladon's life but knows that she could never leave the princess's side if she tried. Magical beings, a forbidden romance, family secrets, and safety for magic all wait beyond the kingdom's borders.

- 3rd person, will be completed eventually, teen, not completed, Zartemis

READ PLEASE. Okay, so there was a lot of background going on in this chapter.

Cohorts: These are like the cabins, there are 20 of them for the 20 cabins in the PJO series, I decided to use greek names and move some people around if they are Romans. The only time I used Roman names is if the greek counterpart was part of the royal family.

Praetors: Two people who are elected from any of the twenty cabins and are (presidential system) like the president.

Centurions: These are like the vice presidents, but there are a lot of them. They can make decisions but need the approval of both of the Praetors but if 75% of the Centurions want an action to be taken, they can go forward without Praetor's approval. But Chiron can put a stop to anything he believes is really bad but for the most part, he just guides and observes.

Normal People are just called campers and each Cohort has a cabin that corresponds with gods and their skills. If you want the full list of Cohorts/Cabins and their god/skills, look at the endnotes (There is more explanation in the chapter too)

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

Annabeth with the help of Will and commentary from Nico gave the girls a quick tour of the camp. The first stop was the big house where the leaders met to talk. The leaders consisted of one immortal, a centaur named Chiron, and a group of twenty centurions that represented the twenty different cohorts, and two elected praetors from any of the twenty centurions. The centurions were divided based on skill and dominant traits, and in some cases who you were born to.

Percy for example was one of the only members in cohort three, the cohort of water. People that lived in the cabin were closely related to Poseidon, the immortal of seas, or water nymphs, or were incredibly good when it came to any water activity.

Annabeth was a mortal who was incredibly good at changing any form of magic and was in Cohort 6, where the children of Minerva usually went. They were known for Strategic thinking and Leadership, Annabeth was the centurion. Nico is a child of Hades, the immortal Death, The Underground, and Darkness, and is the centurion of Cohort 13. His younger sister Hazle was the only other occupant of Cohort 13.

Will pointed to a solid gold cabin, which seemed to either reflect the sun or was glowing itself. Cohort 7 was for children born to Helios, the immortal of Day. Healing was another large part of Will's Cohort. Will told them that he was a few generations removed but was a descendent of Helios.

"So you have solar powers?" Athena asked after Will finished talking about his Cohort.

"I'm honestly a better healer but I can heal and control light," Will said smiling bright enough to rival the sun itself.

"He also glows," Nico said smirking at the puppy-eyed glare Will sent his way.

"That's not important," Will shoot back at the smaller boy.

"He's the best medic we have," Annabeth said trying to get the conversation back on topic. The two continued to quietly bicker but there was no real heat.

"So how long has Jason been here for?" Thalia asked out of the blue looking away from the two boys over to Annabeth.

"He's been here since he was a toddler, why?" Annabeth asked confused.

"His surname isn't by any chance Grace?" Thalia asked quickly. Nico stopped his conversation and turned to look intensely at Thalia. Artemis, just like Annabeth was confused by the woman's question. She knew that Thalia had a little brother who was said to have died in a wolf attack but besides that had no family that she cared about.

"Why do you want to know?" Nico said before Annabeth could answer.

"I don't see why you need to know?" Thalia said narrowing her eyes at the shorter boy. Before another fight could be started Annabeth jumped in to supply Thalia with her answer.

"Yes, his full name is Jason Grace," Annabeth said still looking confused but trying to stop an oncoming storm.

"Where is he now? Can I see him?" Thalia's voice was shrill and urgent.

"Probably at the arena sparring with Percy, and I guess so?" Will offered to take them while Nico stated that he would be coming with them. Reyna opted to go with Thalia saying that they would meet up later that night. With that, the four hurried off towards the arena.

"What was that about?" Annabeth asked after the group had disappeared from sight.

"I don't know..." Artemis said turning to Zoë who shrugged. Annabeth then continued on with the tour as if nothing had happened. She showed them the climbing wall which was cover in lava. The amphitheater where the campers met at night for a sing-along, campfire, and a variety of other things. The stables held more Asseros' and a few unmagical horses, and pegasi. They then walked past the cabins, each held one Cohort and a number of campers. They ended their trip by walking past the armory then heading to the arena.

They entered the opened roofed area to see Thalia and Jason stabbing at each other. Nico, Will, Percy, and the feather girl sat on the sides watching them spare. Thalia had her long golden spear out, her shield sat on one of the benches next to her brown leather bag. Jason on the other hand was fighting her with a golden gladius.

The three walked over to the group that was already sitting to watch the two dance around each other.

"What did we miss?" Artemis asked sitting down next to Reyna who turned to her with a sarcastic smile.

"Nothing much, except that Jason is Thalia's presumed dead little brother. And they are both the children of Jupiter, the immortal of the sky. But besides that, not much." Artemis and Zoë both gave out shocked reactions before turning to watch the two reunited siblings spar.

The match ended with Thalia disarming her brother and a golden spear pointed at his chest.

"I win," Thalia said grinning at her brother.

"My turn!" Percy yelled grabbing a bronze sword running up to the spot where Thalia had just stood.

"Water first," Jason said grabbing a cantine and drinking the water that poured from it. He then walked over to the blond positioning himself lower to the ground getting ready to go again.

"Bro... what if we had a homoerotic sword fight..." Percy said smiling like an idiot before striking, they exchanged a few blows before backing away giving the other time to think. "jk, jk," Percy said referring back to his earlier comment. The two exchanged a few more swings before Percy spook once again, "...Unless?" The ravenett struck once more causing Jason to get knocked to the floor.

"I am literally the straightest person here," Nico said shaking his head at the Percys comment.

"What do you mean by that?" Artemis asked. The elder princess was confused at their language, straight? homoerotic? And why no one else found it strange that the two boys were acting playfully romantic towards each other.

"By what?" Nico asked looking at her instead of the stone floor.  

"Straight?" Artemis asked her cheeks burning as the others looked at her like this was a ridiculous question.

"Straight is another word for someone who likes the opposite gender," Annabeth explained.

"Are you implying that males can love other males? And females other females?" Athena asked astonished at the information.

"While yea, there's nothing wrong with loving who you want to love," Will said softly. "I mean Nico's my boyfriend," He said smiling and gesturing to the boy next to him. A blush covered the pale boy's cheeks as he mumbled something about 'Significant annoyance.'

"Really?" Zoë and Reyna said simultaneously.

"Yea, and don't let anyone ever tell you differently," Nico said his eyes darkening "Because they are  wrong."

Artemis felt a weight lift from her that she never knew she was carrying. She had never been interested in being intimate with any male. The thought of marrying any man and having his children make Artemis sick. The news that this wasn't a bad thing, that she could love a  female, a girl!  It made her happier than she could say. Zoë, Reyna, and Thalia wore a similar expression. Athena just looked thoughtful and happily surprised.

Artemis turned to look at Zoë and smiled at the older girl, for some reason her aunt's words from the day before came back to her,  "So who is it? I also know the face of heartbreak, whether you know it or not. " Artemis remembered telling her aunt that she loved no one, only for her aunt to ask her if she was sure. Then before her aunt could say who she believed her heart belonged to, Hermes had interrupted. Artemis wished now more than anything that she had gotten to hear her aunt's last words before they fleed.

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

WHAT COHORT##BY BIRTH##TRAITS AND/OR POWERS##CENTURIONS##OTHER STUFF

Cohort 1: (Jupiter) Sky and Justice [Jason] Cohort 2: (Juno) Family and Unity [OC] Cohort 3: (Posiden) Sea and Freespirt [Percy] Cohort 4: (Demeter) Earth and Stability [Katie] Cohort 5: (Mars) War and Physical strength [Clarisse] Cohort 6: (Minerva) Strategic thinking and Leadership [Annabeth] Cohort 7: (Helios) Day and Healing [Will] {Apollo is his name in both Romand and Greek, I did what I could} Cohort 8: (Diana) Moon and Independence [Bianca] Cohort 9: (Vulcan) Medal and Inventions [Leo] Cohort 10: (Venus) Munlipltiveness and Indisisviness [Piper] Cohort 11: (Mercury) Trickery and Stealth [Connor] Cohort 12: (Bacchus) Madness and Facetious [Pollux] Cohort 13: (Hades) Death, The Underground and Night [Nico] Cohort 14: (Iris) Messenger and Color [Butch] Cohort 15: (Hypnos) Dreams and Self-preservation [Clovis] Cohort 16: (Nemesis) Balance and Vengeance [OC] Cohort 17: (Nike) Pride and Victory [Holly and Laurel] {They refused to pick one} Cohort 18: (Hebe) Forgiveness and Childress [Paolo] Cohort 19: (Tyche) Good Luck and Balance [Chiara] Cohort 20: (Hecate) Magic and thoughtful [Lou Ellen]

Praetors: Frank and Hazle

[from-the-clouds]

Everything You’ve Come To Expect -- Quentin Beck/Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A former employee of Stark Industries hides in solitude from her past, until she is forced to confront it years later. After all the time away, she realizes still hasn’t recovered from her heartbreak. 

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Listen, this isnt probably canonically accurate, but I’m convinced Quentin is still alive. This might be trash, but also...I might turn this into a mini-series if you’re interested. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

****

The nights were peaceful. Silent. In the middle of the wilderness, she could make out all the constellations, scattered across the sky like jewels in a display case. Every star was visible out here, she’d never been able to see them amongst the light-polluted sky of the city. And she was completely alone. This was how it was supposed to be.

So when she was curled up on her couch with a book, a fire burning in her hearth only a few feet away, eyelids heavy as she dozed off, the knock on the door startled her. Of course, she wasn’t completely alone. A mile down the road was her closest neighbor, and she occasionally had visitors. But she was far from her past, that was what mattered.

She approached the door with caution, and contemplated retrieving the old pistol she owned, just to be safe. But, she knew she was just being paranoid. After all, she’d managed several years of safety. Anyone still searching for her had given up by now. Right?

So when she opened the door, and saw the face of a man absent from her life for what felt like ages, she almost instinctively slammed it back in his face. But he reached out, stopping her.

“Wait, Y/N please,” he said. “Please, I can explain,” his hand gripped the end of the door, eyes pleading, voice cracking in desperation.

Questions spun through her mind, a million emotions stormed inside of her, and she decided to dwell on anger, annoyance. She couldn’t betray herself and allow anything else. “What do you want, Quentin?” she asked.

“Five minutes, please,” he said. “That’s all I ask, and if you want to send me away, you can.”

Her chest was heaving, she wasn’t expecting to see him ever again. It took a few breaths before she made her decision, even if she knew it wasn’t the smartest. With one hand, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Opening the door a foot or two wider, she jerked her head and he muttered apologies as he scurried past. She took a sweeping view of her front yard, satisfied when she could make out no other figures in the darkness, and finally turned to focus on Quentin.

What she hadn’t seen as he stood on the dim porch was apparent now. Face riddled with scratches and blood, hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot, all areas of his exposed skin now covered in bruises and marks. And despite all this, he was still horribly handsome.

“I got into some trouble,” his mouth twisted in a half smile, which disappeared quickly as she crossed her arms.

“Clearly,” she said. “And at whose expense?”

“No one’s hurt. I promise.” He shook his head. “I need your help, Y/N.”

Over the years, she’d made a point to avoid the news in general, but particularly anything involving Quentin. It was too painful. To her relief, she’d never heard much about him anyways. But based on how he looked right now, he clearly was up to something. No good, she suspected.

“Sit down,” she instructed, eyeing the bruise forming at the corner of his eye. She was still weary, and could hear it in her voice. “Let me get you something to drink, we’ll clean you up a little bit.”

She cursed under her breath the moment she entered the kitchen. What was she thinking, letting him into her home like this? Where was her resolve? She’d thought after all these years she’d built up a resistance to not become a complete idiot if he’d ever come back into her life, but she hadn’t expected him to show up looking like a kicked puppy, defeated and tired. All she wanted to do was comfort him. And she was angry with herself for being so empathetic, so desperate.

When she returned to the living room with a cup of tea, first aid kit and an icepack, Quentin was walking around the perimeter of her living room, taking in the minimal decorations, peering out her front window. The cabin was small, and rundown when she’d first bought it, but she’d worked hard renovating it over the years, until it finally felt like a home. She cleared her throat and he jumped with a start, closing the curtain that looked out to her front yard, and giving her a weak smile.

“I made you tea,” she said flatly.

Quentin approached her with some hesitance, until she finally sat down across from him on the couch. Her hands tangled together for a brief moment in her lap, rubbing the base of her ring finger absentmindedly. She eyed him carefully, every detail and fine line of his visage. Not much had changed, though his features may have become a bit more defined. Full lips she once drank from with unbridled fervor, deep blue eyes that had first captured her own in stolen glances at one another across the lab. It was still him.

Then something occurred to her. Without a second thought, she reached out, pressed her hand to the center of his chest, and felt him, warm and solid under her touch. “So it’s really you,” she said. “You’re not playing tricks on me.”

Quentin swallowed hard, his hand grasping hers as she moved to pull away. His touch was firm and steady, though his palms were rough. “I’d never do that. Not to you.”

The technology she’d helped him create, what had caused all this in the first place. He’d never used it to take advantage of her, to trick her. If anything. His first experiments had simulated sunsets on a Carribean beach, the quiet solitude of a moss-covered forest, and rolling, green hills covered with flowers. Anything he thought was romantic that he could dream up, he took her there. And she knew, before she left, that he didn’t have the best intentions, but he was right about that. He’d never used it to manipulate her.

And she wasn’t sure if it was better that he was really here or not, his hand wrapped around hers, his fingers now threading through the spaces in between her own. If he pulled her closer, she wasn’t sure she could resist him.

This isn’t the man you fell in love with. She forced herself to remember. After they’d gotten fired from Stark Industries, he’d changed. He was distant, vengeful. It was a slow change, slow enough that it took her awhile to realize what his intentions where. Ultimately, he’d broken her heart. He’d hurt her. And she ran.

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, frowning when she saw the golden wedding band on his ring finger. Recoiling in disgust, she pulled back, released him. Quentin removed the offending object as she opened her mouth to object. “It’s not real,” he said. “I promise you, it was all a part of the plan, I forgot to take it off.”

Studying him carefully, Y/N narrowed her eyes. His hand had come to rest on her shoulder, he was leaning forward, closer to her than she wanted for ideal focus. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t lying. He’d always been a bad liar. Well, convincing to others, but never to her. “It’s not like it matters, anyways,” she stated bluntly.

Quentin’s jaw clenched at her words, and Y/N was startled by how good it felt to see him hurt, even if it was just for a brief moment. Because within the next few seconds, she was lifting the icepack to the side of his face, gingerly pressing it against his eye, placing his hand over top it. “Keep that there.”

She didn’t want to ask questions, despite how quickly they were firing through her brain. So she worked in silence, cleaning the cuts and bruises on his face and body. It was clear he was tired. He hunched over slightly, undereyes puffy and eyelids drooping, even though he kept a steady gaze on her as she worked.

“Well,” she said, once she was finished.  “We have a lot of talking to do, but I’d rather do it after a full night’s sleep. You can stay in my spare bedroom.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she answered. “But you need rest.”

Quentin rose from the couch alongside her, followed her down the hall to a linen cabinet, where she retrieved a couple towels and some oversized clothes that would likely fit him. “Take a shower, go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Quentin nodded as she gestured to the spare room, which he entered, hesitantly moving to close the door behind him. When she turned her back, she was surprised to feel a hand clasp gingerly around her upper arm. “Y/N,” he said. “Thank you.”

Turning her head, she looked at him over her shoulder. He was expectant, waiting. “You’re welcome,” she muttered.

“It’s….it’s really good to see you,” he said, hesitant. He was looking at her again, his eyes warm and insistent. And she couldn’t tell if he was manipulating her, or being honest. Somehow, sincerity would be worse, she thought. She was angry.

But she was mostly frustrated with herself.  Because the easiest thing to do would be pitch herself into his arms, nuzzle her face in his neck, let him tell her it would all be okay. Why was that easier than pretending she didn’t care? To act cold? It was delusional. She’d so desperately wanted things to work between them, she had her whole future planned out with him. And it was pulled from underneath her. And all these years had apparently done nothing to quelm how badly she still believed things would work out.

****

Quentin stared at the door long after she’d closed it. There was a solid chance he wasn’t doing the right thing. But despite her cold, he knew he couldn’t be vulnerable, or at home with anyone else. Though he wasn’t quite ready for everything that was associated with seeing her again.

She’d left him suddenly. With almost no explanation. And he had been angry, for a long time. But now he was beginning to think he hadn’t understood before. Maybe it had been harder to cut herself away than she’d made it seem. Tonight, she’d appeared conflicted. And she was still beautiful as ever. And sweet as ever, despite her clear reservations.

He needed a place to regroup, rethink. Coming here was probably not the solution. If anything, it only complicated his current situation. But now, he wasn’t sure if he could take himself away. After all these years, maybe he deserved to be selfish.

Part II

[lemonietrinket]

My Finale ||| Dowoon x Reader

Summary: Dowoon decided it was time to ask the question. Genre: Fluff fluff Warning(s): Lots of very happy tears idek Word Count: 1524 Theme Song: Finale - Day6 AN: I would normally use romanized versions of foreign lyrics, but I read the English translations and found them really sweet so I used them instead. Hope it’s all ok! Also if someone proposes to me and this song doesn’t at least play in the background, I am not marrying them end of story

A Christmas present for @seunghyub-dowoon I hope you like it! Merry Christmas! 

~~~

The room was aglow with golden fairy lights that shimmered like fireflies, dancing around the columns and accents of the room. The polite chatter and soft music had faded far into the distance as in the corner of the room, glinting just to the side of the face of the love of your life, you spotted four familiar figures.

Carrying only two acoustic guitars, they were all dressed smartly, clean cut in tuxedos as the restaurant’s dress code required, and your heart swelled as the uplifting guitar chords began of your favourite song of theirs.

“So, babe, please be my finale...” Younghyun’s voice lulled over the room, ushering some of the clientele into appreciative quiet.

You weren’t sure why they were here, but you did not spare it much more thought, as Dowoon cleared his throat. “Love...”

You immediately brought your eyes back to him, meeting his puppy-eyed gaze. Sweeping across his cheeks, curved in a gentle yet sheepish smile, his ears flushed in the ethereal light, as his lips streaked with concentration parted to whisper what he was so determined to say, you couldn’t help but feel blessed.

“Yes?” you encouraged quietly, leaning over the table to offer assistance. As well as so you could get an even closer look at your boyfriend.

You’d been dating for such a long time now, the two of you had been through thick and thin, both the roughest and clearest waters. You’d been there to hold him, to nurture his wounds until he healed. He’d seen your storms, and he’d been the one to calm them. 

You’d become each others’ home, and, long ago, you’d decided that a life without Dowoon was not a life at all.

Sungjin’s voice rose from the stage, a pride evident in his performance, “That smile of yours let me know, what I’ve been looking for all this time.”

“That you’re exactly the place I’ve been searching for...” Wonpil flourished, his delicate notes earning a gasp from the table behind you.

You were glad it was rather quiet, because Dowoon’s voice was barely above a whisper, as some sudden nerves overcame him. “I have something to ask...”

“I asked my heart again and again,” Jae hummed, his guitar lulling, “locking eyes with you again and again, finally I’m convinced now...!”

“Well,” you chuckled, taking up a napkin between your fingers and brushing a tiny crumb from the corner of his mouth, “go ahead!”

His ears reddened significantly, if that were even possible, fingers wringing ever so slightly below the table, as Younghyun sang, “So, babe, please be my finale.”

You almost noticed the slight falter in his voice over the speakers, but you were too focused on Dowoon’s anxious stare, as his eyes flitted between his lap and back to you.

“You ok, baby?” you enquired softly. “Do you want to leave? It’s not too crowded in here, but it’s ok if you feel overwhelmed.”

“If you let me I can love you till the end...!”

He shook his head diligently.

“So stay with me—don’t go anywhere...!”

The long note was broken somewhat as the guitars stopped.

Confused, you pulled your sight away from him and to Dowoon’s bandmates. All of their eyes were focused upon the two of you. 

Glancing to the side bemusedly, you saw that the guests around you were all looking at the two of you as well, rather expectantly.

It was then that you recognised one or two of their features, in the dark. One person was definitely one of their managers, Another, a stylist who became a close friend of yours after helping Sungjin shave his hair. Memories hit you briefly as you noted her face, caught in astonished anticipation, remembering the times that she’d fought for what the members had wanted, rather than the company.

On the table just in front of you two, a figure turned. You weren’t expecting to see Dowoon’s mother here.

Before you could question any further, your boyfriend’s hands appeared from beneath the table, holding a microphone in a white-knuckled grip.

“Stumbling over and over...” he began, words and tone shaky. He paused, clearing his throat as he made eye contact with you.

It seemed to fill him with a new determination, as he persisted, gracing the room with the deep velvet of his voice. “Now, I’ve finally reached you.”

You waited for Jae to pick up his words, but he didn’t, his microphone remaining by his side.

It was Dowoon’s melody that resonated within your soul. “I want to spend my future walking together with you. Baby you are where I wanna be...”

As his voice trailed off, you felt your heart melt in pride, but you weren’t expecting him to continue.

He no longer sang, and instead only spoke, taking the lyrics and making them more of his own. “Love, I believe that you are the best happy ending, for me. You will be—without a doubt—my last love story, so,” he hesitated, fingers unlacing from the microphone as a single hand reached below the table again, “so, love, please be my finale...”

A small box was retrieved, and placed in the centre of the table. Royal blue and veiled in velvet, it sat proudly in front of your shocked, stagnating mind, and simmered your thoughts into nothing but mush.

Dowoon discarded the microphone to an extended hand to his side, as he unclipped the box, revealing the promise inside.

Delicate, entwined silver threads that knotted into a nest for a pure jewel. Bright and vibrant, it reflected the fireflies above you, that seemed to immediately spin into life, crowning the two of you in celestial light. 

“...and marry me?”

Your words swam, weak and unintelligible in the gasps and whoops of sheer excitement. You didn’t know if you were already crying before you nodded, but they dripped from your jaw and clouded your vision from seeing his reaction at first.

You tried to dab at your eyes as carefully as possible with your shaking hands, to see his smile beaming in his halo, eyes taking in the sight of you.

He exhaled in laughter and relief, as the cheers erupted around the room, whilst he gently removed the ring from the box. 

You gave your hand to him as soon as you saw him move, trying to still your fingers quivering as well as your lips.

The chilled silver slipped over your skin as smoothly as silk, and you brought your free hand to your mouth as soon as a sob broke free.

Entwining his fingers with yours, he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too!” you choked, wishing you could just stop the tears. 

It cheered you up a bit to see you weren’t the only one, when you caught a glimpse of the rest of Day6 on the stage.

Younghyun was openly sobbing, a handkerchief pulled from his suit pocket wiping at his face every few seconds, as he whimpered into the microphone shamelessly. “That’s my boy, right there. He’s getting married, a-and—and—!”

Jae was blinking happily, a hand on Younghyun’s shoulder as he spoke to someone closer to the performing area. You couldn’t read his lips well, but it appeared he was denying something. Wiping at his cheek once, it became apparent what he was frantically refusing was happening.

You didn’t spot Wonpil immediately, as his head was completely hidden in Sungjin’s jacket, but the leader didn’t seem too mind much. He was grinning at the pair of you, before he sent you a thumbs up, eyes glinting in the fairy lights. 

You laughed, nodding in acknowledgement, slipping your other hand into Dowoon’s, and bringing them up to your lips.

“I love you so much,” you reiterated, “this was just... so beautiful and I’m so, so proud of you!”

“I...” he began, unable to quite find his words again.

His mother piped up from behind him, startling him, which you couldn’t help but giggle at. “He wanted to sing to you, so bad! And my son did it, my son did it so well!”

She placed a kiss upon his head, causing him to pout.

Music began to play over the speakers again, which Jae seemed to be playing karaoke to at the front, letting the other three off the stage to get some celebratory drinks. 

After a few congratulations from some of the guests, you managed to calm down slightly, instead showing your ring off to your friends who had gathered behind you.

Eventually, there was a brief gap in conversation with other people, as Sungjin announced the bar was open, and everyone began to make their way over there.

You and your fiance stood, and, hand-in-hand, headed through into the next room. People around you parted as you did so, allowing you the chance to brightly enquire, “Dowoon, baby, can I ask you something too?”

“Of course!” he replied, beautiful, deep eyes coming to gaze into yours. 

“How did you know the ring would fit me?”

He guffawed for a moment. “Well, we realised Jae’s fingers are the same size as yours.”

You choked on air, staring at your ring.

“WHAT?!”

~~~

AN: Sorry for the big break I’ve been heckin busy

English translations courtesy of LyricsKpop!

Hope you enjoyed!

.

Do yall like my refurbished masterlist? It isn’t up to date with all the fics on it yet oops lol but I think it’s pretty

Masterlist

[sergeanttpoliteness]

idk if you’re taking requests or anything, if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are I would die for a classic, upside down spider-man kiss with the loml spider-noir. poor guy would probably be very surprised at first but suddenly its his favorite thing to do. thanks I love you and your work!!

AND➝ mayhaps…. a first kiss with noir? if u have time! 

sorry for answering so late nonnies! i feel so bad about that, i promise i wasn’t ignoring y’all. same goes to the few other requests i have in my inbox right now! 

——-

➹ inconvenient feelings➹ (spider-noir x reader)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: can you tell i had no idea what to call this lol. i didn’t edit either bc… oof. i’ve been struggling a lot with writer’s block (nothing new, honestly lmaoo) lately and someone close to me recently passed away and i haven’t quite… been able to wrap my head around it?? i don’t know, not to be a little bitch but this week consisted of a lot of school stuff, emotions, and anxiety so thanks @ the people who requested this bc i needed to write some wholesome stuff. also thx at my bestie for helping me out w ideas, ily broz. anyway, there’s some minimum ripeter x reader although it’s solely platonic! hope you all have a lovely week (:

taglist: @marvelousmorales

It’s not convenient. Convenient was that one person with the pretty smile whose eyes seemed to possess an affinity to him that one time at a jazz club, or the singer with the honey voice and smooth runs more soothing than the late night singing of a mother to her child. A poor goon who smooched his fist whilst it collided with his face could even fit the designation, really— but what mattered, the simple component they shared, was that all three were just a speck in a sea with no end; an eternal blue void with only more possibilities hiding in the pitch-black depths neither he nor the light’s fingertips could touch. They were safe. Uncomplicated.

Peter stared out the window, at a completely distinct world, far from a city in a vintage film: the ongoing the mechanical song of speeding cars, the newer and taller lit up buildings, the blinking golden lights, identical to a field of a thousand miniscule suns. This was not convenient. It’s… so different— like day and night, water and fire. This meant to swim out of the ocean he belonged to and reach for a foreign land, to run after a mere drop of water when a whole fucking body existed behind him. It’s not safe. It’s complicated.

Your sleepy eyes roamed the same page for the fifth time with no precise purpose, more disoriented than a newcomer in a large city until they traveled and spotted their true destination: Peter’s own sight deeply engulfed in the view outside, the twisting of his brows every now and then filling your mind with wonder and curiosity at what could possibly be running through that brain of his. You could’ve continued with the ogling like the damn creep you were (seriously, you gotta stop it with that, you told yourself), but you slipped and made a mistake— the most laughably absurd misstep— worse than trying to take a picture of a stranger and then, to your utmost terror, the flash going off— which wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if you’d paid your electricity bills on time. Your apartment wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness, and you wouldn’t have, without thinking, your head clearly not in its right place at the moment, slightly tilted your phone and directed your phone’s flashlight right at the side of his face. You quickly pulled the beam of light away, as if that would work; however, his gaze drifted to you. “Sorry.” You blurted out, acting casual and pretending to focus on the journal on your lap. “You were so quiet, I thought you had fallen asleep.” You lied.

“No, I’m awake.” He said, furrowing his brows to himself— of course you already knew that. You mumbled a small ‘good’, holding the notebook close to your face, like a child staring through the window of a pet shop at some puppies, shining the ‘smartphone’, he’d learned, over the pages. You bit your lip, your shoulders shaking with your surfacing laughter.

“Oh, man, this one’s so dumb.” You snickered before running your finger up the paper, clearing your throat. “October 8th, 1999. Today I came back from my camping trip with Peter, Ben, and May. We ate a lot of s'mores— Uncle Ben makes the best! We also told some scary ghost stories, and I even made Pete scream. It was awesome. You will not believe what happened!” You read the last sentence with a dramatic tone, similar to that of a terrible news headline from a sketchy website, making yourself more comfortable on the L shaped bench seat and leaning into Peter’s side.

Peter tensed at first, but slowly, he pushed himself to relax after you rested your head on his shoulder, a quiet voice in the back of his head speaking against his desires, echoing the terrifying thought that he could get used to this. “I don’t know, enlighten me: what happened?” He asked, amused. You lifted your finger, eyebrows raising gradually, building up the suspense. He waited, and waited, and waited, until, finally—

“I have to go eat dinner. I’ll tell you later.” You finished with an unhumorous voice and a poker face. Yet again, he awaited in silence, interested. Man, you took this suspense thing quite seriously— wait.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?!” He looked down at you and you nodded. “Oh, c'mon! You just gonna leave the reader hanging like that?”

You shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin, loving his genuine disappointment as you flicked the page. “Sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

“Oh, what malarkey!” He laughed softly. You crinkled your nose— malarkey. What a dork.

You resumed scanning the barely discernible handwriting, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Alright, this one does have an ending.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders back only to go back to your position of hunching over the journal. “April 3rd, 2000. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I forgot I had this journal. Something crazy happened.”

“The end.”

“Shut up.” You shushed him, shaking your head. “'I hung out with Peter today. We rode our bikes, had a race down the hill near my house, and I also got a butterfly to land on my finger. Man, I love insects!’ …and I still do.” You smiled and he glanced down at you, his mouth twitching. A peculiar glow in his chest grew, fueled him after he recognized that you felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with him; an insight on the stories that carved you into the person that you were today, the being that made every classy, pearly white grin and musical prodigy so boring, so undesirable.

You shuffled on your bum to turn and face Peter, continuing, “We came back home to play some more. We were sitting in front of the TV when, suddenly, he said my name, and like a normal person would, I looked at him…” You inclined forward, voice quieting, looking up at him.

“You won’t believe what happened.”

His eyes darted heavenward and he groaned. “Oh, lord.”

“He kissed me!” You cried out, with as much emotion that past you spilled onto the paper with the five exclamation marks and the three times you underlined the sentence. You slammed the notebook shut and let out a strangled clamor. “I still remember it very clearly. It was just a peck, but he fucking… smashed his mouth into mine, it hurt so much and my lip started bleeding and everything.” You giggled, abashed, rubbing your eyes.

Peter’s brows rose with surprise, pondering how an alternate seven-year-old version of him from another universe had more balls than him. He had to admit, though, the scene playing in his head was more entertaining than unfortunate. “And what’d you do?” He questioned, his mouth twitching.

“He was just curious and wanted to see what kissing someone was like, so we promised we wouldn’t talk about it ever again. He was so embarrassed, though, and felt so bad for making me bleed that he almost started crying.” You recalled, chuckling as you eyed the cursed diary one last time and placed it beside you. “What an idiot. I miss him.” You sighed, peering up at him, grinning. “What was your first kiss like, huh?”

It was comical, almost, the raging blush that trickled his face, the greyish tint screaming for the world’s attention. It was just a Peter Parker thing, you guessed: blushing like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, my first kiss?” You nodded. “Well… it happened when I was eighteen.”

You put the side of your head against the wall, eyes going round, your inquisitiveness close to that of a kid listening to a grandparent’s story. “Was it romantic?” You wanted to know everything: who the person was, the place, the context. Did he enjoy it? Did he make the move? And if so, then was there a chance that, maybe…

Unlike you, he did not have much interest in the subject; he stuttered, searching for a way to move on from the memory before he imploded. “I don’t, I don’t think anyone’s first kiss is romantic.”

You squinted at him, noticing his obvious attempt at dodging the question, but chose to spare him. Just for a few milliseconds, though. “Have you ever had… a perfect kiss?” You said, unsure of how to word such a silly question. He shook his head and you hummed, silently taking in a quick breath, your gaze moving to your right. “Have you thought about what you want it to be like?”

Should he say it? He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t, even if his eyes almost flickered down to your lips. “Who thinks about that?” He muttered. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been guilty of having the thought slither into his mind once or twice— possibly more than just that. Perhaps it’d pestered his mind as of recent, like that damn small scratch on his glasses that won’t go away no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away as if that would even help. Perhaps it returned as you unconsciously licked your lips and raised your shoulder, a bashful grin growing on your face.

“I have, when I’m bored. An upside down kiss with a cute guy.” You admitted, your eyes narrowing afterward, only just now realizing how bizarre the idea was once you said it aloud. Your impatience throbbed in your head so badly you didn’t mind the embarrassment as much, though. You really were doing this, huh? “I think I found the cute guy.” You hinted, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

He understood the insinuation, of course he did. But what better way to run from your feelings than close his trembling hand into a fist, pretend to be clueless, and act like an idiot?

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

Didn’t think he was so stupid, you grumbled in your head, masking your faint irritation. You pressed your lips together, sight on your cushions. “Someone I like quite a lot.” You vaguely said, voice distant. “Though I don’t think you’d understand— you’re not one to fall in love, no?”

It was half a joke but half a real question, one with solely one right answer you yearned to hear from him if you got lucky enough. Peter blinked nervously, fear burning in his stomach, clenching his insides as his tongue dared to break free from his control, from his cowardly spell. “Lately I’ve had someone in mind.” He breathed out, close to breaking out in a sweat. He watched how your eyes dimly lit up, hesitance impeding the light from fully glowing.

“Really? And who is this ‘someone’?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now.” He gulped. You pouted, begging with your eyes. “N-no.”

“Are you ever gonna make a move?”

Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, feeling dizzy just by thinking about it; the downfall of the relationship once the distance became too much, once the malaise with no cure finally rotted the adoration, infested the heart, decayed it. “No.” Same answer. Same bedeviled word that boomed in his head whenever his emotions were close to getting the best of him.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” You whispered, not caring anymore about how obvious you were

being. He frowned. Why hadn’t he done it yet?

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?”

Why not? His own thoughts repeated, betraying him. The confusion unlatched the cage, released all the questions and doubts about his reasons and dread. They crowded his brain, rang in his ears. “It’s… it’d be too hard to keep the relationship alive.” He retold more to himself and the storm of interrogations than you.

Your brows snapped together, your own fear knocking on the door again. “Is it not worth it to try, though?” It’s what you’d told yourself: the antidote to unfreeze your limbs and wave goodbye at the concern hanging in there, because… was it not?

In the overwhelming haziness, he finally looked at you. It’s what he needed to come upon a realization, a truth he knew all along but crumbled and threw away. Everything hushed, one single, final phrase in the quiet of it all.

Convenient wasn’t what he wanted.

“It is.” He said under his breath.

You heard him, and your eyes twinkled. “Well, then make the move.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. His eyes found your lips.

“I will.”

You stared at each other for a moment, anticipation never more warming than right then as it fluttered in your chest. To your biggest disappointment, he broke eye contact and stood up. “Close your eyes for a moment.” He ordered, his face indistinguishable in the dark now that he was further away.

“Creepy, but okay.” You huffed, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You better not be running away right now, you’d break my poor ol’ heart.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the case.” You heard him say. You trusted him, which could’ve been a terrible choice. The total silence that followed didn’t put you to ease at all, honestly. Maybe you annoyed him so much with your questions that he was about to murder you, and if that’s what was happening, you were quite sad, to say the least.

Your eyelids were itching to open and you lifted a brow, straining your ears to distinguish any sign of his presence. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re not gonna believe what’s about to happen.”

You snorted at his reference, but his voice was… oddly close. You opened your eyes, and— “Oh, fuck!” You yelped and jumped back in your seat. Damn right you weren’t gonna believe what was about to happen, for Peter dangled from the ceiling right in front of you, upside down.

“Is it too much of a strange idea? I was going to simply stick to the ceiling upside down, but then I thought… that’d be… worse.” He clumsily explained. You looked up at the web he hung from, laughing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” You repeated, but you weren’t mad— your large smile backed that up. You couldn’t figure out if it was a blush creeping up his face or if it was from the fact that he was upside down. Both, maybe.

“I’m making a move.”

You giggled, glad you confessed what you considered to be a perfect type of kiss to him or else you wouldn’t had witnessed how absolutely ridiculous he looked right now. “So you’re willing to help me check 'kissing someone upside down’ off my bucket list?” You smirked.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

You bit your lip, placing both hands on his head. “Alright, then.“ 

You leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin. You softly kissed the area below his bottom lip to tease him, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Not after so long. Quickly, he enclosed your own bottom lip with his mouth, lastly fully aware that inconvenient truly was magnificent.