#even the light version of the south here feels so very bright. I can only imagine summers in the high north <33

[pumpking64]

oh these scandinavian summers, with their endless light that doesn’t even leave the sky during the gentle night — at the same time exhausting yet filled with hope and comfort

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

And Now, Forever, I Know (All That I Wanted Was to Hold You)

A longer version of this snippet that I reblogged to @cwritesfiction 's snippet prompt. I listened to the songs For the Dancing and the Dreaming (From HTTYD), So Close (From Enchanted), and Kingdom Dance (From Tangled) on loop while writing this bit- in case you couldn't tell. Very satisfied with how this turned out.

Wordcount: 1064

Warnings: none, just pure fluff and sweetness for this one <3

Set during Book 6 - Sleeping Beauty's Bodyguard, Draft 0, Character and Dynamic Exploration for Raven and Sapphire

“Please?” Sapphire said, “It said on the town bulletin that everyone is invited, including visitors to Estonia.”

Raven folded his arms, standing his ground. “It’s too exposed, too dangerous.”

Sapphire pouted. “You never let me do anything fun.” She muttered, “You’re just like my parents…”

His heart panged as a lump formed in his throat. Hallyusus. Damn it. She was hurt and it was his fault and he hated it. 

Raven closed his eyes, praying to the gods. He was going to regret this.

“Alright, fine-” He sighed, and her face lit up like fireflies in the summer, “But!” He held up a hand. “The second it goes south or there’s danger, we leave. Deal?”

She nodded excitedly. She looked at their clothes, worn and dirty from travel. “We’re gonna need clean clothes.”

Raven let out a small groan. They were already flirting with danger. “Alright, we’ll check the shops in town tomorrow before the wedding, I’m sure a lot of people will be looking for clothes to wear at the wedding anyway, so we’ll blend in somewhat…”

The next day they found clothes appropriate for the event, Sapphire in a simple but elegant dress that showed off the freckles on her shoulders. It was light brown- similar to the spring coat of a doe in the forest, with silver thread along the seams. The dress fell at her ankles, and the fabric was shining and soft, with a large skirt that flared out when she twirled. 

He got some new black trousers and a dark gray shirt that fell open slightly, exposing his chest a bit. He got a new cloak as well, because what the hell? And he needed a way to hide his sword anyway- no way he was leaving that behind.

That evening, the happy couple was wed. As was custom, only the happy couple wore bright colors adorned with gold accessories- while everyone else was in natural grays, browns, whites, and blacks with silver accessories. The next day at the ceremony afterparty, the whole town and all the visitors danced the day away.

Well, everyone else did, while Raven stood off to the side. With an untouched drink in hand, he watched carefully. He watched the wedding guests for anything suspicious, he checked over his shoulder constantly, and he checked whenever someone danced a little too close to the princess. 

He also just- didn’t know what to do, really. He folded his arms awkwardly, shifting his feet constantly, and tried not to look at anyone. What was normal behavior here? He had no clue and it was driving him insane.

Sapphire came over to him, bouncing excitedly. Someone had made her a flower crown of soft pink azaleas, sitting atop her fiery hair. She had to hold a hand to the flowers to keep them on. “Come on!”

Raven’s eyes widened, and motioned ‘No’ in every way he knew how. “No, no, no- I don’t- I have to make sure-”

“Stop worrying and have fun, for once in your life!” She said, setting his drink on a nearby table, and took both his hands in hers. Then she pulled him into the swirl of dancing.

She pulled him behind her, weaving in and out until they were near the center at the fountain. 

His body tensed, trying to figure out what to do. “I don’t-” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t know how to dance…”

“That’s alright!” She said, taking one of his hands, “I can show you.”

“Sapph-”

“Come on! It’s easy!”

“There’s no way on Hallya’s green earth that this is easy.”

“Yes it is! You just move your body with the music, dance how you feel!”

“Dance what you- WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

Sapphire grabbed his hand, used her other hand to swing around her skirt, and said, “You can follow my lead if you want!”

He tried, but his body was too disconnected and he kept fumbling.

“Here!” She said, and lifted one of his arms over his head- spinning him around. He almost spun out of control, but their hands were still connected and she pulled him back. She spun into his arms, leaning back, then spun out of them.

Sapphire continued to spin and bounce in time to the music, and Raven desperately tried to keep up. Finally, he knew one thing he did want to do, and acted on it.

He lifted her arm over her head, spinning her around, then picked her up- hands on her hips and her feet leaving the ground as they both spun around.

Her face lit up the brightest he’d ever seen it, and she was laughing. He spun around one more time, bringing her gracefully back to the ground.

Dizziness hit him, and he almost fell into the fountain- but Sapphire pulled him back, laughing.

They crashed into each other, almost falling over- but she was giggling and Raven found himself almost laughing too. A huge smile- it must’ve been the biggest, purest one of his life- was growing, and he was too excited to stop it as his heart soared.

The band’s jubilant and bouncy music slowed. Everyone on the dance floor was exhausted, and happy to switch to a slower song, gently swaying along to the music.

Sapphire fit almost perfectly against his chest, her nose coming up to his chin, and rested her head on his shoulder with a dreamy sigh.

Her father would rage if he knew how close and how lovingly Raven was holding Sapphire right now- but honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care. No one who knew who they were was here to see it anyway.

So he let himself hold her a little tighter, leaning his head on her’s.

They stayed like that until the music got fast again- they were both too tired to keep going, and made their way out of the flurry of dancing townsfolk. They found vacant chairs by a table, and crashed.

It wasn’t long before other guests started to tire as well. Everyone wished the happy couple well, gave any last gifts, and then everyone went home to rest.

Raven and Sapphire went out to a field behind the village. While the horses grazed, he guided her through another daisy chain, and she was able to make a half-way decent one without crushing the delicate flowers.

[viastro]

two missions [REMAKE] | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: in which you and jeonghan go on an undercover mission to a gala to get info on one of south korea’s largest drug cartels.

ミ★ genre: undercover agents!jeonghan and reader, previous assassins!jeonghan and reader, humor, some fluff, some suspense 

ミ★ warnings: spiked drinks, mentions of drugs, implications of murder, slightly suggestive

ミ★ word count: 6,469

ミ★ pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! in honor of my one year here on tumblr, i decided to remake my very first oneshot. i was originally planning to just delete the previous version of two missions, but it’s the first oneshot i posted and i feel like that makes it have some value. i will not be linking the original as i actually dislike it a lot so AJKGBRK i tried to make this more inclusive than it used to be as i feel that was a big problem in the first version, so i hope you guys enjoy this! happy one year of viastro !!

“So you’re telling me that your next mission is to be Jeonghan’s wife again? How do you survive when you have a raging crush on the man...” Mingyu whispers rather loudly through his mouthful of french fries. You immediately turn to glare at your pretty friend, smacking his arm. “Bitch! Why would you say that so loud? While you’re still chewing your fries no less.”

Mingyu giggles in response, putting a fry into your mouth to try and calm you down. You chew it nervously, glancing over at Jeonghan talking to one of your coworkers as they stare up at the menu. Your heart pounds against your chest as your eyes trail over him. His blue dress shirt is tucked into black slacks, and you take notice of his new undercut.

“I honestly don’t know how I survive. The time he slept at my apartment? I almost fucking died because of how nervous I was. My heart stutters whenever he smiles at me, I don’t know why Cheol keeps making me be his partner on our undercover operations.” You mutter absentmindedly, watching as he tilts his head while he tries to decide what to order. Mingyu rolls his eyes, now slapping your shoulder, making you let out a whine.

“Ow!”

“You know exactly why Cheol keeps pairing up the two of you. Not only because he knows of your little crush, but the two of you were both assassins before you became secret agents. Not to mention the fact that you look good together. That’s why Cheol makes you both a married couple whenever the operation calls for it.” Mingyu explains, and you purse your lips, turning back towards Jeonghan.

Jeonghan was transferred to your department last year, and the first time the two of you met was rather humiliating to say the least as you’ve never seen a man as beautiful as him. Not to say that your coworkers aren’t pretty, but Jeonghan was the only one to make your normally composed demeanor crumble. Mingyu still likes to make fun of you for it to this day.

“Everyone, this is Yoon Jeonghan. He’s the new recruit in our team, used to be a trained assassin but now he’s with us. He’s one of our strongest next to yn.” Seungcheol announces, eyes trailing over the eleven guys, squinting when he doesn’t find you among the crowd.

“Where’s yn?”

Joshua points towards the restrooms, “Yn went to the bathroom, you know how she always flosses after lunch.”

Seungcheol sighs, knowing very well how much you care about your dental hygiene. He’s about to dismiss everyone when the door to the bathroom shuts, and everyone turns to glance at you.

“Guys, we can’t ever have jajangmyeon for lunch again. Do you know how many times I just had to brush my teeth? Because it wasn’t pleasant-”

“Yn.”

“No, Cheol. You have to hear this cause I know how much you enjoy your jajangmyeon. Also, we have to talk about using the mini before you go spray bottles I got each of you for Christmas because I’m sick and tired of walking into the restroom just to have it smell like absolute as-'' You halt your movements when you finally look up from the floor, only to lock eyes with the most ethereal man you’ve ever seen in your life. His blonde hair is parted down the middle, falling a bit past his sharp eyes. His cheekbones are prominent, pairing well with his delicate nose and lips. He’s sporting an amused smile, and you audibly gulp at the sight.

“Yn, this is Yoon Jeonghan. He’s the new recruit.” Seungcheol introduces, holding back his own laughter at how shellshocked you appear. You realize that the rest of your coworkers are also trying to keep their composure due to their shaking shoulders, but you continue to stare at the angel in awe. Jeonghan finally raises his hand up and waves,

“Hi.”

You smile awkwardly and wave back, before hurrying over to Minghao and hiding behind him and Jun. You hear the two begin to snicker, and you slap their backs, feeling warmth flood your face.

“This is fucking humiliating.”

You find yourself smiling subconsciously when Jeonghan laughs at something Eunhee said, heart warm from the angelic sound. Jeonghan feels a pair of eyes on him, and he turns his head, only to lock eyes with you. Your breath hitches and you immediately turn away and rest your forehead onto Mingyu’s shoulder, making the latter laugh as he waves towards Jeonghan.

Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrow a bit at the affectionate gesture, but grins and waves back at Mingyu when the tall man greets him. His attention is demanded once he hears his order being called, and he turns back to the counter, attention suddenly focused solely on filling his empty stomach.

“You know you’re just humiliating yourself by avoiding eye contact each time he catches your eye, right?” Mingyu asks through his smile, and you squeeze your eyes shut, knowing that it’s true.

“Shut your whore mouth.”

“That was unprovoked?!”

You lift your head up once you hear the door open, catching Jeonghan leaving the McDonalds with Eunhee. “He’s so pretty I just never know how to act when we’re not on a mission.”

Mingyu chuckles and rolls his eyes, “How are you gonna survive tomorrow night this time, yn?”

You glance at the door Jeonghan just walked out of, sighing to yourself.

“I won’t.”

“You look so good!” Seulgi squeals as you step out of the stall of the restroom. You grin shyly, fixing the gun holster on your right thigh as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “Thanks for doing my makeup Seulgi, this is so much better than anything I could’ve done.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“Pfft, it was no biggie. I’m glad you asked for my help instead of Hyoon, honestly. Her makeup can be scary sometimes. I’ve been meaning to tell her that her eyeliner should at least touch the outer corner of her eye…” Seulgi trails off at the thought of Hyoon’s poor decisions in makeup. You giggle at her antics, before turning back to the mirror to look at yourself.

You eye the sheer corset of the top of the dress, trailing down towards the high slit of the silk emerald green skirt. You tilt your head to the side, adjusting the gun strapped to your thigh so that it won’t be seen. The bright crystal under each of your eyes reflects as it catches the light, and you let out a smile at the sight, thinking this might be too over the top for the gala.

“You know Seulgi, this is a mission to get more information on a drug lord. Don’t you think this is too much?” You ask, gesturing to your whole get up, putting a pause to Seulgi’s rant about Hyoon’s poor makeup decisions. Your friend smirks at you, causing you to raise an eyebrow at her.

“There’s actually two missions, yn.” You squint at her, and she narrows her eyes back at you.

You watch as Seulgi’s eyes brighten when a smile forms on her face, and she raises her arms up in the air. “To seduce Jeonghan so that the two of you will finally go on a date!”

You roll your eyes, shoving her slightly, causing Seulgi to let out a laugh. You open your mouth to tell her that she’s crazy, only to hear your phone beep in your clutch. Taking out the cool metal, you turn on your screen to find a text from Jeonghan.

“Ooo~ it's loverboy.”

“Shut your whore mouth.”

“You gotta stop saying that, yn.”

jeonghan: yn, i’m ready to go when you are. are you in the restroom on the eighth floor ?

you: yes i am !

jeonghan: okay i’ll be right there :)

Jeonghan puts his phone in his suit pocket, turning to glance at himself one more time. His emerald green blazer is over his velvet black turtleneck, paired with fitted black slacks. He eyes the silver necklace around his neck, looking at the charm that holds the tiny camera. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a puff of air before leaving the restroom, heading towards the bathroom you’re at.

He turns the corner, seeing Seulgi walk out of the bathroom. He’s about to wave at her before he sees you step out and jesus fucking christ are those crystals under your eyes?

You’re giggling at something Seulgi said as you make sure your earring is on properly. Once you’re sure it’s secure, you turn your head, only to lock eyes with Jeonghan. You feel heat rush to your face as you take in Jeonghan’s appearance, finding him to be even more attractive than usual.

lord, i am not your strongest soldier.

“Hi.” You greet after a moment of silence passes between you three, and Jeonghan blinks out of his awed state, making you smile wider.

“You look beautiful.” Jeonghan blurts out, only to immediately turn away and bite his fist when he realizes he didn’t even return your greeting. Your eyes widen slightly, and you look down at the floor as warmth floods your face.

“Jesus Christ, just make out already. I’m taking my leave, I feel weird.” Seulgi announces, simultaneously making you and Jeonghan’s faces incredibly warm. She lets out a small, worried smile, “Make sure to be safe tonight guys, the target is at the top of the Cheol’s list for a reason.” Seulgi says, making sure to point at the both of you.

Jeonghan and you look up, giving your pretty coworker a thumbs up and saying you’ll be fine. Seulgi shakes her head a bit more urgently this time, and grasps your hand.

“I’m serious! This guy has eyes and ears everywhere, you have to make sure you’re at the top of your A-game. Look real husband and wifey, yn’s real identity is still unknown in this world of undercover agents and no one knows that Jeonghan joined hands with Seungcheol! Don’t mess up. I love you yn, you too Jeonghan.” You nod, making sure to look more determined. Jeonghan nods his head as well, giving Seulgi a thumbs up. She smiles softly, before finally walking off.

“Well, are you ready?” Jeonghan turns to ask you, and you glance at him. You take notice of the caramel colored eye contacts he has on, feeling yourself get lost in them as you nod your head.

“Let’s bust down this joint.” You say once you turn away, mustering the most determined look you can. Jeonghan chuckles into the back of his hand with a quiet, “So cute.”

“You make sure you stay beside me at all times yn. I know you’re fully capable of protecting yourself, as am I, but we work best when we’re together, okay?” Jeonghan tells you in the backseat of the SUV, staring at your gold dangly earring against your complexion.

she’s so pretty I can't believe this.

“You’re right. We should come up with a game plan though. What do we do if we end up having to be separated to learn more info? Or one of us gets caught, what happens then?” You ask, glancing up and finding the driver biting his lip nervously as he drives.

“Mingyu, I’ll be fine.” You say softly, and your friend stops biting his lip, only for a frown to take over his face. You let out a soft smile, before turning to look back at Jeonghan, who is still staring at your earring(?)

“Is there something wrong with my earrin-”

“We shouldn’t have to end up being separated, but if we do, make sure that the other is always in the other's peripheral vision. If you could, stay within an arm's distance.” Jeonghan cuts you off, snapping out of his mini trance in which he hopes you didn’t notice him blatantly ogling you. You nod slowly before he adds, “And neither of us will get caught. We’ll be okay yn.”

“We’re here.” Mingyu says from the front and you and Jeonghan glance out the car window to see that you’ve arrived at the hotel. You give Mingyu a reassuring smile, muttering, “We’ll be okay. I’ll see you later.” Before turning to find Jeonghan already stepped out of the vehicle, hand outstretched towards you. You smile and take a hold of it, letting him help you out of the expensive car. He flashes you a grin as you both head inside.

The walls are practically dripping in gold, and you find yourself in a slight trance at the sight of it. While you may have had many missions by this point, your reaction to these types of events has always been the same. You could never get used to the views you’ve seen.

Jeonghan glances over at you, letting a fond smile take over his face as he notices the look of pure awe on your face. Your mouth is slightly open as you let your eyes wander a bit, before remembering what you’re here for, promptly regaining your composure. Jeonghan turns his head to face forward, seeing the security check. You smirk slightly when Jeonghan hands them the fake invitation from his blazer pocket. The guards give the two of you a bow, letting you enter the gala after Jeonghan gets a quick pat down.

“You’re not armed right now?” You ask him in a small voice, eyebrow raised as you look at him. He lets out a sly grin, squeezing your hand.

“I snuck it past him, don't worry sweetheart- Hello!” Jeonghan quickly changes the subject as he greets an older couple. You let out a smile when you lock eyes with the target, letting Jeonghan take you over to their table. The couple smiles at the two of you, and you both bow before continuing to greet them.

“Hello Daehyun, how have you been?” Jeonghan asks the older fellow and he grins, “Business has been a bit slow as of recently, but it should pick up soon. I hired some new runners and I think their looks will persuade the customers to buy more. How about you? How’s business”

Jeonghan and the older couple begin some small talk while you glance around the room. You notice a few brooding looking characters at the table near the dance floor, staring at the female and male waitresses handing out drink assortments to all the guests.

“So, yn. Has Jeonghan here been a lot to handle?” Haeun asks you mid-thought, and you turn to glance at the older lady. Her hair has a few strands of white, but other than a couple wrinkles you wouldn’t be able to tell that she’s reaching the age of 68. You also wouldn’t be able to tell that this couple owns one of the biggest underground drug cartels in South Korea either, but that’s a problem you’ll take care of in a bit.

You giggle before shaking your head no, reciting the fake life you and Jeonghan had to memorize. You both quite literally had flashcards, quizzing each other on these fake identities and quirks you both have. He ended up crashing at your place that night since you both studied until 3 am. Mingyu and Minghao teased you later on about how that was basically a date, it took two weeks for them to quiet down on that matter.

“Would any of you like wine?” A waiter comes up to ask, and you turn your head to look at him. You see Daehyun and Haeun reach out for a glass, but the waiter maintains eye contact with you specifically. You notice something flash through his eyes for a second, and you raise an eyebrow. His lips quirk up in a small smirk, to which Jeonghan shakes his head.

“My wife and I would not be interested in a glass of wine.” Jeonghan answers with a sense of finality, his tone laced with a bit of venom that only someone who’s known him long enough would be able to tell. The waiter lets out a grin, bowing his head before stalking off to the next table. Jeonghan turns to look at you, and you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yn, would you please accompany me to the bar? That waiter gave me a horrible glass of wine. I quite literally can’t swallow it down.” Haeun requests, and Jeonghan immediately intervenes.

“I’ll accompany you Haeun-” She raises up her hand, cutting Jeonghan off.

“I want to get to know yn. You boys keep talking about… boy stuff and I’m bored. It’s time for a girl chat.” Jeonghan looks at you and you send him a reassuring smile, patting his arm as a way to say, I’m okay.

“Well, alright then.” Jeonghan agrees hesitantly. He grabs your arm before you go, leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Remember what we talked about in the car. If you need me just shoot me a glance, I have a clear view of you from the bar.” He moves back, kissing your cheek and giving you a warm smile.

Your heart stutters in your chest, and it takes a moment for you to smile back at him, remembering that you’re in the middle of a mission right now. However,

he-he just SMOOCHED MY CHEEK.

“You lovebirds are still in that honeymoon phase, huh?” Haeun asks as you both walk towards the bar. You grasp your face since you feel your cheeks getting warmer, and she laughs at your reaction as you both reach the bar.

“I’ll have a glass of Moët & Chandon.” Haeun tells the bartender as she takes a seat on the high chair.

You take the seat beside her and glance over at Jeonghan who is chuckling at something Daehyun said. His eyes lock with yours and he raises an eyebrow at you, to which you simply shrug back in response. He smiles before turning back to Daehyun. You look around a bit more before Haeun gets your attention.

“You know yn, I really love your dress. I remember when I was younger I wore that type of dress except it was a dark purple.”

“That must’ve looked so pretty on you Haeun. Do you have any pictures?” You ask and she sighs, shaking her head no.

“I wish I had some on me, they’re probably somewhere at home if you and Jeonghan would like to visit.” You simply smile as a response, knowing damn well you’d never attempt to go to their house.

“Your Moët & Chandon, and here is your Laurent-Perrier.” He hands Haeun her drink, while also handing you a glass. You raise an eyebrow at the beverage in your hand, “I didn’t order anything?” You tell him confusedly.

“On the house.” He answers with a charming smile, before turning around and walking to the other side of the bar.

“Well, thank you?” You say quietly, voice turning up at the end as if it’s a question. Haeun looks between you and the glass of champagne, before letting out a small chuckle.

“I’m taking that out of his paycheck.” Haeun jokes, and you grin in response. You turn your head to look over to the other end of the bar, finding the man making drinks for another couple.

strange.

“Surprised he didn’t see the ring on your finger though, it’s huge.” Haeun points out, distracting you from through thoughts. You chuckle, and take a glance at your left hand. The diamond glimmers back at you and you smile at it.

if only it were real, you think to yourself as you take a sip of the drink, finding yourself surprised at how light it tastes.

“This is actually really nice, he has good taste.” You say, gesturing over to the bartender, to which Haeun simply flashes you a close-lipped smile. What you are unable to notice as you continue to take sips of the alcohol, is the malicious intent behind the old woman’s smile.

“Where are we going?” You ask groggily.

you really don’t feel good.

“To the restroom dear, I think you need to wash up a bit.” Haeun responds, hand pressed to the small of your back. She guides you to another hallway that you haven’t seen yet, and you find yourself even more confused.

“W-What did you do to me?” You ask, trying to push the old woman away, but you’re so weak that Haeun doesn’t even stumble. She doesn’t respond, continuing to drag your limp body down the hallway.

You enter a room that doesn’t resemble a bathroom at all. The room has dim lighting, there’s only a couch and a drink cart. It doesn't match the rest of the gala at all. You pout when Haeun sets you down on the sofa. She pulls out her phone and you cock your head to the side.

“This isn’t a bathroom.”

Haeun smiles at you, placing her phone back into her pouch. She reaches out and grabs your chin harshly, making you wince slightly.

“You think I wouldn’t know who you are, yn yln? Or should I say, Dahlia?” Your blood runs cold when not only your real name is spoken, but your alias as well. You stare up into her eyes, finding a dark smile on her face. “I can’t believe Jeonghan fell for your deceit. I imagine he’ll be heartbroken when you disappear, but alas. He’s a handsome man, he’ll find someone else.”

Haeun lets go of your chin, and pats your head before turning and preparing to walk out of the room. You stand up after her, but quickly stumble and fall to the floor. Groaning, you lay there for a moment as you try to force yourself to sober up.

“What are you going to do to me?” You slur out, and Haeun simply sends you a cold smile as she begins to close the door.

“You’ll find out.”

You lay on the floor for a few minutes, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them to try and fight whatever is in your system. You let out a groan, wondering how you could be so stupid to accept a drink on a mission. Your internal self hatred ends when the door opens, gaining your attention.

“Well, what a sight this is.” You look up to see one of the guys from the table you glanced at earlier in the night. Your vision turns fuzzy as he helps you up off the ground and places you on the sofa, both of his hands remaining on your shoulders.

“My, my, my. What a pretty thing you are. Tragic that you have to die.” He mutters, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“No.” You whisper, reaching up to move his hand away but he only catches it, pressing a kiss to the back of your wrist. You try and snatch it back but your body won’t let you move as strongly as you’d want.

“Any last words, pretty?” He asks, stroking your cheek. Flinching back in disgust, you finally manage to push his hand away, reaching through the slit of your dress to grab the gun.

“Oh? This is a surprise-”

He’s cut off once you kick him in the crotch with as much strength as you can manage, which isn’t much by the way, and he screeches at the impact of your heel. You stand up, wobbling a bit, before pointing the gun at his head.

“I may h-have gotten drugged. However, I won’t hesitate to shoot you in your goddamn ugly face if you touch me again.” You threaten, tone ice cold as you hit him with the butt of your gun. He immediately falls back, muttering obscenities at you due to the pain in his head. You make your move to escape, taking an abnormally long time to unlock the door. However, once you do, you wobble down the hallway, putting the gun back into its holster.

You know that in your current state, you won’t be able to escape the man if you don’t find Jeonghan. You only have a few minutes to get back to the main gala, but you can only hope that Jeonghan is already trying to find you.

“Jeonghan, please help me.”

Jeonghan is in a state of panic. He looked around for you when he realized you were no longer at the bar, excusing himself from his conversation with the target to search for you. He walks into the middle of the dance floor, pushing past the couples who are dancing. He doesn’t care about the mission anymore, all he wants is to find you.

yn, where did you go?

Jeonghan turns his head to see Haeun laugh with a group of men, feeling his breath hitch when he realizes you’re not with her. His instincts kick in, and he dashes towards the restrooms, opening the door to the women’s bathroom.

“YN! YN!?!” When no response from you comes, he curses, running out and going to another hallway.

You stumble, grabbing your head as you walk with your hand holding the wall. Your head is pounding and you want nothing more than to just lay down on the floor and sleep. You look around, seeing the color gold surrounding your vision and it makes you want to throw up. Groaning, you attempt to walk faster but it feels like you’re in quicksand.

“HEY!” The guy’s voice resonates through the hall, and you feel panic settle in as you try your best to walk faster. You hear the sound of running feet and you reach for your gun, only to hear a second pair of footsteps. You hear a grunt and the sound of two bodies colliding onto the floor. You turn towards the sound, seeing a head of midnight black hair hovering over the guy from earlier.

“Leave her the fuck alone Gwan, she’s mine.” Jeonghan growls, hand wrapped around the other’s throat. The man looks into Jeonghan’s eyes with a mix of fear and hatred, “She’s not yours Jeonghan. You’re not fucking married last I heard-”

Jeonghan lifts up his left hand, the gold of his wedding band shining brightly back at the piece of shit. The man’s eyes widen, and they practically bulge out as Jeonghan's grip on Gwan’s throat tightens.

“That’s my fucking wife. Know your place, Gwan. You know what I’m capable of, I can kill you in a heartbeat. You wouldn’t have the time to blink and your neck would be snapped.” Jeonghan hisses and the man coughs.

“I was just doing what Haeun told me to do.” Gwan wheezes out, and the black haired beauty bites the inside of his cheek. After a moment, Jeonghan lets go and gets off the man. Gwan stands up and sucks in a deep breath, face bright red from the lack of air. Jeonghan points at the man with dark eyes, “You tell Haeun none of this, I’ll handle her later.”

Gwan does nothing but nod, before running down the hallway. Once he turns the corner, Jeonghan turns his head to see you passed out on the floor. His eyes widen and he runs over to you. Kneeling down to check your pulse, a wave of relief washes over him once he feels your heartbeat respond back to him. Jeonghan reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, sending a text to Mingyu that he found you and needs him to come pick you both up at the west entrance.

“Yn… I’m so sorry.” He whispers to your sleeping form, furrow to his brow as he thinks of how anxious you must’ve felt. He reaches out and softly pats your head, wishing he was paying more attention to you so that this whole ordeal could’ve been avoided.

“Alright yn, I’m gonna have to carry you outta here. I hope that’s okay.” Jeonghan says to your sleeping form, placing an arm under your knees and another arm under your upper body. He lifts you up, and walks towards the west exit.

You open your eyes, only to shut them right away once the pounding migraine registers in your head. You let out a groan, rolling over and grabbing your pillow to cover your face. You sigh,

so comfy. i love my bed it smells so nice-

Pause.

You sit right back up, eyes wide open as you take in your surroundings. You’re in your apartment, but how in the hell did you get here? You do another double take once you realize you’re no longer in your dress, but in your Pikachu pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” You mumble, climbing out of bed to go and grab acetaminophen from your kitchen cabinet to ease your pounding brain. You step out of your room, rubbing the back of your neck as you walk towards the kitchen. Still a bit sleepy, you reach up into the cabinet to grab some medicine, only to halt your movements.

Acetaminophen in hand, you step backwards out of the kitchen and glance over towards your living room, only for your eyes to widen when you see the head of black hair laying on your couch.

“Jeonghan?!” You gasp and he stirs in his sleep, rolling over to lay on his side. You immediately cover your mouth with your hands, as if it would erase the fact that you practically just yelled the man’s name.

“What the fuck happened last night?” You whisper to yourself as you back up into the kitchen once again. You lean against the counter, taking the medicine and drinking water to swallow it down as you try to think about the events that occurred the night before.

You went to the gala with Jeonghan and almost peed your pants because of how handsome he looked. Then the two of you met with the target and Haeun later took you to the bar. You ended up receiving a drink from the bartender for free, and then you vaguely remember holding a gun towards the man’s head?

“Holy shit. Did I get drunk and beat up a man?” You mutter to yourself, tilting your head as you try your best to remember last night’s events. You purse your lips with the knowledge that you’re not a lightweight. “I only remember having one glass though, so how could I have gotten drunk-”

“Your drink was spiked, yn.” You squeak from the sudden deep voice beside you, only to groan from the throbbing getting stronger in your head. Jeonghan gives you a small smile, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

He’s wearing the white t-shirt and gray sweats that Mingyu left at your house from the numerous times he’s fallen asleep on your couch. It’s a bit baggy on Jeonghan since Mingyu is tall, but it suits him so well. How does he manage to look so good in everything?

Wait.

“I was-I was what?” You’re absolutely dumbfounded at his statement.

“Haeun found out who you were. She thought you were tricking me so that you could make an arrest, as no one knows that I’ve joined hands with Cheol. You retired from being an assassin long before me, so Cheol thought no one would remember you. He was wrong.” Jeonghan explains, reaching out and swiping away the dried drool at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. Warmth immediately floods your face from the contact, and you glance down at your feet. “Minghao and Joshua took care of it this morning, so they won’t be coming for you anymore.”

You stay quiet for a moment, wondering how it was possible that Haeun could’ve figured out your true identity. In your years of being a secret agent, no one has been able to discover who you were. Even when you were an assassin, you never showed your face or used your real name.

So how did Haeun know?

“Seungcheol is already trying to find out how Haeun knew who you were.” Jeonghan answers, seeming to have read your thoughts due to the worried expression on your face. You bite the inside of your cheek, before turning and walking over to the fridge, seeming to not want to discuss what happened any further. Jeonghan watches as you search your fridge, before you turn your head and hold up the box of Eggo waffles towards the pretty man.

“Want some?” Jeonghan smiles softly before nodding his head, holding up two fingers when you ask him how many he wants. You take out two eggs from the fridge afterwards.

“How do you like your eggs?” You ask and he shrugs, “However you make it is fine with me.”

It feels oddly domestic, all of this. Jeonghan thinks to himself as he sits himself up on the kitchen counter. He watches as you cook the eggs over-medium, quietly humming to yourself as you add salt. He cocks his head to the side when you suddenly freeze, watching as you turn to look at him with a questioning look in your eyes.

“Did you change me out of my dress?” You ask and he chuckles before shaking his head no. He lets out another laugh when he sees you visibly relax, before beginning to explain what happened.

“Seulgi was waiting here, so when we arrived she did all the cleaning up for you. She left afterwards since she had a mission in the morning, but she told me to take care of you once you wake up.” You smile at the thought of your best friend being so caring.

“Love that woman.” You mutter, turning back to the eggs. Jeonghan grins, feeling his heart warm at the sight of your smile.

He steps down from the counter once you put the last egg on the plate and turn off the heat of the stove. You wipe your hands on the towel, only to pause when you find yourself trapped between a pair of rather nice arms. You stare at your hands wrapped in the towel with wide eyes, unsure of whether you want to die or puke.

“C-Come here often?” You ask with a nervous laugh, turning around to face Jeonghan, only to immediately regret it because you just rubbed your nose against his. “You’re quite close.”

“I can tell that you’re bothered by how Haeun knew, but it’ll be okay. Seungcheol and the rest of the guys are on the case, you’ll be fine.” Jeonghan tells you in a soft voice, and you purse your lips, before nodding your head. The black haired beauty stares at you for a moment longer, finding you to be one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen, even if you’re wearing Pikachu pajama bottoms at the moment.

“I care about you a lot.” Jeonghan states after a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and he watches in amusement as your eyes visibly widen at his confession. You open your mouth, only to close it, then open it again, before deciding to just bite the inside of your cheek.

“I know that you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but next time we have a mission, please be more careful, yeah?” You only nod your head as you’re unable to form any words due to the close proximity between the two of you, and Jeonghan smiles softly. He pulls away and grabs his plate, but not before pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead, giggling at how shellshocked you appear from the endearing action.

“Do you like me?” You finally blurt out, and the black haired beauty simply sends you a mischievous grin.

“Perhaps… I wouldn’t just kiss anyone’s forehead, ya now? However, the real question is, do you like me?” Jeonghan asks in return and you bite the inside of your cheek. He tilts his head as he awaits your response, about to lean in close to your face once more when-

DING!

“Oh, the waffles are ready!” You exclaim, shoving Jeonghan out of the way so that you can reach the toaster oven. You take out the four waffles, dusting some powdered sugar over them, while Jeonghan stares at you in disbelief, plate in hand as he does so.

“Did you just shove me?” Jeonghan asks with a laugh, and you give him a smile as an answer, turning away and walking towards your dining table, plate of waffles in hand.

“Okay, but do you like me though?” Jeonghan presses as he follows after you, and sits down in the seat across from you. You quietly take a bite of your waffle, finding too much enjoyment in the fact that Jeonghan is acting like a lovesick puppy.

Oh how the turns have tabled.

“Is that a yes or a no?” He asks once again, and you smile.

“Perhaps.” You respond teasingly, taking another bite of your waffle. He rolls his eyes at you and leans back in his chair.

“If I asked you on a date for this Saturday, would you say yes?”

You visibly halt your movements, making Jeonghan grin at the sight. Your brain is running a million miles a minute. Even though it was confirmed that your longtime crush likes you back, hearing him ask you out on a date makes you want to pass out.

“Yes.” You finally answer after a moment of you screaming internally, and Jeonghan smiles. He nods his head, taking a bite of his waffle as the feeling of warmth floods him.

“It’s a date.” Jeonghan states, cutting out the yolk from his egg and placing it onto your plate, knowing that that’s your favorite part. You hold back a squeal, nodding your head in response.

What Seulgi told you the night before rings in your head as you eat the yolk Jeonghan gave you, and you roll your eyes at the thought of it. You can’t believe the mission was accomplished.

“You know Seulgi, this is a mission to get more information on a drug lord. Don’t you think this is too much?” You ask, gesturing to your whole get up, putting a pause to Seulgi’s rant about Hyoon’s poor makeup decisions. Your friend smirks at you, causing you to raise an eyebrow at her.

“There’s actually two missions, yn.” You squint at her, and she narrows her eyes back at you.

You watch as Seulgi’s eyes brighten when a smile forms on her face, and she raises her arms up in the air. “To seduce Jeonghan so that the two of you will finally go on a date!”

Smiling to yourself, you glance up into Jeonghan’s kind eyes and say,

“It’s a date.”

The bright smile that forms on Jeonghan’s face from your response almost makes all the worries you hold in your heart disappear.

key word: almost.

[redorich]

Hello! Can we get a little something for the hermit canyon AU? I was thinking something Karl centered, maybe they accidentally find his library or otherwise find out about his "travels". They're probably invisible for the whole thing, but do they do anything afterwards? Do they leave little notes and reminders? Would they try to help at all? Or would they push it to the back of their minds and try to forget about it?

Unlike most discoveries made by Hermits, Joe does not find a secret location on a normal surface run. When Etho found the Pogtopia ravine, it was a mystery to him, unsettling and vivid. When Grian found Technoblade's snowy cabin, it was on complete accident, just because Grian needed to explore, to get out of the canyon for a few hours.

When Joe exits the canyon, as he rarely does, he makes a beeline for Karl's library. Time is... not something Joe concerns himself with, but he prefers to constrict himself to the linear travel of the fourth dimension nowadays-- if such a thing as "nowadays" can be said to exist when tangling with time.

Where was he? Ah, yes. He moves quickly, because he dislikes spending more time away from Xisuma's side than absolutely necessary, even if the admin has been having a run of good health days and there are twenty-two other Hermits to attend to the admin in an emergency. He doesn't bother with invisibility, or walking, or other mundane things. Joe simply hovers in the air, flying toward his destination and perhaps fiddling with the tick speed just a little, just enough to get him there faster.

There's a residual feeling of familiarity, like a relationship with an ex-girlfriend which has long since turned sour, near the canyon. There's a whisper there of magic, of gleaming white spires, but all Joe can see is red.

"It's a shame, what they did to this library," Joe mutters with a tsk. Posters of hazy LSD-esque drawings of various time periods and locations line the walls, molding away as red vines climb on them, devour them.

He shrugs. Might as well move on; nothing of value remains here.

To the south is a place Etho has visited only briefly and in passing: Kinoko Kingdom. It's a hotspot of activity at times, and a ghost town at others. Etho didn't even know the name of the place until Puffy reported it. Joe doesn't care. For all that Etho likes to present himself as a cryptid, scaring poor innocent wood-dwelling folk who are just looking for a big fuzzy triclopean spouse, Joe is the one with experience as a cryptid. Let them see him. What are they going to say, "I saw Herobrine"?

He touches down, finally, in front of another library made from mushrooms and wood. Allowing his eyes to flash white for a moment so that he can ferret out the building's secret room, he is both disappointed and unsurprised to see it empty of life. Karl Jacobs, resident time traveller, is not there.

Joe closes his eyes. He doesn't want to have to do this. For decades, there was a place he called home, a place he built from the ground up. It was a place in between life and death, and so he called it the Inbetween.

He opens his eyes, and he is there. It's like walking down a street you've been down a hundred thousand times before; even with your eyes closed, you know where you're going. There are no longer dozens of imperfect copies of himself running around, brainless and waiting to be culled like lambs to the slaughter in order to fuel an affront against nature. Now, there are many iterations of Karl, all wandering aimlessly... save one.

The only version of Karl wearing color stands in an open-air corridor near the courtyard. Even from a distance, Joe can see his chest rise and fall far too rapidly for him to actually be getting any air. (Joe sees everything here, where his eyes are white and cannot be anything but white.)

"Why am I here?" Karl babbles to himself. "I haven't time-travelled-- or did I already forget?"

"You didn't forget," Joe reassures him. It does not have the intended effect.

Karl screams, turning around so quickly that he falls on his ass. He scoots away like a crab missing a leg, scrambling for some distance. "Your eyes--!"

"Come closer," Joe says. "I won't hurt you."

"You're Herobrine!"

Joe exhales slowly. "I was Herobrine. What I am is the only person who can help you."

Karl warily clambers to his feet. None of the other Karls dressed in white pay the two men any mind. "What do you mean?"

"You've got yourself stuck in a dimensional loop of Homestuck proportions, Karl," Joe says. "So did I, when I built this place. It took me decades to figure out how to get out of it, and I knew what I was doing. You don't have that."

"Am I stuck here forever, then?" Karl says mournfully. He waves a hand at the carefree automatons wearing his face. "Will I become one of them?"

Joe takes a few slow steps closer, keeping his hands where the stressed-out time traveller can see them. "I'll take care of things on this end. You won't ever have to come back here again."

Karl sags in relief like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Does the name Eret mean anything to you?" Joe asks. It's a name he's heard from Puffy's lips once or twice, and if her information holds true, things could get much easier.

Karl blinks. "Uh... Yeah? What about them?"

Joe continues. "Dark hair, tall, white eyes like mine?"

"I've never seen Eret without their sunglasses, but I guess, yeah," Karl replies. Of all the things he would have expected Herobrine to ask about, Eret isn't one of them.

"Imagine what Eret looks like," Joe suggests. "Think real hard about them. Imagine them here, in the Inbetween, right in front of us."

Karl has no idea why Herobrine wants him to daydream about Eret (even if their voice is very nice), but if the man is pulling his leg, well-- it's fucking Herobrine, he can do what he wants.

Speaking of that nice voice, Karl hears the voice in question scream out of nowhere. Karl flinches away from the sudden loud noise, before his eyes catch up to his brain and he realizes that he just magicked Eret into existence in the Inbetween.

"What the fuck," Eret says. "H-Herobrine, uh, long time no s-see..?"

"Sorry about that time I kinda tortured you," Herobrine says brightly. "I'm nicer now."

"I doubt--" Eret begins caustically, then remembers exactly who they're talking to and shuts their mouth. "...Why is everything so dark?"

"Take off your sunglasses," Herobrine suggests.

Eret grimaces, but obeys. This place is practically humming with magic, so they just know they're going to get blinded by it the moment they remove their glasses, but they remember what happened last time they pissed Herobrine off.

Wincing, they remove the sunglasses, expecting pain and receiving... nothing. The glint of light on quartz is a bit uncomfortable, but that's a normal human uncomfortable that Eret hasn't experienced since they were a teenager.

Herobrine smacks them on the forehead with his palm. "I take back what I said about 'living with this power for the rest of your life', and all that," he says. "You can turn 'em off now. I'd recommend not turning those eyes back on, though-- at least, not here. It's a little bright, magic-wise."

Eret gapes. All these years, they feared the day they'd meet this powerful man again, imagined what they'd say as they cursed his name or begged his forgiveness... and here he is, giving them exactly what they desperately hoped for but knew they'd never receive simply because he's 'nicer now'.

"Herobrine," Eret says, "why have you done this?"

"Call me Joe," Herobrine says.

Karl interjects, "Joe mama," under his breath. It is with the utmost shock on Eret's behalf that Karl does not in fact get immediately smited into oblivion, merely smacked on the forehead.

"Now you won't forget," Herobrine-- Joe says. "Anyway, I have shenanigans to be up to back in the canyon, so I'll send y'all back now. Those red vines are bad news, and so is their egg, so y'all better take care of that, please. It's really messing your server up."

Karl blanches. "The canyon?"

"Oh, look at the time. Have fun, be safe, bye," Joe says with affected mild disinterest.

Both Karl and Eret have so much to say, so many questions to ask, but they fade away before they get the chance.

[cycat4077]

Proposing Permission

Summary: You and Sonny have been together for a year but your idea of celebrating is slightly different than his. Set during S18 - roughly November 2016. Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: None, except fluff...and maybe suggestive hints here and there ;) Words: 2479 AO3 here

Technically part 13 in the Changes verse, but can act as a stand-alone, too!

“Mom!” you exclaim as soon as you hear her ‘hello?’ on the end of the line. “You'll never guess what just happened! – Wait, how'd you know? – He did? Of course, he did!” you laugh happily, flashing a bright smile up at Sonny who sits beside you on the sofa.

Sonny would give you the abridged version of the events that led up to this moment later, but at the time, things went a little like this:

-x-

“Uh, Carisi? Where are we going? The turn-off for the I-87 South, is that-a-way…” Amanda turns her body towards the traffic junction that passes by. She then whips back around to stare at her partner in the diver’s seat, a disgruntled look on her face.

“I need ta make a detour,” he states, eyes never leaving the highway.

“But we’re on a case!” she protests, growing irritated.

“Yeah, but we did what we came upstate to do. Got some answers, relayed them to Lieu. Technically, we’re off duty right now.” Sonny taps the wheel with his thumbs, trying to avoid his partner's gaze.

But Amanda Rollins is not one to concede so easily. “Tell me where we’re going, Dominick,” she drops her voice to a stern tone, eyes boring into the side of Sonny’s head.

Sonny lets out a nervous breath and says your name. “Remember how her parents live upstate? Well…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, producing a velvet box. Amanda gasps and nabs it from his grasp. She flips the little box open, finding a ring. “I wanna propose,” admits Sonny, “but I wanna ask her folks first.”

Dragging her eyes away from the box, Rollins frowns. “It’s twenty-sixteen, Sonny…you don’t need parental permission anymore.”

“I know, I know,” dismisses Sonny. “But that’s how my pa did it, and, she’s really close with her parents. It seems right to ask ‘em first.”

Amanda smiles in spite of herself. The gesture is very much a ‘Sonny Carisi’ thing to do. So, she cracks a joke instead. “What’re you gonna do? Salute her dad and say: ‘Requesting permission to marry your daughter, sir!’”

“Rawllins,” he groans, trying to act annoyed while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do what you gotta do, partner,” she winks before turning her attention back to the box. “This ring is gorgeous!”

-x-

The drive was absolutely beautiful. Being October, the further away from concrete Sonny and Amanda drove, the denser the colourful forests became. It was picture perfect and Sonny’s only wish was that you could have been along to see it too.

Pulling up to your childhood home, Sonny leaves Amanda in the passenger’s seat. Afterall, this detour had to be relatively quick to prevent Lieu from breathing down his neck about it.

As Sonny makes his way to the door, his legs are a little wobbly and his pulse is racing. He has met your parents before and they adore him, yet, as he waits for his knock to be answered, his nerves get the better of him. This is a huge step and he hopes that they believe him worthy of it.

Then the door clicks open to reveal your mother. “Sonny!” she exclaims happily, but immediately her face falls. “Is everything okay?” In hindsight, an unannounced, unaccompanied visit does seem a little concerning.

Clueing in, Sonny immediate puts your mother at ease. “Yeah, yeah!” he reassures with a smile. “Work brought me upstate and I, uh, I wanted ta ask y’both somethin’ while I was up here.”

“Of course, of course!” Your mother ushers Sonny into the house before giving him a giant hug. Just as she releases him your father walks into the room, coming over with a large smile and firm handshake.

“Sir,” greets Sonny with a nod.

The three of them then take a seat at the dining room table; your mother unsurprisingly offers Sonny everything in her fridge. Once satisfied that he’s not lying about not being hungry, she continues. “So, son, what’s on your mind?”

The Italian swallows nervously. He looks to his fingers, thrumming them on the table top while his right knee bounces anxiously. Finally, he begins to speak: “Well, as you know, your daughter and I have been together for a while now and, we love each other very much. I love her very much.” A grin begins to break out on your mom’s face, her intuition giving her a good idea of where the conversation is headed. “And I, uh,” continues Sonny, “well, it seemed only right for me ta ask the two of you first. I w-wanna ask her ta marry me.”

Suspicions confirmed, your mother squeals with delight, grabbing onto your father’s arm and giving it a loving squeeze.

“I got a ring already and everything, if ya wanna see it,” Sonny adds quickly as if it will reenforce how committed he is to you. He pulls out the box once more and hands it over to your mom.

“Oh, Sonny,” she sighs looking up to your boyfriend. “She’s going to absolutely love it.”

“So, I, uh, have both your blessings then?” His blue eyes dart nervously back and forth between your parents.

Finally, your dad chimes in. “Of course!” he exclaims happily, his voice choking up ever so slightly. “You’re a good man and I couldn’t imagine my girl with anyone else.”

Sonny’s stomach does a somersault as he is immediately flooded with relief. “Thank ya!” he leaps to his feet. Your parents stand with him, both delivering their future son-in-law a squeezing hug. Parting, Sonny reluctantly explains that he can’t stay and that he must be getting back to the city.

“Alright, hon,” your mother coos. “Let us know what happens. Your secret is safe with us for now, but we’ll be waiting anxiously by the phone for the happy news!”

“Will do,” beams Sonny before he heads back to the squad car. Your parents wave him goodbye until he’s out of sight.

-x-

It’s your anniversary! One complete year of you and Sonny (finally) getting together! But…the universe really didn’t care about that. Nope! Because a faculty meeting was called on the one day where you didn’t have classes to teach. It ran from midday and into the evening and there was no possible way of getting out of it either. You loved your job, you really did, but today was supposed to be for you and Sonny. Nothing fancy, of course, but you had planned a lazy morning, followed up with cooking together and turning it into a romantic evening celebration.

“Uhhggghhh!” you groan, hanging your head and slouching your shoulders.

Sonny places his warm hands on your arms, grinning. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” You can feel those blue eyes shining down on you and, the next thing you know, a finger is gingerly tilting your chin up towards his. “I ain’t mad at all, okay? Shit happens. Jeez, how many times have I hadta cancel a date with you ‘cause I got called in or hadta work late?”

You bunch your mouth at the corner, frustrated. “I know, but it’s our anniversary and I was looking forward to spending all day with you!”

“So was I, but we can still make the most of it.” He kisses you on the nose. “I’ll go ahead ‘n make dinner and then when ya get home we can celebrate.”

“You sure? It was supposed to be a team effort. I can just grab some takeout on the way home –”

“Nonsense,” Sonny grins. “Besides, my cookin’ is way better than any takeout in the city.” His words make you laugh. “There’s that beautiful smile,” he beams, sweeping the hair back from your eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll. Now, go on before you’re late ‘n try not ta fall asleep.”

You give Sonny a sweet kiss and make your way to the door. Before exiting, you flash a sultry look over your shoulder at your smiling boyfriend. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, babe. It’s just a shame you have to wait so long to see what’s underneath this dress.” You slip out the door before you’re able to see the sign of the cross Sonny makes in attempt to absolve himself of his sinful thoughts.

-x-

The journey back home never felt so exhausting. Maybe it was the fact that the meeting seemed to drag on forever, especially when all you could think about was curling up next to Sonny. Your feet ached in your pumps and you cursed your wardrobe choice. Though, you were still new at the college and thus wanted to make a professional impression.

Once you finally reach your floor, a distinct cooking aroma floats down the hallway. Your stomach grumbles, knowing exactly which apartment is the origin and eager to taste what smells so delicious.

Opening your door, you are greeted by your wonderful boyfriend and his smiling eyes. He’s dressed up in a crisp shirt and slacks. “Welcome home, sweetheart and happy anniversary!”

You smile up at him and step into his outstretched arms. His attire seemed a bit formal, but you weren’t complaining. The way button up shirts hugged his arms and torso always made your face flush and heart beat a little faster. Those same arms also fit perfectly around you when he held you close.

As you begin to withdraw from his embrace however, you notice just how much Sonny is perspiring. “Babe, you alright?” Your brow knits with concern. “You’re sweating a bunch…”

Sonny quickly averts his gaze and turns towards the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he gives a dismissive wave. “The oven’s been on all day.”

You know him well enough to tell that something is not quite right and his half-hearted answer gives you reason to follow him and press the issue. But as you round the corner, you’re stopped dead in your tracks by an elaborate display.

Sonny has gone all out. A hearty meal sits steaming on a table set for two, a single rose in a crystal vase resides at the center, and he’s even arranged some of your candles to provide low lighting. The sight of it all leaves you feeling as though your heart will flutter right out of your chest.

"Sonny," you whisper, hand over your heart. "You didn't have to do all this." You then peer up at him with glassy eyes.

"I wanted tonight to be special. Just you ‘n me celebrating a whole magical year of being together.”

Closing the distance, you lean up and place your lips tenderly to his. Sonny bends forward, deepening the kiss. You run a hand tenderly up the front of his shirt feeling the contours of his muscles beneath your fingers. Sonny reaches to cover your hand with his, grasping it carefully and reluctantly pulling it away. Breaking apart, he smiles, "Food's gonna get cold, doll."

The two of you sit down to a quiet, romantic dinner, clinking glasses in a toast to your relationship. But Sonny still has beads of sweat forming along his brow. "Babe, are you sure you're alright?" you point to his forehead. "It's not that hot in here..."

He swallows thickly, looking away. "Yeah...I'm just a little nervous is all." Sonny then focuses on you with big, blue eyes.

Yours narrow in confusion. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? It just us here...

Sonny flashes you shy smile before reaching across the table to take your hand in his. He stares at it in contemplation as he runs his thumb lovingly over your knuckles.

Biting his lip, he shifts those gorgeous eyes back to yours. "We've been through a lot in a year, doll," he begins. "And last summer I never knew how my life would change when you walked through that squad room door. I never knew that I could love someone so completely until I fell in love with you. My whole heart is yours and -"

"Sonny!" you release a sweet laugh. "You don't owe me a speech! I know how much you love me, silly! And I hope you know how much I love you too."

Suddenly, Sonny seems a little terrified. Had he rehearsed this or something?

"Just hear me out, ‘kay?" he implores following a shaky breath.

You smile softly and squeeze his hand signaling for him to continue.

"Believe me, doll, I've never felt more loved by anyone but you. I love waking up with ya in the mornin' and fallin' asleep together at night. My heart skips a beat thinkin' about a future with you. So, I guess that's why I'm sweatin'."

All of a sudden the warmth of Sonny's hand disappears. He shifts to get up from the table, slipping his fingers into his pocket. Then you realize that he's getting down on one knee. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest and a gasp catches in your throat.

Sonny's eyes lock onto yours as he produces a velvet box and opens it. There sits a white gold ring topped by a dainty solitaire diamond. Your eyes immediately rim with tears as you hear Sonny softly speak your name. "Will you marry me?"

A large smile erupts upon your face and you instantly blurt out a "yes!"

Sonny's expression changes to one of pure love. He delicately slips the ring on your finger and quickly rises to capture your lips in a kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he effortlessly scoops you up. "I'm so happy," you speak against his lips, eliciting a tight squeeze from your fiancé.

Fiancé! Sonny Carisi is your fiancé! The man you love with your whole heart. You've always believed that it isn’t the ring on their finger that make two people married – that’s at least how committed you feel towards Sonny – Yet now, you couldn’t be happier to make what you share official.

"I'm so happy too, doll! I love you! I love you! I love you!" Sonny reciprocates in between swift kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Then his eyes darken and he bows his head towards your neck, nibbling and suckling at the sensitive skin that resides there.

You sigh, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. God, is he good at this! But then, your mind comes back to reality and you gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” you chant, tapping your hands lightly on his chest.

Sonny pulls back but his eyes still hungrily flicker to where his lips were focused mere moments before.

“I have to go call my mom! She’d kill me if she knew I didn’t tell her right away.” You watch as Sonny smirks. “But then I promise we’ll celebrate properly…after all, you still haven’t seen what’s underneath this dress.”

-x- 

Fluffy enough for ya? Heehee

Tag list?  @barbasbodaciousbeard @teamsladsandgents @adarafaelbarba @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[mybunnyparadenme]

chaossanthebae replied to your post “Graphic design is NOT my passion and all I have is...”Listen to me listen to me, B1, we have some...

Sorry it took so long! OTZ I hope you like it, I made sure that Kenny’s 100% just a civilian here. Long live Chaos/Kenny supremacy :D

--

B1 - Professor Chaos/Kenny

Kenny's mind felt so hazy as he slowly made his way into consciousness.

He blinked, not recognizing his surroundings, and felt his eyebrows furrow together when he tried to move and found that his arms were bound behind his back. Seeing as he wasn't naked, he figured this wasn't the fun version of being all tied up, but he couldn't think of any other situation that would leave him in this position. The last thing he remembered was leaving the store after picking up a gallon of milk for breakfast the next morning. There had been... a loud noise, maybe an explosion? Then a flash of light, and then here he was in this high-tech room, feeling like he'd been hit by a bus. But he wasn't alone, he quickly realized as he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A handsome guy in a ridiculous outfit was walking towards him, his blue eyes seeming to spark with electricity with every step he took.

"Ah, sleeping beauty's finally awake." He said, a grin slowly rising on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. Damn, he had nice biceps. "I didn't zap you too hard, did I?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Kenny asked, feeling his lips twist into a scowl. "And what did you do to my milk?"

"Oh, I put it in the fridge to keep it from spoiling." The guy said, his expression turning sheepish for a moment before his smug mask fell back into place. "And as for who I am, well... you'll know soon enough." 

Kenny was ready to tell this guy off for being overly vague (and for abducting him of course), but before he could get the first word out, the large screen on the wall in front of them lit up. An overweight guy about their age took up most of the screen, the top half of his face hidden behind a black raccoon mask. 

Great, now he had to deal with furries on top of everything.

"Chaos!" Raccoon Boy bellowed, his voice so gravelly Kenny wondered if he had a cold. "Show yourself!"

"Right on time." Chaos took a few steps into view and grinned up at him. "Why if it isn't The Coon! So nice of you to join us, did you need Call Girl's help to hack into my frequency, or were you able to follow the breadcrumbs this time?"

"Cut the banter Chaos, what have you done to the hostage?"

"He's fine." Chaos said, gesturing to Kenny behind him. "Though for how long, I can't really say. It's amazing how high you can turn up the voltage before the human body starts to lose control."

"You've sunk to a new low, haven't you?" The Coon growled, his eyes darkening as he stared at Chaos. "Electrocuting civilians is barbaric!"

"Oh, like clawing up my minions is any better?" Blue electricity crackled in the air around Chaos, making the hair on Kenny's arms stand on end. "You think you're so heroic, but really you're hardly any better than I am!"

"I am better than you!"

Things were starting to click in Kenny's head, and he tuned out the arguing to really think things through. Electricity, minions, Chaos... oh he remembered now! The guy in front of him was Professor Chaos, the new villain in town who was quickly building an empire of crime in South Park. Kenny felt a bit comforted by this realization, strange as that might be. He could handle being used as a pawn in some superhero political bullshit, no problem. There were worse things to be kidnapped over, like being used for organ harvesting or being part of a serial killer's sick fantasy. This was nothing.

He watched the two of them argue for a minute, frowning when he saw that neither one of them was really getting anywhere with this... negotiation? That was probably what this was supposed to be, but it was looking more and more like a petty squabble between childhood frenemies. He leaned forward in his seat as far as he could and whispered, "Hey, Chaos?"

Chaos jumped, looking like he'd forgotten that Kenny had been in the room at all. "Y-Yes, what is it?" 

"If you really want to intimidate him, give him a deadline." Kenny said, nodding at The Coon, who seemed to be in the middle of a long monologue about the difference between good and evil. He also didn't look like he was paying any attention to him, the person he was supposed to be saving. God, the guy must really like the sound of his own voice. "Tell him he's got a day, that should shut him up for a bit."

Chaos gave him the most bewildered look, but composed himself enough to call out, "Coon, I'm tired of this! You have twenty-four hours to meet my demands or the hostage... the hostage dies, you hear?"

The look on The Coon's face was more than worth the indirect death threat. "What the fuck? You don't kill people, Chaos."

"Now end the call," Kenny whispered. "Make him sweat a little."

"Things have changed, hero." Chaos let out an evil laugh and gathered sparks in the palm of his hand. He sent the lightning straight into the screen, causing the whole thing to start short-circuiting. The Coon's angry face lingered for a moment, just long enough for Chaos to grin and give a snappy, "Time's tickin'!" before the screen finally died and went black. 

The room was silent for a long moment, save for the crackle of lingering electricity in the air, but it was quickly broken by the sound of Chaos groaning loudly into his hands, all of his bravado disappearing. "Oh god, why'd I have to go and do that for? That's gonna cost a fortune to replace!"

"On the bright side, you looked really cool doing it." Kenny said, grinning when Chaos lifted his head up to look at him. "What? I'm a guy who can appreciate good theatrics."

"Yeah, I guessed that when you didn't freak out after I threatened your life." Chaos said, tilting his head like he was trying to see him in a different light. "Don't you... want to live?"

"Well obviously." Kenny said, shrugging his shoulders. "But this is clearly your first time taking a hostage, so we might as well do it right."

"How do you know this is my first time?" Chaos asked, his cheeks huffing out indignantly. 

Kenny lifted a leg in the air, a loose piece of rope dangling from his shoe. "This right here. You secured my hands, but left my feet loose enough for me to wriggle them free. You didn't notice because you were too busy with Raccoon Boy."

Chaos flushed and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "W-Well it's not like you would've gotten very far! My secret base is rigged with booby traps, you would've been a goner if you left this room."

"Is that right?"

"Of course!" He said, his cheeks turning pink as he puffed his chest out proudly. "I might've let you trick me into ruining my monitor--"

"Hey you did that all on your own!"

He pursed his lips but powered on. "--but that doesn't mean you have any power here. I'm a dangerous man, you know. You're stuck here until I say you can leave."

Kenny considered this, tapping his foot against the floor as he took in the villain in front of him. Chaos had some wickedly strong powers, and even with his legs free he really wouldn't be going anywhere without the use of his hands. The only real option  he had was waiting for that tool, The Coon, to come rescue him, and that didn't sound appealing at all. He leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. "Well since I'm not going anywhere, I should probably introduce myself to my host. Hi, I'm Kenny."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Bu-- um, I mean, I'm Professor Chaos!" He said, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink at his almost slip-up. He cleared his throat and tried to look serious as he continued. "And wherever I go, destruction's sure to follow. So you'd be smart to get on my good side, Kenny." 

A shock went through his spine at the sound of his name, and Kenny was sure it had nothing to do with the villain's electrical powers. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, but he could already feel his lips curving up in anticipation. He'd always been a sucker for trouble, and it looked like Chaos was just the right combination of danger and adorable awkwardness that would make all of this worth his while.

No matter how this went down, he had a feeling this was only the first of many encounters between him and Professor Chaos.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

OH ANTONI 🥺🥺🥺 my poor baby. I hope he will find it within himself to come clean to Jake or SOMEONE about this :((((

(((ALSO CANT WAIT FOR MORR))))

One Two Three Four Five Six

CW: Wound cleaning, burns, touch aversion, aftermath of torture, BBU, conditioned fucky headspace

"Lift your chin for me," she commands, and he doesn't really remember that he could choose not to obey.

Antoni dutifully shifts, his eyes moving to roam over a line of framed photographs along the wall behind her. A wedding photo, faded with time, a much, much younger version of the woman currently dabbing a cotton ball dipped in something cold and stinging to the fresh burn on his throat with a man he's never seen. The two of them are smiling, holding hands, looking right into the camera.

Bright white wedding dress turned cream with yellowing paper, with time, covered in lace. Powder-blue tuxedo. Brilliant smiles.

She touches the cotton ball to his skin and he hisses, hands tightening where they grip the edges of the chair he's sitting on. The sting rockets through him, only a pale echo of the original pain, but it's enough.

It's enough.

Fuck, that's hot.

He catches the sob before it can leave his throat, forces the burn behind his eyes to stay there and not turn into tears. He will not cry over this again.

Not now.

"There we go, just a bit more," She says, her voice gruffly compassionate. She presses a small rounded bandage against his throat, her fingertips are warm against his neck.

His skin crawls at even this slight, indirect touch, but he doesn't protest.

He wouldn't dare.

"All done. That's not s'bad, I think with a good bandaging it won't scar half so bad as all its little friends down south," She mutters, more to herself than him, really.

Where her fingers touch, he feels the echoes of other hands around his throat. Thicker fingers, heavy with rings. Smiling down at him.

Beg for me, love.

"Please-" It's automatic. He's drifting, in and out of this old kitchen that still looks like it must have looked thirty years ago, when the man in the wedding photo would still be here maybe cooking or cleaning or chatting up a storm to anyone who popped by for a visit.

"Hm? You say something, sweetheart?" Miss Ruth looks at him, and those dark eyes are shrewd. They know more than anyone is supposed to, they know things Nat hasn't told her. Hasn't had to.

"Ah, no," He whispers. "Just. I am very tired."

"No doubt. I'll finish these up and you can get back to your own bed and no doubt you'll be glad to get there." She looks him over, and his eyes dance to hers and away again. Back to the photos.

He sees a family photo, the two people from before and a daughter and son. Everyone is smiling, looking carefully just off to the side. They wear matching outfits.

"Get a look at 'em?"

There's a 35th wedding anniversary picture with a big banner behind the happy couple. The two people, much older, stand in front a cake nearly as tall as they are, surrounded by others. Everyone in the photo smiles in sort of the same way.

The next photo is a birthday, he thinks. There's a boy and a young baby in the photo, and the man from wedding and anniversary photo isn't there. Miss Ruth, holding her grandbaby he thinks, is wearing all black. The photo was taken in a church, and there's a spray of white lilies just visible at the edge of the picture.

Another, with Jaden, who Chris plays basketball with. The kid who more or less effortlessly opened his life for Chris when Chris badly needed a friend his own age, or closer to it, to remember what being a kid was like.

He is reading, in images, the story of this woman's adult life. Marriage, and death, and birth. Children. Life going on.

A life he won't have, that he gave up every possibility of having, because of... of whatever is inside him that Mr. Davies knew about, that the people who just hurt him could see in him even though he cannot see it himself.

He must look like someone who deserves to be hurt.

"Young man." She taps on the back of his hand and he flinches, blinking at her, struggling to pull himself out of his reverie. Her words filter through his mind, shift into the language all his thoughts are moving in, come back out in hers. He swallows, feeling a lump in his throat that refuses to move.

"I'm... sorry," He says softly, with difficulty. "I did not hear."

"I can tell. I asked did you get a good look at whoever did this to you." Her eyes roam over his chest, his stomach. The circle of new burns, placed so carefully compared to the haphazard placement Mr. Davies had favored, no pattern at all. "Looks like they took their damn time, anyway, to get you so much."

"N-... no." Antoni's eyebrows furrow, and he tries to think, but all he can remember is their hands holding the lit cigarettes, the quiet one touching his face, ruffling his hair. He can't... he can't remember their faces at all. "I am sorry."

You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?

"Hm." If she's disappointed in him, nothing changes about her expression, still held in a kind of skeptical compassion as she wets a new cotton ball in liquid from a small frosted plastic bottle and touches it to each burn, one by one, in the circle. It's like a ritual, the sting, washing away a bit of sin with each hint of pain. He clothes his eyes and breathes carefully through it.

When he is done, each circle covered with a bandage that is shades darker than his skin, she steps back to look him over, critically. She steps away and he takes in deep breaths free of her air, the powdery scent of her. He breathes in her absence, no one nearby.

She returns with a washcloth and he takes it, scrubs at his face until his cheeks are red but clean, until you can't tell anymore that he cried while they burned him.

Good boy.

"You can stay here," She says, voice low now. "Sleep it off for a while. I've got a guest room."

"No. No, I will go home. Thank you. I will... I want to go home." He looks out the kitchen window right at Nat's house next door. No lights are on... yet. But there isn't much time before they will be.

"Fair enough. You plan to tell 'em what happened to you?"

He looks back at her, searches for the judgement, finds none.

"No," He says. Confesses, really, his sin. "I will not."

I will lie to them.

"That's your choice to make, I suppose." She lays a hand on his arm. He doesn't pull away from her. He wants to unzip himself from his skin and step out of it, let them all have what they seem to want to touch so much.

Instead, he holds himself perfectly still, until she pats him a few times and steps away again.

"I've done what I can do. You come back over here tomorrow or the day after and we'll look 'em over again and make sure they're healing up nice, you got me?"

"Yes," He says. He is good. He can be good.

"Right. Off you go, then, before your people wake up and you get to come up with a story about why you're in an old widow's house at 4:30 in the morning, hm? You're pretty enough, but you're no Wilbur." She laughs to herself, a dry and crackly sound, and he thinks that her laugh was the sort that could set a whole crowd to laughing, when she was young.

It still is.

The corners of his mouth twitch in an answering smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and pushes himself off the edge, standing up again. No one has seen his scars, no one but this old neighbor woman who looks at them like they are simply part of living, not something to be pitied. "I go. S-... thank you."

"Paugh." She scoffs, waves a hand in dismissal. "Go on, now. You've thrown off my morning coffee time. Tell your young man that Jaden will be over this afternoon."

She all but shoos him out the door, and the air is clear and clean and quiet. The only dirty thing is Antoni himself, smudged and mussed, still feeling in his scalp the prickles of Quiet One's hands, still feeling on his arms the sharp pressure of the shirt tied around his wrists.

Still aware of every single burn under the slight pull of the bandages pressed over them, the gentle sting that feels like a return to how he was always meant to be.

Even the walk from one yard to another feels like too much. Antoni's eyes move over the empty darkened windows of the houses all around him. How obvious he must be, if three people saw him in the darkness and knew him for a pet pretending to be human.

He shouldn't have left, shouldn't have gone on those walks. He'd left himself open and vulnerable, hadn't he? His scars are deeper than skin, and they must shine like the streetlights to anyone who knows what to look for.

Antoni stops at the porch, where he carefully lifts a loose bit of board from the porch railing, finds the small box hidden inside. The slightest scrape of metal on metal as he pulls off the lid makes him freeze, but no one is awake to hear it. He takes the contents of the box, moves it quickly back to its hiding place, replaces the board.

Like nothing ever happened.

Everything can be made as good as new, as long as it isn't him.

He slips inside the safehouse, where everything is still quiet, in the silent inhale that comes before the exhalation of morning. The clock in the kitchen reads 4:45, fifteen minutes until Jake's alarm will go off, until he - and likely Chris - will stir.

Fifteen minutes for Antoni get upstairs and look so deeply asleep that no one will realize he was ever gone.

No time to shower.

He will have to sleep with the grime of their hands still ground deep into every single pore. He will sleep with Deep Voice's we know what you are in his ears, with Quiet One's fingers tangled in his hair, running over his skin. He will sleep with Lookout's eyes locked on his chest as he presses the cigarette in.

Antoni hasn't worn a collar in years now, but he buckles it on, just one notch too tight like Mr. Davies would have, and climbs under the covers, pulling them over his head.

He breathes in as deep as he can, to feel the constriction. Breathes out, and runs his hand up over his chest, over the bandages that cover his burns.

They knew what he was.

Everyone always will.

Good boy.

The ashtray falls asleep humming a lullaby, afraid that if he pulls the blankets back down he will see bars on the windows.

[pascalpanic]

Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion. 

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group. 

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away. 

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get. 

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

-

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M. 

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket. 

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently. 

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her. 

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her. 

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head. 

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog.  Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart. 

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.” 

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too. 

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning. 

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality. 

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her. 

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice. 

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows. 

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry. 

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react. 

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name. 

-

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie. 

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her. 

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face. 

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now. 

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly. 

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her. 

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her. 

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match. 

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie. 

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

[kikilefangirl]

New Beginnings For Late Bloomers

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Word Count: 2.4k)

You answered the Wakandan prince and princess’ call almost immediately. You quietly and swiftly made your way from your room, taking the familiar route south to the lab.

King T’Chaka’s death was so recent that his presence was still very much felt around the palace. Everyone, of all ranks, collectively mourning the loss. As you passed through the halls, you thought of his children—you couldn’t imagine losing your father, especially in such a jarring way. You bristled before turning the corner, bracing yourself for whatever was on the other side.

A pale skinned, dark haired man appeared to be sleeping in a large tube. Beside it, Prince T’Challa and Princess Shuri were in deep conversation with another white man, this one blonde. He stood opposite them and face to face with you.

You weren’t one for rudeness, but you had never seen a white man in person before, and it was strange. You found yourself switching back and forth between the and his sleeping friend. The first and second white men you had seen up close. They both had white skin tinged with pink, and their hair really was bone straight. The blonde gave you a warm smile, maintaining a slight recline and dropped shoulders.

You weren’t very good at interrupting or with strangers; your shyness was a terrible hindrance, and it was a wonder you even had friends in the royal family. The stranger’s reaction saved you the trouble, causing both siblings to do the same. Immediately, your eyes drifted the man in the tube, lightly pressing your fingers on the glass.

T’Challa cleared his throat and gestured at the blonde, “Y/N, this is Captain Rogers.”

You nodded at him and followed his downward gaze––to the other white man. Because you were closer, you could see his breath fog up the glass in front of his nose.

“We need you to watch over Sergeant Barnes while he is within our borders,” Shuri said. Though he looked relatively peaceful, what this Sergeant Barnes was like when he was awake must be hard.

“Your daily tasks will be to tend to him.” T'Challa explained.

Your gaze softened when you glanced at Captain Rogers. His concern was plain to see, enough to make you muster up whatever courage you had to speak.

“I will do as I am asked. Sergeant Barnes will be well cared for during his time here.” You replied. You gave him a small smile.

The man nodded at your reassurance, and you excused yourself. You had a lot of work ahead of you.

…

The sound of giggling and shuffling feet took you out of your reverie.

You were greeted to the sight of children laughing and chasing each other on the river bank. You smiled at their antics, but had to shoo them away. They were playing outside of Sergeant Barnes’—erm, Bucky’s hut while he was sleeping. You noticed how little the man allowed his body to rest, and you did your best to prolong it.

You knew the kids had broken his sleep, so you entered his hut, anyway. As you expected, the man was on his back looking at you with heavy lidded eyes.

“Please, try and go back to sleep,” you whispered, averting your gaze.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head back on his bed. You took the opportunity to light an incense on the outer edge of the hut while you went about your daily tasks. It was the one that usually lulled him back to sleep, but Bucky was wide awake.

You occupied yourself with menial work in an effort to ignore his eyes on you. You were taking out an old blanket but when you touched the other side, you felt a thick, runny liquid. The harsh smell of iron hit your nostrils almost immediately.

Blood.

“I had another one after you left.” A raspy voice called from behind you.

You quickly wrapped the blanket in your arms, doing your best to hide the sight. Bucky was sitting up; he may have been looking at you, but his eyes were much farther away. The color wasn’t familiar to you, but the distant sadness in them was. You could see fresh scratches poking out from his tunic and the slight grimace on his face.

Gently, you set the blanket back down and grabbed the tin of shea butter from your supply bag. You unscrewed the cap and scooped the product out. You made your way to his bed, sitting on your knees beside him.

You pulled the cloth down to reveal the familiar nub where his arm used to be.

“Your head therapy with Dr. Amari has been switched to Tuesdays and Thursdays, for now. Shuri needs time to grieve the king and the mind must come before the body, in your case. ” You said softly, applying the shea butter evenly and without fanfare.

Bucky was leaning away from you, but he nodded nonetheless. You never had to yell or shout to get his attention––he always heard you, no matter how quiet you were.

When you were done, Bucky offered you a tired smile, but you couldn’t return it. You felt your face get hot and averted your gaze. It was different when you had nothing more to do, and he was just staring at you.

“I will get you new bedding and clothing when I return.”

You darted out of the hut as fast as you could, only stopping to let out the breath you had been holding.

…

“I don’t know if your treatment is working, Shuri.”

The princess was busy working on a new project. With heavy protective goggles on, and a wicked grin, there was no telling what she was up to. Carefully, Shuri shut the lid on it, and spun towards you.

You held up the bloody fabric, and Shuri frowned.

“Ah, Y/N, Sergeant Barnes’ brain will take more work than his body.” She said, scanning the blanket.

“He claws at himself while he sleeps.” You replied. The memories of his episodes were so clear in your mind. For a man who was fairly quiet and calm, in those moments he was mechanical and unflinchingly cruel. It was the first time a cold feeling settled in the pit of your stomach and it was truly awful.

Shuri was periodically glancing up at you as she read Bucky’s file. The farther she read, the more the princess looked puzzled. She clicked her tongue, then suddenly clapped loudly. The sound made you jump.

“Shuri!” You hissed. The girl was bouncing on the balls of her feet, animatedly. An especially devious smirk made its way onto her face.

“He is from New York City, ah! The city where dreams are made of!” She sang. Her off key version made you cringe at first, but a smile soon replaced it.

The Wakandan princess’s bubbly mood was the thing you enjoyed most about her. She was always so excited to explore and plot anything she wanted; it was refreshing to see.

“Take Sergeant Barnes to the market! It is a city environment to remind him of home.” Shuri exclaimed wildly.

Your eyes widened in horror at her suggestion. Shuri lit up, her ideas kept coming.

“He needs you to go with him. It can be a date!” You nearly choked.

“Princess Shuri!” You cried out. It was actually more of a high pitched squeak.

You gazed down at the blanket. It’s rich brown color was tinged with a darker one. The sickly smell of blood—Bucky’s blood—still invaded your senses. Your job was to care for him while he was in your country’s custody.

You sighed and agreed.

…

Bucky knew something was wrong the second you found the blanket.

The slight downturn of your chin as the realization dawned on you—he should’ve buried it when he had the chance.

The scratches were deep this time, but Bucky healed fast. It had been just over eleven hours since they happened. He had since changed into new clothes, so as to spare you from seeing the gashes, but he didn’t have the tools to get rid of the blood on hand.

Bucky heard your approaching steps, and went out to greet you. It was the height of the late afternoon heat; the dark haired man could see you approach through the vapors.

He knew it had been a long time since he’d been around a woman as Bucky, not the Winter Soldier. That was the exact reason why he wasn’t used to how you looked then. Your deep brown skin glowed as you came closer. A gold armband sat on your upper left arm, shining in the sunlight. You had on a green two-piece, decorated in bright Wakandan prints.

Bucky missed his phantom limb during times like this. It meant he was still capable of being the smooth, confident guy from Brooklyn and not the mess he truly was. He shifted his weight, bracing himself for your arrival.

…

“Would you like to come with me to the market?” You asked.

You wouldn’t look up at him for more than a second, but you did sit near him during the escort over. On his left side, too.

Once you two made it to the market entrance, it was in full swing. Hundreds of people were mingling through the stalls. A woman was haggling a tailor for a shoddy job he’d done. The smell of spices and roots hung in the air.

You snuck a glance at Bucky, giggling at the curious stares he received. And what a strange sight he was—a very white man in Wakanda. It was unheard of.

“I was told you were from New York City. Manhattan?” You said.

Bucky turned to you, mildly offended.

“Brooklyn, doll. Real different.” He said. You watched him inhale, taking in the bustling vendors and patrons.

You put a slight pressure on his shoulder, leading him to a street show. The performance was fun and free as the drummers played their sing song rhythms. Even you felt the urge to sway your hips to the beat.

A crowd had gathered, stomping and clapping as they went along, growing more boisterous as the dancers went on. Lost in the moment, you failed to notice Bucky’s balled fists and his blank stare. The only reason you did, was because in the middle of your small dance, you bumped into a hard body. The way you bounced off of him jostled you back to reality.

You got him some water, pouring it on your hand and then on his forehead. The cold shock worked, but with it came those scared, disoriented eyes. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t try and steer the big man any direction. You never could, Bucky was just kind enough to oblige most times. This time, he seemed so splintered, he followed without protest.

You led Bucky into an empty alleyway.

“I’m sorry. Please, let me take you back.” You said, apologetically.

You thought it would help him, not this. You leaned back on the wall opposite to him, waiting for Bucky to decide what to do. Slowly, heavy breathing subsided and he lifted his head from the ground.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t like it. I did. But the people and the sounds and the—I know I was raised in a big city, but it’s been a long time since then.” Bucky said, finally.

He met your concerned gaze and almost looked relieved. The man stood up to his full height in one swift motion.

“I don’t think I like them anymore.” He admitted in a low, gravelly voice.

Your heart sank at his omission. Bucky had no idea who he was anymore, or what made him happy. He needed some peace that didn’t come from his place at the river, that was too familiar.

“I know a place you might enjoy, but it will take time to get there.”

Bucky had complete faith in you, and nodded imperceptibly.

…

It was a quiet ride up the mound.

By now, it was nearing dusk. The sky was a vibrant mix of purples and oranges and reds. Bucky hadn’t spoken again, and you hadn’t pressed him.

“It’s an undeveloped hot spring, Prince T’Challa and I found it together as children. No one will bother us here.”

You stalked through the heavy foliage with a clear head, muscle memory guiding the way to the cave. You were very aware of Bucky’s silent presence behind you. He navigated the vegetation with ease, carrying the food and water in a basket.

You huffed just taking the towels and blanket, and he looked unfazed. The both of you finally reached the mouth of the cave as soon as the last rays of sunlight faded. You watched as Bucky’s face darkened in the dim light.

“There are lights on the far end, vibranium powered so they will last.” You said. Bucky had far better sight than you, and he successfully found and turned them on.

He pointed the bright light toward the cave ceiling, setting off a series of shadows and patterns above you. You smiled softly, satisfied with your work. Bucky was still shook up from the market, but once he stepped into the hot spring he physically seemed more comfortable.

“Don’t stay in too long, it could be dangerous,” you warned him. A blast of warm air hit you, and you laid down on the blanket.

“Got it.” Bucky replied.

Occasionally, you heard the sound of water sloshing around, but you were too lazy to turn your head. There was no one around for miles to interrupt the calm, so you finally closed your eyes.

You heard water streaming to the cave floor as Bucky drew nearer. You thought nothing of it, until you felt warm, sopping wet hands wrap around you. You gasped the intrusion—if you hadn’t known who it was you would’ve screamed.

Bucky pulled you into him. Your face rested on his bare chest, catching the heat emanating from his warm skin. You didn’t have time to freak out.

What he did next wasn’t quite like a cry. The noise was so soft you thought you misheard it at first. It was a strangled, ghost of a sob.

“I-I can’t stop saying I don’t know.”

Bucky clung to you, letting all of his frustration and pain roll off him in waves. You took your cheek off his chest, the warm water leaving your face hotter than normal.

You stopped Bucky before he could recoil—gripping his shoulder.

“Horrific things happened to you Bucky, and I am sorry for that,” you started, staring off at the hot spring behind him. Steam rolled off its surface and wafted upwards and into nothing.

“You are rebuilding yourself and that is alright.”

Bucky peered down at you with a hardened kind of fascination. His eyes raked over you and he broke out in a grateful smile. A true smile.

“Thank you.”

He paused as he regarded you, dropping his shoulders.

“Doll? Can I kiss you?” The request sent you toppling over on the inside. You swallowed hard.

“Why?” Your voice was small. It was the cost to stare Bucky in the eyes while you asked. He needed to see how dead serious you were. You could be fragile, too. You blinked rapidly in anticipation, trying to concentrate over the roar of blood rushing through your veins.

“You never asked me to be someone, now I can be someone else.”

Your jaw dropped. You mustered all the courage you had and met his lips. The kiss was hesitant and soft. There were no expectations, just a sweet moment for two people that needed more of them.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Comic Review - Amongst Us Book 1

A masterful combination of comedy, subtle romance, and incredible sensuality

I make no attempts to hide my complete admiration and infatuation with Shilin Huang's Yuri webcomic Amongst Us. The slice of life AU featuring reimagined versions of the lead characters from fantasy series Carciphona as a lesbian couple has held a special place in my heart for a long time. I named the series one of the best Yuri works of the past one-hundred years, can frequently be found lurking in the author's Twitch streams, and even have a wall in my office dedicated to the artwork of the main couple (or I did before my office became a remote classroom). So, when a Kickstarter by Shilin and Hiveworks Comics launched promising a print version of the work, I was eager to support it financially and promote it with my humble platform. The Kickstarter took place in March, and books were initially estimated for release in May of 2020. However, as you have probably realized by the dates alone, the world went very South around this time. A combination of disruptions from the COVID-19 pandemic, a healthy amount of bad luck, and what I am inclined to believe, for various reasons, was some awful mismanagement by Hiveworks led to numerous delays. Indeed, by the time the book finally shipped, I had moved, so my copy arrived a little later as it had to be forwarded. But, at the end of this frustrating and anticipation-building event, I finally have the volume in my hands, and it was worth the wait. While I adore the webcomic, this gorgeous print volume completely enthralls me. The book is absolutely the preferred way to read this spectacular comic.

Before getting into the exquisite details of Amongst Us Book 1: Soulmates, I need to take a minute to praise how well this book is put together. The paperback binding is thick and features amazing spot glass that sparkles in the light. This feature only accentuates the fantastic and bright the cover illustration of main characters Veloce and Blackbird loving holding each other is. The back cover has a simpler but more imaginative illustration of the two flying through the sky, and the character's expressions tell you everything you need to know about this fantastic, odd couple. There are a few things you will notice upon opening the volume. The first is how well Amongst Us made the challenging transition from vertical webcomic to the page. The assembly and paneling are fantastic and clear, and chapters feature stylized illustrations and title cards. You will then see the inside cover, a powerful display that perfectly contrasts the front's glowing and tender love. Finally, there is Shilin's presents moving forward and dedication, where she lovingly dedicates the book to her partner, Kristen.

I assure you, as good as the book's presentation and assembly is, the contents within are even better. Amongst Us follows Veloce and Blackbird's bombastic relationship. The two women are eccentric and striking musicians in their early twenties, and I swear you will never forget them. The slice of life storylines are, per the genre's definition, mundane and include events like shopping at the mall, riding the train, and having lunch with a friend. The charming simplicity of the story serves well to the reactions of the characters. Shilin effortlessly transitions from adorable moments of affection to explosive and hilarious comedy and irresistible and delightful moments of sexual tension; Veloce's neck and jawline alone could topple a monarchy. Often, slice of life works can become dull or repetitive, but these stories and the frequent changes in tone help the reader stay engaged and excited.

Putting slice of life aside for a moment, it is also important to note that Amongst Us is also has an interesting place within the Yuri genre, or "Girl's Love/GL" as it is often called in webcomic circles (originally an analogous term of Boy's Love). Webcomics have often been a bit more adventurous with their storylines and styles than Japanese manga. While the genre rose to popularity in the space thanks to digital manhwa and manhua, some (not all) of the Yuri tropes did not carry over between the similar mediums. Many modern webcomics and webtoons take their inspiration more from manhwa and manhua GL, which has developed its own canon and tropes over the years. However, even for a webcomic, Shilin's work feels somewhat divorced from most other worlds of Yuri. This first volume exists mainly against the Yuri genre's expectations. However, the next book, which flashes back to the couple's origin, undoubtedly is more in line with convention, for better or worse. It feels like the author decided to screw the norms and write a work that she would enjoy, and I am so glad that she did. Veloce and Blackbird are young adults, out of school in an established relationship with no drama. This (sadly) unconventional setting is made all the more irregular because of just how distinctive, and unwonted Blackbird and Veloce are.

Blackbird and Veloce, originally from the fantasy world of Carciphona, take on a new life, literally, in this wonderful modern reimagining and homage. You do not need to be a fan of the original work to enjoy their bizarre and larger-than-life personalities. Indeed, when I read Amongst Us online for the first time, I had not ever even heard of Carciphona. Veloce is the quieter and more stoic of the two, although she is not afraid of showing a more relatable and human side as she reacts to Blackbirds wild antics. Veloce's (not)straight man approach is hilariously sobering. But, her best moments are in those when she lets loose a little bit, like when she is rendered drooling by the promise of her favorite smoothie or in her stoic yet alluring flirtations with Blackbird, only to get close enough to steal a healthy chomp of ice cream.

Blackbird, on her part, is completely insane. She continuously pulls of wild antics like jumping on Veloce to surprise her or singing an especially threatening song after a glorious battle over lunch. However, she is perfectly capable of showing her love and admiration for Veloce in her own cheeky way. However, true to form, each softer or more personal moment between the two is often immediately and perfectly juxtaposed with comedy, with the apparent exception of the book's touching and thoughtful finale. Veloce and Blackbird will both more than please readers individually, but you will fall in love with them as a couple. I must have read this at least a few dozen times between the webtoon and the book, and I am just as enchanted as ever by their loud and unapologetic love.

The ordinary misadventures of Blackbird and Veloce are accompanied by genuinely astounding artwork. No, that statement does not do Shilin's illustrations justice. Veloce and Blackbird lead from the page thanks to stunning, full-color illustrations that detail every moment of hilarity. Every movement from the slightest smirk to the over-the-top dramatizations of regular events thoughtfully and beautifully sprawl across the pages and invite you to stare for hours. Shilin is the only person possible who could make something as simple as someone softly singing Happy Birthday so epic and sultry. Speaking of which, my goddess of Yuri is this work titillating. No, there are no gratuitous scenes, but just the characters leaning over each other or touching the other's chin makes my hands shake. My only small complaint is that some early chapters show their age slightly with noticeably lower quality linework and flatter colors than the dazzling and dynamic work demonstrated towards the end. Still, even on its worst day, Amongst Us looks better than most of its peers and the entirety of its many inferiors.

Amongst Us is nearly the perfect work. It has a uniquely compelling and mirth-inducing way of displaying a young yet very unordinary couple's everyday life. Its characters, from design to personality, are instantly memorable and striking. Despite being ready to rip each other's heads off at the drop of a hat, or rather because of it, Blackbird and Veloce feel the perfect and natural couple we so rarely witness. Shilin's masterful combination of comedy, subtle romance, and incredible sensuality is astounding. This book is worth it for the outstanding and vibrant artwork alone, but its combination with excellent writing create a sonorous and majestic modern romance unlike any other. I believe that Shilin has created something genuinely special here, and I can confidently say that out of the hundreds of webcomics I have read, this one is the pinnacle of its kind and my absolute favorite.

You can purchase Amongst Us book 1: Soulmates exclusively on Shilin's online shop and read the webcomic now for free on Twitter, Webtoon and Tumblr​ @okolnir​.

Ratings: Story – 9 Characters – 10 Art – 10 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 5 Final – 10

[there-must-be-a-lock]

wings & the way down - part 1

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan

The Moreid high school AU! In which there will (eventually) be pining, misunderstandings, identity crises, and general teenage shenanigans. 

Word Count: ~1520 this chapter. 

Warnings: Awkward boys flirting awkwardly. 

A/N: Title from a Ray Bradbury quote: “If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair... You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.”

This is shaping up to be long. Oh boy. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments! 

Thursday, January 2 - Spencer

“Checkmate.” 

“Yeah, I thought so.” Spencer examines the board and frowns before movement catches his eye.  

Gideon is pointing out where he went wrong, but Spencer isn’t paying attention any more. Losing to Gideon isn’t a particularly novel or interesting experience, and there’s something — someone — much more interesting walking into the park. Spencer crosses his legs, shifting on the bench to rest his elbows on his knees, and watches. 

It’s cold for Vegas, 60ish and breezy, but the guy is wearing short sleeves like this isn’t his usual January. New in town? But Spencer hasn’t seen anyone moving in. Visiting family for the holidays, maybe. He’s got the look of a newcomer: carefully cultivated confidence, studied swagger covering for the unease that always comes with foreign territory. 

There are other things, too, things that Spencer tries not to notice: biceps rippling under the short sleeves, long skilled fingers spinning a basketball idly as he walks, a bright white flash of a grin when he sees Spencer staring —

Spencer is staring. Crap. 

He looks down at the chessboard much too quickly — there’s no way it comes off as anything other than guilty. He glares daggers at his bishop as Gideon clears his own pieces away.

“Rematch tomorrow?” Spencer offers, trying to keep his eyes on the board. “School doesn’t start until next week.” 

“Can’t tomorrow, going up to the cabin. Call you when I get back.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Spencer sneaks a stealthy glance, only to see the guy grinning in his direction, and he averts his eyes again, blushing furiously.

Gideon barks over his shoulder, “See you soon, Doctor Reid.” 

The nickname makes Spencer smile at Gideon’s retreating back, but then he looks down at his lap and remembers he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, wearing his fraying Converse and his mismatched socks — one covered with yellow dinosaurs, one argyle. He sighs to himself. Gideon treats him like an adult, but most people sure as hell don’t, and Spencer can’t exactly blame them. 

“You wanna shoot some hoops?” the stranger calls out, and Spencer doesn’t look up, because he’s obviously talking to someone else, except…“You in the Chucks! Pretty boy!” 

That makes Spencer look up fast, because he assumes it’s sarcastic; it’s the sort of stupid thing the jocks at school might yell, right before they ask him if he wears women’s underwear, or something. There’s no trace of malice on the guy’s face, though. His smile is so bright it’s hard to look at. 

Something warm and awful curls in Spencer’s stomach. 

“I don’t really — I don’t do hoops,” he mutters, averting his eyes again. 

The guy takes the seat opposite his, sprawling out, taking up space. Spencer hunches in on himself, poking at the beginnings of a hole on the faded knee of his favorite jeans. 

“I could teach you.” 

“Given my lack of hand-eye coordination, I really doubt that,” Spencer tells him, which gets a laugh; eyes sparkle, a dimple creases his cheek — he smiles with his whole face. 

“I’m Derek. Derek Morgan.” 

Spencer raises one hand in an awkward wave. “Spencer. I’m — Reid’s my — Spencer is me. That’s my name.” 

Yikes. 

“You from around here?” Derek asks, twirling the basketball on his fingertip, showing off casually. 

Spencer nods and then blurts out, “You’re not. Morgan — is that like the Morgans on Lake Road?” 

“Sure is. That’s my auntie and uncle. I’m staying with them for a bit.” 

“That’s roughly zero point three miles from my house,” Spencer tells him, but when Derek raises his eyebrows, he remembers that walking around aimlessly, memorizing the names on every mailbox because you can’t stand being at home, is not a normal childhood pastime. He continues hurriedly: “Where are you from?” 

“Chicago.” 

That makes sense. He’s cool in the way that Spencer would imagine people from big cities to be. He seems… jaded isn’t the right word for his smile, but experienced, maybe. Sophisticated. Comfortable in his own skin. Sure of himself. 

Everything Spencer is not, basically.

Also, Spencer is staring again. 

“Do you like it here?” he asks. “It must be… different.” 

“That’s an understatement. Toto, we are not on the South Side any more.” A shadow of sadness flickers over Derek’s expression for a moment, like a cloud across the sun, before he smiles again. “It’s good, getting a change of scenery. You know?” 

Spencer doesn’t know, because he’s never been farther away than California, but he says, “Yeah.” 

He tucks his hair behind his ears and then picks up his castle, turning it over in his hands just for something to do. 

“I’ve never actually played chess, but aren’t there supposed to be more pieces?” Derek asks. 

“Gideon likes to use his own pieces, I like to use mine,” Spencer tells him. It’s a sensory thing, for him; he likes the feel of the warm ivory, and Gideon prefers his own heavy stone set. 

“Gideon?” 

“Professor Gideon,” Spencer amends, wondering how to explain that. “I… took a class with him? At UNLV. That’s sort of how we met, but… we play chess.” 

That’s the short version, anyway. 

When Spencer decided to find a cure for schizophrenia, at the age of fifteen, he started by reading everything the local library had on the subject. When he was done there, he started sneaking into the college library. Gideon was the first person to realize Spencer wasn’t a student, but he didn’t call security; instead he offered to let Spencer audit one of his advanced psychology classes in the evenings. Spencer has taken all his classes by now, and Gideon jokes about him earning his Masters before he finishes high school. 

“Want to show me around the neighborhood?” Derek asks, and Spencer blinks at him for a second. 

“You were going to play basketball.” 

“Sure. But you said you don’t ‘do’ hoops.” Derek gestures at the empty court. “Nobody else to play with. Playing with myself gets boring.” He laughs at his own joke, and then his eyes sparkle, devilish, as he says, “I’d much rather play with you.” 

Spencer chokes on nothing, and somehow he makes things even worse by asking shrilly, “Are you flirting with me?”

Derek grimaces. “If I say yes, am I gonna get punched?” 

“Like it’d hurt you even if I did.” 

“Then yeah,” Derek says sheepishly. “I was flirting with you.” 

Spencer stutters for a few incoherent seconds before he recovers from that particular world-ending shock. Then all he can say is, “Oh.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If I was wrong about — if you’re — do you?” 

He cannot possibly be asking what Spencer thinks he’s asking. 

“Do I — play for that team?” he ventures. Derek shrugs, and Spencer can barely breathe. It feels like he’s paralyzed for a second before he can croak, “That’s not — you’re not wrong.” 

“Just to be clear, we’re not talking about basketball any more.” Derek is grinning again. He has a really nice smile, and Spencer needs to stop staring already. 

“Yeah. We’re clear,” he manages. 

For a second they just smile at each other, and Spencer has this swooping sensation in his stomach like he just missed a step, except the disorienting moment of uncontrollable vertigo feels good. 

“Sorry. I’m not used to — this is new to me.” Derek seems almost bashful now, looking down as he starts to toss the basketball from one hand to another. “Being able to admit when I’m… flirting. With a guy, I mean.” 

“I’m not used to being flirted with,” Spencer counters. He clears his throat and adds, “I don’t mind it.” 

Derek doesn’t move his head, but his eyes flick to Spencer. His smile is hopeful and happy and more than a little shy.

“Anybody ever tell you you look good in pink?”

“Huh?” Spencer frowns down at his sweater, which is… yeah, still definitely blue. 

“You’re blushing.” 

“Oh.” He presses his palms to his feverish-hot cheeks. “That makes sense.” 

This doesn’t happen to Spencer. Flirting doesn’t happen to Spencer, let alone flirting with someone who looks like that. There’s a bubble of reckless exhilaration swelling in his chest, helium-light, threatening to lift him off his feet. 

“So, how about it?” Derek asks. “Want to show me around?” 

Spencer nods, way too eagerly. “I could do that.” 

And that’s when his phone rings. 

He knows what it means, before he even looks at the screen, and all that giddy excitement drains away at once. 

He pulls out his phone: Mom calling. He doesn’t pick up yet; he doesn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of Derek. 

“I have to go,” Spencer says miserably. He sweeps his chess pieces carelessly into his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and gives Derek a helpless shrug. “I just — really need to go. Can we — tomorrow? I’ll be here. Tomorrow. Same time.”

“No worries,” Derek says, with a rueful little half-smile. Spencer turns, starts running, and he almost misses it when Derek says, “See you tomorrow, pretty boy.” 

Spencer doesn’t let himself look back, but he smiles. 

He flips open his phone on the very last ring and says, “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.” 

.

.

Part 2 is here! 

.

[chaoticallysapphic]

the great trial part one

summary: This was meant to be the easy part. The part filled with brightness and love. The war was over and you had the love of your life all to yourself. No more Baatar, no more secrecy and no more lies. But with the calm comes the realization as all the adrenaline finally leaves you. Now you know, this is the hard part.

a/n: So remember when I said I wouldn’t post anything until the sequel was done? Well it turns out I need validation to thrive and would love peoples feedback on the series so I’ve decided that I am going to slowly release what I currently have while trying to finally finish what’s left. Thank you to @medeliadracon​ for beta reading this and @ladyxffandoms​ for being such a big help! This wouldn’t nearly be as good without the two of you. 

This is the sequel to the great divide series.

word count: 4k

That first month in your new apartment is probably the worst. You guys were able to find a small one on the bottom floor of a complex. It had a small side garden with a lemon tree and vines growing up the side of the building and your dad was already talking to about all the flowers you could plant together. 

Suyin put you on house arrest as well which caused an uproar with not only Kuvira, who offered to take your year for herself, but also your parents. You would be stuck inside for a year whilst she would have to stick it out for three. Kuvira hated how you were paying for her actions, she didn’t see how wrong it was for you to turn a blind eye for three years. No one knew the pressure she put you under.

Your parents offered to pay the bills. They were comfortable enough with your mom's Lieutenant salary and with your father's popular flower shop. They even bought you guys furniture and upon your request paint to personalize your first home. 

Somehow once that front door shuts, leaving you both inside with furniture randomly stacked around in the living for the both of you to organize along with paint cans and boxes of your belongings, the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it. You’ve dreamed of this day for years and it isn’t going at all how you planned. 

She doesn’t get what the big deal is, she’s just happy she’s not stuck in a prison cell. That frustrated look on your face is new and with a sharp reply at some snappy comment you made, she realizes she doesn’t like it.

Kuvira gets pissed that the couch is too heavy, the paint isn’t the right shade, and even though she claims she doesn’t care it’s what you’ve dreamt, and dammit you deserve for it to come true. A plate cracks, silverware is dropped, the bookcase is too small for all your childhood books and one of you (Kuvira) already managed to scuff up the floors. 

This, the after, is meant to be the easy part. There aren't any more battles or secrets, train rides, or negotiations. It’s the two of you in your first apartment and this day is supposed to be a happy one. This is meant to be a peaceful and happy day with stolen kisses as you lazily unpack. You’re meant to be starting over and it’s not supposed to be so difficult.

The sun has gone down and the lights dimly illuminate your disaster of a living space. Nothing has been accomplished. You grip the roots of your hair as the paint issue is once more brought up “why does it matter? It’s a decent color!” 

“Because it’s not what I envisioned!” 

“Well, we can’t always get what we want! What, are we going to have your parents return it?” Spirits! She doesn’t get it, your vision of the future was sacred, something you held tight for all those years. It has to be at least slightly like you imagined it, and this isn’t right. 

To Kuvira, your behavior is starting to remind her of a spoiled child upset about not getting the last piece of candy.

“You don’t get it! It matters to me, we’re gonna be living here for the next three years. I think we should at least like what we put on the walls!” You storm away, slamming the bedroom shut behind you. There aren’t many places to hide here, all the main living space is combined along with a very small bathroom, one wall is completely windows that show the small garden and by the kitchen is the door to the bedroom. 

Kuvira stands frozen in the living room, slightly flinching as the door slams shut. She understands that there will be a rocky adjustment period. She admitted that day in the tent that she needs to work on the way she treats you. 

But she didn’t expect it to go south so fast. While you have your version of how today is meant to go, so does she. Kuvira hoped today would go along smoothly, she didn’t care about the furniture or walls, she simply wanted to peacefully start off your new life together on a good note.

You aggressively rub at your eyes as you feel tears of frustration well up before sitting down on the edge of your bed. That’s at least one thing that seems to be working out, all the beds you shared in the past were rather small (besides the one in the Beifong estate) so it was a relief to see them carry in a queen-sized bed for both of you. You lay down over the covers and sighed. Tomorrow will be better, you tell yourself. 

You don’t mean to fall asleep, you just planned to lay there and stew in your emotions a bit before getting up and trying to talk it out. So when you awake with a start, your hand immediately goes to search for that familiar body. You choke out a sob as you find the other side empty. Momentarily forgetting where you are, you begin to cry as you wrap your arms around yourself. The words “what did I do?” leave your lips. 

You bring a hand to try and stifle the sound as your lungs squeeze out all the air it can. The room feels so small and the darkness of the night so terrifying. 

There’s the sound of shuffling from the other side of the door before someone opens it up, Kuvira looks at you, her hair a curly mess from sleep. She squints, still half asleep before hearing you let out a whimper. She walks over, crawling onto the bed until she’s in front of you, her hands come up to move your wrists as you continue to try and muffle the sound. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” 

Your eyes shoot up to hers and you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You weren’t here,” you cry. Kuvira’s eyebrows shoot up at your words before wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to try and offer you some kind of comfort. “I thought…” you sniffle, “I thought we were back on the train.” 

Oh

Suddenly Kuvira feels anger flame within herself but it’s not directed at you but her because she’s the reason you're crying. “I was just sleeping on the couch, no one else is here.” Baatar isn’t here. You grip her shirt for reassurance, the fear within you stays and it makes your joints ache with anxiety as you remember all those nights alone. “I thought you wanted to be alone.” 

This side of you is brand new to her and so heartbreaking. She can feel the pounding of your heart and a part of her is worried it’ll break out of your chest. She’s done this to you, she’s made it so you're sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. As you shake in her arms, she realizes this can’t be avoided tomorrow.

You shake your head, not being able to say anything as you continue to cry. She moves her arms, an act that has you holding her tighter, and moves them to your hips so she can scoot you over so that the both of you can sleep. You seem to understand as your grip loosens just a smidgen as she slowly lays down and, due to your clinging, you follow.

Once on your sides, you wrap yourself around her, needing her to be as close as possible, and tuck your face into her neck. It’s not all that comfortable but it helps slow your heart rate down a bit. 

In the morning you seem to not want to talk about your episode, you act as if nothing happened. She always tried to ignore the way you looked after those nights on the train, honestly, she was too busy trying to scrub away the events of the night before to have noticed how truly upset you looked. 

But now in the light of day as your unpacking more dishes she notices the bags under your eyes and the unusual quiet in your demeanor. Your movements are stiff as you place the baking dishes into a bottom cabinet. 

It’s like you're a shell of yourself, like last night that bright, loving person was poured out of you along with your tears. It terrifies her to see how quickly it can all shift.

“Y/n?” You look up, quirking a brow. “Can we talk about last night?” 

You tense up a bit, brushing your hands over your sweatpants. “What about it?” 

“About…” Kuvira furrows her brows in confusion, “Y/n I thought you were hurt when I woke up.” You bite your lip, fiddling with the ties of your pants. You don't talk about this, never in the past three years have you talked about things like this with her. It always upset her when you tried to talk about how her actions hurt you. 

“Well I wasn't, just startled is all. Can you pass me that box?” 

“You were shaking,” Kuvira places her hand on the box to keep it in place when she sees you walk over to grab it yourself. “Is that… Is that what happened every time I…?” She can’t seem to bring herself to say it, so you do. 

“Every time you cheated on me?” You place your hands on your hips and sigh. “Just drop it Kuvira.” You rip the box out from under her grasp and walk away. Bile rises in your throat as those pesky images you’d dream up every time she was gone appear in your mind. 

You set the box down harder than you mean to and the sound of something breaking has you cursing under your breath. Bolin isn’t here to spar with, to help calm you down with uppercuts and swift kicks to the shins. 

Kuvira is stunned, left standing at the other side of the kitchen counter as she tries to make sense of her raging thoughts. Cheated. You're not wrong, but hearing you say it hurts. She never called it that, knowing if she did she’d have to admit what she was doing was wrong. And she could never be wrong, at least not then. 

So she called it punishments because then she could justify what she was doing. It’s not like she liked doing it because she didn’t but it seemed to be the best way to control you at the time. It won’t matter if she says that though, she knows it’s wrong and if anything it’ll make this situation worse. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she says softly, saying it makes her internally cringe, but she does mean it. You let out a huff, ignoring her as you open up the box. All the adrenaline of trying to save the day has left you, honestly, it left you around the time they slapped that stupid tracker onto your ankle but the lack of sleep and her trying to confront something you’d rather stay buried is getting to you. 

When you go to pick up the broken dish the sharp edge cuts across your hand, you hiss out in pain and jerk your hand towards your chest, it’s not a deep cut but it still hurts like a bitch. Blood begins to seep out and the sight of that sickening deep red liquid coating your palm has Kuvira panicking. 

Suddenly she’s back in the trunk with her heart in your hands as she watched you bleed out. Her hands feel warm and coated in the thickness of your blood once more. Her heart begins to race, deep in the back of her mind she knows it’s just a small cut but it’s only been a few weeks since you were so close to death.

Ignoring the fight at hand she rushes over to gently cradle your hand and pull it close, you yank your hand out of her grasp, her eyes shoot up to look at you with pinched brows. “I need to clean it, just let me clean it.” Her voice shakes as she desperately tries to take your hand back.

“I can’t…” This furious look settles on your features as you glare into her eyes before storming away towards the bathroom. She turns to follow you, her heart is pounding at the memories pouring out from the box she’s tried to shove them in. “I can’t look at you right now!” 

The slam of the door effectively ends any chance of her chasing after you. 

A couple of weeks goes by, the walls have now been painted the green you wanted and your dad brought over a second bookcase, then helped move the couch with Kuvira. He stops by often with baked goods and a fresh bouquet to replace the last. After that first day of moving in your mother doesn’t stop by though, he says she’ll come around, that she just needs time. 

But Kuvira sees the crestfallen look that takes over your features every time you open the door, and she’s not there. It’s a Friday night, and he’s come over to help cook.

Things have been tense between you and Kuvira, you can’t seem to look her in the eyes. She’s tried multiple times to get you to look at her, but each time you keep your gaze trained on something behind her or her forehead. 

What she doesn’t know is every time you do accidentally look at her, betrayal seeps through you as you remember all those nights alone. You don’t want to be filled with anger and hurt every time you look at her, but you don’t know what to do. Saying that word out loud, cheated, has opened a door you kept locked tight, spirits you had built a wall in front of it after that first time. 

But now it’s blown off the hinges and fills you up, threatening to spill at any moment. You're sure your dad notices, but he thankfully doesn’t comment. He’s commandeered Kuvira to fill the dumplings, saying “these are her favorite, anytime she got sick or upset I���d make these for her and everything would be okay again.” 

You ignore him as he tries to converse with Kuvira, her replies are short and awkward as she doesn’t know how to conduct herself around him yet. Opening up a bottle of wine for yourself you try to work on the broth for the soup, desperately trying to tune her out. You love your father so much and you're happy to be near him again, but you wish he’d just go home.

Meanwhile, Kuvira is loving his company, not only does it force you to be civil, but she gets a chance to get on his good side. She knows how much your parents mean to you and whilst it will probably take a village to get your mother to like her again, she thinks she has a shot with your dad. 

“And then! Oh, I think she was five when she realized what her mark meant, it was so adorable she-” Your dad laughs, suddenly you're filled with embarrassment as he continues. “She asked if they would be pretty.” 

You know he has good intentions but spirits now is not the time to bring up stupid soulmates. Does he not feel the tension between the two of you? You know that if he does, it’s probably slipped his mind that it’s not over something small. Your parents never had to worry about what to do if the other cheats on you multiple times whilst watching you suffer.

You fill up a glass for yourself, pouring it past the socially acceptable amount, and take a big sip before filling up two glasses for them. Part of you wants to be petty and not fill one up for her but your dad will point it out if you do. That bitter voice in your head reminds you of how Kuvira once shamed you for drinking. Fuck that.

“Between you and me I think she thinks you're pretty so five-year-old her would be very happy.” Kuvira coughs, letting out a chuckle as she shakes her head, not that you see since your back is turned. “I don’t know about that,” is her modest reply. 

To hear stories about your childhood feels like a perfectly wrapped present to Kuvira. It makes her feel close to you despite your current circumstances and to hear about how obsessed you were with soulmates makes her want to wrap you up and shower you with love.

But the problem with this story is it makes Kuvira think about all the shitty things she did to you. To hear about all the excitement and joy you showed over one day meeting her has made her feel ashamed of the person you got stuck with. Do you wish someone else was her? Have you ever thought about the what-ifs?

You hear your dad let out a chuckle and say “No, don’t be so negative.” If she replies you don’t hear it, soon after the topic is dropped as they focus back on the task at hand. Your grip on the wooden spoon is so tight you wonder if you can snap it in half. It hurts your fingers and that slight pain offers some kind of relief.

“So you pinch it like thi-” 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, leaving the broth to boil as you hastily walk over to the bathroom and lock the door behind you. Kuvira watches you go with a frown, everyday it seems you have to lock yourself away from her. Like her presence is just so unbearable that you’d rather hide in a bathroom and miss out on time with your dad.

You catch the sight of yourself in the mirror and glare back at the unrecognizable person staring back at you. Your face is flushed from embarrassment and there’s this hint of rage lingering in your gaze that wasn’t always there. 

You’ve never been this kind of angry person before, you were raised around flowers and cupcakes, books filled with great adventures and laughter echoing through your home. People who’d go to the moon and back for you. 

Your mom could get a bit angry at times and when she did she’d go take it out on one of those training dummies at her work. There was hardly ever any yelling in your home and never once did you sense animosity between your parents growing up. This new environment was stress-inducing and it made you want to throw all the glass plates against the wall.

You bring your hands up to your cheeks and sigh. When you were younger you were badly bullied at school for being so quiet, if anything the teasing words and tugs on your hair just made you cave inward on yourself instead of lashing out. 

You’d cry into your parent's arms as you asked them why no one wanted to be friends with you and your father helped you find solace in the solitary kind of activities to help bring you happiness.

When you signed up for the dance troupe that was a big step for you, which sounds ridiculous since you were nineteen, but that was something that required being around others and communicating with them. Both of your parents were thrilled at you finally branching out and had taken you to a celebratory dinner after your first practice. 

They were your best friends, you looked up to them and admired the love they still evidently held for one another, soulmates or not love seemed to dwindle over the years for most couples. And now you're here, in your bathroom of the apartment you share with your soulmate which should fill you with joy but instead you're on the verge of tears as you try to push down that burning flame within. 

If your dad ever cheated on your mom she’d slap him across the face and leave. If your mom cheated on your dad he’d cry so hard, but he’d leave as well. They always told you things like that were unacceptable when you’d tell them about all the school drama (not that you were ever involved in it) and now here you are. Feeling ashamed of all those years when she walked all over you, you wonder what would your parents think? You pull at the roots of your hair, no longer able to stomach the sight of yourself. 

You hate all of this and you can’t look her in the eyes but if given the chance you know you won’t leave, and it’s not because of that soulmate bullshit. It’s because of those quiet moments spent in each other's arms when it seemed like the world ceased to exist, where you’d giggle as she’d rub her nose against yours. Where you felt safe and seen and loved. 

You want those moments back, you want to not hate the sight of her but it seems anytime you so much as hear her voice you're on edge. You’re shaking due to the wave of anger and sadness that washes over you as you seem to get trapped in your thoughts. 

It’s happening more and more, you zone out most days and seem to think of every little bad thing she’s done. It feels like molten hot lava is poured over you every time it happens. The knock on the door makes you jump up in shock, so lost in your thoughts you tuned the rest of the world out. 

“The dumplings are ready,” you hear your dad say. You look up in the mirror and internally groan, you’ve made a mess of your hair and your eyes are bloodshot from crying. 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay, we’ll be setting up the table.” You nod, not realizing he can’t see you as you try to fix your appearance which is a task in itself. 

The dinner is awkward, it consists of spoons gently tapping against glass bowls and your father desperately trying to fill in the silence, he eyes you the whole time, probably expecting a smile to appear because dumplings fix everything, except this time they don’t. She feels bad for your dad, he really is trying to make you happy. Should she tell him it’s no use? That the only thing that will make you happy is probably her disappearance?

Anytime she looks your way you take a sip of your wine, you have to refill it thrice and it seems to drag on for hours despite the alcohol in your system. Kuvira does try to chime in as she tries to get on your father's good side but you are only able to let out nods of acknowledgment or forced chuckles at little anecdotes. 

He leaves after helping you clean the dishes, much to Kuvira’s chagrin. With him around, he was a nice buffer for the two of you, a pleasant way to fill the uncomfortable silence that filled your home. 

You’ve just finished wiping down the counters when she tries. “Y/n…” 

“No.” You immediately reply, heading to your shared room to get in bed before her, like you always do. 

A day later your mom finally shows up. She knows this is a private moment and to be honest she fears your mother's wrath. The way she glared at her when she opened the door had her wanting to hide away. She had said something about needing to talk to you, how the dumplings didn’t work which had Kuvira severely confused. But she didn’t question it.

So she lets your mom make tea while she tried to coax you out of the room. By the time you finally leave Kuvira sees that your mother is in the garden, patiently waiting. When you walk out of your bedroom you find her in the garden, sitting at the little iron table they got for you.

You watch Kuvira lock herself in your bedroom as you sit down across from your mom. There're two teacups filled with piping hot jasmine tea and a plate of cookies your father probably baked. 

Neither of you speaks the first few moments, you both spend the time sipping from your cups and watching the bustling of the streets, it must be lunchtime. 

“Why haven’t you stopped by?” 

Your mom sighs as she sets the teacup down, “honestly I just… I have a hard time with all of this. With her and with your arrest.” 

“Well, I did stand by while a bunch of horrible things happened mom. I understand why she arrested me,” you pick up one of the sugar cookies and bite into it. That all too familiar anger is bubbling within you once more. 

“Yes, but as a Lieutenant of the guard it’s made people deem me unworthy of my job.” You tense at her words, you didn’t know people were giving her grief about your actions. It’s not like she encouraged you to leave. “And… I am just having a hard time getting used to her and everything she’s done.” 

“She knows what she did was wrong, she was being cornered in Ba Sing S-” 

“I don’t mean what she did to the earth kingdom, I mean what she did to you.” Looking down at the dark amber color of your tea, you slump your shoulders as you think of her words. 

“I mean I’ll support whatever you decide but it’s hard for me to look at her knowing she kept you a secret, so she could keep up some charade with that Junior-” you tuck your hands under your lap at his name, trying to keep from clenching them, “and I’ve seen photos of him holding her and even kissing her, none of it is right.” 

Biting your lip to keep from crying you look away from her, at the streets that have since calmed down a bit. You focus on a child holding his mother's hand as he kicks up water at the fountain. He’s laughing, his grin so wide it takes up the majority of his features. He looks so happy and carefree. You want that kind of life, wishing you could trade his with yours.

“It was only kissing, right?” When you don’t immediately reply, she continues “y/n what happened in those three years?” 

“I…” you snap your mouth shut as you suddenly feel like you're about to cry. You can’t look at her, you’ll know she’ll be disappointed in you. “It was a couple of times to placate him, he’d been getting suspicious due to her lack of affection.” 

And I’d angered her in some way, it was usually that.

You don’t say that though, deciding to keep it to yourself. You hear the sound of glass breaking and whip your head around to see the handle of your mother's teacup broken into tiny pieces, the cup slips from her hand and falls onto the table, causing it to shatter. Hot tea splatters onto the table and seeps through the holes within it, some liquid gets on your shirt and you jump back in surprise. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry honey,” she says, going to grab one of the napkins to wipe up the excess tea. Her voice shakes with rage and you can see her jaw clenching so tight it looks like it’s about to snap. While she cleans no one talks, what do you even say? So instead you busy yourself by picking up a cookie and snapping it in half, when she leaves you’ll pick up the glass shards off the ground. 

“You know…” Your mother clenches the wet cloth in her hand, trying to control her tone. “You know that’s wrong, right?” 

“Yes, I do but what am I meant to do?” She opens her mouth to reply but stops herself when she sees the telltale sign of you being on the verge of tears. “I can’t look at her without imagining it but fuck mom I still love her.” 

It’s silent for a few beats, you can see the cogs turning in her mind. You don’t know if you want to know what’s going through her head, probably disappointment at your unwillingness to leave Kuvira. She sighs and gently sets the dirty napkin onto the table, her eyes lowered to stare at a shard that has half a panda lily painted on it, the other half had broken off during the fall. The incompleteness of it is sort of beautiful. 

“If you want to stay with her, you both need to seek professional help because this relationship is unhealthy and can’t continue this way.” She runs her hands through her hair, smoothing it back as she stares at you, “I can have a friend of mine come over to talk with the both of you, she specializes in things like this.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes but it’s not something that’ll be fixed right away. From the sounds of it, it’ll take years before the two of you can get to a healthy place.” Your shoulders slump at that, why is nothing easy anymore? Why can’t it go back to cinnamon-scented afternoons while helping your dad at his shop where the most difficult task at hand was tying a perfect bow. 

“I’ll do it.”

[honeytea8]

La Dolce Vita • Risotto Nero/fem!Reader

A/N: I had the pleasure of doing an art trade with my sweet @string-bean-requiem and here it is!!! 💗💗 (it’s written with them in mind, but y’all can enjoy it too)

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: A fun night on the town offers the rare chance of falling for a handsome stranger...though to be fair, is he really even a stranger?

Warnings: Some kissing💀 and implied spice, nothing explicit.

Italian nightlife had never been something you had the chance to enjoy. The reason being that Passione had taken up so much of your time and each day was spent completely on work-related things. While some of your teammates, namely Formaggio and Melone made it a point to enjoy their weekends off the best they could, you did not. In fact, you seldom had the opportunity to join Napoli’s party-going masses, let alone step foot into a nightclub or bar.

So, naturally, when a wind of change had come to sweep you onto a different course, you were very much inclined to let it. Despite the inkling of trepidation growing in the pit of your stomach, you were also filled with excitement for the night that awaited you. You knew better than to squander this rare moment.

Tonight, you were out of town, miles across the Tyrrhenian sea, on the largest island south of the Italian peninsula—a place called Sicily known for its long history and traditions.

After a successfully completed mission, you choose to reward yourself, on the final night of your trip, by stepping out and enjoying whatever intrigues such a place had to offer. Who knew when you’d ever get the chance again?

A club called Bona Furtuna came highly recommended to you by a certain Sicilian native. It was a simple but newly renovated warehouse on the coast near Palermo. According to the locals, it was the place to be on a night like this.

Although a bit stuffy and filled with smoke swirling in the air like dry ice, bodies continued to fill up the dance floor, moving in tandem with the music. Girls in leotards and heels provided bottle service and cigars—all of which were somewhat of a shock to you. Initially, your carefully honed instincts kept you from enjoying yourself to the fullest, but by your third mojito, you felt yourself loosening up. Following a shot of tequila after that, you could feel the baseline thrumming against your teeth as the bright strobe lights bounced off your skin and hair.

Your hips whirled to the beat, a sheen of sweat on your neck and back. The dress you wore clung to you like second skin. It became easier for you to feed off the atmosphere; your body moved on impulse, responding to the silent cues that played off the swarm of people around you. It was spellbinding. However, the alcohol in your system did little to negate some of your more ingrained senses. The feeling of eyes trained on your back was something like an alarm in your conscience, but you were not in danger, far from it actually.

You kept dancing, swinging along with the beat, bating your silent observer. If he wanted to spectate, he could do just that. But it would be even more fun if he just cut loose and joined you on the dance floor.

In due time, the music shifted to something with a slower tempo; it was then that you felt a warm hand on your waist.

Body to body, you moved against him with practiced ease, rolling against his hips in a way that was titillating, slow, and steady as a river. He guided your movements in time with his own, like he knew your body better than you did. In a way, it didn’t surprise you. You could tell he was getting into it. Feeling impish, you skirted away from him with a spin, tossing a wink over your shoulder and strutting your way to the bar for a little reprieve.

“Water, please.” You called out to the bartender. “Light on the ice.”

Not a moment later, a glass of water was placed in front of you, but before you could reach for it, you caught sight of a mop of violet hair in your peripheral.

Your dance partner had joined you at the bar and with him came the familiar scent of Boucheron cologne and the perfect blend of citrus and spice. Finally able to see him in better light, you considered some of his most notable features. His beautiful aquiline nose; his red irises ringed in black sclera, which was unusual by nature. But held an equally intense and honest quality that made you smile a little. He was lovely to look at, dressed sharply in a crisp button up shirt with a few of them unfastened that gave a nice little peek at his chest.

He leaned against the bar, managing to tower over you still, though you remained undaunted. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

“I’m okay with this.” was your simple but quick-witted reply, all the while, you eyed him sharply over the rim of your glass.

He looked amused, maybe even a little surprised by your quick denial, but not at all discouraged. That was a good sign, maybe he’d prove to be interesting company tonight. You couldn’t deny that he was attractive; the kind of sexy one didn’t have to try for. You decided introductions were in order so you offered him your name and hand, smiling when he took it and kissed it.

“My name is Risotto.” He said with a dimpled half-smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Risotto.” And although he left you to do most of the talking, your conversation continued without a hitch. Eventually, when you asked what he was doing back in his hometown, Risotto revealed he was just here for business.

“What kind of business?”

He smirked. “Not the kind of thing I can share so easily with you.”

After that admission, you finally allowed him to buy you another drink before you both made your way back to the dance floor. You weren’t as coherent as you were prior. Inhibitions fell to the wayside and you swayed on your feet a bit, but thankfully Risotto held you firm, like an anchor in the sea of alcohol in your system.

You moved like an uncoiled rope, eyes alight with mischief, and a smile on your orange painted lips.

“Come now, Risotto.” You called over the music. “I’m sure you can dance better than that!”

“You’re really gonna keep up this act, cara?” He asked.

You looped an arm around his neck, and guided his hand onto your waist like before. In a golden moment of genuine amusement, Risotto laughed, showing off a row of perfect teeth.

“Yes, I am, even if you keep breaking character!” You carded your fingers through the hair at his nape, smiling as you leaned forward to peck his lips. “Now remember, we have never met!”

Risotto nodded, still smirking. You should’ve known he had something up his sleeve. He took one of your hands and twirled you around, then dipped you low enough that your cleavage was on display for half a second at most before he lifted you and pulled you close to his chest. It was minutes later that you noticed he was doing the tarantella, or a modernized version of this dance. It seemed the warm atmosphere brought out of the Sicilian boy that lived deep within the ever-stoic Risotto.

You and he danced all night until your feet were tender and he was left to carry your heels in one hand while holding you close with the other. His brawny arm was slung over your shoulder, and yours was looped around his waist for support.

“I love you,” you murmured into his armpit; it’s where you had managed to shove your head as he half-carried you back to your shared motel. When he didn’t immediately respond you chanced a peek at him. “Did you hear what I said?” You pouted a little, but all Risotto did was blink at you.

It was around two in the morning and the streets were empty save for the occasional civilian. Risotto pressed your back against the brick wall of a neighboring building. He guided one of your long legs around his waist just as you snaked both arms around his neck. The rough pad of his thumb brushed against your lips, the only warning you received before his mouth was on yours and kissing you deeply. The world and everything with it fell away in that single moment. One of your hands slipped down to fist his shirt. It was odd to feel him wearing one, especially with you being so accustomed to feeling his bare skin.

When he finally released you, Risotto murmured a quiet, “I love you too, always,” against the seam of your mouth before finally scooping you up and carrying you all the way home—where he could truly show you his love privately.

By morning, you were greeted with the heavy weight of an arm slung around your waist and warm breaths ghosting your neck. The sky was still blue, almost black but sounds of birds chirping was enough to confirm that it was indeed early. Groaning, you shifted in bed, feeling the muggy heat in the room and only the stifled breeze filtering in through an open window. Sicily was incredibly hot in the mornings; it was enough to make you sweat even as you slept.

Next to you Risotto’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he was given a full view of your naked back. He pressed a feather light kiss to your bare shoulder before sitting up from the bed. It never took him long to fully wake up. When it came to vigor and strength, he was seemingly unmatched.

“We should head back in about an hour.” Risotto said, voice slightly hoarse, as he picked up his phone from where it was still charging near his suitcase. “We have a text from Prosciutto and several missed calls from Ghiaccio.” He raked a hand through his dyed hair as he spoke. You couldn’t help but notice that the purple color suited him nicely.

“Hm, that’s fine by me.” You yawned, dragging the sheets over your body, and tucking the excess under your arms.

Whatever meager strength you had was only enough to keep you barely coherent. You were tired from all the drinking and dancing, though you had fun, the morning after was one thing you could do without.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” You watched as your boyfriend scrolled through his phone, likely giving the squad a status update.

Risotto looked up from the device, lips parted and eyes wide like a scandalized old man.

“I meant the clubbing,” you corrected. “Did you enjoy our little game?”

He finally shrugged and gave a noncommittal hum; Capo Risotto was back in full effect, it seemed. You gazed at his bare chest, silently admiring the way his muscles flexed underneath his skin. You nearly missed his belated response.

“You were...a bit difficult in the beginning.”

“Oh? I didn’t notice.” You laughed.

Risotto watched as you milled about the hotel room, tossing random articles of clothes into your suitcase. You’d found a clean pair of panties and slipped them on quickly, while discarding the bedsheets in favor of an old t-shirt. When you came over to where he was standing, you held his leather coat in hand.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

He snorted lightly, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a soft kiss as thanks. Together you both dressed, forgoing breakfast so you wouldn't miss your ferry trip back to Naples.

As you gripped Risotto’s hand upon reentering the base, you leaned into him and bumped him tenderly with your hip. You toed off your shoes, suddenly greeted by the telltale sound of several arguing voices. And it was coming straight from the main room. You looked to Risotto with a heavy sigh.

“Will we ever get another night off?”

Risotto glanced down at you, understanding your pain. “We’ll try, tesoro.”

[echo-of-sounds]

bnha original characters

This is less about the characters themselves and more about their quirks, their strengths, weaknesses, and the like. I only included Ursa and Cujo in this from anxiety bear. 

I might make more about Quick Comfort’s reader, some side characters, and villains to explore their quirks further. Let me know if you’d like to read about more characters! I liked doing this!

anxiety bear’s reader

Hero Name: Ursa (Latin; bear)

Quirk: Arctotherium

She can transform into an Arctotherium angustidens (an extinct genus of South American short-faced bear). A secondary effect of her quirk is her enhanced senses.

Height: on all fours, she’s 5’11ft at the shoulder (perfect height for biting people right in the jugular); on her hind legs, she’s 12ft

Weight: around 2,900 pounds

Hero Costume: It’s made out of simple, relaxed, and breathable clothing. To nullify her heightened smell, she has a mask. It’s a small, specialized respirator that filters even the tiniest odor. After she uses her quirks, she needs food, so there’s a small pocket on her thigh that she keeps filled with protein bars. For cold weather, she adds a cloak.

Strengths:

Ursa’s sheer mass and weight benefit her, making her difficult to knock/jar, a powerful hitter, and becomes quite the tank when she gets charging. Running up to 45mph at long distances, she’s easily able to break through walls, catch those trying to escape, and escape herself if necessary. She relies mostly on her senses of hearing (which exceeds frequencies humans can hear) and smell (which is about 2,000 times greater than a human’s).

Her fur, dark brown in color, provides protection against impact and some claws/knives due to its thickness. It is not impenetrable. Enough force behind the weapon can spear through her fur.

For offense, her claws and teeth are her main weapons. Her paws are about 1.2 feet (not including her claws). Her claws are around 4 inches. As with other bears, they aren’t actually that sharp. She just has enough power behind her swing to cause damage no matter their acuteness. It’s enough to knock the wind out of someone.

Weaknesses:

She can’t talk while in bear form. She can hear, but being unable to communicate back can cause difficulties while working in teams.

While Ursa’s enhanced senses prove useful in many cases, they’re also her main weakness. Overloading her senses is a sure-fire way to force her unconscious, incapacitated, or to unshift. Smell is the quickest and easiest to overtax, especially with acrid, bitter, and sharp scents. Hearing and sight are next: with high-pitched noises, inaudible by the average human, and deep, bass sounds that rumble her bones; and with bright lights, flashing ones are the worst.

Because of her sensitivities, she acts more like a powerhouse for brief fights. If she’s in one too long, the greater the chances of her becoming overwhelmed. She’s more of a hindrance than anything if she gets overwhelmed.

Quirk Side Effects/Other Info:

Ursa’s senses are still enhanced when she isn’t in bear form. It mimics Sensory Processing Disorder. Her mask helps with her sense of smell. For sight, she has glasses that block out the wavelengths that irritate her eyes the most. For hearing, she has hearing hampers. They work the opposite of hearing aids; instead of amplifying noises/pitches, they dampen them before sending the soundwaves into the ear.

After exerting a certain amount of energy while using her quirk, her body rapidly depletes its resources. The protein bars in her costume help while she’s on patrol. After intense fights, she needs much more than the snacks, often choosing chicken breast topped with fried eggs on any combination of rice, steak, vegetables, and cheeses (she refuses to eat any type of seafood or beans, hating the smell, taste, and texture in her mouth).

Although she tends to ignore this part, she goes through a sort of ‘heat’ like bears do. It starts around mid-May and lasts till early July. She spends more time inside during it.

Quirk Malfunction:

Shifting in and out of her bear form isn’t always a smooth process. Changing is typically easy as her body is reverting into its natural state; she just relaxes, let’s go, and it happened. It’s quick, and she hardly has to try. Sometimes, when she’s exhausted, injured, or otherwise overwhelmed, parts of her body may not revert properly.

Here’s an example from when she was eight (this is a condensed/slightly modified version of the explanation I gave in anxiety bear):

She couldn’t remember what was overwhelming. Something just hurt. She couldn’t move or do anything. So she started panicking. When she shifted back, her face felt horrible. It felt as if her skin was being stretched and her bones were warped. She screamed. Her dad came outside, wrapped a towel around her face, picked her up, and brought her to the hospital.

Her facial bones didn’t properly shift. In our maxilla, we have an infraorbital foramen which is the opening to the infraorbital canal. It transmits a nerve, vein, and artery. Bears also have this, but their anatomy is different. The important difference, in this case, is their maxilla and mandible length due to their muzzles. Human skulls are relatively flat in comparison.

When Ursa shifted, her maxilla remained long like a bear’s (about four inches). Her upper canines were still large and pointing outward. At the hospital, X-Rays showed her infraorbital canal was shoved forward. Because it was only her maxilla that malfunctioned, her nerves and arteries were stretched almost to the point of ripping as they were still fit for a human. She couldn’t talk or see and could hardly smell.

To fix it whenever this happens, she needs to be given Tizanidine. It’s a skeletomuscular relaxant with antispastic agents. It slows the brain and nervous system’s activity to let your muscles relax. Her body will eventually fix itself.

Kuma (reader’s brother in anxiety bear)

Hero Name: Cujo (From the Stephen King story. He prefers the film because of the more optimistic ending.)

Quirk: Arctotherium

Kuma’s quirk is very similar to his sister’s. He can transform into an Arctotherium angustidens. A secondary effect of his quirk is enhanced senses. However, they aren’t as enhanced as Ursa’s.

Height: He stands at 6’1ft on all fours and 14 feet on his hind legs

Weight: around 3,200 pounds

Hero Costume: Much like his sister, his costume is relaxed and comfortable clothing. He also has a mask to filter smells (but uses it less frequently than Ursa) and a pocket on his thigh for protein snacks.

Strengths:

Cujo shares many strengths and weaknesses with Ursa, mainly thick fur for protection, sharp teeth, and long claws. One difference is that he has more mass and weight to his advantage. It makes him a heavier hitter, able to cause more damage in less amount of time. And since his senses aren’t as sensitive, he doesn’t have to worry about becoming overwhelmed as much as Ursa does. These factors allow him to hit harder, last longer in fights, and take in more sensory input.

He’s willing to fight dirty and bloody to win (though some believe that to be a weakness) With his size, he’s able to sustain quite a bit of damage without it hindering him. A bullet to the side or a slash to his back would incapacitate an average human/someone of a smaller size. He’d barely feel the bullet, let alone have to worry about it.

Weaknesses:

The burden of Kuma’s weight takes a toll on his body. Bones undergoing shifting, sometimes grinding against one another, the sudden and intense weight changes, and stress on his muscles often lead to aches and pains. He’s gotten accustomed to it as he’s trained and grown-up. Some preventive measures are: taking pain medication before going on patrol, wearing compression sleeves under his costume, hot baths, and cold compresses.

Due to his size, he requires a higher amount of protein than his sister. And the longer a fight is combined with how much energy he exerts, the quicker his body exhausts. He’s built for dealing damage as hastily and as fiercely as possible. If a fight occurs while he’s on patrol, he’s done after the fight, needing a great deal of protein before his body gives, typically going for seafood and/or steak. If he doesn’t get the protein in time, he’ll faint, suffering from a sudden onset of severe protein deficiency, and need medical attention.

This doesn’t have to do with the fighting part of a Hero’s career, but he is not kid-friendly, often caught swearing on camera, shoving cameras and reporters out of his space, and sometimes picking fights with other Heroes and interviewers he doesn’t like. It makes his popularity suffer.

Quirk Side Effects/Other Info:

Kuma’s senses aren’t enhanced enough to be considered a weakness, but they do cause significant stress in his daily life, notably touch and feel. Textures, high temperatures, and others touching him are what irritates him the most. His reaction is less distress (like Ursa’s is) and more anger at the cause.

It’s not proven, but his quirk seems to affect his personality a bit. He’s very protective of his sister and very prepared to snap (with his mouth as a warning sign) at anyone who he doesn’t know and/or doesn’t like.

From mid-May till early July, Kuma also goes through a heat. Unlike his sister, who’s timid and resistant when it comes to socializing, he’s very brash, impulsive, and sometimes aggressive, going to bars throughout those months, choosing any man or woman piques his interest enough to go home with.

Quirk Malfunction:

Kuma also undergoes the same bodily malfunction as his sister. It happens to him more often due to the strain on his body and its need for large quantities of protein. The ladder is usually the reason for a malfunction (kind of like biological short-circuiting).

Picture of an Arctotherium for reference:

Link for photo: https://www.theguardian.com/science/gallery/2018/jun/11/when-size-does-matter-big-beasts-last-of-the-giants-in-pictures

[noctuaas]

LIKE STRAWBERRY WINE

synopsis; strawberry wine and seventeen. the hot july moon saw everything.

pairing; oikawa tooru x reader

content; mention of sex, slight angst, pro athlete!oikawa, pining, happy ending

word count; 1.4k

Despite the number of years that passed, this place always remained the same. The creek was steady in its course, the hum of summer insects still present, and that boulder by the maple tree was just how you left it. Granted, it was covered in a layer of fallen canopy that collected over the past year or so, but once you brushed away the leaves, you swore it was just like the day he first brought you here.

“C’mon, just keep walking. I’m not gonna let you trip,” Oikawa encouraged you forward, though your steps were small and hesitant because he had his hands covering both your eyes. You couldn’t help it; he had you walking blindly.

It was only a few more steps before he left your face barren, and by the time you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the light, he was standing in front of you with his arms held out.

“Tada!” he grinned, and below him was a cheesy red-and-white checkered picnic blanket and a wicker basket with canvas cloth peeking out; the bottle of strawberry wine he somehow snuck out here was just the cherry on top.

“Oikawa,” you trailed off. You really wanted to resist the smile creeping onto your face, but you couldn’t help it. He was certainly a charmer.

When you seated yourself next to him, Oikawa was already laying out little sandwiches he made and pouring the wine into little plastic glasses. It was a beautiful rosy color, and condensation quickly built around the edges of the cup. You distantly wondered how he kept the bottle cool all this time.

“So do you always bring the girls you wanna fuck here?” you grinned slyly. It sounded pessimistic and perhaps a bit vulgar, but you weren’t dumb. This spot was perfect to woo a girl; it was secluded and romantic, and it felt special, like it might be straight out of a storybook.

Oikawa nearly choked on his drink when you said that. Okay, he got where you might get that idea, but he hadn’t expected you to say something so blunt. It actually made him chuckle, though it came across a little nervous as he scratched the back of his neck.

“No. Actually, this has always been my little secret. Iwa-chan doesn't even know about it,” Oikawa said, leaning back on his hands.

You only cocked your head, hoping for him to expand. The more he drank, the more he told you.

“I think I first came here when I was maybe eight. Iwa-chan and I were playing hide and seek in the woods, and I found this little hidden path that led down here! He was taking so long to find me, I got scared that he just left me.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Iwaizumi,” you laughed and took another sip.

“I wouldn’t either, that’s why I gave up on the game and went to go find him. We were both crying by the time we found each other because we thought we were going to be in trouble for losing the other one.”

You admired how little wine it took to get him to open up. The charismatic, cunning, almost snide at times version of Oikawa you always saw never sat quite right with you. Not to say he wasn’t all of those things, but you felt there had to be something more to him. Before now, he never really talked much about his childhood. Before now, you had never seen him laugh so carefree. Before now, you couldn’t remember the last time he looked like he was having fun.

Maybe nowadays, the creek was turning more into a river. You couldn’t see the bottom as well as you recalled, but the flow of water didn’t seem to have receded any lower from the bank. Other than that, there was no discernable difference in any of the scenery. Good. That meant no one else had found this place.

It had once been Oikawa’s secret hideaway, and then it had turned into both yours and his, but now it only belonged to you. Oikawa hadn’t been in Japan for years, besides holidays. Last you heard, he was off in Argentina, making a living in the professional volleyball league. You always knew he was going to go far.

“You’ll be able to do anything you want,” you told Oikawa. Coming down to the creek was becoming a habit for you two. Today was particularly hot. It wasn’t that the sun beat down terribly, but the air was soggy and heavy; a summer rainstorm passed through a few days ago, but it decided it wanted to hang around a bit longer. After dipping in the creek, you both laid in your swimsuits on that picnic blanket he always brought.

“You think?” Oikawa asked, staring up at the sky with his hands resting behind his head.

“I know,” you smiled and turned over, laying your head on his chest. He peered down at you and returned the smile.

A month ago, you would have probably been met with a self-assured ‘Of course I can, darling!’, but that was a month ago. He wasn’t so scared to be human around you anymore. He could be flawed with you, and there was nothing wrong with that.

You two ended up having sex right there on that blanket. A bit of a blunt way to put it, but you didn’t know how else to call it. It wasn’t quite making love, but it was far from just fucking. The amount of times you were tempted to cry out ‘I love you, Tooru,’ should probably have been embarrassing, but at least you never actually did it.

You sat in the same place you two had always laid that blanket down. It no longer was marked by splotchy grass, a derivative of you and Oikawa both bearing your weight down on it too often for it to properly grow, but you still knew exactly where it was. You were careful to not plop down onto a bed of stickers, but you found that the ground was remarkably soft.

You don’t know how long you were there, picking dandelions and attempting to weave them together, but when a voice spoke up from behind you, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“You come down here because you were missing me?”

It didn’t feel real, to hear his voice, but when you turned to look back, there was no mistaking that Oikawa was really here. He was leaning on a tree right where the hidden path opened up, that cocky, but oh so charming grin of his bright as ever.

Yes, you thought, but you would never say that aloud right now. You couldn’t stop staring. Was this a crazy fever dream? No, you knew very well you weren’t sick. He was here, standing maybe ten feet away.

Oikawa had barely changed. His hair was a little shorter, a little lighter from the South American sun, but other than that, he was the same boy you fell for that summer.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back softly. You couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice to see him again.

Oikawa didn’t answer for a while. His gaze dropped, locking on fingers that started to fiddle. A few slow steps toward you, then he was lowering himself next to you.

“I actually think about you a lot,” he mumbled. He still didn’t dare look at you, gazing straight ahead. You stared at him in shock.

“Pretty sad, huh? Pro athlete, could have about anything I want, and I’m still in love with a summer fling from high school,” he finished.

Did he just imply what you thought he did? You swallowed thickly.

“You were in love with me?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Oikawa chuckled and finally looked at you.

“More than I’d care to admit, darling.”

Of course he would still call you darling, and of course it would still make your heart flutter. And now your cheeks were getting warm. It was your turn to look away, tucking your head to fix your eyes on the dandelions amassed on your lap.

Part of you wished he had said something back then, but another part understood why he didn’t. You two were going your separate ways after that summer. But, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been if either of you had confessed.

“Would you want to go get lunch and catch up?” Oikawa broke you from your thoughts. When you looked at him again, he had a foreign expression on his face; he was smiling, sure, but he looked nervous. He was being human.

“That would be amazing, Oikawa,” you replied.

Oikawa stood and held his hand out to you. You gladly took it, letting him pull you up before leading the way.

[quillyfied]

Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 5

What up, it’s back!

77 carefully-curated titles for your perusal today! As always, the fics are broken into the following categories: Jaunts through History/Canon, South Downs, Post-Apocalypse, Bus Ride/The Night Before/Heaven and Hell, AU/UA, Just Soft, Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings, Bonus, and H/C /Whump/BAMF. I don’t read smut fics but sometimes there are sexual elements to the stories and sometimes you get invested and then suddenly the author drops a smut chapter, so warnings where applicable.

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

LET ME KNOW IF A LINK IS BROKEN OR MISATTRIBUTED AND I WILL FIX IT RIGHT AWAY.

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1.     Get Thee To A Nunnery – Owenjones (T, the one where Aziraphale is put in a nunnery and needs a bit of a rescue. More or less Ineffable Wives time, but warnings for Aziraphale being forced into a female corporation against his will, that’s pretty icky (three guesses for who the offending Archangel is). Crowley is posing as a little lady known as Julie D’Aubigny, which, if that rings no bells, you should Google her immediately and then go into this fic cackling like I did. Very sweet, a fun little adventure!)

2.    Bibliophilia – @wingedspirit (G, the one where Aziraphale has a book nemesis and Crowley always seems to have the perfect book as a gift, what a coincidence. This is so funny, you guys, seriously. We stan ONE (1) oblivious angel in this house. And when Aziraphale finally catches on, it’s so cute, I can’t even. I cannot EVEN. Go read it right now immediately.)

3.    The Heart Goes To Heaven, The Head Goes To Hell – Dekkles (T, the one where Crowley has intentions of making an angel Fall and it kinda…backfires. Guys fair warning, this one’s version of Hell is really gross, if you’re squeamish tread very carefully bc WOW it can get a bit graphic. Y’know what’s also gross? The PINING (obviously not gross in the same way but the pining is awfully feelsy and part of it does happen in Hell). Watching this Crawly go from an honestly nauseating portrayal of Hell to watching Aziraphale and kinda awkwardly twitching in his light is so delightful and I hope for more in the future (though maybe less visions of Hell, I will be so glad if and when the fic leaves that place because yikes).)

4.    i like this place (it feels spooky) – @asideofourown (G, the one where Warlock manages to convince Nanny and Brother Francis to take him to a haunted house and it’s so cute. You guys. It’s SO cute. You really get a feel for little Warlock’s personality and how he sees things (and he sees ALL). Just a really cute “family” outing, really, and someone gets spooked at the end and it’s not who you think!)

5.    Doubt the Stars are Fire – LilithReisender (T, the one where Aziraphale bails Crowley out of prison and they spend time together in an Italian villa. This one has cool history bits, really fun banter, and Crowley actively on the job while trying to pretend he isn’t on the job. It’s a delight, and it’s just getting started! Jump on this bandwagon, folks, it’s great!)

6.    The Hellfire Club – @amarguerite (NR, the one where greater measures are taken to make sure Aziraphale isn’t promoted back upstairs. This one is so hilarious, you guys, I can’t even tell you which bit is my favorite. And the cherry on top? Wing grooming! (I can also tell you that something highly unpleasant happens to Sandalphon, if that sweetens the pot for anyone.) If you have a Thing for Crowley and Aziraphale being melodramatic and overacting, then stay put, friends. Also continue reading this list, there’s a few more that’ll catch your eye later on.)

7.     The Immortal Look – MickyRC (G, the one where Crowley puts Aziraphale in some kohl and it’s awesome. A written entry for the Prince of Omens DTIYS, and even independent from Prince of Omens this fic is a winner, in my book. Crowley going dewy-eyed over Aziraphale’s looks in any capacity is always My Jam and this fic really goes for it.)

8.    Merry & Bright – @peppervl (G, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley go undercover as a married couple in the Regency. You like fem!Aziraphale but don’t see it often enough? SIT DOWN, FRIENDO. Not only does this have a lovely Miss Fell for us to fawn over, but it’s a Miss Fell in possession of a fortune and surely in want of a husband, according to prim-and-proper London, and who better to help her out than one Mr. Crowley who happens to need some help on a temptation? Fun, romantic, and with a cute little twist at the end I shan’t spoil but you should really stick around for.)

9.    Putting the Endearment in Dear – @joyandotherstories (G, the one where Aziraphale starts calling everyone “dear” just so he can also call Crowley by endearments. This one is sweet and a little sad and has the softest possible ending, y’all don’t even know. Read it, the point in time where Aziraphale doesn’t have to hold back his mountain of endearments anymore is a sight to behold.)

10. Between the Lines – cyankelpie (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale’s feelings are known but not spoken, at least not directly. This one is a historical jaunt where they have a lot of double-meaning conversations (and Crowley is very rightly lost through a lot of it, poor dear), and it aches, you guys, it just hurts. Not finished yet as of this review but WHEN IT’S DONE—I’m sure it’ll be worth it. Hot dang.)

11.  No Matter How the Stars Align (They Make Me Think of You) – silentsonata (G, the one that covers stars that Crowley and Aziraphale have met under. Every once in a while there’ll come along a fic that shakes the ground as it walks. I understand the Big Bang events usually churn these out, and there are quite a few on this list, but this fic here? A masterpiece. Pitch-perfect in every way, just a stunner. I want to tell y’all to pay special attention to certain chapters but they all took my breath utterly away and it would be unfair to single any out over the rest, the whole work is a monument. Just beautiful.)

12.  Too Wise to Woo Peaceably – purewanderlust (T, the one that’s five times they see “Much Ado About Nothing” throughout history. I love me some “Much Ado,” personally, and this fic knows what it’s on about. Wonderfully romantic and ends with the single most perfect conversation, I swear 2 someone. Hits right in the feels.)

13.  Just Another Sword Fight – DemonicGeek (NR, the one that’s a 5+1 about Crowley swordfighting. If you’re here because Aziraphale taking on the role of the swooning maiden to Crowley’s dashing hero makes you, in fact, be the one swooning, say hello to your new best friend. If you like to follow all that up with Aziraphale taking charge when needed, I might suggest building a home here, because ABSOLUTELY that’s what you’re getting.)

14.  A Few More Rescues – @poetic----nonsense (T, the one with, predictably, a few more rescues. If the previous fic had you reeling and begging for more, welcome to the buffet, children. These are some really fun rescues by Crowley on behalf of Aziraphale, and they’re unconventional and historical AF (especially the bit with the dragon) (you bet your sweet keister there’s a bit with a dragon). This fic is so much fun and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.)

15.  Floriography – Frenchmeister (T, the one where Crowley doesn’t get flower language. The premise is, Crowley slept through a large chunk of the Victorian era, so he doesn’t know what Aziraphale keeps trying to say as they work at the Dowlings’ estate raising Warlock. He does know that the philodendron is a menace, no matter what it’s supposed to mean. Funny and nerve-wracking and so, so sweet.)

16.  The Interplay of Illusion and Magic – SoulJelly (T, the one where Aziraphale tries to join a magicians’ society. This one has some delightful history and Aziraphale trying to perform sleight of hand magic to get in a secret magicians club and a surprising twist near the middle, all told; it’s a lot more exciting than I initially thought it was going to be (I was just expecting some fluff and that was not all I got; it’s always a good day when Crowley has to come to the rescue).)

SOUTH DOWNS

17.  There goes the neighborhood – @bestoftheseekwill (G, the one where Crowley’s retirement peace is threatened by construction. If you’re here for Crowley wiles, anti-capitalism, and flashes of protective Aziraphale, get ready to take a load off because this is primo.)

18. Teatime Revelations – Cardinal_Daughter (T, the one where God invites Herself over for tea. This one is strained and it’s emotional and it’s all the softer for it. Aziraphale being quiet and protective while Crowley has a come-apart in the face of God is iconic, tbh; pretty sure this fic inspired a lot of my own portrayals of the GOmens God, looking back on it. A wonderful and light-hearted take.)

POST-APOCALYPSE

19.  Lose a Kraken, Gain an Angel – MistressKat (T, the one where Hastur has an expected friendship. This fic has everything—Hastur being a sympathetic character, the Kraken, Crowley pining after Aziraphale, the Antichrist, and is hilarious from start to finish. A fun and tonally accurate diversion, please read.)

20. Something Old, Something New – shippityshipship (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale are involved in weddings. Short and hasn’t updated in a while but still excellent reading, I find; great characterization, some fun OCs, lovely atmosphere, oblivious pining while everyone else thinks they’re dating, it’s amazing.)

21.  The difficulty with disposable demons – @areyougonnabe (T, the one where Eric the disposable demon shows up and it’s a madhouse in Crowley’s apartment. This is a really funny take on what happens to the disposable demons and why they are the way they are, and with the added bonus of driving Crowley up the wall and some mild miscommunications with Aziraphale that are all sorted out in the end.)

22. Care and Keeping – @arcafira (M, T, the series where Crowley is shedding and Aziraphale tries to help. Not rated M for anything violent or sexual, really more of a T than an M but there is a bath scene and a lot of self-loathing. There’s a lot of convincing Crowley to let Aziraphale care for him and a lot of working through Fall-related issues, but it leaves off in a wonderfully hopeful place.)

23. The Clockwork Days – redwinehouse (T, the one where the world’s ending again. There are many fics that have tackled possible sequels to Good Omens and this is one of the more tonally accurate ones, I feel; it’s very tongue-in-cheek and matter-of-fact, and the little twist at the end was a genuine surprise to me. Whack in plenty of mutual pining and a Bentley that has had it up to HERE with these idiots and you’ve got a recipe for a good little story.)

24. don’t leave me here alone – Elvendork (T, the one where Crowley asks for holy water again. This one is a tense argument, right up until it isn’t, and absolutely delectable, really. If you’re a fan of Aziraphale bringing up hellfire to go toe to toe with Crowley on the issue, BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP, this one is dunking itself into Soft Town with that accelerant to really drive it home.)

25. The Next Time We Wed – seashadows (T, the one where a mix-up leads to marriage. If drunken mistakes and their aftermath is what you’re after, welcome to the party, folks, because this one’s a whopper. Can people pine while being married to each other? The answer is yes. Can it have a soft ending? Also yes. Can it include the mothers of such characters as Anathema and Newt being wonderful characters in their own right? The answer, incredibly, is yes.)

26. You Can’t Un-See A Dog – @holycatsandrabbits (T, the one where Crowley is summoned and there’s shenanigans afoot. I won’t talk too much about the plot of this one bc I don’t want to spoil it but suffice it to say that this one is hilarious and has some especially gratifying Ineffable Husband silent communication at play. If your entire reason for existence, like Crowley’s, is seeing Bastard!Aziraphale at work, then bunk down here, friendos, you’ve arrived.)

BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

27. Crowley, Big Bad Demon, Can Keep His Cool Around His Crush – @edennovik (T, the one where Crowley…well, see title, and then immediately disregard. Crowley cannot, in fact, keep his cool around his crush. Crowley is doing the opposite of keeping his cool around his crush. Crowley is a ball of anxiety and screaming pining gooey mess and Aziraphale might just like him anyway.)

AU/UA

28. If Not Now, When – @ineffablefool (T, the one where trans café worker Crowley strikes up a conversation with fat pretty Aziraphale. Listen. Y’all know ineffablefool. Y’all know he is a force that cannot be stopped or reckoned with, when it comes to Soft Fat-Postive Asexual Romance. So I do not say this lightly when I say that this is possibly his masterwork. There is a lot of good, good content in his catalogue but the emotional work put into this makes the whole thing stand straight up and resonate. It’s tender and respectful and handles conflicts of gender and sexuality with grace and gentleness and oh no I’m tearing up pls send help I’m DROWNING—).

29. Trip the Light – @summerofspock (M, the one where Aziraphale falls in love first. M for a sex scene near the end of the fic, second half of Chapter 17, so keep an eye out for that if you’re sensitive to it. Oh, y’all. This one goes through canon and a few scenes outside of it and the recontextualizing of those scenes as Aziraphale hopelessly in love and Crowley as oblivious is amazing. Even more amazing: once Crowley finally catches on and then it becomes Aziraphale once again in his role of holding back. Guys. Y’all. My DUDES. I am in the throes of agony. It’s so good.)

30. one love (only for you) – @weatheredlaw (M, the one that’s a vague Snow White AU. It’s truly unfair how poetic and romantic this one is, how lovely. It has fantasy elements and ridiculous vengeful brothers and soft, soft boys in love. A sweet little way to spend an afternoon, tbh.)

31.  in the house we remain – @commodorecliche (M, the one where Crowley’s a ghost in the house Aziraphale has bought. M for masturbation, weird ghost sex, and a harrowing backstory for Crowley; if you’re squeamish about sexual things and not good at gauging how to skip them, or if you can’t stand abuse stories, I would pass this one up. Y’all. Y’ALL. So thoroughly upsetting, this one; the horror elements are real but so is the romance and it’s a beautiful balance of the two. What’s wild is how believable it is; it could easily have been a story about Aziraphale just becoming obsessed with and romanticizing a dead person who used to live in his house but it feels like an actual love story, with Crowley learning how to trust Aziraphale, as well, despite their planar incompatibility. The ending is so unbelievably sweet. And there’s art now! There wasn’t, when I first added it to the list! Huzzah!)

32. pop! goes my heart – @areyougonnabe (E, the one that’s a Music and Lyrics AU. E for a sex scene near the end of Chapter 6 that’s a bit difficult to skip, since there’s a couple of relevant paragraphs after it that set up the next chapter, but if you’re up for the challenge, godspeed. First things first: this fic has ORIGINAL MUSIC RECORDED BY THE AUTHOR AND IT’S AMAZING. Music and Lyrics is one of my personal favorite romcoms, and what’s been done with it is not only accurate to the actual music industry, but accurate to the characters, as well. It’s such a fun story, adapted well, and the writing style is just charming. Fantastic!)

33. For the First Time in Forever – @nicnacsnonsense (T, the one that’s a Frozen AU. I am excited for this one, y’all. The adaptation is already so much fun and it’s only going to get funner. Aziraphale as Elsa and Crowley in an Anna-adjacent role (but not actually bc no incest) is amazing, the Olaf stand-in outshines the original, and the emotional toll is already pretty high. Absolutely worth a read.)

34. Sailor’s Omens – NeverNooitNiet (G, the one where Crowley’s a pirate and Aziraphale is his prisoner. There’s a touch of historical homophobia but that doesn’t matter much out at sea, really. If the boys being clever and bickering and also one-upping beloved series antagonists is something you enjoy, welcome to the party, friends. It’s a good old-fashioned piracy romp that’s sure to satisfy.)

35. Pomegranate Seeds – @nicnacsnonsense (G, the one that’s a Persephone and Hades AU with Aziraphale as Hades and Crowley as Persephone. This one has a unique tone and is also romantic as all get-out; throw in genderfluid Crowley, love at first sight, and Aziraphale being a sweetie, it’s a story well worth its salt, imo.)

36. Laws of Gravity – @brightwanderer (T, the one where Aziraphale invents pining for Raphael. Listen. I think we all know at this point that brightwanderer, or Atalan on ao3, has earned her clout as a GOmens fanfic heavyweight. She didn’t NEED to write an awkward and earnest Raphael trying to go incognito as Crowley into the Garden of Eden. She didn’t NEED to write about how incredibly awkward Aziraphale is while heels over halo in love. She didn’t NEED to have an engaging plot and a wonderful twist on the Temptation of Eve and also the most awkward and obvious besotted angels in the universe. But she did. And we are blessed. So go partake.)

37. Incubus!Crowley – GenericUsername01 (G, T, the series where Crowley is a sex demon and we get to see what that means. This fic threads the very specific needle I personally enjoy where sex is an element of the story and has bearing on it, but the story doesn’t have any actual sex scenes in it. I love this writer’s style and where they take Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship; I love the view of Hell in the first bit; I love all of it, really. A+++.)

38. Everyone But You – @summerofspock (M, the one where Crowley is hired to seduce an angel. M for some saucy makeouts and some post-coital afterglow but nothing explicit. If y’all like stories where a conman is hired to do a job and starts to have complicated feelings about it, especially if those feelings are falling in love with his mark, then here you go. It’s amazing as all heck and hilarious to boot; Crowley learning what falling in love is like is always a treat but omg. Poor Aziraphale. And the most DELIGHTFUL resolution, my goodness.)

39. In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell – @theoldaquarian (M, the one where Heaven and Hell have a joint corporate retreat every so often and Crowley and Aziraphale are doomed. M for some adult themes but nothing explicit. Y’all. TheOldAquarian must be stopped. They cannot continue to be so funny and engaging. They cannot continue to have the most corporate and hilariously mundane depiction of Heaven and Hell. They are a MENACE who, in the space of one fic, has packed all the pining of the ages in so tightly that when it finally bursts free, my shoulders physically relaxed and my spine uncoiled. This fic in particular is too much and too wonderful. I really must protest.)

40. Loosely Ballroom – marginalia_device, @mortifyingideal (T, the one where Aziraphale is a professional dancer and Crowley is a contestant on a show with him (for American viewers, think Dancing With the Stars). This fic is so good and so funny and so achingly in-character. I love Crowley as the washed-up old star trying to kick his career back up, I love Aziraphale as the put-upon dancer on his last legs, and I love that they’re both the victim of a studio gimmick and then decide that malicious compliance is their best bet. It’s still early in the fic (…at over 40k words wow it’s gonna be a monster and I’m ready), but it’s going to be so good already, I can just tell. There’s already some art for it floating around by naniiebimworks for the interested.)

JUST SOFT

41.  Repeat the Sounding Joy – @allonsy-gabriel (G, the one where they decorate a Christmas tree. This is a short and sweet look at what the holidays are like for an angel and a demon post-apocalypse and it’s so adorable, you guys. Crowley having FEELINGS and Aziraphale being fussy about his decorating, it’s just a treat.)

42. The Nesting Habits of Angelus Principalum – @obaewankenope (NR, the one where Aziraphale nests and is gently protective. This fic is quiet and understated and so unbelievably romantic without being over the top about it; it’s a quiet coming together that creeps up on you, much like how the realization of Aziraphale’s nesting habits creeps up on Crowley. A lovely little thing.)

43. we’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow – @tonyhawksmovingcastle (E, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale wind up faking a relationship on a couple’s cruise. E for Chapter 7, which is completely skippable without ruining any plot. This one gets a double whammy for both engaging plot and wonderful OCs that add to rather than distract from the story. Fake dating is fun enough but when you’re fake dating and also being wingmanned by well-meaning possibly supernatural sapphics, while also having fun in the tropics, it’s a recipe for a good time all around (at least for the audience). So lovely and sweet and that moment when Crowley and Aziraphale finally get together is magic.)

44. Road Trip Games and Love – rgfalso (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale go on a road trip together. This one almost takes place in real time, and has the most intense and emotional back-and-forth while these poor saps try to work out the Thing between them without actually talking about it for as long as inhumanly possible. Of course there are lots of road trip games, and of course those road trip games are a vehicle of conveyance for what they’re actually trying to say, and cue all the misunderstandings in the world. It’s frustrating and cathartic and amazing and the end especially is so, so sweet.)

45. The Most Stylish Wedding of AZ Fell and AJ Crowley – @leapoffaith1489 (T, the one where Aziraphale is determined to discard tartan for the wedding. Y’all. Omg. If relatively low-stakes cute wedding shenanigans are your thing, welcome home. If Aziraphale being pleasantly surprised is your thing, welcome home. If Aziraphale working through minor insecurities is your thing, welcome, truly, home. Featuring a lovely cast of side characters and a soft-as-butter plot.)

46. The Newlywed Game (Not What You’d Think) – @heavenslittlehellion (NR, the one where a game of drunken truth-telling goes a little farther than anticipated. Hello, welcome to the emotional gut-punch fic, you’ve arrived. The only thing that saves this from dunking into the last category on this list with the other h/c and whump fics is how low-stakes it is and how soft it is when they get past the unpleasant bit. People who love theories on what the Fall felt like, welcome to the table.)

47. On the Road to Love – Mizmak (G, the one where Crowley enters a motor rally race with the Bentley, with Aziraphale as navigator. While there’s great fun in Crowley and Aziraphale needling each other, there’s greater joy in their friendship and tenderness towards the other (and asexual bed-sharing fans, rejoice). It’s a fun concept all around and definitely worth the read.)

48. Mr. Fell’s Bookshop ficlets – @holycatsandrabbits (G, T, the series where Mr. Fell has regular customers and they love the place as much as they love its weird and eldritch owner. For folks who love seeing the Ineffable Duo through others’ eyes, this is a fun series to scratch that particular itch, and has spawned a number of spin-off fics, unless I’m mistaken. It’s a relatively low-stakes series, for people wanting something like that these days, too.)

49. Quiet Reflection – @shinyopals (T, the one where they have to duck into a church to avoid demons. If the phrase “spicy Jesus crackers” holds any appeal whatsoever, go read this fic immediately. It’s heartfelt and hilarious and really that’s all you can ask for in a good fluff fic. Also Crowley being held. Really, that’s all any of us want from life.)

50. Deck the Halls – forthegreatergood (G, the one where mistletoe should really not be this hard to get a hold of. Y’all you simply MUST stick around for the hijinks in this one. They are manifold and hilarious. Does it end in makeouts? Possibly. You’ll just have to read it, won’t you?)

51.  The Secret Dress – GlitterSkullFairy (G, the one where Crowley has a secret wedding dress. This one is very dramatic and sad…and then Aziraphale pops in. Like with all things concerning these two, it immediately takes a turn from there. If putting Crowley in pretty dresses is a thing you enjoy, have a seat and enjoy the show, it’s a softy.)

52. Well…That’s New – @almaasi (G, the one where Crowley doesn’t realize he’s in love. If oblivious Crowley is more to your taste, this is the one for you. Takes the concept “what if Crowley was in love but didn’t realize it” and runs with it for all it’s worth. Hilarious and sweet and wonderful.)

53. serpent, serpent-bearer – @elsajeni (G, the one that’s about horoscopes. I realize the Soft section of the rec list is for things that are Soft but hhnnngkk you guys. This one is so cute. My heart can’t take it. They’re so gosh darned precious, with their newspaper and their horoscopes and their welcome invasion of each other’s personal space.)

54. If Only You Were Mine – @somethingscarlet13 (G, the one where Crowley gets so drunk he can’t remember who Aziraphale’s husband is, just that he’s married. This is a little sugar shot for your day, folks—short, sweet, silly, and did I mention sweet? It is so worth having a giggle at drunk Crowley’s expense, please do read it.)

55. Cupboard Love – @copperplatebeech (T, the one where Crowley is a cranky snek. I would also highly recommend this for folks who enjoy Madam Tracy, especially Madam Tracy being utterly unaffected by being face-to-face with the supernatural and cooing over things like the wonderful lady she is. Fun and a little silly and a lot adorable.)

56. affirmation, appreciation – pearlwaldorf (G, the one where Aziraphale helps someone in need a little differently than expected. This one has Aziraphale taking on the persona of an interested male party looking to pick up the spirits of a woman on the tail end of a messy divorce and Crowley understanding but still getting a little jealous. It’s so sweet and so lovely, both what Aziraphale and Crowley do for this poor woman and how Aziraphale reassures Crowley afterwards. Top notch.)

57. Forget-Me-Not – @dietraumerei (T, the one where Crowley gets amnesia. Not as dramatic as others, he just loses 200 years and it’s temporary, but it’s ever so sweet, watching Crowley fall back in love with the modern world and be gobsmacked that he and Aziraphale are finally together. There’s a lot of reassurance and tender sweet nothings thrown about and I’m pretty sure I developed a heart condition just from reading this, it’s too good.)

58. They Shake The Mountains When They Dance – @copperbadge (T, the one where Crowley finds Aziraphale’s scar. Operating on the theory that Aziraphale was injured in the War in Heaven and that’s why he clutches his leg and limps when he’s discorporated, this is the sappiest, sweetest rumination on the subject I have ever read. Crowley gets so protective and defensive, and Aziraphale is so gentle in talking him down. On the whole, it’s just wonderful and so, so cute. Omg.)

59. Familiar Care – ginger_mosaic (G, the one where the Ineffable Dads have to take their snabies in for medical help. This comes from the Wiggleverse, which on the whole I cannot strongly recommend enough, but this fic in particular centers around the most delightful OC veterinarian who handles Crowley and Aziraphale’s strange family very well. There’s also a fun twist at the end, so absolutely keep reading to find out what that is. And also, immerse yourself in adorable snake baby shenanigans, because they are the best sort.)

TOUCH-STARVED/BODY WORSHIP/WINGS

60. Rituals (or the Seven Layer Bean Dip Approach to Sex) – SleepySelfLoathing (T, the one where no seriously metaphysical angel/demon sex is super weird. Fans of truly esoteric ethereal/occult mating rituals rejoice, for this is your new home. It’s abstract but no less beautiful for it, I think; the imagery and emotional accompaniment are all lovely, even if they don’t meet conventional human romance standards. You can really tell that it means a lot to Crowley and Aziraphale, the ways they show how much they love each other. A weird and delectable little dish, by all accounts.)

61.  Under Pressure – @copperplatebeech (M, the one where Crowley steals kisses. M for sensuality and body worship but nothing too explicit; also could be construed as dubcon kissing, for those of you sensitive to that. Hhhgkk y’all. Crowley thinks he’s being sly getting away with smooching Aziraphale throughout history while they’re both drunk off their rockers but does not count on Aziraphale actually remembering, and then once the Apocalypse is done with and they’re On Their Own Side and Can Aknowledge These Things…well. They do. Crowley is a mess and Aziraphale is a mess and they love each other so much. The writing is so tender and I’m CRYING.)

62. London Calling – forthegreatergood (G, the one with slow-burn wing grooming. There’s so much crammed into this bad boy and it balances it admirably—Crowley’s relationship with Aziraphale, Crowley’s relationship with Hell, Crowley thinking about retirement, Crowley getting preemptively banned from a certain European country for being a pest outside of its consulate, Crowley losing his cool over getting to touch Aziraphale’s wings. Humor, aching tenderness, the kind of longing that feels like a high, quavering violin note, tension and release. A beautiful piece.)

63. Elmie’s Ineffable Fireplace Fics – @almaasi (G, M, M, the series that is completely unrelated except for the physical and also figurative appearances of warm fireplaces. M for sensuality but nothing explicit. The first two are mainly short fluff; the third is a long Regency-esque AU with some gender and sexuality shenanigans on top of Real Danger and Intrigue. True to the writer’s promise, all three fics are pretty comfortable and warm, even if the third has some action and tension. They’re absolutely lovely, imo.)

64. The Hands Applauded (And This Was No Sin) – @ticketybye (G, the one where Crowley as a preoccupation with Aziraphale’s hands. Deals with both touch-starvation and touch-aversity in the same fic and weirdly enough it works. The fic is heartbreaking but it has a good resolution and that’s important.)

65. Moult – @sameoldsorceress (T, the one where Aziraphale molts and Crowley doesn’t. This is typical wing-grooming fare…right up until it isn’t. I won’t spoil the twist but rest assured that there is absolutely a twist. Other than that, it’s supportive and sweet and lovely and lord knows we all could use some of that right now.)

66. never get to heaven on a night like this – RestlessWanderings (G, the series where the Ineffable Wives are touch-starved and pining. The only reason this fic goes here instead of in Jaunts Through History is because especially in Crowley’s side of the story, the touch starvation is so horrifically visceral I very nearly bought myself a weighted blanket out of sympathy stress. They are both so afraid and so desperate for a bit of connection, the pining is absolutely ridiculous. And it helps that there’s worldbuilding there that’s both thematically appropriate and interesting to read. Engendered by lesbianism and catholic guilt, I believe the author said, and in this case what a delicious combination with an absolutely amazing ending.)

67. Strength in Modesty – flandersmare (T, the one where Aziraphale has a secret wardrobe. Y’all. I have a special love-hate relationship with clothes and my body and this fic somehow felt very soothing on both of those fronts. Corsetry is front and center, and it’s all very well-researched and well-presented. The story is so quiet and understated and is really told through excellent sensory details. The ending about broke my heart for tenderness. It’s a double love letter to Aziraphale and to fashion throughout history and I love it.)

BONUS

68. Tales of the Them – @lyricwritesprose (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale are the Them’s godparents, too. This is such a fun series, with a lot of stories that are not just funny in bits, but also meaningful. For fans of the Them and people who like stories about children that aren’t dumbed-down or grimdark.)

69. Stans in High Places – @doomed-spectacles (G, the one where there’s someone in the Earth Observation department keeping an eye on Crowley and Aziraphale. Another take on the angel(s) in charge of Earth Observation, this time featuring a singular angel called Grigori, and boy is he a cutie. His friendship with fellow angel Pravuil is also blossoming and sweet throughout, and the amount of innocent cuteness throughout is just spectacular. What an adorable story.)

70. Anthony J Crowley, Retired Demon and AirBnB Superhost – @theoldaquarian (G, the one where Crowley turns his flat into an AirBnB. Told as if reading a comment section, it is hilarious and paints a horrid picture of what interacting with Crowley—and Aziraphale!—is like for normal humans. I can’t give you any more details than that, you are just going to have to read it and laugh your head off about it like I did.)

71.  A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon – @asideofourown (T, the one where Crowley writes a book and accidentally becomes a queer icon. This is…so funny. And so sweet. And like most fics where human bystanders try to piece together what’s happening and come away with completely wrong conclusions, it’s utterly charming. You almost start rooting for the internet conspiracy theorists trying to unearth what exactly Crowley is from his (presumably) evasive or strange answers to interview questions.)

72. Hell Of An Angel – WaitingToBeBroken (T, the one where everyone thinks Crowley is a mafia family. This one is funny in a dramatic irony way; the way that every narrator in this is CONVINCED that Crowley is A. a family of redheads that all look eerily similar, and B. extremely dangerous, is entertaining all on its own. It helps that the writing is smooth and the characters are all fairly engaging, too. A fun little diversion for your day.)

H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

73. the only one i want – @qorktrees (T,  the one where Crowley needs some convincing. The hurt in this one is real, folks. But so is the comfort. At last steps are taken to assure Crowley of how much he is wanted, of how much his love is cherished and his touch desired. If you cry while reading this, congrats and welcome to the club, we are all miserable touch-starved fools here.)

74. Always One More Time – boughofawillowtree (T, the one where Aziraphale has remaining psychological scars from Heaven. This one is tough, y’all, real tough. Aziraphale has a couple of abusive flashbacks and intrusive thoughts and his anxiety flaring up is a constant, so people sensitive to that should take heed. That said, this is a very healing fic, with a lot of underlying hurt that floats to the surface. But throughout Crowley does his best to be patient and understanding and even with a disagreement, it remains gentle and loving throughout.)

75. Smote and smitten – @nohaijiachi (G, the one where Aziraphale is a badass and we are ALL here for it. Screaming Hastur, briefly-sentient flaming swords, Aziraphale being amazing, and starry-eyed Crowley are all the ingredients chosen to make a wonderful little fic, and we are all grateful for it. What a guy, that Aziraphale.)

76. Nearly Romeo and Juliet – bisexual_dumbass (T, the one where Crowley’s hiding his panic attacks. This one hurts, friends. This one has miscommunications and fear and boundary communication, all while being so tense even the gentlest touch will snap something. It’s got learning to take care of yourself and value yourself and live FOR yourself. It is very important and I hope a lot of you read it because gosh dang.)

77.  Pigeon Girlfriends With A Long Preamble – SleepySelfLoathing (T, the one that’s exactly what it says on the tin. This fic has it all: humor! Torture! Terrible humans! Wrathful Aziraphale! Pain and suffering! Tenderness and care! Pigeon girlfriends! The Hurt and the Comfort are present in about equal measure, but fair warning that what Crowley is made to do just before his rescue is more than a little disturbing, both to readers and especially to Crowley.)