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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month

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Another Ending - 1 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , -

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The weight of the assassin's body presses down on you, pinning you to the ground as his sword hovers dangerously close to your throat. Every muscle in your arms strains as you hold your gun up, barely keeping the blade away from your neck.

The cold metal of the sword gleams under the dim light, a stark reminder of how close you are to death. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, are unreadable, but you can feel the murderous intent radiating from him.

Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the dirt and blood on your face as you grit your teeth. With every ounce of strength, you manage to growl, "You're dead to me."

For a split second, you see it—hesitation. The assassin’s grip falters, his focus wavering. That’s all you need. With a desperate shove, you push him off, the sword sliding away from your neck as you scramble to your feet. Your heart pounds in your chest as adrenaline takes over, and you start running, not daring to look back.

The echoes of your past, the regrets, and the pain are left behind as you sprint away. You know that you’ve bought yourself only a few precious seconds, but at this moment, it’s enough. You leave the assassin behind, along with everything that once bound you.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The lodge is warm and inviting, nestled comfortably by the edge of a tranquil lake. Large windows allow sunlight to pour in, casting a golden glow across the rustic wooden floors. The living room is cozy, with a soft, earth-toned sofa positioned near a stone fireplace. You push the sofa slightly, adjusting its angle to better face the window, where the view of the lake creates a peaceful backdrop.

As you finish, the sound of the doorbell rings through the house. You straighten up, smoothing a hand over your clothes before heading to the door. When you open it, a smile crosses your face.

Standing there is Lori Grant, your niece. She’s dressed in a green shirt and black pants, her short hair with bangs framing her face beneath thick glasses. A pink backpack is slung over one shoulder, and she’s dragging a suitcase that looks far too big for her small frame.

“Hello, Aunty,” Lori greets you, her voice bright with excitement.

“Where’s your mom?” you ask, glancing past her.

“She just left,” Lori replies, stepping inside and immediately struggling with the weight of her suitcase. She lets out a frustrated “Ugh” as it catches on the doorstep.

You can’t help but chuckle softly. “Let me help you with that.” Gripping the handle, you lift the suitcase easily, though you wonder why a 13-year-old needs so much luggage.

As you bring the suitcase inside, you ask, “Are you hungry? I bought some tofu for you.” Your older sister’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the strict health-conscious diet she keeps Lori on. She’s made a name for herself online with her healthy recipes, and now she’s on a book tour promoting her new cookbook.

Lori looks up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and hope. “Aunty, I’m so excited to be here. I can finally get away from the food my mom makes.”

You laugh, a warm, understanding sound. “Oh, thank goodness. How about fried chicken or lasagna?”

Lori’s face lights up, her hands clasping together as if in prayer. “Why not both?” Her eyes shimmer with anticipation, almost teary at the thought of indulging in something she’s missed.

“Yes!” you reply with a grin, already planning the feast.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The two of you cook together, filling the kitchen with the mouthwatering aroma of fried chicken and lasagna. The sizzle of the food and the warmth of the stove creates a cozy atmosphere, and before long, you’re both sitting at the table, enjoying the meal.

Lori, barely looking up from her book, eats with a hearty appetite, tearing into the fried chicken and savoring the lasagna.

You glance at her, amused by how engrossed she is in her book. It’s refreshing to see someone her age so absorbed in reading rather than staring at a screen. She’s been glued to that book ever since she arrived.

“Is it a good book?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.

“Yes. The best,” she replies without lifting her eyes from the pages.

You smile and ask, “What’s the book about?”

At that, Lori snaps the novel shut and looks at you with excitement blazing in her eyes, as if she’s been waiting for this moment. “Oh, Aunty, this is the best book! It’s full of adrenaline, mystery, and romance.”

You raise your eyebrows and nod slowly, recognizing the same spark in her that your older sister often has. “Let me guess, a royal romance?”

Lori shakes her head enthusiastically. “No. It’s set in modern day. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story where both are spies from different sides. They have to decide between love and their duty.”

You nod again, your expression thoughtful. “That’s impossible in the real world.”

Lori huffs, rolling her eyes playfully. “That’s why it’s fantasy, Aunty. Geez, you sound just like my mom.” She returns to her book, burying herself in the story again.

You chuckle softly, setting your glass down as you gather your plate and stand up. “Well, usually betrayal happens in those stories.”

Lori looks up, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “That’s right! There’s a part where the male character betrays the female character.”

Your hand slips, the plate clattering into the sink, but thankfully it doesn’t break.

“Aunty, are you okay?” Lori asks, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine. My hand just slipped,” you say, brushing it off with a smile.

Lori gets up, carrying her plate to the sink. “I’m already done. I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“Thank you,” you reply, appreciating her help.

As you both wash the dishes, you ask her about life at school. Lori tells you all about her friends, her classes, and the things that make her happy.

“Do you have a crush at school?” you ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Lori hesitates, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Well… there is one boy. His hair and smile remind me of the male character from the spy book.”

You nearly drop the spatula but manage to catch it just in time. What’s gotten into you today?

“What about you, Aunty?” Lori asks, her tone curious.

“Me?” you respond, a bit caught off guard.

“While living in this lodge, have you ever met a farmer with a six-pack, a cute café owner, or a cool police officer?” Lori asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You gasp, her question catching you by surprise. “Your mom mentioned you’ve become quite the chatterbox.”

“Aunty, your life is a dream. You have it all—except a boyfriend,” Lori says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t fully understand what you do for a living, but she knows from her mom and grandparents that you’ve traveled the world and are now enjoying the fruits of your hard work.

You place your hands on your hips, eyeing her with a mock sternness. “How long have you been staying with Grandma?”

“Three weeks,” Lori answers, wiping a plate dry with a clean cloth.

“That explains it,” you say with a chuckle, ruffling her hair playfully. Your mother has a habit of prying into your love life, and you’ve overheard her sighing over the phone, saying, ‘I’m afraid she’ll die single.’

“But seriously, Aunty, why are you still single?” Lori asks, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

You look at her, a sigh escaping your lips. “When you’re older, you’ll understand that life is complicated. There’s no guarantee of a happy ending.”

“Seems like you don’t believe in romance anymore,” she says, her voice soft but probing.

“Lori…” you begin, but her words strike a chord in you. Kids have a way of getting straight to your feelings. You head to the living room, trying to shake off the conversation and turn on the TV. With a sigh, you throw yourself onto the couch.

Lori follows you, still determined to rekindle your belief in romance. But then, something catches her eye. “Aunty, what’s on the second floor?”

“Just a storage room. Full of dust and spiders,” you reply, waving a hand dismissively.

“Can I go up there?” she asks, her enthusiasm barely contained.

“Go ahead,” you say, smiling at her eagerness.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear her running feet thudding up the stairs. You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. What happened to the little girl who was afraid of spiders? Maybe the influence of that action-packed novel, the fantasy world, pulled her in.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Lori’s eyes lit up with excitement as she explored the second floor, her steps quickening with each new discovery. It felt like a treasure hunt to her, the dusty corners and forgotten items fueling her curiosity.

She opened old boxes, sifted through forgotten knick-knacks, and rummaged through piles of clutter. Her heart raced with the thrill of the search, every creak of the floorboards adding to the sense of adventure.

Then, tucked away near the Christmas decorations, she spotted a plain, unassuming box. It didn’t look like much, but something about it caught her attention. With a soft gasp of anticipation, she opened it and found an old, bulky laptop inside. The device was covered in dust, its once sleek surface now dull and scratched.

“Wow,” Lori whispered, her eyes widening in awe. She lifted the laptop carefully and opened it, running her fingers over the keys. “Clicky, clicky. Love this keyboard,” she said, delighting in the tactile response of the keys beneath her fingers.

Unable to contain her excitement, Lori ran downstairs to find you, clutching the laptop in her arms like a prized possession. “Aunty, look what I found! This is so old, and I love the sound it makes!”

You glanced up and your eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you get that?” you asked, a mix of surprise and concern in your voice.

“Near the Christmas decorations. Can I turn it on?” she asked, her eyes shining with eagerness.

You shook your head, a hint of hesitation creeping into your tone. “It’s been a long time since I turned it on,” you admitted, memories flickering at the edge of your mind. You had pretended the laptop didn’t exist for so long that it had slipped from your thoughts entirely.

“I’ll throw it away,” you said, reaching out to take the laptop from her.

But Lori quickly pulled it back, guarding the laptop protectively. “Even if it’s broken, I could use this for throwback videos,” she argued, her determination evident.

You sighed, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. “Fine. You can have it,” you relented.

“Thank you!” Lori beamed, her smile so bright that any irritation you felt melted away. She hugged the laptop close and dashed off to the guest room, eager to play with her new toy.

Inside her room, Lori’s excitement was palpable. She carefully plugged the charger into the old laptop and pressed the power button, holding her breath in anticipation. But the screen remained dark, the laptop unresponsive.

Her enthusiasm waned slightly, but she didn’t give up. Determined, she searched online for ways to fix old laptops, flipping the device upside down to look for a serial number or brand name. But the markings were too faded to read.

Her hope began to crumble as she realized the laptop might never work again. With a sigh, she set it aside and opened her suitcase, revealing stacks of novels inside. This was the real reason she had wanted to stay with you—to immerse herself in her books without anyone bothering her.

As the night wore on, the clock crept closer to 10 p.m. You yawned, feeling the weight of the day settle in, and turned off the TV. Before heading to bed, you decided to check on Lori. When you peeked into her room, you found her already fast asleep, curled up with a new book clutched in her hands.

You smiled softly, understanding now what was in her suitcase. With a gentle chuckle, you carefully adjusted her sleeping posture and tucked her in, whispering, “Good night.”

As you left, you saw the old black laptop still plugged in, silently charging in the corner. It had been nearly seven years since you last thought about it. You shook your head, a mix of relief and resignation washing over you. It was better if that thing stayed dead, buried in the past where it belonged.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The next morning, Lori woke up feeling cozy under the blankets. She glanced around, realizing she must have fallen asleep while reading her book again. The comforting silence in the room was a welcome change from the usual yelling of her mother.

This is why staying with you was such a great idea. She turned her attention to the old laptop, remembering she had left it charging all night.

With renewed hope, she quickly jumped out of bed and moved to the laptop. She pressed the power button, but the screen remained stubbornly black. Disappointment settled over her like a heavy fog.

Then, she heard it—the faint hum of the laptop’s fan. Her eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips. She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Yes!”

Just then, you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying cheerfully through the house. “Lori! You’ve woken up? I’ve made breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry yet,” Lori replied, her focus still on the laptop, waiting for the screen to light up.

“It’s bacon and eggs,” you added, a hint of a smile in your voice.

The mention of bacon and eggs immediately captured Lori’s attention. It had been ages since she’d had a breakfast like that. “I’m coming!” she called out, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Without another thought, Lori dashed out of her room, leaving the old laptop to continue its quiet struggle to turn on. Her excitement for breakfast had completely overshadowed her frustration with the laptop, and she hurried to the kitchen, eager for the delicious meal you had prepared.

After breakfast, Lori returned to her room, and her excitement about the old laptop reignited. As she entered, she was stunned to see that the laptop had finally powered up completely.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the outdated app icons, which looked dull and unappealing. Despite their lack of charm, something else caught her eye: the email application.

Curiosity piqued, Lori navigated to the email app and discovered a list of old emails. She wondered if the laptop could connect to Wi-Fi. To her delight, it could. She connected it and noticed a new notification. Her heart raced as she clicked on it, only to find a single new email dated five years ago.

“This is like something out of a novel,” Lori whispered to herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the email.

Her gasp was audible when she realized it wasn’t spam or a work email—it was a love letter. She read the email with growing excitement:

Subject: An Apology and a Request

Hi,

I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been carrying a heavy heart and wanted to reach out, even though it’s been a while. I left the organization and have started a new life, but I’ve realized that it won’t feel complete without you.

I’m deeply sorry for everything that happened and for the pain I caused you. I know that I have no right to ask for anything, but if there’s any chance for us to meet and talk, I’d really like that. I’m not expecting anything, but I hope we can find some closure.

Yours,

B.B

Lori’s eyes sparkled with excitement. This was even better than the romance novels she had read. She couldn’t believe her aunt had an ex who had been missing her all this time and had finally reached out after five years.

Feeling a burst of inspiration, Lori unplugged the laptop and raced downstairs to find you. “Aunt! Look! Look! Someone sent you an apology letter!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

You were busy preparing to head out to your bee farm, dressed in your suit. The sight of the old laptop suddenly turning on and Lori’s enthusiasm about the email caught you off guard. You knew exactly who had sent it, and it brought a wave of mixed emotions.

With a sigh, you closed the laptop, noticing Lori’s disappointed look. You knelt to her level, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Lori, sometimes it’s best to leave the past where it is.”

“But…” she started, her voice trailing off.

You stood up, adjusting your head protection for the farm. “Just enjoy your time here,” you said gently, then headed out of the house.

Lori sighed, her heart heavy with the sadness in your voice. She could sense the pain behind your words and felt that maybe this person was someone special to you. A sudden idea struck her, and she rushed back to her room, placed the old laptop on the table, and began typing a reply.

With her knowledge of romance novels, she crafted a short but heartfelt response:

Subject: Re: An Apology and a Request

Hi B.B,

Thank you for your message. It was a surprise to read your letter after all these years. I appreciate your honesty and the courage it took to reach out. I’m still processing everything, but I’m grateful for your apology.

Maybe one day we can talk, but for now, I hope you find the closure you’re seeking.

Take care,

Y/N

Satisfied with her words, Lori clicked “Send,” feeling accomplished. She hoped her reply would bring peace to her aunt and the sender.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

A few days passed, and Lori grew increasingly nervous. She kept checking the email, but no new notifications appeared, only that eerie computer-generated voice. You noticed her restlessness; she fidgeted with her fingers and paced around the room.

“What’s wrong? Feeling bored?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. “We could go out for a while, get some fresh air.”

“Eww… no,” Lori replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought of the hot sun and heavy gear. She enjoyed the freedom of staying with you, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about adventures.

“I’d rather stay here, curled up with my book—” Lori was cut off by the familiar, unsettling notification sound.

You flinched at the sound too, a chill creeping down your spine. Lori quickly ran to the laptop, her heart racing with excitement as she saw the red dot notification. She opened the email and skimmed the reply: "I received your message. We need to meet. I’ll find you soon."

“Aunty, look! This person wants to see you. Isn’t it romantic?” Lori said, her excitement palpable.

Romantic my ass, you thought, feeling a cold shiver as you read the email. You abruptly shut the laptop and started packing Lori’s things. Your sudden, frantic movements startled her.

“Change your clothes. Wear something practical and put on running shoes,” you instructed, your voice taut with urgency.

Lori’s eyes widened with concern. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Forget the books. We have fifteen minutes, Lori. Now!” You dashed to your room, grabbing essentials with swift, practiced motions.

Lori, bewildered but obedient, quickly followed your orders. Fifteen minutes later, both of you were ready and in the car. You sped away, your face set in grim determination.

In the passenger seat, Lori clutched the seatbelt tightly, her voice trembling. “Aunt…”

“Lori, did you not hear me? Some things are better left in the past,” you said, your tone cold and firm.

She nodded slowly, her anxiety mounting. “But why?”

Before she could ask more, a deafening explosion rocked the car. “BOOM!” The blast made Lori flinch as she turned to see your house engulfed in flames. Her face pressed against the car window, eyes wide with shock.

“Oh my God. Is that your house?” Lori’s voice was barely a whisper.

You kept your gaze fixed on the road, your face pale and determined. “This is the reality of espionage. The hardest part is when someone tries to kill you.”

Lori gasped, realization dawning on her. “You’re a real spy!”

You didn’t answer, but the silence was deafening—a resounding confirmation.

“And the person who sent the email is another spy!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah. But unlike the novels, we’re not looking to fall in love. We’re trying to kill each other.” Your words sent a shiver down her spine, the gravity of the situation settling in with chilling clarity.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

At the gas station, you and Lori were picking up essential supplies. Your disguise—a dark hat, sunglasses, and a coat pulled tight—wasn't exactly subtle. But Lori's eyes sparkled with excitement.

“This is so cool!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with admiration.

“It’s not,” you muttered, your voice strained as you tried to mask your growing unease. The thrill of the moment had been replaced by a harsh reality. “I’m taking you to your mom.”

Lori’s enthusiasm faltered as she noticed the tension in your body. “But Aunt… why are you running away if this person wants to see you?”

You sighed heavily. “Because—”

Your words trailed off as a shiver ran down your spine. You felt eyes on you and slowly turned to face the source of your unease. There he was, striding towards you with a purpose.

The man stood tall and lean, his dark hair tousled and his leather jacket catching the dim light of the gas station. His face was striking—handsome in a rugged, intense way. His presence radiated strength and determination.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky didn’t break stride or acknowledge you. His pace quickened, and your instincts kicked in. You reached for your gun, but before you could draw it, a loud BANG! shattered the tense silence.

“Kyaaa!!!” The sound of the gunshot set off a wave of screams from everyone inside the store, including Lori. The chaos erupted around you, but you and Bucky remained focused.

You threw yourself in front of Lori, protecting her with your body. Bucky did the same, his gaze locked on the threats.

“You—” you started, trying to catch your breath.

“We don’t have much time,” Bucky cut you off, his voice a low growl. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up, and snatched his own gun. Without another word, he started firing, taking out the shooters one by one.

You joined him in the fray, your movements sharp and efficient. Bullets flew and bodies hit the floor. Bucky’s sharp eyes and quick reflexes contrasted with your precise, practiced shots.

“Your aim’s getting rusty,” Bucky grunted as he took down another opponent.

“Shut up,” you retorted, focusing on the task at hand.

In no time, the immediate threat was neutralized. You both made a break for your car, adrenaline surging. Bucky took the driver’s seat, his expression grim and focused.

“Wait…” you began, but Bucky cut you off.

“Just put on your seatbelt first,” he said tersely, glancing at you with an intensity that brooked no argument.

You complied, snapping the seatbelt into place as Bucky threw the car into gear. The ride was tense, an awkward silence hanging between you and Bucky. Lori, however, was brimming with curiosity.

She tugged at Bucky’s leather jacket, causing him to glance at her. The way she looked at him, her eyes wide with awe, reminded you of how she had always romanticized the world.

“Are you the one who sent that email to my aunt?” Lori asked, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and expectation.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the road.

Lori turned to you, her eyes glowing with revelation. “I get it. Both of you were spies! But you couldn’t be together because of your jobs! A forbidden love! This is so romantic!”

"!!!!!"

Your jaw dropped, and Bucky’s expression shifted to one of utter disbelief. The two of you exchanged a stunned look, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed by Lori’s innocent but surprisingly accurate guess.

The air in the car seemed to crackle with the weight of her words, as the reality of your intertwined past and present hung in the balance.

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lost-and-ephemeral · 7 months

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hii can i request angst for love and deepspace, reader and mc are different ppl. our boys made plans with reader but forgot and left them hanging to hangout with the mc instead 😞

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.1 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

It feels like you've never been enough for him.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, reader and guys are dating

A/N: Thanks for your request, sweetheart! Hope it doesn't look too OOC.

Part 1 | Part 2

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Xavier

Your relationship with Xavier could be called ideal, if not for one nuance.

His colleague, who takes up much of his attention.

There were times when he'd come home and talk about her with such excitement that you'd start to feel like a third wheel. But usually afterwards Xavier would apologize and say that no matter how strong his colleague was, you would still be the best for him.

And you'd like to believe that. Until he forgot about dinner with you because of her.

You've planned a perfect evening and cooked everything he loved so much, knowing how tired he might come back after a mission. Only for him to never show up this evening.

You've been waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Feeling how your heart was breaking even more with each passing minute. Maybe something bad had happened? Maybe he was hurt?

You texted him, only to get back, "Don't worry, I'm fine, my colleague just invited me to the cafe after our mission."

No apologies, no regrets. It seems that he just forgot about you and your plans together.

For a while you were silently sitting in your living room, staring at the phone screen. It was hard to describe all these feelings that were bubbling up inside you. Jealousy, anger. You didn't even bother to remind him about your dinner together and just put all the dishes away in the fridge.

Since when did she become more important than you?

Zayne

You always knew about Zayne's childhood friend. But you couldn't even imagine that she would make you feel so unwanted.

You had plans for today while your lover had the day off. As a cardiac surgeon, Zayne was busy most of the time and would come home late, completely exhausted. Of course, you wanted to spend every free day with him.

Except for one thing.

His childhood friend constantly overshadowed you. Well, you could understand why that was happening. After all, their friendship (or was it more than that already?) had been going on for years, and you couldn't stop Zayne from seeing her.

But…

Sitting alone in the restaurant, at the table you'd booked together, you barely held back tears as you stared at the message marked 'unread'.

When Zayne didn't appear in time, you were surprised. He was always so punctual, what was wrong this time?

But when you asked him where he was, he replied, "Sorry, she asked me to visit an old candy store with her, I'll be back in a few hours," and you realized he'd completely forgotten about you.

And your last message went unread.

"Zayne, but we made a reservation for today."

You sat alone for so long that people started to squint in your direction. The only option was to get up and leave the restaurant before your heart was completely shattered.

And so you did.

Rafayel

Usually Rafayel's studio was always open for you, so you could come to see him anytime.

But as it turned out, you weren't the only one he welcomed with open arms, day or night.

Today was your day off and you were planning to visit Rafayel so you could help him with something in his studio. He asked you to come in the first place. Usually that meant he just wanted to see you and was looking for any excuse, even the silliest one.

But instead you were met with a locked gate.

At first you thought it was just another joke, that Rafayel would come out and let you in, yet some time passed, and you continued to stand there alone. You tried to call him, but it was unsuccessful. No matter how long you waited, no one answered.

Finally you decided to call Thomas to ask him if something important had happened. Maybe Rafayel once again forgot about his own exhibition and had left in a hurry.

But it turned out you were the only one who had been forgotten.

"He said he was going to buy new paints with his bodyguard," Thomas explained. "Or something like that. Better not wait for him until evening, he's unlikely to be back before that time."

Devastated, you stood there for a while longer, thinking about his 'Ms. Bodyguard' who was spending more and more time with your beloved. It wasn't the first she took him away from you.

But this was the last straw.

You turned around, heading back home and desperately holding back tears.

It wasn't fair.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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pedge-page · 9 months

Text

#6 Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: NOT Hungry

can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: fluff, brief puking, Joel being an overreactive sensitive bitch

- - - -

Ever since your fourth date with Joel, where you spent the evening at his apartment, and he made you his homemade empanadas while you two discussed your favorite books and movies, you were hooked. Not just to the man who would eventually be your husband and baby daddy, but to his immaculate cooking as well.

So now, years later with a ring on your finger and both of your and Joel’s belly a little fuller—okay, yours a LOT fuller—you find yourself gawking at him, propped up on the kitchen island in a high chair you took 4 minutes to climb atop, feet swaying in the air, elbows resting on the granite countertop, palms holding your chin with beady heart eyes as Joel finishes plating his hot homemade dish for you.

“Blow on it, babe. It’s hot,” he warns, not too keen on having you burn your tongue again due to your impatience. He holds a fork out as you drag the plate in front of you.

“Yes you are, handsome.”

He shakes his head, not caring that he’s blushing hard. It’s not difficult for him to admit that having you gush over his cooking for years makes him extremely proud, excited, and even more in love with you.

You can’t tell if the gurgling, rumbling summersaults in your middle is the baby kicking or your stomach growling, neither of which bother you in the slightest as you splinter the hot shell, pausing to waft the steam of shredded chicken, glazed onions and corn, a hint of his secret secret secret ingredient (its a touch of sugar—but you don’t want him to know you know), and then—

You stop, fork held in front of your mouth like the Choo Choo train hit the breaks before it could dock with the station. And suddenly something doesn’t feel very pleasant, and your senses are off, strangely, for something that should be glorious and pleasurable consuming you is now —extremely unpleasant, almost—

You drop the fork with a clatter to the plate and b-line straight to the bathroom, barely bending to your knees to the tiled floor as you hurl your stomach into the basin.

It only lasts for a few seconds, your stomach being relatively empty with no dinner having made its way down there. You wash your hands, and mouth, and then sadly waddle back into the kitchen.

“Um, Joel, I don’t think the baby likes them,” you say meekly, rubbing your hand over your belly who punches your ribcage with dignified agreement.

Joel looks at you, face plain, lips in a thin line with an unreadable expression. He calmly places the pan back on the stove, wiping his hand with the washcloth. The kitchen feels scarily quiet. Joel then puts both hands flat on the counter, holding himself up, gritting his teeth back and forth. He brings his eyes to you, with such a chilling seriousness that it sends you into shivers.

“And might I ask who’s baby you got growing’ in there then?”

EXCUSE ME?

“Joel what—what the fuck—“

“Cuz no baby o’MINE would EVER dislike my empenadas. So I’ll ask you again, who’s baby do y’got growing inside you?”

“Are you fucking serious. Because the baby doesn’t like your greasy food, I’m suddenly a cheater?”

“I’m just sayin—“

“Fuck off Joel,” you seethe, not sure if you should be trembling in rage or laughter. “The baby. Doesn’t. Like. It. Grow up. The doctor said this could happen.”

Yeah, he was there, he knows, but Jesus, it was more plausible to believe his baby wouldn’t like collard greens or strawberry ice cream, not … his fabulous abuelas homemade receipt of empanadas that his wife has adored ever since she first tried it!

Joel pulls his hands off the counter, wringing them in shame with pouty lips. “M’sorry. That was—that was wrong o’me to way that. I don’t—I know you wouldn’t…”

He struggles to suppress the little sniffle under all that macho, and suddenly you’re paddling over to him, soothingly gliding your hand over the expanse of his muscled back, kissing his massive shoulder.

“Awww, are you upset your baby doesn’t like them?”

“M’not upset,” he pouts unconvincingly. “Just—what if after you pop the kid, you still don’t like ‘em either? Then who am I gonna cook ‘em for?”

“Tommy?”

“Fuck that man-child. He can make his own shit.”

You giggle into his arm, nuzzling your face into his denim shirt. You inhale the smell of him, the mix of pine, wood and mint, a little bit of sweat, enough that its blocking the nauseating scent of the grease in the air and suddenly you feel a wave of calm wash over you, relaxed in his gentle embrace.

You smile, carding your fingers through his and bringing his flat hand to the base of your tummy.

“I promise: this baby is definitely yours. So calm now because Daddy’s scent is here to comfort her.”

Joel’s lips curl into a smile, welcoming the touch of warmth cradled by your rounded belly. “Still think it’s a girl?”

You cup his face, bringing him to you as you plant a loving kiss on the scruffy patch on his peppered cheek.

“I know it.”

- - - -

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moonselune · 3 months

Note

Hi, would you consider writing about some of the guys (Gale, Halsin, Wyll, maybe Rolan?) reacting to their partner/tav telling them they're pregnant?

oooooo I like this a lot

Gale

The cozy warmth of your home library wrapped around you as you approached Gale, who was immersed in the glow of an arcane tome. He looked up from the pages, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"Gale, dearest" you begin, trying to steady your voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Concern flashed in his eyes, and he closed the book, giving you his full attention. "What is it, my love?"

You took a deep breath, placing his hand gently on your abdomen. "I'm pregnant."

For a heartbeat, Gale simply stared at you, his face a mix of shock and dawning realization. Then, an elated smile spread across his face. "Truly?" he asked, his voice brimming with joy.

"Truly," you confirmed, smiling back at him.

Gale pulled you into a tight embrace, his happiness radiating from him. "By the gods' grace, this is wonderful news!" He released you and began pacing excitedly, his mind clearly racing. "I have been ready for this since the day I met you. I know exactly what spells will help them sleep, which bedtime stories will ignite their imagination… Oh, and we must start their magical education early!"

You blinked, astounded by his readiness. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I have so much to share with our child. Imagine teaching them about the Weave, guiding them through their first incantations, and watching them discover the wonders of magic. Oh it's going to be extraordinary!"

Gale's excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You already sound like the perfect father."

He pulled you into another embrace, his voice softening with emotion. "And you, my love, will be the most incredible mother."

Astarion:

The night was quiet as you approached Astarion, who was lounging by the fire in your underdark estate, a book in hand. He looked up, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as you sat beside him.

"Astarion," you began, your heart pounding, you could tell that he could tell that something was wrong but ever the charmer, he let you speak, "I have something important to tell you."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He snapped his book shut and looked at you gleefully "Oh? What might that be?"

Taking his hand, you placed it on your stomach and looked him in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Astarion just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "You must be joking."

"I'm not joking," you said firmly, your eyes locked on his.The disbelief slowly melted from his face, replaced by a look of bliss and panic.

"You're serious," he whispered. "We're going to have a child?"

"Yes," you said, "We are having a baby, my love.... is that okay?"

"Is that okay?"Astarion's eyes sparkled with joy, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "This is incredible!, my darling We're going to have a miniature me running around! Oh how delightful."

His excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you're excited about?"

"Of course!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Just think of it – a little one with my charm, my wit, and of course, my good looks."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with happiness. "You are incorrigible, Astarion."

"And you love me for it," he teased, kissing you softly, you felt yourself melt into it, relief and love poured into it. He then slowly pulled away, "But truly, this is rather excellent news I could have... have ever received." Aatarion, rested his forehead against yours, and you can see his eyes begin to water." We will have a family, all ours, and I will make sure they have everything they need."

Your heart melted at his words, and you hugged him tightly. "I know you will, Astarion, my love. We'll make sure they have a wonderful life."

Wyll

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden as you approached Wyll, who was sparring with a practice dummy. You tried to tell him that the practice dummy did not compliment your peonies and roses but he argued otherwise. His movements were fluid and precise, but he stopped immediately when he saw you approaching with a radiant smile on your face.

"Wyll," you called out, trying to keep your excitement in check. "Can we talk for a moment?"

He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, giving you his undivided attention. "Of course, my heart. What’s on your mind?"

"Well, it's not so much on my mind rather than on me.." You murmured before taking a deep breath in. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, Wyll stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock, and you panicked, was this too soon? Was he not ready? But then, a brilliant smile broke across his face, and he let out a joyous laugh. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Yes, I am," you confirmed, your own smile growing wider as you rested your hands on your stomach. "The healers confirmed it this morning."

Without warning, Wyll swept you up into his arms and spun you around, his laughter ringing through the air. Your skirt billowed in the morning sun and you wished you could hold onto this moment forever.

"This is the best news I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, setting you down gently but keeping his arms around you. "We’re going to be parents!"

He kissed you deeply, joyfully and when he finally pulled back, he was beaming. You laughed, cupping his cheek, relishing in the delight of it all.

"I can't wait to tell everyone," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "We're going to be parent! Parents!" Wyll then turned away from you and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling into the sky. "We are going to be parents! I'm going to be a father!"

"Slow down, Wyll," you laughed, your own heart swelling with happiness as you walked over to him, pulling on his arm.. "We should probably tell the others, first, - and gently! No shouting.."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, but you could see he was barely able to contain himself, oh he was so going to shout. "Oh, my father – he will be so thrilled! I am so thrilled! I am going to be a father!"

Wyll's joy was infectious and you both immediately set off to share the wonderful news, by the end of the day Wyll had completely lost his voice, though that did not stop him from holding up a piece of parchment that declared he was going to be a father.

Halsin:

You found Halsin in his study, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating his broad frame as he poured over ancient texts. His healing skills often had him delving into herbal remedies and nature’s secrets, but tonight, you had something far more personal to share.

"Halsin," you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. "My heart, what brings you here at this hour?"

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your hands resting on your belly. "I have some news. I'm pregnant."

A warm smile spread across Halsin's face, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost... knowing. "Pregnant, you say? That's wonderful news!"

You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your hands on your hips, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You already knew, didn't you?"

Halsin chuckled, reaching out to pull you into his lap, you allowed it but included some mock resistance. Halsin pressed a tedded kiss to your neck.

"I might have had my suspicions," he admitted, his large calloused hand coming to rest on your stomach. "As a healer, certain signs are hard to miss. That and the fact you keep stealing my honeycomb when you think I am not looking, and the constant throwing up and nausea and the-"

"-Okay! Okay, I should have realised sooner, I get it." You playfully scolded him, tapping his chest. "But you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement and affection. "I wanted you to discover it in your own time, to have that moment of joy for yourself." He now kissed your forehead tenderly. "And now that you know, we can share in this happiness together."

You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was looking at you with such love and admiration. "I suppose I can forgive you," you said with a mock sigh, resting your head against his broad chest.

Halsin's hand gently caressed your stomach, his touch filled with reverence. "You will be a wonderful mother," he whispered, his voice filled with certainty. "Our child will be blessed to have you."

"And they will be blessed to have you as their father," you replied softly. Halsin's embrace tightened around you, his love and warmth enveloping you completely.

"We will raise this child together, with all the love and care they deserve."

As you nestled in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and joy. The future seemed bright and full of promise, with Halsin by your side.

Rolan:

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Sorcerous Sundries as you found Rolan sorting through a stack of spellbooks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but he looked up and smiled when he saw you approaching.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Rolan asked, setting the books aside and giving you his full attention. "Isn't there trouble you should be getting yourself into so your darling lover can come and save you?"

"For once, trouble found me- well us, and it's all my darling lover's fault." You smiled nervously and crossed your arms.

His smile faltered slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it? What did I do?"

You uncrossed your arms and reached out and took his hands in yours, looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Rolan just stared at you, his face going pale. "Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, squeezing his hands gently. "Yes, I'm sure."

Panic flashed across his face, and he started to pull away, running his hands through his hair. "But… how? I mean, I know how, but… are we ready for this? What if I'm not a good father? What if I mess everything up?"

You stepped closer, taking his hands again and holding them firmly. "Rolan, listen to me. You will be an excellent father. You are kind, compassionate, and intelligent. Our child will be lucky to have you as their father."

He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "But what if I can't do it? What if I don't know how to be a father?"

You smiled reassuringly, cupping his face in your hands. "We'll learn together. We have each other, and we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."

Rolan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You're right. I can do this. We can do this."

You kissed him softly, feeling the tension in his body begin to ease. "Yes, we can. And we'll be a wonderful family."

Rolan finally smiled, though it was still tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I guess I should start reading up on parenting then, huh?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yes, but we have plenty of time. Right now, let's just focus on us."

Rolan nodded, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Thank you for believing in me," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, holding him tightly. "And I can't wait to start this journey with you."

I can picture Rolan just freaking tf out, bless him. Hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

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thrashkink-coven · 3 months

Text

One of the most valuable things that Lucifer has taught me is that being passionate is a virtue.

Lots of folks think that having bad bitch boss energy means being apathetic and stoic, or being unbothered by things and striking down all your enemies with an ice cold glare. Being unreadable and mysterious and unpredictable in a sexy way. I though that when I started working with Lucifer he would teach me how to be cold and distant so that I could ascend beyond any problem because I’m soooo enlightened.

But he taught me the exact opposite. He taught me not to glare coldly at my enemies, but to look them right in the eyes with sincerity and empathy to understand why they are the way that they are, and how to navigate the situation appropriately. I don’t have to destroy my enemies and conquer all, I must know when someone is toxic to me and be prepared to remove myself from those situations or find ways to navigate them in healthy ways. He taught me that I’m allowed to be mad when people mistreat me, I’m allowed to cry and get frustrated. I won’t yell or hurl insults, I’ll communicate how I feel and ensure that my feelings are heard even if not respected. My emotions and intentions do not have to be a puzzle to those who surround me, I have the power to put the pieces together with my words and actions.

And I will loudly and proudly love the things I love, ramble on and on about my favourite books and shows because he’ll always listen. And smile widely when I see my friends. Be cartoonishly and desperately in love with my partner and cherish him like every day was our last.

I’m allowed to be emotional about things that don’t matter, like a character death in a show I like or dropping my last gummy worm on the carpet. I’m allowed to get excited to see the moon or the sun or my cat. I’m supposed to be.

I don’t have to become a master manipulator who hacks into people’s minds to make them secretly obey me like I’m playing chess. I can become vigilant and detail oriented so I can discern peoples emotions and intentions to better connect with them as people and to offer them support wherever I can. I hope the people around me enjoy my company as a real person, not because they secretly admire and envy me.

I don’t need to be cool and calm and in control of everything just so other people can tell me what a boss bitch I am. I’m allowed to need breaks and ask questions when I’m confused. My dedication to my work and art will speak for itself.

Lucifer, the king, the emperor, the morning star, has always been admired for his incredible beauty and inspiration, but never once did he claim to be perfect. Most beautiful, most prideful, perhaps, but always so with all of his quirks and flaws. Even when he falls, he rises again. His intense loyalty and passion for knowledge is what makes him the light bringer. It never had anything to do with a cold glare or strict attitude, it was always an admiration of his love for his purpose. When the angels of the rebellion followed him it was not because he was cold and cunning, it was because he was an inspiration set ablaze in glory. He was warm and light and passionate.

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toomuchracket · 10 months

Text

all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip!

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock.

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet.

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply.

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #christmas75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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gryffinclaw-imagines · 2 years

Text

Remus Lupin x Reader - A snowy escape

Character: Remus Lupin

Reader: Fem!Reader

Word count: 1284

Requested: No, but feel free to request a fic:))

Summary: That bloody potions essay has you stumped! So much so, that Remus has offered to spend his Saturday helping you with it instead of going to Hogsmeade. Which, in itself, isn’t all that bad...

Warnings: Nothing, just pure fluff

A/n: Can you tell I love everything snow and wintery by this???

PLEASE DON’T COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED;)

"I guess I just can’t see why it makes a difference...” You confessed, your nose buried deep within the pages of your potions book. “Well, lacewing flies make the potion a lot more powerful.” Remus replied calmly, his patience astounding you. You would’ve given up on yourself if you were in his position.

“Ugh... Christmas break can’t come soon enough!” You exclaimed, closing the book. A silence fell upon you for a moment, and you noticed just how empty the library was. Everyone was at Hogsmeade, enjoying themselves, drinking hot chocolate, maybe even enjoying a hot meal at The Three Broomsticks. “Thank you for helping me, Rem.” You looked him in the eyes, trying to convey just how grateful you were. “No problem, Y/n. I’ll always help you if you need it.” The boy gave you a sincere look, making you blush (just a tiny bit), before grabbing a book from the table.

“Here,” he handed it to you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “Chapter 17.” You opened the book, but the words seemed unreadable, your mind somewhere else. You felt childish for getting so caught up on a single touch, but you couldn’t help it. Since fourth year, this boy had been making your stomach flutter with excitement. The simplest things could set it off, and you were quite tired of it by now, if you had to be honest. You were not tired of Remus, you could never be. However, you were tired of longing, tired of staring at him for too long, and tired of your expectations. You’d liked him since fourth year, and now, two years later, you figured it was too late. If he liked you too, surely something would’ve happened by now.

“Lacewing flies not only give the potion its significant shimmer, but they also increase the potion’s effect by 72%, as opposed to the cheaper replacement; rosewing beetles.” You read, finally able to concentrate. “That’s a good point to add,” Remus nodded, pushing your essay towards you. It was almost done, but you didn’t feel confident about it. “I’ll write it down, then.” You reached for the ink, sighing.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, his brows arching. “I just feel bad for making you stay here with me...” You confessed, writing a phrase on your parchment. “Hey, you didn’t make me do anything. I chose to help you myself.” He took your hand, making you look at him.

“If you ask me,” he continued. “It’s 100% worth-” “LOOK!” You exclaimed loudly, pointing at the window behind him, earning you a somewhat aggressive shush from Madam Pince. “It’s snowing!” You whispered, smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “We need to go outside! Get your coat!”

“But what about your essay?” He asked while you were already putting everything away. “It’s fine! It’s almost done anyways. Get your coat, Rem, we’ll meet in the courtyard!” And off you were, parchment in hand, running off to your common room to get your coat. You were too excited to notice his wholesome smile and corresponding blush as he watched you run off.

***

The sharp cold hit you as soon as you stepped outside, making your cheeks glow as you buried your chin further into your scarf. The courtyard was dead silent, and it seemed abandoned, making it look magical in a non-wizard way. You strolled over to the fountain and let your fingers run over the light coat of frost on the ice cold stone, before sitting down on its ledge. The calm seemed to hit you in a way nothing else could, potion’s essay forgotten. You’d definitely made the right choice to abandon your homework and enjoy the snow. It was one of your favourite things. Winter with snow. Winter without snow was just plain gray. Boring. Winter with snow, however, awakened a feeling in you like no other. It felt special as it always seemed to bring an opportunity for making memories. The nostalgic feeling reminded you of your childhood, playing in the snow with your family, building snowmen, drinking hot cocoa after a long day outside, the feeling of warmth coming back to your fingers once you held a warm mug in your hands a vivid memory. You toyed with the end of your scarf, deep in thought. Not for long however, as something cold and soft hit your shoulder, making you shriek in surprise before turning around.

“Remus, I’ll get you back for that!” You yelled as you saw who’d thrown the snowball. “Oi, everything’s fair in snow and war!” He replied, already taking cover behind a bush. You laughed before gathering a great amount of snow in your hands and throwing it at him, missing by a few inches. “Was that the best you’ve got?” He teased before throwing another snowball, also missing. “Well, you’re not that good yourself!” You answered as you turned to watch where the ball would land. “Rule number one,” Remus began, making you turn back around. “Always have a tactic.” He stated smugly while throwing another snowball, hitting you smack on the left shoulder.

“Ok, that’s it!” You let out before charging at the bush where Remus had taken cover, making him flee from his hiding place. He was fast. A little faster than you, always a couple steps ahead, leading the two of you out of the courtyard and a little of the way towards the great lake. You had to think of a plan. This wouldn’t go well for you if your plan depended on catching up to him somehow. So you came up with another idea as you spotted a giant soft pile of snow, practically calling your name. You ran over to it, calling out for Remus.

“Ouch, Rem! I think I sprained my ankle!” The words made him stop running to come help you out, exactly as you’d hoped. “Which one? Let me see… Can you walk?” He sounded genuinely worried, and for a second you felt bad for tricking him, but your mischievous side got the better of you. “Yea, it’s right here…” You pretended to bend down a bit before grabbing his coat and pulling him down with you, right into the pile of snow.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, followed up by laughter. “You cheat!” He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t help but taking a split-second to take him in. Pink cheeks and nose, golden curls peeking out from underneath his knit beanie, a couple of snowflakes stuck in his hair. “Everything’s fair in snow and war.” You replied, shrugging the best to your abilities while lying down. He let out a warm chuckle before sitting up and looking towards the lake, gesturing for you to do the same.

The view was simply stunning. A snowy landscape like you’d never seen it before… or rather, like you’d never noticed it before. The sun was beginning to set, shining down onto the untouched snow through a hole in the clouds. It glittered and glimmered, once again reminding you of that wintery magic you’d felt a whisp of earlier. It was as if nature had conjured up the glittering snow, just for the sake of it. Just for you. It was mesmerising.

“My mum used to tell me that the glittery snow was fairy dust.” Remus suddenly confessed in a soft whisper as if not to disturb the beauty. “It sort of is, don’t you think?” You replied, happy that he saw the magic too. “Yea.” He simply agreed, enjoying the view just as you, readjusting his position to be closer to you.

Neither one of you mentioned the way his pinky lay on top of yours, curling around it softly.

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chodzacaparodia · 2 months

Note

How many are allowed for the ao3 truth and dare? I wanna ask for:

🛼🥤💌🌻🐇🍄🧸🔪❄️🌿🏜️🦴🐝🎨🧩

(Sorry if it's a lot)

You can ask all you want hahah 😁 Thank you for your asks <3 I'm really glad you wanted ask so much ♡

🛼⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🗣👨‍❤️‍👨🕺🥂❤️‍🩹

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

AHHH THIS IS SO HARD 😭😭

I'm looking through my bookmarks and I don't know what to recommend... Maybe this one:

The Secrets We Keep (Aren't Really That Extreme) by CheekyBrunette (Tododeku)

This is my favorite chat fic ever. I remember reading the chapters several times before the new updates came.

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

Ehhhh on the "official" e-mail I have read all of them, but on my one Gmail, which is mainly used for e-mails from ao3, I have over about 116?? 💀 Almost all of which are updates of fanfic chapters, which I will totally come back someday 🙈

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

Preferably I'd like just @ everyone who likes/reblogs my posts, but that's where our interactions end 😭😭I appreciate your silent presence 💖💖💖

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

Original characters!!! I mostly avoid reader insert because it often makes me cringe 💀

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Maybe Ryufuyu (Ryusei Satou and Chifuyu Matsuno) from Tokyo Revengers this time?

Ryseui often makes fun of Chifuyu and his love of shoujo manga and romance. But he finds it super cute. And since he also has a huge weakness for Chifuyu, he arranges for him various "scenes" typical of shojo mangas or dramas (like "rescuing" Chifuyu from a cyclist who is riding a good few meters away from them), which are more like pranks and cause Chifuyu's irritation and frustration. at the beginning, but then Ryusei makes up for everything and Chifuyu admits that he is a very charming bastard.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

The fastest way is to follow me and create some interactions through e.g. reblogs? Comments? When I see that someone is excited about what I like, I start to feel a connection hahah.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Idk, I can't remember. All I can remember in my head is how I looked for information about what diseases etc. kissing can bring 💀

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I would love to write a Hanahaki Disease fic! I already have it in my head, but this idea will have to wait. Hmmm, who could write it well? Maybe Julie Kagawa could create something good? Her "The Iron Fey" and "Shadow of Fox" series convince me she could handle it. Or Colleen Hoover hahah. She would definitely dramatize this theme even more. Her Hanahaki Disease book would definitely be a bestseller

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Honestly, it helps me to read fics or books where the characters are also fans and create something themselves, mainly fanfiction. I can identify with them and feel solidarity. Their passion is contagious, their doubts are my doubts. Stories like this make me feel motivated.

Sooo reading 💖📚

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love long comments where readers quote fragments of my Fic and write what they liked about them 🥺💖 They make me so happy that my cheeks hurt from smiling! I really appreciate that someone liked my story so much that they devoted so much time and energy to such an extensive comment 😭

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

Hmmm I don't think so? Mostly ideas come to me randomly. But "Fruits Basket" was my inspiration to write one fic

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

She doesn't even use tumblr anymore, but I have to tag @twojastarasiostra! She's my friend who I met at university and she was my beta for a long time (now I don't want to burden her with work because of her normal work, soo No beta we die like our free time 💀) Thank you so much that you took the time to read my works under pressure and that you sent me fragments that you liked. I'm so grateful for what you did ♡♡♡ Now you don't have to read anymore, but you still have to deal with me talking about struggling to write hahah

Speaking of struggling, I would also like to thank @lostsowly for our conversations during TR Rare Pair Week ♡♡ Mutual motivation gave me a lot ♡♡ In my heart there will always be the fact that you wrote that I am one of your favorite writers 😭

I have to also tag @matcha-meow who always informs me about writing events that I don't know about because I don't have Twitter 💀 If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have created many of my works. Thank you very much for your extensive comments, which always make me happy ♡♡♡

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like

This is my favorite Kuroken fanart ever (I hope it opens because it's on pinterest)

I love everything about this fanart. Versions of Kuroo and Kenma at different ages, their adult versions looking at each other so tenderly, this background, these colors 😭😭😭

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

When I see some incest tags 💀 If in the fic the romantic relationship is between siblings, I have *ABORT ABORT*. Just like there is a threesome with siblings in the main role. If there are love triangles between a character and two siblings - that's cool, but God forbid such a threesome 💀

If I see that the text is written in a sequence and there are no paragraphs, then I often give up reading

Have a nice day! 💖

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

#ask game #asks #Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game #ryufuyu headcanons

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bonesandthebees · 6 months

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i did not mean to do it, but i was passing time in the library, just waiting for my sign language lesson (theyre going great btw, im really enjoying it) not planning to borrow anything, ive got plenty of unread books at home, but as i was leaving i passed the just returned section and there, i noticed it, a huge orange book (would be hard to miss honestly) and before i knew it i was checking out with it

im going on a school trip to england tomorrow (by bus so, a few days on the ride, well be stopping in amsterdam for a day so id love any tips btw, i plan to check your old trip asks) and i figured im gonna need something to read anyway and its so long ill definitely only only need this one book with me and it was even the english version which is the one i wanted to read so it was perfect

and thats how i ended up with a bag much heavier and the priority of the orange tree on my shelf rn

all i saw so far were maps (YES! PLURAL! THATS SO FUCKING COOL) and some glossaries or something and im really excited to get into it

oh I'm so glad you're enjoying your sign language classes!! it's such a fun language to learn right??

oh my god a school trip to england and you're stopping in amsterdam on the way?? god that sounds so fun. and you have priory now aaaa that's gonna be such a good book to read while you travel (although it's so heavy it's incredibly inconvenient to travel with)

ok ok amsterdam tips hm. well first off watch out for bikes. I don't know how common bike riding is in your country so maybe you already know this, but in america you never really have to worry about looking out for bicyclists when you're crossing the street you just focus on cars. in amsterdam you WILL get hit by a bicyclist if you're not careful so make sure to watch out. this was a lesson I had to learn quickly as an american.

I definitely recommend finding a cute cafe or something in amsterdam. not a coffee shop since that term means something very different in amsterdam (although if you want to go to a coffee shop live your best life) but theres some very good actual coffee and snacks you can find in cafes. I still daydream about this cheese and tomato croissant sandwich I had in an amsterdam cafe it was so good

anyway I hope you enjoy priory!! honestly I'm kind of laughing at how many of you I've convinced to read it. I'm reading the prequel right now and literally losing my mind at how good it is. the worldbuilding for this series is just so immersive and vibrant and I really hope you fall in love with it like I did. and yes the maps are SO fucking cool. one of my favorite details is how you have maps at both the beginning of priory and the beginning of a day of fallen night (the prequel) but since adofn takes place several hundred years before priory the maps look similar but different and you find out what changed the maps over the course of the story and it's just so interesting

let me know what you think!! and I hope you have an amazing trip <33

#ask #jiksvokrat

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thetonethetollandthethunder · 1 year

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Arc of A Scythe analysis, chapter 6-10

—

Chapter 6!

-Ooo! This is the chapter we see the new order scythes!!!

-99.9 percent on-time service…stuff like this makes me wish i was in scythe—

-I find it very funny that the middle seat is just as bad as disease and government, Neal always makes this small funny bits intentionally or not

-GODDARD ID RECOGNIZE THAT ROBE ANYWHERE

-Elegy of scythes <3

-This is fucking terrifying though, imagine you’re finally on your way home, you can’t wait to see your family, they’re all waiting for you, all you want is a nice flight home, and then it’s announced you’re gonna die. Thats fucking scary man

-This scene really shows how fucked up Goddard and is Elegy are, how cruel they can be

-Yes business man, gleaning is necessary, but not in this way, this way is just despicable

-Chomsky is too excited for this PUT THE FLAMETHROWER AWAY SIR

-Oh god Goddard is using the word Alpha, do you think he considers himself an alpha male? I do NOT wanna think about that

-“Yet even in dreams I often find myself gleaning…” god almost all scythes must be so fucking traumatized man-

-Jesus what a good chapter, a great way to start the new part!

—

Chapter 7!!

-Faraday is lowkey a good professor, no wonder you high school au freaks like using him for that /hj

-I for one, CAN imagine Faraday with a mace, he’d look fucking awesome

-Banned weapons are encouraged, that is SCARY!!!

-No wonder a lot of scythes (esp young ones in the new order are bloodthirsty, it’s this cycle of encouragement and being exempt from the rules of society, sure the older scythes preach about gleaning with honor but when you’re young, especially around citra and rowan’s age, you’d be hard-pressed to listen and be much more interested in the bloodsports of Goddard. That’s how he gets you!!!

-Also as someone who has started journaling my scythe journal would be UNREADABLE I have AWFUL handwriting

-Killing 5 people a week, and 260 a year is INSANE!! Again it’s no wonder a lot of scythes are so desensitized to this shit, and even revel in it, you kind of have to, just for your own sanity

-“Good scythes don’t get days off.” *COUGH COUGH* GODDARD *COUGH COUGH*

-“The idea that not all scythes were good was something neither Rowan or Citra had ever considered. It was widely accepted that scythes adhered to the highest moral and ethical standards. Even the ones who sought celebrity were seen to deserve it.” OHH YOU FUCKERS HAVE NO IDEA I LOVE WHEN I HAVE FORESIGHT THE CHARACTERS IN THEIR CURRENT PRESENT TIME DONT!!!!

-“If you do not cry yourself to sleep on a regular basis, you are not compassionate enough to be a scythe.” OUGH THAT LINEEEEE!!!!

-“She doubted rowan cried himself to sleep.” It all happens on the inside, citra!

-“I prefer to see each person I glean as an individual deserving of an end that is unique.” I love how the first book shows how compassionate and truly worthy of the title Scythe Faraday is. It’s that compassionate that makes him stay as one even after the title is gone. Because that’s what he truly is.

-“I find fire a horrific way to glean and would never use it.” ROWAN WOULD DISAGREE OHOHOHOOOOO—

-Its here where I think Rowan gets a lot of his moral code, or at least starts to think about it, to him Faraday is a model scythe, the scythe anyone should strive to be, and when he eventually sees scythes the complete opposite of him, his way of thinking as Scythe Lucifer becomes more clear.

-“I am an accomplice to the world’s oldest crime, and it will only get worse.” AAAA THAT LINE MAN

-“All they do is play games and watch cat holograms.” Oh Neal you really don’t know shit about how people actually use technology—

-I think me and Rowan would have similar handwriting (bad)

-“Rowan found it increasingly hard to parse his feelings about her.” ROWAN FELL FIRST AND HE FELL HARD MAN!!!!!!!!!

-Ben mention :(((((

-This entry of Curie’s journal really fucking hits you man!!! Especially the “I don’t know” at the end like UGH!!!!

-AMAZING CHAPTER AS ALWAYS!!! It’s really laying the groundwork for future character development!

—

Chapter 8!!!

-We get some foreshadowing to Citra’s gleaning method! The theater part if you can recall!

-Also the “No, I lost. Twice.” Is SO funny

-“It was the only time in all my years as a scythe that I had been thanked for what I do.” And you’ll be thanked SO much more soon Faraday!

-Them becoming more violent and thinking about gleaning is SO interesting esp since its so early, just shows how much it can affect you.

-Foreshadowing to where Rowan chooses which Scythe he chooses to glean when he becomes Scythe Lucifer

-GOD you can FEEL his guilt of having to choose between these 4 people!! How horrible and awful he feels to take their lives away as he learns more UGH

-AND he’s thinking about Bias’s unlike SOMEONE *cough cough* SCYTHE GODDARD *cough cough*

-“Does it ever get easier?” Rowan asked. “I certainly hope not,” the scythe said.

-Bradford Ziller is such a shit name lmao

-Rowan not wanting to admit he’s the one who chose him is soooo!!

-“They had bitten her. Good for them.” HAH that’s such a fun line

-Oop! There’s an error on my copy of the book! There’s a quotation mark at the end of “How was any of this fair?” When there shouldn’t be because it’s not dialogue! Interesting right?

-Even if he has a stupid name, you can really feel the terror and panic on Bradford, really good stuff

-The fact he wants to be aware and awake when he dies is sooo interesting man

-Rowan and Citra’s love is continuing to blossom!!

-“I fear for all of us if scythes begin to love what they do.” *STARES AT GODDARD*

-Amazing chapter as always!! Two more to go!!

—

Chapter 9!!

-Esme!! I always remember her being an underutilized character, let’s see if I was right though!

-Idk why but I hate mentions of food, esp greasy foods in books, makes me ick a lot idk I’m weird

-“Well, she could learn self-control tomorrow. Today she wanted pizza.” ICONIC LINE!! Such a mood!

-Luigi mario :)

-Elegy of scythes are back!!!

-Oh Esme there’s gonna be *so* many mass gleanings later on you have NO idea

-VOLTA

-Esme you’re life is gonna be FUCKED GIRL YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!

-A utopia where everything is perfect would be boring, most ppls lives in Scythe are boring, that’s what I think makes Scythe interesting compared to other dystopian books because its a utopia that turns into a dystopian whilst giving ideas of how that utopia itself was already a dystopia even if it wasn’t a tradition one

-Shorter chapter! Still good tho, not as interesting as others however

—

CHAPTER 10!!!!!

-TYGER!!

-Rowan you’re scaring people—

-Rowan’s disobedience is what makes him soooo interesting to me mam!!

-Lmao Rowan is worried about Tyger stealing Citra, already getting jealous!

-Apparently ppl ship Citra and Tyger which…I don’t see??? At all????

-We get some more Citra-Rowan interactions!! Very nice!!! Makes my Citran heart happy <3

-Emo-Nanites <3

-“We are not the same beings we once were. So then, if we are no longer human, what are we?” UGH ANOTHER GOOD LINE!!

-Another short chapter though not as short as the last one! Liked it more than the last though!

—

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, but here’s the next 5 chapters, those last two chapters didn’t have much but everything else was great as always!! Next time we’ll be doing chapters 11-15! Hope you’ll join me for it!!!

#the tone speaks #arc of a scythe #rowan damisch #citra terranova #scythe faraday #scythe goddard #tyger salazar #i dont wanna tag everyone else soooooo #long post

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month

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Another Ending - 2 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The car ride was tense, with only the sound of tires humming against the asphalt breaking the silence. You stared out the window, watching the trees blur by, trying to suppress the anxiety gnawing at you.

“We need to get to the train station,” you suggested, breaking the silence.

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Too risky. We have to stay low for a while.”

You nodded, your mind racing through the possibilities. If a motel or hotel was too dangerous, where could you go? “We should camp. I have the gear in the car.”

Bucky glanced at you, a small nod of approval. “Good.”

The awkward silence returned, thick and suffocating, until a small voice broke through.

“This is destiny,” Lori murmured, her face lighting up as she reached into her bag to pull out a notebook. She began scribbling furiously.

You and Bucky exchanged a confused look. “What’s got you writing all of a sudden?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“New ideas for my fanfiction,” Lori said, her tone excited.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Lori…”

Bucky kept driving, his eyes scanning the road ahead until he found a secluded area surrounded by trees. He maneuvered the car off the road, hiding it as best he could among the foliage.

“Who is she, really?” Bucky asked, his tone serious.

“My niece,” you replied, your voice low.

Lori, sensing the conversation was about her, raised her hand like she was in class. “Oh, I have a confession to make. I’m the one who replied to your email.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he turned to you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else. “Can’t say I’m not a little disappointed. But thanks to her, I finally know your real name.”

Lori, completely missing the tension in the air, beamed. “You didn’t even know each other’s names, but you kept looking for her? That’s so romantic.”

Bucky shot you a look, his expression unreadable, but the way his gaze lingered made you uncomfortable. Was she really your niece? He couldn’t help but wonder.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag and pulling out a burner phone. You needed to call your sister and let her know you were taking Lori with you, that things had gotten… complicated.

Lori, oblivious to the serious undertone of the situation, watched you and Bucky closely, analyzing every glance and gesture. Through her writer’s lens, she saw the tension between you two as something else entirely. She grinned, her mind already spinning a new story of enemies-turned-lovers.

“Uh, I have a question,” Lori piped up. “After I replied, did you immediately read it?”

Bucky didn’t answer, his silence louder than any words could be. Lori took it as confirmation. “So, before you replied, you rushed to find my cool aunt, and when you got closer, you finally sent it. That’s such dedication to chasing love.” She squealed, hugging her notebook to her chest like a love-struck fangirl.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Both of you walked in silence, the tension between you growing thicker with every step. You stayed close to the car, unwilling to stray too far, as if the vehicle was the only thing grounding you in this increasingly chaotic world.

“We can’t be together,” you finally said, your voice heavy with regret.

“But—” Bucky began, but you cut him off.

Without a word, you reached up and tugged down your collar, revealing a line of jagged scars etched into the skin of your neck. You usually kept them hidden under layers of makeup, but today, there was no time for that. The collar had been your only shield.

“These… they still haunt me,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he pulled up his shirt to reveal the scars marring his shoulder. The sight of them made your heart twist with guilt.

“It’s not just you,” he said, his voice low and filled with a shared pain. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We were both in the wrong.”

In the world of espionage, trust was a luxury neither of you could afford. You had been a double agent, living in the gray area between loyalty and betrayal. Bucky, a triple agent, had danced even closer to the edge. The scars you both bore were reminders of the countless times trust had been shattered.

The real reason you were being hunted wasn’t just because you were a skilled operative; it was because you had broken a vow. You had promised never to contact Bucky again, a promise made under the threat of being burned by your agency. But you had broken that promise, and now, you were paying the price.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice filled with an ache you couldn’t suppress. But your words died in your throat as you caught sight of movement behind a tree.

Lori. Your creative, ever-curious niece was hiding, scribbling furiously in her notebook as if she was documenting your every word.

“So, both of them feel guilty. It haunts them,” Lori muttered to herself, her eyes wide with fascination as she jotted down her thoughts.

You sighed deeply, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You marched over to Lori, grabbing her bag with a grunt. “Why is this so heavy?” you demanded, feeling the strain in your arm. Then it hit you. “Didn’t I tell you not to bring your books?”

Lori snatched her bag back, clutching it to her chest protectively. “No! I can’t live without them. This one is my favorite.”

You sighed again, rubbing your temples as if it would somehow alleviate the stress of the situation. Arguing with Lori was pointless; she was as stubborn as you were. You glanced over at Bucky, who had been watching the exchange with an amused yet concerned look.

“We should set up camp here,” you said, your voice resigned but firm.

Bucky nodded, but the way his eyes lingered on you told you that he wasn’t just agreeing to the plan; he was agreeing to this unspoken understanding that, despite everything, you were in this together, whether you liked it or not.

As you began to unpack the gear, the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. The scars, the guilt, the constant running—it was all too much. But here you were, setting up camp in the middle of nowhere with a man who was both your greatest ally and your deepest regret, and a niece who seemed determined to make you believe again in romance.

And all you could think about was how much it hurt, how much it haunted you, and how much you wished things could be different. But in the world you lived in, wishes were just as dangerous as promises.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

After setting up the camp, you busied yourself with preparing dinner. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a dusky twilight that painted the sky in shades of purple and orange.

The scent of the forest mingled with the aroma of the food, creating a comforting atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the tension from earlier.

Bucky sat by the lake, his figure a dark silhouette against the shimmering water. He occasionally stole glances in your direction, watching as you moved with practiced efficiency. The sight of you, so capable and yet so burdened, stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite name.

A soft voice broke the stillness. “🎵I’m just a talking plant, don’t mind me,🎵” Lori sang in a playful, lilting tone as she twirled her way over to Bucky. She stopped beside him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Do you like my aunt?” she asked, her tone innocent yet oddly probing.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. What’s wrong with this kid? He raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his surprise.

Lori, undeterred by his silence, continued with a knowing smile. “I get it. You’re a man of few words. You’re exactly like the male character from this book.”

She held up the novel she’d been carrying, the title "The Red Swan" emblazoned on the cover. Bucky tilted his head, the title vaguely familiar but not enough to place it.

“Are you really her niece?” Bucky asked, his curiosity piqued by Lori’s strange mix of wisdom and childlike wonder.

Lori shrugged a carefree gesture that spoke volumes. “My dad is a theater teacher.”

Bucky nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. That explained a lot—her flair for the dramatic, her perceptiveness, her relentless curiosity.

“Here,” Lori said, thrusting the romance novel into his hands.

“Why?” Bucky asked, looking down at the book with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Lori sighed as if explaining something painfully obvious. “It’s as clear as the sky is blue that you like my aunt. But you never express it. If your actions alone aren’t enough, you need to use your words. From the start, you’ve only said thirty-one words. None of us can read each other’s minds.”

Bucky found himself unexpectedly impressed. This kid had been counting his words? And, annoyingly enough, she was right. He glanced at Lori, who gave him a confident salute, her eyes twinkling with a mix of innocence and cunning.

“Trust me,” she said with a playful wink before scampering back over to you, her small figure darting between the trees with the energy of a whirlwind.

Bucky watched her go, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something endearing about Lori’s antics, the way she seemed to bring a different side out of you, a side he hadn’t seen before. A side he realized he wanted to know more about.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and looked down at the book Lori had handed him. Romance novels had never been his thing, but something about the way she insisted piqued his interest.

He flipped to the summary on the back cover, his eyebrows raising in mild surprise at the plot. It was more intricate than he’d expected, with themes of loyalty, betrayal, and forbidden love woven through the narrative.

Intrigued despite himself, Bucky began reading, his fingers brushing the pages as he turned them. As he read, his breath hitched slightly. The story was compelling, drawing him in with its depth and emotion. “This is… interesting,” he murmured to himself, unable to deny the pull of the story.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The next morning, the three of you made your way to the train station. It was too risky to fly; the airport would be crawling with potential threats. You handled the ticket counter, purchasing a ticket for Lori while she waited with Bucky a short distance away. She noticed the way he kept his eyes on you, his gaze lingering as if trying to memorize every detail.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Lori leaned over and pinched his thigh. “You should talk to her,” she whispered, her tone insistent.

Just then, you returned, holding the tickets in your hand. “Alright, I got it,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for helping us.” Your voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something unsaid, a tension that hung in the air.

Bucky hesitated, his thoughts warring within him. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a sharp kick to his shin. Lori again, urging him forward. “Say something before you lose this chance!” she hissed.

“Seven years,” Bucky finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

“What?” You turned to him, confused by his sudden declaration.

“I’ve been looking for you and waiting for seven years,” he continued, his eyes locking onto yours.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stirring up emotions you’d buried deep. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest. Seven years. The weight of those words hung between you, thickening the air. Lori squealed beside you, her excitement palpable, but you could barely hear her over the rush of blood in your ears.

Bucky took a step closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped searching. Every lead, every dead end—it all brought me back to you.”

Before you could respond, a sudden prickle of awareness swept over you. You didn’t have to look around to know—you were being watched. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed Lori’s hand. “We have to go,” you said urgently, pulling her along.

“But Aunt, he’s not done!” Lori protested, glancing back at Bucky as you hurried away.

Bucky was right behind you, not willing to let you slip away again. “We can’t stay together, Bucky!” you insisted, your voice edged with both desperation and regret.

“You’re going to Massachusetts,” he replied, undeterred. “I want to go there too.”

“Why?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing.

Bucky held up the book that Lori had given him. “Because of this.” He pointed to the title on the cover, his expression serious.

“The Red Swan.” The words rolled off your tongue with a sense of familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. The title dredged up old memories, ones you’d tried hard to forget.

Bucky saw the recognition in your eyes and pressed on. “From what I’ve read—”

“You read it?” Lori interrupted, her voice tinged with awe.

“From what I’ve read,” Bucky continued, his gaze never leaving yours, “the mission in this book mirrors the one we had. The same code names, the same hotel rooms…”

Lori gasped, her eyes wide with amazement. “Oh wow!”

“You don’t mean—” you started, your mind racing to catch up.

Bucky nodded grimly. “I need to see the author of this novel. What’s his deal? How does a romance author know so much about a mission we both lived through? The details are too precise to be coincidence.”

Your heart pounded harder, and you exchanged a glance with Bucky. The implications were chilling. Someone out there knew far too much about your past—a past that was supposed to be buried. And now, that knowledge was in the pages of a book for anyone to read.

"Let's go," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. But then you hesitated, realizing, "Oh, but I didn’t buy your ticket."

Bucky chuckled softly, a rare sound that almost made you smile. "I’ll handle it," he replied, his confidence soothing your worry.

The three of you boarded the train, slipping into a quiet compartment. Lori, practically bouncing with excitement, clasped her hands together. She was thrilled that you and Bucky weren’t parting ways.

Unable to contain her joy, she started singing softly, “🎵We’re all in this together…🎵”

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nutzgunray-lvt · 1 year

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An Attempt To Fly Under The Radar - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is here! Struggled a bit with writers block, but I found that I really love writing from All Might's POV. I also couldn't help but throw a Psych reference in there, as well as a small nod to All Might's canonical 5/5 intelligence rating. Let my man be smart!

Izuku loved his lunches with All Might.

It wasn't just because of the fact that the Symbol of Peace spent one day a week sharing a homemade bento box with him (him! He made Izuku homemade lunches!). In general, it was just nice to spend some time with him outside of training. Sometimes, they talked about One For All, but other times, they talked about anything and everything - from the book series 'Internity' that he'd gotten the older man into, to how his classes were going.

"Present Mic was telling me about how well you did on your last English exam!" The older man said as he held his cup of tea. "You didn't hear this from me, but you were among the only two of your classmates to get both of his extra credit questions right! Great job, Young Midoriya!"

The praise felt nice (it always would, especially from All Might), and he felt his cheeks redden as he shrugged and took a sip of his own tea. "I've been reading some really interesting books, and one of them actually had the second bonus question in it!"

"It better not have been 'Internity'," All Might teased, grinning at his protégé. "You know I'm one book behind, and if I find out that you went back on our agreement and read ahead -"

"No, not at all!" the teen frantically promised, waving his hands in front of him, unaware that he was reacting precisely how his mentor had wanted him to. "I've been reading other books, I swear! I've been reading the third volume of a comic book series called 'Captain Hero' and another book called 'A Treatise of Human Nature'! The second bonus question was from page forty three of 'A Treatise of Human Nature,' and the quote we had to pick the correct translation from was: 'Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.' If you really think about it, that can be applied to the fundamentals of heroics, because a hero shouldn't only save people because that's what they're factually obligated to do, but rather because it's the right thing to do. It falls in line the four virtues as well, as justice is the main virtue a hero should have -"

"Man, no one is better at spouting word vomit than you, kid!" All Might cut in with a laugh. "You sure One For All didn't enhance your speaking ability along with your strength?"

Friendly ribbing aside, as Izuku sheepishly stopped his ramblings and looked up at his mentor, he noticed an unreadable expression on his face. It was the same one he had after he rescued both him and Bakugou from the Sludge Villain last April, and the same one as when he offered to train Izuku to receive One For All that same day.

It said that he saw something in him, something no one else had bothered to see up until now. Something he wanted to help nurture and develop.

"Sorry. I didn't notice I was mumbling again," he mumbled, staring at his lap. "Everyone's gotten onto me about it -"

All Might shook his head and waved him off. "Don't apologize, my prince of nonsense!" He still had that look on his face, and Izuku wasn't sure how he felt about it. "It sounds like it was a really interesting read for you, and it's great to see you so passionate about your studies! Why don't you let me borrow it sometime, and we can bounce some ideas off of each other?"

Izuku immediately nodded, an excited smile growing on his face as the bell rang, making it falter just a little. Realization that he'd have to get back to class and assume his mission of staying under the radar hit him hard, and he slowly set his tea cup on the table and got up, brushing off his pants. Was he stalling? Yes. Would it make him late? Probably. Did he care at the moment? No. He loved these moments with his mentor, and it was up to him to make sure to never take them for granted.

"Sure! It's in my backpack, so I'll lend it to you after training today."

All Might beamed at him, shooting him a thumbs up as he also stood and led them both to the door.

"Sounds like a plan, my boy!"

One Day Later

Toshinori was stupefied as he sat in the teacher's office and flipped through the book Young Midoriya had lent him. 'A Treatise of Human Nature' was an absolute behemoth to read through - 480 pages, with Present Mic's bonus question being on page forty three as stated - and it was littered with post-it notes containing annotations and fleeting thoughts digesting the text, annotations and fleeting thoughts that were surprisingly right on the nose.

This was easily a university level piece of literature, and his fifteen year old protégé had broken down the text to something he could understand and applied his own opinions to it, opinions that could easily be tied back to the original work. Clearly, the work had hit home for him… but this was a university level piece of literature. The green haired boy was a first year high schooler who wouldn't even be taking Philosophy until university if he chose to attend.

Clearly, Young Midoriya was smart.

After getting to know him and even after just meeting him, Toshinori figured out his intelligence pretty quickly; his analysis notebooks were proof enough. His point had only been reinforced by his grades once the school year started - fourth out of twenty in a curriculum as advanced as UA's Hero course was nothing to sneeze at. But yesterday during lunch, as he listened to Young Midoriya dissecting this book like he had read through it a million times (he hadn't - the spine wasn't worn down enough for that), he got an inkling that maybe his boy was even smarter than he initially believed.

But how -

"What do you got there, All Might?"

The Symbol of Peace jumped as he turned around to scowl at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. The source - Present Mic - cheekily grinned at him as he sat at his desk across from him, Aizawa following behind. Nearby, he could hear Midnight and Cementoss's voices approaching as well.

Well, the alone time was fun while it lasted.

"Dammit, Mic," Toshinori muttered, closing the book. "Do you really have to scare me like that?"

"It keeps you on your toes!" the younger man said with a shrug. "And besides, it's not my fault you make it extremely easy and fun for me to want to keep doing it!"

Trying to fight the fond smile growing on his face, he passed the book over to his colleague. Present Mic could certainly be a lot to handle at times, but Toshinori really liked him both as a colleague and a friend. The man just radiated good vibes and positivity, making it near impossible to stay annoyed at him for too long.

"To answer your question, I borrowed this book from Young Midoriya," he explained. "We were talking about his latest English exam, and he had some pretty interesting insights about that second bonus question you gave. It came from this book."

The younger blonde made grabby hands towards it, eagerly flipping through it when he got his hands on it. He had told the older man that he'd seen the inspiration for his bonus question in the paper, and he hadn't really expected anyone to get it right. He had been pleasantly surprised to see both Young Yaoyorozu and Young Midoriya get it correct and plainly said as much while they graded papers together. But as his eyes darted across the annotations written down, his usual easy-going grin slowly morphed into an expression of awe. He let out a low whistle as he closed the book and handed it back to him.

"Well then…" he said, clearly at a loss for words as Toshinori set the book to the side. "Wow… I mean… I had my suspicions about the little listener, but -"

"Wait, 'suspicions'?" The older man asked, maybe a tad too overprotective as he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you noticed, All Might?" Present Mic incredulously responded. "Midoriya's smart, like really smart."

Toshinori nodded slowly, not really sure of where the Voice Hero was going with this. "Yes, I have noticed Young Midoriya's intelligence -"

"No, I mean he's really really smart," Present Mic insisted, looking a little impatient that he was being so slow on the uptake. "He's like a little curly haired sponge when it comes to English grammar structure, and you should listen to the way he compares and contrasts it with Japanese grammar structure! Honestly, some of the insights he's told me about are things I saw when studying for the Praxis test!"

"Yeah, the kid's good at English. What's the big deal? Are you just happy to have a student who's actually interested in your class for once?" Aizawa asked, looking and sounding thoroughly unimpressed as he kept his eyes on his computer screen.

Ouch. That stung, and that comment wasn't even directed towards Toshinori.

He saw the split-second hurt flash across Present Mic's face before he immediately masked it and continued on.

Hmm, interesting.

"The big deal is that if he's this smart, why are his grades where they're at right now?"

At both men's confused glances, Present Mic clarified, "I'm not saying that being ranked fourth is bad or anything - it's great! But don't you think he could easily be ranked higher up if it weren't for his grades?"

The black haired man shrugged.

"Then he should study more," he bluntly said. "If he's as smart as you guys say he is, then his grades should reflect that. His Quirk control should reflect that. His decision making skills should reflect that."

The two blondes exchanged dark looks with one another, both silently deciding to ignore the third man from here on out. Their job was made easier by Midnight and Cementoss entering the room, taking their seats at their respective desks after greeting their scruffy colleague.

"Are you saying that Young Midoriya may be deliberately not performing to his full potential?" Toshinori asked, choosing to rephrase what he just heard in a much friendlier way.

Present Mic shrugged.

"Yeah, I mean what else could it be?" he bluntly asked. "I've heard him tutoring his other classmates in things that he'll get wrong on assignments - and it's not like he's telling them the wrong thing or anything. He's teaching them the right things, meaning he knows what he's talking about, but he doesn't apply that to his own schoolwork. If he did, his grades would be way higher, and it's not just me either! Did you hear about what happened yesterday in first period Math?"

The older man frowned and shook his head.

"Ectoplasm had them doing some Trigonometry, and he accidentally made a typo in the equation that he had them solve. He didn't notice it until he was already done writing it out, but he wanted to see if anyone caught it. It looked like Midoriya did, but the kid looked like he was being put in front of a firing squad. Like, he was terrified of pointing out the typo. What's even weirder is that when Ectoplasm checked up on him, he saw that he had the correct equation written down."

Toshinori frowned deeper.

"I'll admit that's strange, but you know how shy Young Midoriya is," Toshinori countered. "I'm not disagreeing with you on what you've seen and heard, but you know that boy avoids the spotlight like his life depends on it."

"Not when doing heroics," Present Mic countered back, leaning forward in his seat. "Not when placed in a life/death situation. You put him in a practical exercise, and his potential is just bursting out into the open. His deductive reasoning, leadership skills, and strategization is in a class of his own. In the classroom, however, he retreats into his shell. It's almost like he doesn't want anyone finding out about his academic potential."

The more he listened to his younger colleague, the more the older man couldn't avoid the realization that he was right. He'd always known that Young Midoriya was shy, but looking back, he saw that something wasn't quite right in regards to his protégé's intelligence versus his academic performance. Last year, Young Midoriya's grades had been pretty bad, putting him twenty seventh out of the thirty students in his class. Seeing both his schoolwork and his natural intelligence and drive, it made something in Toshinori not sit right, but with his boy being hesitant to elaborate on the matter, he let it go. He didn't want to push him into telling him anything he wasn't ready to divulge.

"Look, you knew him before UA, right?" Present Mic asked, not a hint of judgment in his voice. "Why don't you try asking him about it? He likes you, he'll listen to you."

"What about afterward?"

"We talk to the rest of his teachers, and depending on what we see and hear, we get that kiddo an IQ test."

#mha fix it fics #izuku deserves better

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