#i want so badly to be a tradition > gift family but the sisters make it hard

[soft-girl-musings]

listen. ik the holidays are about more than gifts. but when you've had about 2-3 christmas mornings in a row where one or both of your adult siblings has big feelings over what they were/weren't given, it's hard to not feel the pressure.

[byunpum]

Hey, I hope you are doing alright. I would like to make a request between Aonung x human reader where the reader has been unknowingly accepting all the courting ritual gifts and gestures, so that when Aonung finally asks if they accept to be their mate, it surprises the reader and makes Aonung think that they don't reciprocate, but the reader does and shows him that 😉. Thank you!

Pairing: Aonung x human reader

Tags: fluff, crushes, mating seasons.

Warning: None <3

Request are open, feel free to ask.

AVATAR MASTERLIST

You had arrived with the sully asking for shelter, it was no surprise that at first the looks of disapproval, disgust and discrimination towards you were noticeable. You were a person from the sky, and if the sully were already a problem, you were chaos. Their parents are upset and were refusing to help them. Jake sully tried to explain the situation. "This is my adopted daughter, her mother was a great friend of mine… before she died she asked me to take care of her. See the girl over there points to kiri she is her sister, but from the avatar body of the same mother" Jake tried to explain everything, The couple didn't understand much. But they could see the sincerity in the family's eyes, and let them stay. Aonung was staring at you, while you stood next to your sister holding her hand. You give her a sidelong glance and hold on tighter. You didn't know why he was staring at you so much, you felt like he was studying you.

You went to all the swimming lessons, you weren't the best and it took you longer to adapt, but you would never give up. You were obedient and barely spoke. Any doubts he had about you went away, when he was fighting with your brothers and you tried to stop them and without realizing it he punched you in the face. Making you scream and fall to the ground. The results of this incident led to reprimands and punishments from both families, he didn't mean to hurt you, he didn't do it on purpose. So when he could, he approached your marui and apologized to you. You smiled at him, with a noticeable bruise on your face. He had hurt you, but you still forgive him and understand that it was an accident. Aonung must admit, he also judged you at first. You were an alien, short and quiet. But what bothered him the most was how quiet and understanding you were, even though everyone treated you badly. You were rejected from the groups, they would say barbarities as you walked by or even to your face, and you just smiled and went on your way. The boy became very attached to you, he couldn't help it.

After the altercation they had with the sky people, the sully stayed in the village. It was definite, this news pleased aonung. It was true that he was friends with the sully, his best friend was neteyam, your brother. But knowing that you would stay made his heart fly. But at no time did he say or do anything about his feelings for you. And so the years went by… They had already done all the rituals to be able to be true navi, they were ready. And they were also ready to get a mate. It was tradition for the metkayina, that as soon as they passed the challenges they would get a partner. And he already had in mind who he wanted to be his partner.

You had grown up as a beautiful woman, you might be human, you might look different from them… but you were beautiful. Besides, you were a strong woman, with the attitudes of a leader and generous and kind. You had earned an important place in the clan, even their mother, Ronal had accepted you, you were in responsible for the area of the children and pregnant women of the clan, you helped them and took care of the babies. The trust they had in you was impressive. He was well aware that many metkayina males were interested in you, were ready to court you. And he was going to do something fast.

He started by asking your brothers. He didn't want to do anything outside of your family's approval. Of course, your brothers agreed… the hardest one to convince was neteyam but he managed to convince him. So he set his plan of conquest in motion…

He started by making you small accessories, some for your hair and others for you to wear on your hands or ankle. "Y/N, I want to give you this accessory…I made it myself" aonung gives you the accessory, it was very beautiful, it had pearls and shells. "I made it myself with my…hands" you laugh at his comment. You can see how nervous he is getting. "Help me put it on" you speak. Aonung comes over and helps you put on the necklace. "I love pearls…they look beautiful" you say as you look up and smile at him. "I know…they are your favorite" he takes your hand and they give it a squeeze.

He keeps making different gifts and you accept them without any problem. He feels confident, because he knows that you had been offered courtship gifts and you had refused them. Aonung had even prepared a new outfit for you, it was similar to his own. His chest puffed out when he saw you wearing it. You looked so beautiful, it fit your curves so well… this boy was lost for you.

The second part of the courtship plan was also a success… He liked to invite you for rides on his Skimwing, have chats with you on the beach and he would invite you to eat with his family. He is surprised when his parents accept you without any problem. Ronal is very sweet on you, Tonowari adores you, he thinks you would make a great leader. And you got along very well with his sister, after all she was starting to date one of your brothers. He felt it was the perfect time to ask you if you wanted to be his partner.

It was still early in the morning, you had gone to do your homework… so aonung took the opportunity to go to your family's marui. There was jake and neytiri. The boy was nervous but dared to ask for her approval. Jake accepted immediately, he knew that the boy was a good man, and to know that one of his daughters was going to be the partner of the clan leader's son was a great honor for him. On the other hand, Neytiri hesitated a little, she was very overprotective of you. But in the end she accepted, she knew that Aonung was not a bad boy.

Aonung came out of the marui happy and confident. He was heading to your work area. When he arrived he saw you, you were carrying and taking care of some children. He was already imagining his own family with you. You noticed he was at the entrance, so you went to greet him. "Hello… what are you doing here? Did something happen?" you ask, you already had your hand playing with one of his hand pieces. He had noticed, how you were getting closer to him, how you were touching or caressing him. "I'd like to talk to you…in private" you smile at him, and hug his arm, as they leave the marui to be more private.

"I want to…ask you something" says aonung, he is very nervous and your grip on his arm wasn't helping. " mmm what do you want to ask" you hug him around the waist, your face falls just below his belly button, forcing him to look down. "I would like you and I… I love you, I think you are the best woman I have ever met, you are strong, kind and generous. Can I be your partner?" he spoke, he was nervous… his hands were sweaty. He was waiting for you to answer, he could feel you let go and walk away. He saw how your face showed no expression. Panic consumed him… oh no, he had gone ahead, or perhaps misunderstood your signals. He stepped forward and walked away as fast as he could, not letting you speak. He didn't want to hear that you didn't accept him, that would hurt him.

You were shocked, you couldn't believe he was asking you this. You had expected this for so long, you even thought that all his details and treats he had towards you were out of kindness. You knew he had many clan girls after him. But he was choosing you. When you finally came to your senses, you saw that he was not there. You looked everywhere and nothing. You had to look for him.

Aonung had already walked to the beach, he was walking from side to side. How could he be so stupid, it was obvious she didn't want to be with him. He was a navi, he was sure you didn't even find him attractive. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he did, and that it was all for nothing. Maybe you were interested in another clan man, there were many better than him. He was so deep in thought, he didn't notice how you approached him. "aonung?" he turns around, you could see his look, he was kind of tearful and sad. "Y/N sorry really, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or tell you those things." He started talking, as you moved closer to him. "I know I'm not your type, there are many clan men who would be perfect for you… but I don't want to lose your friendship" aonung had sat down on the sand, while he was talking. You approached him and took his hand and handed him a bracelet. It had some blue shells on it, and various pearls. "I made it for you… I never dared to give it to you because I thought it wasn't enough. But now it's time, don't you think so?" you say, hoping that he will understand that you do correspond his feelings. He takes the bracelet and places it on his wrist. " It's perfect " He puts his hand on your face, to bring you closer to him. He gives you a little kiss, and pulls you away for a moment. " I see you, ma Y/N" you kiss him back, now wrapping your arms around his neck, so that you are closer. "I see you aonung" you say to him as you rub your nose against his nose.

[crushedsweets]

do jack and nina still think about their families,,, got me crying in the club for the creeps who still have living family members :((( i love families so mugh

oh all the fucking time. all the time. aaaaall the time. esp cuz nina didnt kill anyone in my au..

jack was the oldest of a big family. had 5 little siblings, two loving parents. mom was a homemaker, had a traditional upbringing filled with warmth and a constant bustling household. he's so ashamed, though. so so so fucking ashamed and he could never go back. he loves them so much and asks toby to bring them flowers or something, since he wants to throw up at the idea of being even a mile within his family... like his very presence would plague them with his own demons . last thing he wants is to hurt them, not anymore than he already did

nina had her little brother chris and two parents. they were INTENSE workaholics, but she was always a daddys girl. spoiled with gifts and clothes and toys, just not attention. so many times, her dad fell asleep on the recliner after a long long shift, and she'd pull up a little blanket and sleep on the couch right besides him. just to be closer to him, since she didnt get to see him all day long. many many nights on the couch. and when they shipped her off to her grandparents, she was fucking HEARTBROKEN. she didnt understand why throwing her away was the solution, and to this day, she resents them for it. she just misses chris so badly. she wants to hold her little brother and cry and apologize for leaving him too. she wasnt the best sister, either, no matter how much she loved him

so i think... um.. i think they make me sad.

[squirrelwrangler]

Vagabond Gondor

As a birthday gift, I decided to brush off a very old project and write out the opening paragraphs to something I cannot promise I'll ever fully write, but to which I had done so much groundwork that I didn't want it to go to waste. And as it's a LotR fic, making it a gift on my birthday seemed appropriate.

...

Ten years after the Restoration of the Rightful King, that is to say ten years after the Battle of the Crossings of Erui which ended the Kin-strife, a man with a broken sword arrived in Minas Arnor.

 The wandering swordsman crossed the River Anduin in a small boat just as dusk started to settle into the warm summer evening, paying the ferryman with the last of his worn coins. Across the fields, farms, and small towns of the Pelennor Fields the wanderer strode, aiming for the Great Gate of the seven-tiered city. He did not pause, even as the light disappeared from all but some of the windows of the houses and inns or glowed against the approaching twilight from the handheld lanterns of fellow travelers. Even at this late hour other people still crowded the four leagues of roads leading to and from the Great Gate. Most traveled in groups composed of companions, family, or coworkers. Boisterously they laughed and chatted amongst themselves as they returned to their homes or ducked into taverns to wash away the sweat of fieldwork with the soothing coolness of alcohol. Not all were Dúnedain, but few of the Northmen were dressed discernibly differently, and all spoke a blend of Westron and Sindarin. Tradesmen and traders sang cheerfully from the open doors of the taverns and alehouses. Ten years had restored the music of peace to the Pelennor Fields. Roads -and the harvest- were safe once more. Osgiliath had been rebuilt, but as was tradition, the king resided in Minas Arnor during the summer, during which the city and the lands skirting Mount Mindolluin blossomed and the population boomed. Business followed the royal court. Even those of Minas Ithil might have summer lodgings in their sister-city. Single travelers such as the wandering swordsman were rarer. Most who aimed to reach Minas Arnor had passed through its gates long before sunset. The locals of the Pelennor ignored the man with the broken sword, and the man ignored them. Of the few that noticed the scabbard hanging from the shabby-dressed wanderer’s belt, none knew its secret. 

Tradition brought over from Númenor held that after dusk large wagons were allowed to enter the city. Therefore long lines of ox-driven carts laden with produce and goods now dominated the well-paved roads into Minas Arnor, lit by lanterns held by the freight-haulers and the rare bored guard hired by prudent or suspicious merchants. Few people walked the roads on foot as dusk deepened into true night. The clouded sky hid the stars from view, but there was no hint of rain soon forthcoming. Still, the man wore a wide-brimmed hat that shaded his face. Silently he walked besides the freight wagons, head bowed and hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his patched tunic. The guards made note of the wanderer and noticed the sword, but as the man did nothing but walk silently, staring only at the ground, they dismissed him as harmless. He was short and slight, the type of figure that could easily lose a wrestling match to a hobbit, if the men of Gondor knew what a hobbit was.

Pelennor in the summer did not swelter as badly as Pelagir further south, but it was too warm for cloaks, and the drivers wished for a breeze to cool their faces and banish the pungent odor of the draft animals. Street cleaners would remove animal dung from the roads in the pre-dawn, also according to ancient Númenorean tradition. Still the heady stench was undeniable. 

The black expanse of the first wall of Minas Arnor stretched like the outermost void, its shadow cooling the summer night. Ominous it could be to outsiders, but to the men who called this city and its surrounding lands home, the First Wall with its gleaming black stone that reflected the many lanterns of its travelers signified safety and beauty. Towards the east the main road turned, following the curve of the wall to the only gateway through the unbreachable Minas Arnor. It was a relief to pass through the Great Gate and enter the city itself. 

Up the gently sloping streets the wanderer ambled, lacking the steadfast determination of before. His goal had been the city itself, but now he had neither destination in mind nor coin to pay for it.  Past midnight, only the main thoroughfares were not deserted, the music of taverns faded into silence. Streetlamps at the doors of many a great house or inn were kept lit with oil, as it would have been a shameful admission of poverty to do otherwise. Under the reign of Castamir, many houses had gone dark. But now all that the lamps illuminated were the cobblestones of the streets and the facades of the houses across, broken rarely by the shadow of a passing hunting cat. Soon the man was alone, his shadow the only other movement. An innkeeper's watchman on the Lampwright’s Street of the First Level almost called out to him, but changed their mind when they noticed the ragged appearance of his dark blue tunic and lack of travel pack. In the brightness of the city’s lit streets, the color of the man’s hair could be discerned, and it was the same red as the summer pelt of a fox. A memorable trait, nearly as identifiable as the intersecting pair of scars on the man’s lower left cheek - neither of which the wanderer wished to be recognized by. 

But it had been ten years since the Battle of the Crossings of Erui. Ten years since King Eldacar slew Castamir. Ten years since the Blood-haired Berserker, killer of thousands of men, feared warrior of Rhovanion, disappeared. A legendary figure like that belonged in grisly tales and gruesome sorrowful songs, not ambling without purpose down a deserted Third Level street in Minas Arnor looking for a safe doorway in which to rest until the sun rose. The wandering swordsman was too unassuming to be a figure of infamy.

Which is why when a spirited young Dúnedan noblewoman accosted him of being a mad murderous berserker breaking the king’s law and the city’s peace, brandishing a wooden quarterstaff, the wanderer yelped.

“I’ve found you, Outlaw! Blood-haired Berserker, Slayer of Men, face justice for the two months of terror that you have inflicted on our city! Your murders will not go unpunished!”

The maiden punctuated her accusation with a perfect swing of her quarterstaff -which the wanderer dodged- followed by followup swing exactly as prescribed in the arms master's training manuals -which he also dodged- and a jab towards the torso - which the wanderer stumbled backwards from, unscathed but shouting in alarm. “Oro! Wait, Mistress, you have the wrong person!” His words were Sindarin, accented and soft, and he used the polite address for you in the Noldorin fashion. Northmen rarely learned Sindarin, and none had that old-fashioned accent.

“Mountain?” The young woman questioned, confused at his outburst, then shook her head in frustration. Switching from Westron, she repeated her accusation, but the outrage had lessened to uncertainty, for the man had collided with the ground against a grocer’s stall, knocking empty baskets to the cobblestones.

“Noble Lady, I cannot be the one you search for,” the red-haired man said, straightening a fallen basket. Crumbled on the ground, the young woman could see his beardless face and thin frame. His scrawny underfed body reminded her of one of her students, and though she had not confirmed it when she first attacked, he was shorter than her. As a rule, the Northmen of Rhovanion were tall and muscular. She was not, even though she was a full blooded Dúnadan as her coloring suggested. The deferential address and vocabulary sounded comical coming from a shabby-dressed Middle Man. It belonged to a stage play about the First Age, and only Classical Adûnaic would have been more ill-fitting for the occasion. “A masterless vagabond I am, newly arrived to the city this night. How could I have accomplished a murder?”

“You are an unliveried Northman carrying a full-sword, though,” the noblewoman countered. “By King’s Decree, no one may carry a longsword within the walls of the city unless they be a royal soldier or a nobleman’s oath-sworn, their blade peace-tied to the scabbard and in livery to the house of their allegiance.”

The wanderer had noticed that the wagon guards carried only long knives and cudgels. Peacetime could only partially explain the anomaly. Eldacar’s law, enacted after the war’s conclusion, attempted to curtail the worst of the violence endemic during the Kinstrife and to suppress armed uprisings from the few traitorous lords, but the ban on the most dangerous tools of war - the longswords and great war axes- was truly aimed at the tension that remained between Northmen and Dúnedain. A murderer stalking the streets of Minas Anor while the King was in residence was an affront; a mad Northman was a political powder-keg.

Holding the scabbard by the far end, the swordsman pointed the hilt at the young woman, offering it to her. “Humble I beg you see that this sword could have killed no man,” he said, switching now into the Common Tongue, but here his Westron was just as heavily accented and even more deferential, using the politest possible terms.

The young woman pulled out the broken sword, shocked to see that the blade extended only a few finger-widths before terminating. By hilt and size it was closer to a longsword than the more common arming swords, and though it would have been double-edged with a deep fuller, the style of sword left the blade itself unsharpened near the hilt. An uncovered hand could grip a blade there to wield a sword for certain tricks, be it to wield two handed when the hilt was not long enough or to shorten the reach to confuse a foe. Swordsmanship training covered these in detail, to which the young woman was deeply familiar. There were moves to defend oneself with a broken blade, invented by her grandfather, that the young woman knew as well, and the pommel could be an effective bludgeoning tool if wielded against an eye or judiciously striking the head. But close inspection showed that the blade had been snapped off before the shoulder sharpened into the blade proper. Aside from the maker’s mark, no other nicks or cuts marred the steel to signify use, though some of the hilt wrapping was worn. The pommel was plain. 

“It’s not Narsil,” the man joked. “The edges are all dull, Noble Lady. Humbled I beg you return this useless sword to me. No violation of King Eldacar’s law do I commit by carrying it.”

“You could not kill anyone with this,” the young woman admitted. “So why carry it-“ she began to ask, before a watchman’s shout interrupted. “They found him!” she cried, tossing the hilt and dashing back to the intersection. Behind her, unseen, the swordsman caught the broken sword with a deft swing of the scabbard. Hat forgotten and expression darkened to seriousness for the first time since he crossed the River Anduin, the red-haired wanderer ran after the young woman.

[cto10121]

Twilight Clown Takes—Part 8

Featuring “Twilight is badly written,” “Meyer did not intend to write X thing she definitely wrote,” “The series is über Mormon,” and other chestnuts. Fortunately, I do love nuts of all kinds, so om nom nom

The writing was so gibberish it was a bestselling phenomenon on par with Harry Potter.

The only thing bad about the writing in Twilight is that Meyer got a very bad editor. There are stray typos and errors in my original copies. Sadly, book editing has gotten worse since then, and I have found many modern books with similar errors.

Bella is not like other girls, all right. So much so that she constantly claims she is. Like here:

“Well, look at me,” I said, unnecessarily, because he was looking at me. “I’m completely ordinary.”

IF the dialogue in the books is like the movie dialogue…IF

“This main character is such a main character!!1!1” 😡 “Also big words make my wee lil brain hurt!!1!1”

Bella is literally so expressive around Edward and the Cullens, to the point where Alics mentions sourly she had “forgotten how exuberant” she was. Emmett and Jasper have a bet over how many people Bella could kill in her first year just on her temper alone. And re: Edward, Bella has no problem arguing and pleading and crying and ranting to him.

Also, Jacob is a different, much more immature character than Bella, so of course his POV would be different.

“Deeply desperate for sexuality” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣And these clowns claim Meyer is a bad writer. Don’t go throwing stones with your glass house, hon.

Anyhoo, Edward is the one who pushes for marriage, not Bella. Rosalie and Emmett get married every decade or so, but that’s only because Rosalie loves weddings—as in, being the center of attention. Do Alice and Jasper even have a wedding ceremony??? I don’t even think they got married in the traditional sense even once. No doubt they did, but they aren’t portrayed as a conventional married couple at all.

Other vampires that are not the Cullens do not marry at all—they are mated, which is an actually a greater and more permanent commitment than marriage in the Twilight world.

Also. The Twilight series, fearing sexuality? The Denali sisters literally went vegetarian because they loved fucking human men too much. And they are considered not only good vampires, but the Cullens’ extended family. And Renesmee nor Claire are child brides.

Twilight isn’t explicit about sex purely because Meyer realized her first book would be targeted to a YA crowd. But it is a romance through and through.

Ho boy, where to begin?

“Edward is supposed to be creepy, he is a vampire after all—” Would you like a cookie for this very obvious reading, Clown OP? That is some elementary school-level reading comprehension there.

“Failed to write an arc where the character recognize the problems, learn, and then overcome them—” Edward literally went from “She is my prey” to “I have her blood on my lips, and I am laughing at a joke she just made” in the first book alone. In New Moon, Edward made the disastrous decision to leave Bella, ramifications of which he was still dealing with in Eclipse (and he explicitly said it was the worst mistake he ever made). In Eclipse, Edward finally learns to trust Bella, fight for her love, and even decides to give her what she wants (i.e., sex) because he felt that he had been fucking it up the whole time. By Breaking Dawn, we have an Edward who finally accepts himself for who he is and learns to be happy in his vampire life.

As for Bella, she went from an introverted parentified teen so neglected she felt she had to cook and clean for her parents in order to feel less of a burden…to the powerful member of a coven who loves and supports her, saving the lives of said coven and mate from the Volturi. By the end Bella finally learns that what she wants is important and to fight for it. She learns to accept gifts and attention. She even finally describes herself as beautiful…as a human. That’s so big! That is an arc.

It is glaringly obvious, that I must question whether Clown OP has read the series or not. Most clowns do not, of course.

“The story never digs deep enough into him being a real danger to Bella—” Bitch, that’s all of the story. It’s literally 80% of Edward’s personality right there! He is too bad for Bella, it would be better if he weren’t in Bella’s life, it’s literally never-ending. A whole chunk of Bella’s motivation for becoming a vampire is because his world is too dangerous for her as a human. The whole plot of each book is Bella being hunted by a vampire, who are consistently the villains and described as monsters.

“Trying to turn Stephenie into the new J.K. Rowling—” When I picked up Twilight in ‘06 it was labeled as “Romantic Suspense.” The whole series was explicitly marketed as a paranormal teen romance, which was and is a subgenre of fantasy, with the whole Team Edward and Team Jacob thing riding strong. Twilight never tried to be something it wasn’t, and Meyer has never tried to make it out to seem like some epic fantasy. On the contrary, it was the anti fans that preferred the lore to the actual romance.

Nowadays the series is shelved under YA Fantasy, but that was after the series was completed. Breaking Dawn was perhaps the deciding factor.

Sure, Meyer was not aware of something she absolutely 100% wrote.

Bella’s parentification was canon before Midnight Sun was a twinkle in Meyer’s eye. And sure enough, when that landed, Bella’s neglect became downright glaring. But go on espousing sexist biases about female writers “not intending” certain things, Clown OP. It’s not like that isn’t a page taken from the Suppressing Women Writers handbook. When you know, you know.

Sigh. *schedules Movie Bella vs. Book Bella post*

[sleepyselkiesims]

Part 8

The next morning, Cassie came by to visit! And Melody couldn't waste the chance to complain about the direction her life had taken.

To her surprise, Cassie just started laughing! Had Melody forgotten what day it was, and why she's come to visit?

...yeah. Yep. Totally forgot her own birthday, ironically.

Melody hurried to make herself a cake, and Erika arrived just in time to help out!

Melody was more than happy to show off her amazing baking skills to the people who loved her no matter what. Even if only one of them actually cared about cooking.

Erika was the only person to cheer as Melody approached the candles. Ariel seemed to have forgotten why she was there.

As per Queen tradition, the birthday princess had to make a wish. And Melody knew exactly was she was wishing for: friends. She needed to be liked so, so badly.

Happy birthday, Melody! I really really hope your wish comes true. Especially cause the power of friendship is really important to Rapunzel's story...

Melody could start practicing her friendship making skills with the backyard rabbits! Grandmama had always said, be nice to the animals and the world will be nice to you!

Wow, really?? That seems a little harsh! Seriously, not even the rabbits want to be friends!

Even her own mother kept laughing about her emotional state.

But hey, at least her other mom, who she'd never even met or previously been contacted by, was finally gonna send her a birthday gift!

...and so were her beloved, dead grandparents. this was fine.

But hey, at least she had a step-mother and younger sister who had done nothing but love and adore her from the second they'd entered her life.

Cassandra even went around the house to pick up and wash all of Melody's depression dishes!

As a thanks, Melody made sure Cassie got her own set of house keys. She would really love to see her little sister more!

And as a special birthday present from the benevolent god, Melody got to get rid of her fear of disappointing her parents! She wasn't the scared teen she had been, and she knew by now that she had Ariel's full support.

She also got a special potion to remove her curse! She'd've been completely house-bound otherwise, what with everyone trying to fight her on sight...

....well huh. Is there nothing she can't level up ridiculously quickly??

Anyway, with that pesky curse out of the way, Ariel could take her family to the Spice Festival! Time for Ariel to defend her spice-champion title! But could Melody handle the heat?

Oooo looks like Ariel's last victory was just a fluke! She was the first to succumb to the flames!

And in a surprise twist, Melody won the spice challenge on her very first try!! And Cassie held strong too!

Like any good Queen descendant, Melody couldn't pass up a chance to toss a coin for a wish! Please, please let her make her friends...

As always, Ariel couldn't pass up a chance to show off her.... uh... awesome dance moves. This would totally woo her wife!

And it looks like Cassie inherited her mothers funky dance moves.

Listening to the music, Melody was struck by inspiration. She just needed to practice a bit first.

After yet again boosting a skill at lightning speed, Melody wrapped up her birthday by taking over the busker's spot and earning some lovely tips. Overall, a good day! The best she'd had in a while.

[kazewhara]

Hii, May I request something? :0 Soooo...Y/n being Kazuha,Aether(bc this boy si so underrated)and Childe's little sister, and she is in those teenage age you know, and she gets hurt badly. What would they do to comfort her?If requests are not open feel free to ignore it! :D. <33

"ohana" means family...

# — characters: fem!reader, aether, lumine, paimon, childe

# — summary: ...and family means nobody gets left behind.

# — warnings: blood/violence mention

# — tags: hc/drabble format, canon divergent, platonic/familial hurt/comfort, fluff, sibling bonding, heartbreak (reader)

# — notes: y'know, i don't see much sibling!reader content! maybe that's just me, but even when i look, i don't see much.. so this is refreshing, thank you for the req, anon! i did spin the request a bit and only did two characters, though. as always, reblogs are appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!

✧ — 𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 — ✧

since you are the youngest -- born a year or two after the twins -- he and lumine treat you like you are the only star in their sky

you were too young to remember your parents, and after traveling so much, you all but forgot about them. your siblings were the only family you needed -- the only family you wanted.

(also, you don't mind them doting on you, but you wish they would stop babying you from time to time.)

before being stranded in teyvat, the three of you would travel between worlds together, experiencing all kinds of people and cultures and traditions, having all sorts of fun

the three of you only have each other, so you cherish one another very deeply. fights between you were actually rather rare

mostly because of your unstable lifestyle; if you fought and separated from each other, what were you supposed to do? all of you tried to avoid trouble with others and each other out of caution.

but then you encountered the unknown god and lumine went missing.

you and aether were stuck in an unfamiliar land with your new travel companion paimon, basically forced to help solve the problems of the people of this world until you get answers leading to lumine's whereabouts.

it wasn't all that bad at first; being gifted with the elements of both anemo and geo alongside your brother was exhilarating, and in your down time, you two would train and play around, keeping your spirits high

you and aether grew increasingly frustrated by your lack of clues, but you held each other up as best you could, trying to keep pushing forward

and then, with the help of dainsleif, you finally, finally got to see lumine

but... she refused to come home with you.

she left you.

a tense silence suffocates you as you and aether look over liyue harbor. not even paimon knows what to say after what just happened. you try to think of something to say -- something, anything -- but each time you open your mouth, you feel your throat tighten. now that you were in a quieter place, you felt like the sheer amount of thoughts that flooded your mind would start spilling out of your ears.

what were you supposed to say, anyways? were you even going to talk about it? what did any of that even mean? why were you still doing this? why couldn't you go home?

why did she leave you behind?

aether finally breaks the silence, his voice strained. "we need to keep moving," he says. his fists are trembling and his eyes are teary, but he tilts his chin up and takes a steadying breath. "if we want to understand what lumine was talking about, then we have to do what she says."

you frown at your brother. lumine was always the more stern sibling -- she was like a leader of sorts. without thinking, you and aether did what she said; she had very good judgement, so it wasn't much of a problem. but after all this--

"you still want to follow her?!" you cry. you didn't mean for your voice to come out so shrill and watery, but you can't help it. normally, it'd take you longer to get to this point -- to get to your breaking point -- but aether's attempt to put on a brave face makes your poorly built walls come crashing down. "you still want to do what she says? she's given up on us, aether, why would you still want to be in her good graces?!"

aether's glare is stony for all of two seconds before it smooths out, a glimmer of sunshine returning to them again. he calls your name as softly as he can muster. "that's not what i mean, and you know that."

you know he's right. a rational part of you agrees with him; if you want to have any hope of getting out of this world that has literally been forsaken by its gods, you were going to have to persevere. maybe at some point, lumine would return -- maybe she would keep her word and join you once more -- but until then, you were distraught, your heart shattered into near irreparable pieces over your sister's absence.

you sit yourself on the grass and grab a fistful of it, hoping the feeling will ground you. "what if she doesn't come back, ae'? w-what if she changes her mind and attacks us? you saw what she was capable of! she's a stranger now, aether, she--" you don't blink back the tears this time. "she had her sword. we don't have ours anymore. why is she doing this?"

aether doesn't move for a while. he watches silently as you break down, your frame shaking as sobs start to pour out of you. he doesn't know what to do either. as the eldest, the responsibility of caring for you and finding his twin sister fell on his shoulders, but he hadn't expected for lumine to just... refuse. the sight of you begging and pleading with lumine to come home replays in his mind, forcing his eyes shut.

the vow you three made all those years ago has been broken. you were never supposed to hurt each other like this; you were supposed to be each other's foundations. that hasn't changed one bit -- when lumine came back, he would be there for her as he always has been, and so would you. until then, he was going to protect the family he had left.

aether opens his eyes again and brushes any stray tears from his face before sitting next to you. he pulls you into a tight embrace and you return it immediately, burying your face in his shoulder.

you feel terrible; he should be the one crying, not you. sure, lumine is just as much your sister as she is his, but she's his twin; his other half. you tighten your hold on your brother. he's shaking like a leaf in the wind. he must be trying to carry the world on his shoulders right now. but as long as you were here, you'd never allow him to do that alone. "you're doing it again," you sniff after a while, your voice muffled by his shoulder. "you can let it out."

aether puts his hand on the back of your head. he's pulling you closer, if that was even possible. it's as if he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers too. "you need a shoulder to cry on, not me." he mutters. "just--"

"aether."

your brother flinches at your tone. he chuckles tightly. "who's older here, me or you?"

you return the gesture, burying your fingers in his blonde hair. he probably won't let it out yet; he's never been the type to do so. he and lumine were far better at controlling their emotions than you were. for now, you suppose you'll let it slide. "whatever," you sigh. "you can stop squeezing me, you know. i'm not gonna go anywhere. promise."

aether loosens his grip on you, but he doesn't let go. that must have been exactly what he needed to hear. "me neither." his voice is small, but his words are affirming. the two of you sigh in unison, making you giggle. "i'm not going anywhere. i swear."

it was you and your brother against this world. you wouldn't have it any other way.

✧— 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 — ✧

absolute pain in the ass older brother. the worst. horrible. annoying.

i'm kidding... sorta.

childe is the older brother who smushes your face with his hand just because he can

the brother who puts his entire body weight on you and challenges you to push him off

the brother who will literally fight you for the last snack in the pantry

but he's also the older brother who sits there and lets you play connect the dots with the freckles that barely exist on his face

the brother who does his best not to embarrass you when you're around friends or potential suitors

he's the best wingman in the world and the coolest older brother ever

his harbinger status means nothing to you

you're a big girl! you know what that means!

you don't brag about it; you show off your brother in a very different way

childe is prepared for many things. one could even say that he's prepared for anything.

monster ambush? no problem. an ancient deity threatening to sink all of liyue harbor? simple!

but childe... ajax was not prepared to see you sobbing in his office at northland bank.

when he arrived a few minutes earlier, every agent went on their guard. it's normal for them to do that since he's their boss, but something about their alertness was suspicious to him. he approached ekaterina and demanded to know what was going on.

"lord harbinger, it's..." the receptionist trailed off. her eyes were hidden by her mask, but childe could feel her looking away. he started to tap his finger on the wood; a sign of his growing impatience. not wanting to upset him further, ekaterina came clean. "it's your sister, sir."

childe's finger froze. "what about them?"

"they arrived not too long ago looking for you, but..."

"if you're doing this for dramatic effect, i will inform you right now that you're doing a terrible job. that," childe's finger began tapping again, faster this time, "and my patience is wearing very thin. what happened to my sister? tell me; that's an order."

though she was frightened, ekaterina couldn't bring herself to say any more. "she's in your office, sir. she wouldn't talk to any of us, so i feel that you should see the mess for yourself."

the mess? childe nodded briefly in thanks and sped to his office. it wasn't a far walk, but it felt like an eternity. were you okay? did someone hurt you? he grimaced as his hand hovered over the door to his office.

if someone did hurt you, was it because of him? it was no secret that he was a part of the fatui, and you'd been seen with him on multiple occasions. after the osial incident, people became particularly hostile towards the fatui, and even though you weren't a member yourself, you received the same foul treatment they did. probably even worse since you were childe's sister.

childe could handle the heat and he knew you could as well, but if someone touched you...

fueled by a sudden wave of anger, he swung open the door to the office and saw you hunched over in a chair, your face in your hands. you were trying to muffle your sobs from the sound of it, and--

was that blood on your shirt?

ajax is crouching in front of you in an instant. he's always been good at consoling you and your siblings. to the others, he's the perfect older brother; the one who sends trinkets and souvenirs from his travels; the one who's always kind and considerate, even when he's upset. but when he tugs your hands away from your face, he's anything but gentle.

he confirms what he saw before getting closer. there's splotches of blood your shirt, and when he inspects your hands closely and sees your knucles cut and bruised, he puts the pieces together. "you got in a fight." he says tersely. "whose blood is this?"

"s'not mine," you sniff. you try to pry your hands away, but ajax's grip is unrelenting. you don't know why you bothered in the first place. you look away from your brother, feeling like a scolded child under his harsh gaze. ajax always, always told you never to fight unless absolutely necessary. he was very clear about why you shouldn't.

"there's strength in numbers," he told you quietly. he was almost whispering, as though he was telling you something he shouldn't. "people won't stand up for you in a fight -- they would gang up on you instead."

you wrinkled your nose at him. "but you always fight people in groups."

ajax flashed you a cocky grin and squeezed your nose, chuckling when you fought him off. "yeah, but that's because i'm stronger than you, kid." his grin dropped off his face as fast as it came. "now pay attention. do you know why else you shouldn't get into fights here?"

you thought for a second and pointed at the electro vision on your hip questioningly, but ajax shook his head at you.

"close, but no. the second reason," he started, "is because of this." without warning, he pulls a small dagger out his back pocket and holds it to your neck. you don't waste a second, moving to disarm him as quickly as he taught you. almost in the blink of an eye, you've taken the blade from your brother and pressed it against his neck. his smile came back, this time full of pride.

"now, do you know why i don't want you fighting others?" he asked. "it's because you're my sister."

call him a bad influence, but ajax feels a familiar sense of pride swell in his chest when you tell him the blood isn't yours. there's also relief mixed in there somewhere, but it's overshadowed by the satisfaction. he doesn’t smile at you though; he's got to keep up the act. he wants to praise you for doing a good job, but you were a wreck before he came in, and you obviously wouldn't be covered in someone's blood for no reason. he keeps 'big brother mode' turned on and lets you go. "well? what happened?"

you find a clean part of your sleeve and wipe your face free of tears. you're trying to stall for time, but ajax can tell. you sigh and recount the story to him.

it wasn't your fault.

you were minding your business, taking a stroll down by the docks when some large fishermen recognized you and began to shout for you to leave. you ignored them; this happened every so often, so it was easy to tune them out. you kept on your stroll, walking down by the water.

you've always been fascinated by the water, even when you were still in snezhnaya. you envied your brother's hydro vision once, but after giving it some thought, you figured that there was no one better suited for it than him. that, and it made sparring with him all the more interesting. after basking in the sun for a little while longer, you decided to head back to northland bank to wait for ajax to return. but as soon as you turned to leave, you found yourself blocked by four boys, each one taller than you.

"do you guys need something?" you asked.

their scathing words went in one ear and out the other. each of them had something to rude say about you; they must have been trying to get a rise out of you.

enraged by your nonchalance, one of the boys shoved you, hard. you caught yourself just before you could fall into the water and gave them an icy glare -- it was the one you've seen ajax give his opponents every now and again. it obviously didn't have the same effect, because the boys decided to rush you.

after that...

"after that?" ajax prompts you to continue, but you shake your head. "then, why were you crying? did they hurt you? do i have to intervene? talk to me."

man, if only the fatui knew ajax could look like this. the stern look has long since faded and been replaced by concern. he's pulled out his handkerchief and started wiping your face and hands with such tenderness, you almost forget that he's a harbinger. you tell him the truth. "some locals saw me fighting." you mumble. "they called the millelith and said i just went beserk and started punching them, but they touched me first, ajax! what else was i supposed to do? none of them believed me -- no one helped me, no one stood up for me, i-- i was so alone, and--"

your brother balls up his handkerchief and sits in the chair beside you. his arm wraps around your shoulders and he shushes you as tears begin to fall again. for a while, he just lets you cry. if there's anyone on teyvat who knows what you're feeling, it's ajax.

he sees so much of himself in you. it terrifies him; breaks what's left of his heart into smaller pieces.

a large part of ajax wants to resort to his usual methods. he wants nothing more than to press you for details so he can find the people who hurt you and teach them a lesson, but when he glances at you again, he figures that now is as good a time as any to give it a rest. this isn't a mess he'd ever be able to clean up, and you've been hurt enough; he doesn't want to make it worse.

instead, he drops a gloved hand on your head. "you did a good job," he says with a serene smile. for a split second, you see some light in ajax's eyes. it always happens whenever he speaks to you or your other siblings -- it's one of your favorite sights in the world. "i'm so proud of you."

"but," you frown, "i beat people up."

ajax laughs heartily. "you think i'm gonna be mad at you for fighting someone? me? really? c'mon."

he has a point. he did advise you not to fight, but if it can't be helped, then it can't be helped. you lean your head on his shoulder. "i still made those people hate me."

ajax hums. "well, they're gonna hate you -- hate us -- regardless of what we do. that's just life. i wish i could send you home, kid; i'm sorry you have to go through this because of me."

his voice goes soft at the end. he must be beating himself up about all this. you flex your fingers, hissing when the cuts begin to sting. "i don't wanna go home, ajax. not without you. i can handle this! i guess i just need more practice."

your brother tilts his head down at you, an incredulous smile on his face. "you were just crying because you got in a fight and you're already trying to start another one?" he asks. he nudges you gently off his shoulder and makes his way across the room. he comes back with a first aid kit and kneels in front of you again, taking your hand and starts to treat the wounds. "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were trying to take my job."

you wince when an alcohol pad swipes over your knuckles. "who knows, maybe i'll become the new eleventh harbinger some day."

ajax looks up at you, his eyes flashing. you know that look very well. "is that a challenge?"

"you bet your ass it is!"

"that's my girl. as soon as i'm done with your hands, it's on. clear?"

you nod sharply. "crystal."

✧ (i've never felt so alive <(￣︶￣)> i hope you enjoyed it!!)

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

[toomanyfandoms02]

Masterlist !!

Requests are open (I’m writing for Obx right now) here’s a link for my prompt list :) PROMPTS

The ones with stars next to them are fan favorites ;) **

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

First Kiss - During the guessing game, a past lie comes out and exposes a few secrets **

I Hate You - JJ and the Reader have a rocky relationship and that alla changes when someone gets very hurt.

Protective - "Touch her again and I'll break your wrist." **

Not Anymore - Reader wants to make her ex Rafe angry

The Project - JJ gets paired with the quiet girl and leans why she is so quiet.

5 Times - 5 Times the reader knew they were in love with JJ, and the one time they didn't have to hide it anymore. **

Give it Back - Based off of a tiktok

The Gala - Part 1 ~ Part 2 - JJ loves to pretend he's seoeone else, so going to a gala and pretending to get engaged is just his speed.

Harry Potter

Oliver Wood

Big Fan - Reader transfers from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts and is excited to see her favorite Quidditch player.

George Weasley

Umbridge - George takes the fall for a prank Reader pulled because he knew about the punishment.

The Journal - Reader misplaces her diary and has to go on a search for it. **

Fred Weasley

Walkman - Fred wants to know more about muggle items and goes to the reader for help.

Shameless - The gang challenges Fred and the reader to fluster eachother after each being called shameless. **

Draco Malfoy

Date Day - Its the last day of summer before going back to school and you both plan a date day. **

The Wedding - Reader takes Draco to her sisters wedding

Jealousy - Reader hangs out with her best friend Blaise and someone gets jealous

Harry Potter

Kissletoe - Two oblivious idiots finally get thrown into eachother

Spencer Reid

The Mission - Spencer and Reader must act like a married couple at a party in order to get information on a hitman. They may do more than needed to prove being a married couple. **

Quick! - Reader brings Spencer to an office Christmas party to keep the office creep away from her.

Evidence - Spencer and Reader get locked in the evidence room.

Cuddles - Readers cat dies and Spencer comes over to comfort her.

Claustrophobia -  Reader has claustrophobia and Spencer wants to help her get over it.

Mistletoe - Reader brings Spencer to her family's Christmas party, family tradition must continue, this heavily includes a mistletoe of course.

Biggest Fan - Y/n meets her favorite Doctor, and they hit it off. 

Tension - Reader and Spencer aren't exactly the nicest to eachother, but that all changes on a jet ride home.

Sing for Me - Reader convinces Spencer to go to a bar with her and jealousy ensues. We have Protective! Spencer.

Knife Throwing - Reader cuts their hand badly on a knife and Spencer has to help her.

Safe Space - Spencer tries to barge into the safe space.

Pregnant? - You are pregnant and worried about telling Spencer.

Haunted -  Spencer see's something in the office that he can't put his finger on. (This is in Spencer's POV)

Bleeding - Spencer comes home after the mission that got his leg shot. And you are NOT really taking it well.

Birthday - Reader accidentally finds out it's Spencer's birthday and she decides to surprise him with some gifts. **

The Transporter ~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 - y/n lives in a world not so far in the future where a multiverse is proven, and now they are doing human studies. Sending people to their chosen show/movie universes as experiments. They get to live their ideal life surrounded by their favorite characters.

Tap Tap Tap - Three little taps becomes something much more when his best friend is in the clutches of an unsub.

Matthew Gray Gubler

Thoughts ~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 - Soulmate AU where you hear your soulmates thoughts.

Kisses - Reader is an artist with serious art block. So she decides to kiss her best friend all over and turn it into art. **

The Screw - Matthew gives the screw from his knee to a special girl. **

Newlyweds - Furniture shopping as newlyweds :)

Manager - Reader is getting a little frustrated with a man who doesn't believe she is Matthews manager.

Pajamas - Reader really misses Matthew, so she puts on one of his sweatshirts and is reminded of just how small she is.

Memories - Readers boyfriend breaks up with her and she heads to Matthews house, where she recalls all the times she knew she was in love with Matthew.

Paparazzi - Matthew tries to look cool I'm paparazzi pictures. The key word is tries.

Living with Matthew Gray Gubler during quarantine would include...

Halloween - It's the first year that y/n and Matthew are a couple, and he insists that they have a couples costume for an upcoming party. **

The Photographer - Y/n is a celebrity photographer, and Matthew's birthday is coming up. This calls for a birthday shoot. **

[vidalinav]

I think the reason why I abhor the Inner Circle now has nothing to do with Nesta, but the way that they have no consequences for their actions, regardless of Nesta. 

I can admit that Nesta has flaws, but Nesta has suffered the consequences immensely, whether she deserved all of them or not, because she was painted as a “bad” character that “belonged to Hewn City” that was “a waste of life,” that was “embarrassing,” who needed to straighten her attitude, because she was ruining relationships or not gaining them by being mean or verbally aggressive or pushing people away, regardless of the trauma she had. At some points it was a healing arc, at some points it seemed more like a retribution, which largely depended on what other characters were present. Like that was her accountability. Eris, because he’s treated as a “villainous”/ morally grey character, has consequences. Because no one trusts him even when he actually does okay. Because he suffers in silence. Because people hate on him and that he has no one. Tamlin, even has consequences, because again he’s alone. He’s bitter, he’s having an emotionally hard time. He doesn’t have a court anymore. All things that he may or may not have caused himself, but he was painted as the bad guy and so he suffers like the bad guy. Lucien, who didn’t really do anything, but like once in ACOMAF, suffers consequences, because he’s not welcome for a time being anywhere, and now he’s sort of roaming. Jurian, has consequences, because well... everything that happened to him, which you know personally is not really deserved because you know human slavery. So all of them, have or had consequences for their own actions. Other characters, namely the IC, thought of them badly at some point or still do, and they were ostracized in such a way that they paid or are paying essentially for their “crimes.” 

Which to me is perfectly fine, IF, the people who are “good” but did “bad” things also have to suffer consequences. Even narratively, like feeling bad... showing remorse... feeling guilty... other people yelling at them... making them understand the other POV... cosmic punishment... something awful happening to them because they did this... other people not thinking well of them. Anything!

BUT THEY DON’T. And this is where the imbalance is very noticeable, and unfortunately to me makes the IC look really bad, even in the narrative’s pursuit of pushing this idea that they’re very good. 

Which you know might be a POV thing (or SJM’s favoritism but I digress), but Rhys for example is a trash ruler. He may not be bad to Feyre. He may be caring to some people. He may want to put his family first. He may care about the little city he lives in, but on a regular basis he wants to burn Hewn City down. Why he still has that city? Idfk. Why everyone in that city is painted to be a bad person? I don’t know either. He may have outlawed clipping, but on a regular basis there’s still a shit ton of crimes against females. He has a city and a temple full of proof, and the explanation for that is that well... there are consequences. But what are they? And also, why are there not more infrastructures to stop this? Like I understand that the Illyrians are a traditional people, but is that the excuse we’re going with? Which of course, he’s only one person, this is not his fault, but now he’s literally trying to have a whole ass country sign a peace treaty for what reason? Is there a reason he’s not focusing on the problems of his OWN court like they don’t exist? His own inner circle have so many problems, and what is happening with them? Why the hell did he make that promise to die with Feyre, but also why didn’t he tell anyone about it just in case. Because he’s literally the ruler of a court. Let’s not forget that instead of being just a strong-willed High Lord who’s just and fair and who’s trying to do what’s right by his people, he’s still putting on an act. Why? He’s the most powerful person, they say ALL THE TIME. He clearly is not. Let’s not forget that he has done so much crime, and what really were his consequences? Like if Nesta can’t be excused by her trauma, Rhys CANNOT be excused by his trauma, except Rhysand’s actions were in the range of murder and Nesta’s was being mean lol. So I think it’s hilarious that to the IC at least he’s fucking fantastic. Like okay. 

Amren, as another example, basically works in the same way as Nesta. Where she is harsh, but people put up with it. But again, Nesta is looked at very harshly, and Amren is not??? Even when she’s sort of a tyrant and she’s a... little bit of a colonizer and she doesn’t really give people respect. And she’s shown to be a bit of a... do as I say type of person by any means necessary even deceit and manipulation which is not frowned upon even with “friends.” What are her consequences? Even in Nesta’s POV she takes a knee. Does that make sense? 

Going even into just inter group dynamics, Mor for example, is not very... should I say? Honest. I hate to villainize her like the whole thing is her fault, because it’s obviously not. But... she literally is playing with a man’s feelings and knows she’s playing with a man’s feelings, but she doesn’t tell him because??? Like she doesn’t even have to tell him why, but she hasn’t told Azriel she doesn’t like him? And then she also got Cassian involved...  I mean, it’s Cassian’s fault for that, you know, cause she didn’t force him, but... uhh. And then, let’s not forget that Mor was awful to Nesta in ACOWAR, when Nesta was actually pretty decent to Cassian. They had many moments. She saw those moments. And Mor was not nice AT ALL. Cut the crap, of saying oh Mor was just protective of Cassian because Nesta was mean. No she wasn’t! Or you’re forgetting an entire fucking book. She may seem like that now, but that was a change of character to be honest, I don’t know where that came from, because in the beginning of that book she was an awful person, and in ACOWAR she was not a benevolent person either. But where are her consequences????? Actually she has a bit, because you know Eris points it out a lot, that she’s a liar. Nesta says she’s a hypocrite. She’s dealing with her father, she has to hide who she is to fit in the group which is sort of changing her narrative. So, I count that as some form of consequence, which is probably why I don’t hate her too much. I understand her a bit, but damn... she was not that bright and bubbly and who’s really going to call her out on that? 

Sigh... Onto the next one. My love. Cassian. 

I know he’s loving and very sweet. But he has his head so far up the IC’s ass, that I’m like ugh...Mostly my critique with him is that he gets to say everything he wants even when it’s horrible and down right dramatic, to a girl who already hates herself, and who he learns hates herself and if he was smarter he could have connected those dots way earlier and that she was suffering thoughts of not wanting to exist because she obviously was by her ACTIONS, and still he says the most horrible things. Sure, he offers remorse, but like... we didn’t even see him apologize. Like I hate that Nesta can say horrible things, and omg Nesta’s mean. But Cassian says horrible things, and it’s like omg Nesta what did you say? I mean that’s how the narrative was structured. Nesta said something about Rhys it wasn’t even that big, “everyone hates you.” Nesta offers some anxiety about the mating bond, “I’m shackled to you.” Like... yikes. She doesn’t want to accept his gift, “I don’t understand why your sisters love you.” Sigh... I love Cassian but damn, he literally has no consequences. No one is calling him out, no one thinks bad of him, nothing. He’s the sweet, lovable guy and nothing else. Psssh. I mean, he mostly says this only to Nesta, but Nesta isn’t going to think bad of him, which is not right. Because he sucks sometimes, and what? Nesta needs to learn to take the pain of his insults. Okay. 

Elain, is not technically an IC member, and tbh I don’t know who the hell she is or what she feels, so I can’t talk about her too much. Except for the fact, that she is also not the greatest person in the world. I know that you cannot expect your sibling to hold the world for you, but as people have pointed out, Nesta was not asking her to help her with her own trauma, she was asking for time to heal, like Nesta had done for Elain. Because Nesta protected Elain’s ability to heal. And when Nesta tells her this, she just doesn’t understand and doesn’t seem to care about understanding her POV, and cries and once again Nesta is the bad guy. And then you know she offers that “you only care about what my trauma did to you.” Another lack of understanding, because Nesta is fearful of the cauldron, and her own sister doesn’t stick up for her when the IC are obviously trying to push her into something she’s saying and showing she’s not comfortable with. I don’t see how you cannot see this scene as a manipulation, when it is outright said that they would use Elain later to do that. And tbh if Elain really wanted to do something she could at any moment, no one is stopping her. I mean Nesta may put up some fight, but if Elain wants it she can have it. She’s not an uwu baby. But the scene did show that no matter what Nesta feels, once again Elain is the victim and Nesta is the one in the wrong. And then later when Nesta is trying again when she goes to solstice, which you know based on logical reasoning, would have been probably hard for her, Elain is like “Did Feyre pay you to come? Be nice.” Sigh... And still, Elain is the sweet one and Nesta is the one who deserves that. Even in her own narrative, Nesta doesn’t deserve anything. What are Elain’s consequences? I certainly hope Nesta and Elain are not close to begin with in the next books, because I honestly feel that Elain now has proven twice that she is not helpful. Just like Nesta didn’t help Feyre, Elain didn’t either, though Nesta paid for that a lot in other people’s opinions of her, which they did not hold against Elain. But now she also didn’t help Nesta. But both Feyre and Nesta have helped Elain, and they’re both now considered to have “coddled” her like what wack shit? Isn’t that just another way that they excuse Elain for not taking accountability of her own life? Is that not also making her a victim of other people? When again, if she really wanted to fight or go somewhere or do something, who would stop her? The perspective on Elain is very weird. Anyway. 

I’d also say Azriel doesn’t suffer any consequences. For obvious reasons, because he seems to torture people and no one bats an eye, but also because he seems to have such a weird mindset even it’s not outright stated. Again with the whole Mor situation, how has no one told him that holding onto this crush is fucking creepy and counterintuitive to the mindset of family they’re trying to create? Like you visibly made someone obviously uncomfortable, and nothing? No one calls you out. No one thinks bad of you, even Mor, the one uncomfortable. So weird!!!

But basically what I’m trying to say, is not that I hate these characters, because they’re very interesting to read, even if the quality of writing is so-so compared to other SJM’s series. They’re not totally bad or villains but they definitely do some stuff that should probably be recognized as something wrong, because all of them are morally grey characters. Just the lack of understanding they showed Nesta should be something that is called out, the lack of understanding they don’t really show each other for those who call themselves family. No one had to be accountable in this book, except Nesta. Which is odd, I think, because there’s two POVs, and Nesta has a problem with everyone which are not entirely her fault. Because the opinions of other people, at their core, are the responsibility of the other people. They could have chosen to be more understanding, but they didn’t. They could choose to be better people, but they don’t. And I’d say that the lack of accountability that the IC have contribute to them never changing. Now, this may change with more books. But at least in this book, this idea is not promising. We got no scenes of the IC talking to Cassian or Nesta like they understood or empathized or changed their mind about anything, none that made them seem like they felt guilty or wrong. Even Rhys went into Nesta’s head and saw all of her trauma, and then still said he wanted to kill her because of a situation he, himself, created. This book was a mess. But they’re messy characters which might be because of poor plotting, but could be on purpose. Idk. 

But the point I’m trying to make is that the more the idea is pushed that the IC are these good, benevolent people, who do no wrong, who are the saviors, the more I think they’re horrible people. Because all of things they do that are wrong don’t get held against them. They don’t have to pay for that crime. And if they did have to be accountable for those mistakes, for their own thoughts and actions, I would hate them a lot less. But I think this is also why I tend to like SJM’s “villains” or “asshole characters” more than her “good” characters because the assholes get to grow and the good characters just get more annoying. But it remains to be seen I guess. I certainly hope they have some more development, but not holding my breath... Just my opinion, which I don’t know if I articulated well. So... Anyway

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 22/?

For @sterekvalentineweek Day 3

Secret Crush

4 times Stiles gave Derek a valentine, and 1 time Derek decided to return the favor.

The story can be read under the cut or on AO3!

1st grade

Derek was new, and that’s what causes the whole fiasco.

Well, not exactly new. He had been at the school since the school year had started back in August, and it was now February. But he was new in that it’s the first year anyone in his family has ever attended public school. Born into a powerful pack of werewolves with a history spanning back centuries, he had been raised surrounded only by werewolves and humans who knew about the supernatural. None of his relatives had ever gone to public school, as the risk was deemed too great to send children out in public where they may accidentally reveal their true nature. Derek and his siblings were supposed to be home-schooled, as was tradition.

However, times were changing, and their emissary had suggested the children should start attending public school. Not only was it to help the children learn how to handle being around humans and in public, but also the hunters were becoming more aggressive, and it was advised that they act as much like normal humans as possible so as not to raise suspicion.

So Derek and his older sister, Laura, were the first werewolves in the Hale pack history to go to public school. It was their first year for both of them, Derek in first grade and Laura in second. They had spent the years before learning how to control their shift under the guise of home-schooling, and the family was confident they would blend right in. 

They did blend in, for the most part, never letting their eyes change color and holding back growls no matter how angry they became. But apparently, there was more to being human than just looking the part. There were all these rules and customs that everyone seemed to know except them. Derek rarely minded his family’s social faux pas, honestly never really noticing them. But on this one occasion, everyone noticed, and he was particularly upset.

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday which his family never celebrated (why did humans need a holiday to show their adoration for their mates? How strange). The lack of experience with the holiday is why nobody in the family realized it was customary to bring “valentines” to school to share with classmates, and that’s why he arrived empty-handed. 

When all the other students set up their boxes in which to receive treats, he watched in confusion, which morphed into dawning horror when he realized everyone had gifts to hand out except for him.

Derek had hoped he could slip under the radar, receive the gifts like everyone else and then maybe bring double the treats next year to make up for it. 

The teacher had a different idea. The teacher scolded him in front of the whole class for being irresponsible and inconsiderate, and told him that if he had nothing to share, then nobody could share with him. He had to sit in the corner by himself and think about what he had done wrong (he was 6 years old, he didn’t have money or a calendar, this hardly seemed like his fault).

So Derek sat in the corner by himself, not only having to hear all of the other kids laugh and have a great time, but also smell the delicious treats thanks to his werewolf nose. He was used to being on his own at school, not having made any real friends, but it hurt so much more knowing he was being purposefully excluded. He had to fight hard to hold back his claws, and even harder to fight back tears. He hated this stupid school and the stupid humans in it and their stupid rules and traditions and just wanted to go home. 

When the school day was finally, blessedly over, Derek shuffled out of the room with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, not wanting to see the smiles on all of the other kids’ faces and not wanting them to see the frown on his, unable to help feeling like they were mocking him.

He made it out the front doors of the school, and thought he was finally free, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned with a scowl. It was a student in his class named Stiles. Derek wasn’t really friends with him. They had played together at recess a couple of times and he seemed funny and nice, but it wasn’t like they had ever spoken outside of school.

Derek began to wonder if he was wrong in his categorization of Stiles as nice, because he could think of no reason for any of his classmates to stop him except to gloat. Before Stiles had even said anything, Derek was already seething, thinking about the treat Stiles had brought that everyone had gotten to try except for him. While most of the students had just brought candy, Stiles had brought clearly homemade sugar cookies, and the scent had had Derek salivating in his isolation. 

Before he could snap at Stiles in anger, however, Stiles thrust his hands forward in an offering. Derek looked down and was surprised to see he was holding two cookies, each partially covered by a napkin.

“Sorry Mrs. Johnson was so mean to you today. She said that we weren’t allowed to give you any valentines but I think that’s mean and dumb and I don’t follow mean and dumb rules. So I saved you a cookie. Actually, I saved you two cookies, one of them is for your sister because I figure if you didn’t bring any valentines then she probably didn’t either and might have also not been allowed any treats, which would be so sad because what’s the point of Valentine’s day besides the treats. If you eat them both, though, that’s okay because you didn’t get any candy or anything so I think you probably deserve two cookies. I would give you even more cookies but I only had the one that was already for you, and then the extra one my mom packed in my lunch box. I wanted to eat that one and then I also wanted to eat yours but I realized I shouldn’t because my mom already gave me a cookie last night so I really don’t need another and also my mom bakes all the time and most people don’t get to try the greatness of her cookies and so I have a respons- responsabl- responsibit- it’s my job to share the cookies.” 

Stiles finally quit his rambling to stare expectantly at Derek, who was staring back in shock. He shoved his hands forward again, until Derek finally took the offered cookies.

Derek didn’t even get the chance to say thank you before Stiles was talking again, telling some story about a time he forgot his shoes at home and how that was way worse than forgetting some valentines. He kept talking before he noticed the bus was beginning to leave, and sprinted off without so much as a goodbye. 

Derek looked down once again at the cookies, and saw there was a note included. Written on a sticky note in first-grader scrawl, it said Sorry the teacher is so mean. You can be my BVF (best valentine forever). Valentine was written three different times, the first two times crossed out as he clearly wasn’t positive how the word was spelled.

Derek did end up giving the second cookie to Laura, and he found he didn’t mind because he knew the note was all his.  

4th grade

Derek still didn’t particularly care for Valentine’s Day, his introduction to the holiday forever tainting his opinion, but he had still come to find himself excited about the impending sugar. 

There was a storm cloud over this Valentine’s Day, though, at least for Derek and definitely for Stiles. Ever since first grade, Derek had looked forward to the homemade treats Stiles would bring, baked with love by his mother.

Derek knew that wouldn’t be the case on this day, though, because Stiles’ mother had passed away a couple of months before.

Everyone in the small town knew about it, rumors constantly spreading about the sheriff’s new drinking habits. Nobody seemed to notice the effect it had on the young boy. But Derek did.

Stiles had become more withdrawn in the months leading up to his mother’s death, presumably having to deal with her illness, but it was like he shut down once she was gone. The boy who once talked a mile a minute now was silent, except for the occasional whispers to his best friend. His absences became more frequent, and he stopped bringing a lunch to school, instead having to buy cafeteria food he would rarely eat. The worst part though was the scent of grief that constantly clung to him.

Derek saw how badly he was affected and could only hope that he would heal with time. Derek wished he knew how to help, but he still hadn’t even figured out how to make friends, let alone how to help someone cope with the loss of a parent.

So Derek knew he wouldn’t be getting any baked goods on this day, that he probably wouldn’t be receiving anything from Stiles. He just hoped that the teacher wasn’t as rude about it as his first-grade teacher had been.

Derek was proven wrong though. Stiles hadn’t brought cookies or anything of the like, but he had brought valentines. For every classmate, he had a red piece of paper which he had folded into a heart and marked with their names. They weren’t perfect, but they were definitely better than most nine-year-olds could do. 

Derek was so touched at the small gift, and seethed when he saw none of the other students saw it for what it was. He even saw one student throw their heart in the trash (which Derek made a point to dig out and keep for himself because that heart was something Stiles had spent time on and deserved to be cherished). None of the students realized how kind Stiles was. That while dealing with grief, which was probably made even worse with the holiday bringing on a reminder of a tradition he could no longer partake in, and a father who himself was probably still grieving and didn’t remember he was supposed to get valentines for his son, Stiles had still made sure he had something to give to his classmates. This gift was far more valuable than anything any other student had brought. 

Derek was even more touched when he realized that there was a note written inside of the heart, too. He carefully unfolded it, making sure to keep track of how he did it so he would be able to refold it, and read what was inside.

Don’t tell Scott, but you’re still my favorite Valentine.

It was made even better when he realized the other heart he had, the one from the trash, had no note, meaning Stiles had written a note especially for Derek. 

Derek gave Stiles the warmest smile he could from across the room and vowed to keep that note forever. 

6th grade

Derek was quick to realize Valentine’s Day was not the same in middle school as in elementary. For one, there was no making mailboxes or handing out valentines. If you wanted to celebrate the holiday, you had to do it on your own time. 

The second major difference was that “like-liking” someone was a thing, and lots of girls “like-liked” Derek. Derek was apparently one of the cutest guys in the grade, and that helped immensely with his popularity. He had finally been able to make some friends, which was nice. 

Derek wasn’t really a fan of all of the attention he got at school, though. He would have preferred to just spend time with the couple of best friends he had made, and ignore all of the people who wanted to be his friend solely for his status.

He knew Valentine’s Day would give some girls the perfect opportunity to confess their “feelings” for him (they didn’t even know him!) and Derek was not looking forward to it.

Derek had been correct in his assumption, and by the end of the day, three different girls had asked to be his Valentine, and he had to kindly reject them all. It was far too much for him, and he was exhausted by the end of the day. 

Before he could go home, though, he had to stop at his locker to grab a textbook he needed for class.

He was surprised, and a little bit disturbed, to find a box of chocolates in his locker. It was definitely too big for someone to just slip through the slots, so someone would have had to break into his locker to get it there. 

Derek immediately felt all of his annoyance of the day growing. Why could these girls not leave him alone?

However, when he leaned in to grab the box, he caught a whiff of a scent that had him calming down.

Stiles.

Suddenly, Derek found he wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t at all surprising that the boy knew how to break into lockers, and Derek found himself inexplicably preening at the thought that the boy still wanted to be his Valentine.

Taped to the bottom of the box was a typed note with no signature, clearly meant to anonymous. Derek likely never would have known who it was if it wasn’t for his werewolf senses.

The note simply read “Why don’t they let us hand out candy anymore? Middle school is lame. Don’t worry, I won’t let them ruin the holiday for you (everyone knows the sweets are the whole point). Hope you enjoy the chocolates, valentine.”

On second thought, Derek realized he probably would have been able to figure out it was Stiles, just based on the note. He could practically hear the words in Stiles’ voice. He would still let him think he got away with being anonymous, though.    

Maybe middle school Valentine’s Days weren’t so bad, after all. 

10th grade

Derek just knew this was going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever, and he wished that he could just skip the whole day. He would totally pretend to be sick so he could stay home except that werewolves can’t get sick so he doubted that would fly with his parents.

Derek had broken up with his girlfriend, Paige, just a couple of weeks before. He knew that in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that serious, they hadn’t even been together for a whole year, but he had felt like he was madly in love with her. 

He was healing, of course, and, for the most part, had moved on. But Valentine’s Day would just be a reminder of what he was missing (it stung every time he remembered he never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day with her, he had been secretly excited to finally have a real significant other to be romantic with). That, and due to his popular status, the day would either bring on pitying looks from all of the students who thought his relationship was somehow their business, or flirting from girls who thought they now had a chance. Knowing his luck, probably a combination of both. 

Derek groaned when he walked into his first-period history class and saw a heart-shaped balloon tied to the back of the desk he usually sat at. This was absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal with. He thought about just sitting at a different desk but figured it was better to go ahead and throw away the balloon before class started so as to avoid drawing any attention. 

When he got to his desk, he saw a note tied to the string of the balloon. He opened it and a smile bloomed on his face when he was met with typed words.

Of course! He had been so focused on Paige that he forgot about the annual tradition Stiles had begun in the sixth grade of leaving secret gifts with notes for Derek. 

Stiles wasn’t even in the class so Derek didn’t even know how he had known which desk was his, but at this point, nothing Stiles did could really surprise him. 

I know they may not be the usual sweets, but I figure with this, you can tell anyone who bothers you that you already have a valentine. You know I’ve always got your back, Valentine.

The note just reconfirmed for Derek that it was from Stiles.

The gift cheered him up immensely, and he felt his qualms about the day beginning to melt away.

~~~

The day dragged on until lunch, made better by the balloon Derek carted around, which actually did help keep people away.

Derek was sitting at his usual spot with his friends when he hears a commotion from the other side of the cafeteria, and turned to see what was going on.

It seemed everyone turned to look, although he’s not sure if they can all hear. It was easy enough with his enhanced senses, though.

Derek could make out Stiles standing up on a table, looking down at a girl with strawberry blonde hair. The rest of the people at the table had faces ranging from shock to embarrassment, except for one guy who looked like he was fuming. Derek honestly didn’t know if that table was where Stiles usually sat, or if he had just decided to crash.

“Lydia, today, on the most romantic day of the year, I must make my feelings known. I know you are a goddess and I am a mere mortal, but my heart sings for you and I can no longer hide it. Reject your other suitors, for none see how brightly you shine like I do. Please accept this token of my affection, and be my Valentine.” Stiles opened up a thin box he had been holding to reveal a heart-shaped cookie cake.

Derek cringed in second-hand embarrassment, especially when he saw people giggling and filming the whole thing.

“I’ll think about it,” the girl responded in an airy voice. She was too far away that Derek couldn’t tell if she was being mocking or serious.

Stiles’ grin didn’t leave his face as he stepped down from the table. Derek saw him offer Lydia the cookie cake, but she held her hand up in rejection. Stiles shrugged and held the box closer, then grabbed his friend, who Derek recognized as his best friend Scott, by the shoulder and rushed out of the cafeteria.

Derek found himself fuming. At first, he thought it was at the way everyone was laughing at Stiles after he put himself out there, and the way the girl didn’t even appreciate what he had done. But he realized that wasn’t what it was, not really.

It was jealousy.

Derek had always cherished the tradition he had going on with Stiles (although he supposed it was mostly one-sided and it was secret), and it had made him feel special. Now he felt like it meant nothing. It was nothing more than Stiles feeling bad for the kid who once had a bad Valentine’s Day.

Derek abruptly shoved away from his table and stood up. He grumbled an excuse about having to be somewhere and stomped out of the cafeteria, annoyed he had to drag the balloon from Stiles with him. All he wanted was to pop the dumb balloon and shove it in a trash can, but knew he would regret it if he decided to do that in front of a cafeteria full of people.

As Derek stormed down the, thankfully empty, hallway, he heard a voice. He froze when he recognized that it was Stiles’ voice. He immediately hid himself against the wall, then rolled his eyes when he realized Stiles wasn’t even coming toward him, but seemed to be having a conversation in the hallway perpendicular to the one Derek was in. Derek knew there was no reason to, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“I just don’t understand why you did that! You know Lydia would never go for you!” That was Scott’s voice, and Derek couldn’t help but feel offended on Stiles’ behalf. 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Scott. I feel like the more pressing issue that you could have mentioned is the fact that I don’t even swing that way, which would have been a much less hurtful thing to say.” 

Derek froze. Had he heard that correctly? He felt guilty realizing he had listened to Stiles out himself, but felt frozen in his spot.

Scott sighed explosively. “Okay, so then why did you do it?”

Stiles gave an equally dramatic sigh. “Because Lydia asked me to, duh. Besides the fact I’m too afraid of her to say no, she gave a compelling argument. She’s currently fighting with Jackson and wanted to piss him off and make him jealous, and you know I’m always down to piss Jackson off. Plus, she said she would get a cookie cake and let me keep it, which, as you can see, she did. Plus, it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold. This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing I’ve done this year.”

Scott laughed. “Oh yeah, you mean like wooing the same person for years but not even telling them it’s you? Or talking to them?”

Stiles hissed out a “shut up” in anger, but Derek tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling like he was on cloud nine. 

Scott must have been talking about all of the gifts Stiles had been giving to Derek. Which meant it did mean something, and that Stiles actually had feelings for Derek. Not for Lydia, who didn’t even appreciate Stiles.

Derek spent the rest of the day feeling like he was floating, proudly holding his balloon through the hallways. It wasn’t until the end of the day that Derek that the way he was reacting was a bit over the top unless…

Did Derek also have feelings for Stiles?

12th grade

Derek felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest, and he was certain he had already sweat through his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this nervous. 

It was Valentine’s Day, his last one before he went to college. He knew if he didn’t do anything, it would be fine. Stiles would probably give him an anonymous gift like every year, and it would be a nice thing to reminisce about one day. It would be the same as always.

But Derek decided he couldn’t let things stay the same, and he was about to throw a wrench in Stiles’ plans. 

He wasn’t sure at what point he had begun to develop feelings for Stiles, but he had realized in tenth grade after he heard about Stiles’ feelings that they were definitely there, and at this point they had become too deep to ignore. He wanted to be Stiles’ valentine but he wanted it to be for real this time, and the only way to make that happen was by telling him. And desperately hoping that he hadn’t completely misinterpreted everything.

Derek had arrived to school over half an hour early, parking right next to Stiles’ usual spot to make sure he didn’t miss him. He wanted to catch him in the parking lot, to hopefully stay out of the way of prying eyes. 

It had seemed like a good idea, but now he was left stewing in his own anxiety, thinking about everything that could go wrong and wondering if he should back out now before it was too late. He even wondered if he shouldn’t have made his younger sister hitch a ride with someone else so that at the very least he would have company, but he knew she would only make him more stressed. Sisters were evil like that.

Fifteen minutes before school began and Stiles finally arrived.

It was now or never. 

Derek got out of his car just as Stiles did, and called his name. Stiles jumped in shock and turned to face Derek. Derek caught a whiff of nerves off of him, but he didn’t run, so at least that was a good start.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”

Stiles looked surprised, but he nodded and approached Derek. “Uh, sure. Did you want to go inside, or…”

“No, we can talk out here. Actually, it’s better out here, because I have some stuff. In my car, I mean. So it’s easier if it’s here and I don’t have to carry it and we can just talk here now.” Derek realized none of what he was saying was making sense, and felt dread pool in his stomach when he saw the confusion growing on Stiles’ face. God, why was this so hard?

“I just wanted to say- uh- Happy Valentine’s Day. Well, that wasn’t all I wanted to say, but- One sec.” Derek ducked into the back of his car, glad he had an excuse to collect himself for a moment.

When he reemerged, it was with a box which he placed on top of his trunk. He was grateful to see that Stiles hadn’t fled.

Derek looked down at the box, avoiding eye contact with Stiles to the best of his ability, and began pulling out items one by one. “In second grade, you brought me a brownie, one that had heart-shaped sprinkles that your mother had baked. In third grade, it was an equally delicious cupcake.” He pulled out a brownie and cupcake (both store-bought and certainly not as good as Stiles’ mother’s baked goods, but baking was not his strong suit) and shoved both into Stiles’ hands, continuing on before Stiles could interrupt him. “In fourth grade, it was a folded heart, which I now realize was very impressive, since I’m about double the age you were when you made ones for the whole class and just this one took me about 20 tries.” He gave out a self-deprecating laugh, and once again handed the item to Stiles. “In fifth grade, it was a heart-shaped lollipop. In sixth, a box of chocolates. Seventh, conversation hearts.” He realized Stiles’ hands were too full to hold anything else, and began placing the items onto the trunk next to the box instead. “In eighth grade, it was a teddy bear. Freshman year, it was chocolate covered strawberries. Sophomore year, you gave me a heart-shaped balloon, which was actually quite useful.” He had to lean back into his car to grab the balloon, since it had been too big for the box. “Last year, it was roses. And all of it began in first grade, when you decided the nobody kid in the class with no friends deserved to have something nice, no matter what the teacher said, when you gave me the best cookie I have, to this day, ever had. You told me then, and for years to come, that I was your valentine. And as much as I loved that, I want something more. Will you be my real valentine? Will you be mine?” Finally, he pulled out a heart-shaped cookie, covered with pink icing and the words Be Mine written on top.

Derek finally looked up at Stiles, who had his mouth open in shock. He smelled like a myriad of emotions, and Derek was having difficulty getting a read on him. As the seconds passed, he began to get the sinking feeling he had royally fucked up.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles finally burst out, and barrelled on before Derek could even figure out what part he was reacting to. “You’ve ruined my ten-year plan! I have been secretly wooing you- or at least I thought it was secret- for years, and today was going to be the grand finale! I was going to confess that it was me all along and then I was going to offer you a kiss and if it was weird and you weren’t interested I had some chocolate kisses to give you so I could play it off all cool, but then if you were interested we were going to have a great, romantic first kiss. But you have out-romanced me in one fell swoop! How dare you!”

Derek stared back in shock. He felt.. actually he had no idea how he felt and wasn’t even sure what part of that he was supposed to react to first.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Stiles demanded, although Derek could see the smile hidden on his face.

“Uh… is a kiss still on the table?”

“Chocolate or real?”

“What do you think?”

Stiles pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well, after that grand romantic gesture, I would say a real kiss. But I do know you have a sweet tooth, so it’s hard to say for sure…”

“How about this? You kiss me now, and then after school we go on a date and finish that whole bag of kisses together. And all this store-bought shit I got you. Sound like a good compromise to you?”

Stiles smirked. “Sounds perfect, Valentine.”

After that, Derek helped Stiles put all of the gifts into his Jeep, and then they walked hand and hand to the school, not even caring they were probably late at this point.

Suddenly, a thought hit Derek, and he froze, causing Stiles to stumble and then turn to him with an expectant eyebrow raised.

“Wait, you said ten-year plan. Have you actually been wooing me this whole time?”

Stiles blushed, and it was the prettiest thing Derek had ever seen. “Well, not exactly. But after I gave you that cookie in first grade, I saw the way your eyes lit up, and when you smiled at me, well, my little 6-year-old heart knew you were going to be the only Valentine I’d ever need.”

[salut-imsyuka]

Kono Hanasakuya-Hime - 𝓣h𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓫𝓾𝓼

So here’s my entry for @ladykendalsims​​ BC ! Again thank you so much for the extra time darling ♥ I’m sorry that I couldn’t send it on time !

Outdoor Enthusiast - Kleptomaniac, Loves Outdoor, Materialistic

My bachelorette's name is Kono, she's a 41 years old sim !

Kono is omnisexual, her pronouns are she/her

She may seem rather cold and cynical at first, but Kono has very little confidence in herself, she is trying to protect herself !

She has a rather sharp and very dry sens of humour

The gang she was in called her « The Succubus »

She’s a former prostitute

Kono has an immeasurable passion for flora, she is a pro when it comes to making concoctions, poisons and filters of all kinds, she would be very helpful in Crimson's shelter has she also masters gardening

Kono is not gifted in combat. To be honest, since the virus she focuses on improving her botanical abilities, she barely knows how to use a gun ! (but she always hides a pretty dagger in her boots)

She travels with a female doberman called Ba, she is her faithful companion

Born in the pale and frozen flanks of Mount Komorebi, Kono grew up in the very essence of the traditions. Yet she did not want to lock herself in the archaic straitjacket of custom. Indeed, she could not curb her inextinguishable thirst for adventure and left as soon as possible her home to discover the extent of the world that was open to her. So she landed in the dazzling town of San Myshuno, far too big and vicious for this little, naive woman who thought she could put the world at her feet. (more in depth story below)

Her pumps, far too high for her, slammed the lino's floor in the hotel room. It occasionally annoyed her neighbors of rooms, young women, who, like her, were tempted by the lure of gain ; each had their reasons : to make money easily, to pay food for their children, or to pay for their education, as Kono's case. She often oscillated between college classes and passing with clients, an unhealthy rhythm that allowed her, in spite of everything, to perhaps one day, after all the efforts and work that she provided -- especially hope -- finish her degree in botanic. But she ended up in a shabby hotel room, like all those girls who, like her, had their head full of dreams. Kono was caught in a vicious circle. She robbed her clients on the orders of her pimps, when she realized that she could earn much more than she imagined, she could no longer resist stealing, not without scruples.

In the mirror riddled with blinding white LEDs, she often looked at herself to touch up her gloss, her eyeshadow that sometimes flowed ; and with a stroke of a brush she became again the pretty doll adored by her customers. In a whisper comming from the hollow of her lips she repeated to herself, in a loud voice and standing proud in front of her reflection, that she was the best, that she was strong, powerful and beautiful, that one day her dreams would be within her reach. Only, she could not look at herself very long in the mirror, her atrocious reflection reminded her of the biggest mistake of her life, she embodied this mistake. She could see her younger self  in her disguting reflection : a joyful little girl like the others, running through the frozen and arduous forests of Mount Komorebi. Each plant, each flower, she tried to gather them all in a small notebook with pages that were twisted by the snow. It was decorated with drawings of children and coloured with paint. It was as if she had never existed, or worse, as if Kono had slaughtered her childhood dreams with a backhand.

Kono has never had particular problems with romantic relationships : sure of herself and very enterprising, she was not afraid to trigger discussions, she even liked contact rather well. But it was over. Erased by prostitution, she thought, sincerely and from the depths of her heart not to deserve a single ounce of love, if not the one that her clients gave her : false, livid, she was the loved toy, but the one that you didn't want to take care of, because it was dirty and worn out ; instead, it was the doll that was passed from hand to hand for a limited time, a session of pleasure that did not exceed twenty minutes. She had wasted herself all her chances of one day meeting love, she was convinced. Still stuck in her tight dresses and lingerie, she thought she was worthless to anyone, to herself. As a result, Kono has a rather dismal relationship with her body, she has difficulty in taking into consideration her fleshly envelope, seeing herself only as a way of satisfying the urges of men. She therefore had little confidence in herself, and hid herself badly behind her make-up and her style, which, as she hopes, discourage anyone from approaching her.

In the misfortune of others she thought she could find a way out with the zombie virus spreading. She could leave the gang that had held her on a leash for many years, she was now the mistress of her own destiny. In the occasional panic sown by the hordes of zombies, she had, during a fiery afternoon, taken advantage of the surrounding panic to flee, bringing with her women who, like her, were alienated to the gang. They had become her sisters, her friends, her daughters, her family. For about fifteen years Kono took care of these girls as a mother would have done, each with her skills participated in the life and prosperity of the shelter. But Kono realized that she had never lived for herself. She, of such an independent and adventurous nature, had never taken care of herself. She left the shelter under the protection of Jolynn, a young woman who had followed her when she ran away from her gang. Jolynn, like all these girls, was a former prostitute, unlike Kono, she had warm blood, but Konno was sure that it would serve the protection of the shelter, she had blind confidence in the young woman ; and for good reason, they had a truly merging relationship. That’s how she went out on the roads to discover herself. Deep down, Kono was just a human, but she was about 40 years old, it was now or never. (btw I’d like to add that I am aware that sex workers aren’t always forced to do their jobs (there isn’t always a pimp behind), it was only the turn I wanted Kono’s story to take. I fully support sex workers ♥)

[thebestworstidea]

The Green Knight’s Lady (4)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 4: In Which Life is Difficult

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

     The winter waned in a sloppy miserable way, kicking out with a few snowstorms like the flailing of a dying animal. Despite not really being bothered by the cold, D.N. practically hibernated, most often found in a window seat in the library, going through Rowan’s Mother’s books and being snarky about bad information about fairies. Rowan was fairly sure it was just a way to safely lash out. She dug out an old laptop and gave him access to the Netflix account. If nothing else it kept him distracted. Something Rowan had learned was that the fair folk did, as legend said, love stories. 

And apparently, soap operas and romcoms.

Like herself, Remus seemed out of sorts in the late winter, though more in the way of someone who had woken up long before they wanted to. He’d gone into the woods and returned dressed in his more normal attire, also having brought back a few changes of clothing that was closer to D.N.’s size, and of a finer make than anything in the Baker house, despite Rowan’s sister’s cautious attempt to find a fabric the fae child would like. For the most part, the rest of Rowan’s family treated D.N. with cautious courtesy, and a certain level of ‘not be alone in a room with him’. Remus, by contrast, was treated more as a benign nuisance, though not without kindness.  Frankly, that was more understandable than Rowan’s blase attitude. That didn’t stop a certain level of speculation as to why ‘Leif’ and his friend were staying with them.

     “I’ve figured it out!” 

Rowan balled a pair of socks and tossed it in her sister’s basket across the table. They were sorting the laundry by owner, and Rowan had made it her mission to find as many pairs of socks as she could. 

“Figured what out?” 

“What’s going on with Leif and the kid!” 

“Have you now?” Rowan said dryly and a little nervously. Her sister nodded. 

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. The kid is the spawn of the last fairy king.”

“What.” 

“Look, it’s obvious that Leif served him, right? And we know he’s dead. So then Leif disappears for months and reappears with a kid? With scales? We know that Leif’s traveled outside Wickhills before- so clearly he knew where the kid was, maybe he was even the one who took him away, probably more of a Cronos eating his kids thing than a Arthur sent into hiding thing, and now he brought him back.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I bet Leif can change genders like a frog.”

Rowan started laughing. 

“Leif might even be the mother-” she went on. 

“Definitely not.” Rowan choked. 

“But he is related. I’ve connected the dots.” she said smugly.

“You haven’t connected shit.” Rowan retorted throwing a pair of pants at her.

“I’ve connected them.”

     As spring burgeoned forth, Remus agitated with the need to leave the house. It was clear he wasn’t used to staying in one place, even for a few weeks like this. Rowan could always tell when Remus had gone wandering in the night, because D.N. didn’t come down from the attic until he’d come back. It wasn’t as if D.N. was avoiding his so-called hosts, so much as he was totally avoiding the humans in the house as much as possible as if by pretending they weren’t there he could pretend none of this was happening. 

When spring officially arrived Rowan made them clothing, a shirt of heavy green broadcloth for Remus, and a more delicate shirt of the finest white linen she had for D.N. The shirt he generally wore was made of undyed silk, and Rowan feared that the substance had come from the shroud- or rather bag- she’d sewn for the bones of the Serpent King. It was tricky to give them, as D.N. certainly wanted no gifts from her, and Remus wanted to gift her in return. But it was simply tradition, that for the first day of spring everyone had a new garment. So her green brother and erstwhile guest needed something new too, for luck. Honestly, Rowan thought he could probably use all the luck he could get.

     It was a fine warm day in mid April, when leaves were finally starting to show, and only the most stubborn bits of snow were sticking around in the darkest shadows, when Rowan was working in her garden.

“Little tree! You’re wearing pants!” 

The whippy rose vine Rowan had been arguing with slipped out of her hand as the twist tie sprang from her other, and she took the momentary break to glare at Remus, who had appeared in her personal bubble with no warning whatsoever.

“I wear pants all the time.” she retorted, giving him a half hearted shove. 

“Yeah, but usually you have dresses over ‘em.” theatrically, he collapsed to the scrubby grass outside the garden and sprawled in the sun. 

“Well, I learned that arguing with rose bushes in a dress doesn’t end well for the dress.” She grabbed hold again with her gloved hand, and pulled a fresh tie out of her apron pocket, lashing the thorny vine to the wrought iron trellis that kept most fae out of her garden. They could, in theory, pass under the iron arbor that faced the wood, wreathed as it was in plants, but until Remus it hadn’t been much of a problem. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly. He was looking better. He’d been kind of wan, a sickly sort of green rather than his normal healthy hue like a ripening acorn. 

“Starting to feel my oats.” He responded, tipping his face into the sun. “It’s a good spring. I’d say that spring was happy about something.” in the distance, a door opened and closed.

“Seasons do seem to have emotions.” She agreed, and had to step delicately over him to get to the next bush, pulling clippers from her pocket and studying the bush thoughtfully, before pruning a few branches, and returning to tucking them in safely so they wouldn’t grab passers by too badly.  That done she carried the trimmed branches away. D.N. emerged from the widdershins side of the house, having exited the front door and walked so he didn’t have to pass the rowan tree, even if he could do so under the protection of the porch. He glared down at Remus with frustration. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Having a kip?” Remus suggested, as Rowan stepped over him again to get back to the rose bushes. 

“You should tell me as soon as you come back from the forest.” he said grouchily, not making eye contact. 

“Well, not much is going on, so there’s nothing to tell you.” Remus shrugged. 

“That’s good right?” Rowan asked. 

“A secret unsaid is a secret kept.” D.N. muttered, not addressing Rowan at all. “What are you doing out there anyway?” 

“Favors.” Remus sighed. “So many favors. I’m not exactly a favorite right now. People don’t want me to do favors for them, but I need the currency. Also fixing up my house.” he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s kind of out of the way, so it might be safe enough. It’s nice enough to visit with my little tree, but…”

“We can’t stay here forever.” D.N. agreed. “It buzzes.” 

“Yeah.” Remus nodded. “So I’ve got some improvements to make, and gotta reassert my territory. No one got near the tree, but I don’t have much around it.” he clicked his tongue “Fun and all, but I’m in a hurry.”  he made a kissy face at them both. “But I’ll always hurry back to you.” 

Rowan snorted, and D.N. rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, glaring down at the green-clad fae. 

“I’m sure whatever you stay in is better than this.”

“Hey, owch. It’s a good house. We finally got the roof fixed last year.” Rowan glared, waving her clippers at him. D.N. leaned away. 

“Well it’s hardly the hovel I’ve seen other witches live in,” he sneered at the Victorian style house. “But it isn’t anywhere I would choose to stay.” 

“Sorry for not being a magical house.”

“Oh it’s full of magic alright. Human magic, thick and inelegant, like mud on the bottom of a pond.”

“I like mud.” Remus commented, popping up and bracing himself upright on his hands. Rowan noticed that his knuckles were reddened and split. Putting her clippers away again, she dug into her other pocket, coming up with a small, shallow clay pot, closed with a wide cork. She crouched down and grabbed one hand, dabbing the ointment onto the wounds. Remus obligingly offered his other hand when she was done. 

“Why was this in your pocket?”

“It’s better to get the ointment on big jabs right away, and I’m doing lawn work.” she shrugged, and went back to her work. 

After a while, Rowan finished her discussion with the rosebushes, and headed back inside without saying anything. Shortly after that, a car drove up hidden by the bulk of the house. Another short while later, it drove away again. Rowan returned to her garden, hooking her apron over her head again.

“Bloody busy-body is what she is.” Rowan grumbled to herself. “No need to come by every time, her tea hasn’t changed in over a year, if I wanted everyone coming by and bothering me all the time I’d start up a tea room in town and read palms and cards. It’s what I get for being helpful and offering to do a unique blend.” 

“Can you tell the future?” Remus asked, popping up on the other side of the hedge wall of rose bushes, making Rowan yelp and clutch her rake. 

“Like the weather.” She retorted. “Which is to say, not really worth anything.” 

“You’re a useless kind of witch, aren’t you?” sniffed D.N. who had taken up a seat in an Adirondack style chair they had acquired somewhere, and everyone in the Baker family hated, which is why it wasn’t on the porch.

“Yeah, kind of.” she didn’t rise to the bait, and watched him stare at the woods. “You could go, you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s keeping you here if you wanted to leave.”

“Little tree-” Remus said, sounding hurt. 

“Not you, you’re welcome any time. And for that matter, if he wants to go for a bit and come back, that’s fine.”

“I can’t actually. I have to ‘stay here’ until further notice.” 

“Oh right. Fairy parole officer.” Rowan sighed. “Well you could probably get as far as the property line, or where our ‘official’ lot meets up with the woods.”

“It isn’t as if I’m desperate to wander in the woodlands, Witch, I just don’t want to be here. At all.”

“Boy, do I hear that.”  she sighed deeply, pausing to look into the woods herself. The small leaves were misting the tips of the trees with color, and there was a smell of wet and rot in the air. It looked like a storm was building in the west.  It would probably hit the before nightfall, gathering the dark in the clouds and making the night come that much faster in the growing spring day. Better to get her gardening done before it hit, so she’d only have to repair the damage it did, not do that and the maintenance. The plants were being especially springy this year, and she was tempted to put this down to Remus’s presence. 

D.N. continued to watch her, as though she was some sort of reality TV show, while Remus sprawled in the scrubby grass next to his chair. 

When the first cold wet gust hit, all three of them headed inside.

     The storm was really having fun, so they were in Rowan’s room instead of the loft. Remus liked to hang out with both of them, so Rowan coming to work on whatever she was doing -some sort of project involving embroidery floss at the moment- and sit with Remus while Remus would root through her work basket, or bring out a pouch and do something himself- embroidery, or sharpening knives, occasionally woodcarving. Sometimes he’d sit behind Rowan and brush or play with her hair, braiding it into elaborate arrangements that she’d have to ask for help to undo.

Sometimes Danger Noodle would use Remus as a cushion or a backrest as if he was staking his claim. That night however, he’d pulled the beat up floral armchair Rowan kept next to one of her windows to a different window (further away from the dancing limbs of the rowan tree) and settled down with a book.

Rowan noticed that he would raise his hand and rub the back of his neck occasionally as if it were hurting. She nudged Remus’s leg and inclined her head at D.N. He shrugged.

“Are you in pain somehow?” Rowan asked, startling him into dropping his book.

“Kindly mind your own business.” Danger Noodle sneered. 

“Are you cold?” Remus asked. “You do-” he rubbed the back of his neck “lots.” 

D.N. growled under his breath, picking the book up. 

“It isn’t important.” He told them. 

“But it is a thing.”

“You never used to.”

He sighed, explosively. “Are you two going to leave me alone about this?”

“Well now I’m curious.” Rowan admitted tipping her head with a smile on her face that reminded D.N. far too much of Remus’s mischievous expression. If it weren’t for her obvious humanity, he would think they were siblings. “If you’re cold, I could get you a blanket, is all.” 

“I’m not cold.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a winter.”

She looked unimpressed. “So what’s with the lounging in sunbeams?” 

Danger Noodle sneered at her, scales glinting in the lamplight. 

“It's just a feeling.  It’s like a cold hand on the back of my neck, it’s not squeezing but it’s there.” D.N. spread his fingers over the back of his neck.  “Like something’s watching me, constantly.” 

“Huh.” Remus and Rowan said in unison, heads tipping to the side. Danger Noodle glared, there was no way they weren’t doing that on purpose. 

“Might be something?” Remus asked thoughtfully, looking at the corners of the room. 

“I’d want to keep an eye on him, if it were me.” Rowan admitted. 

D.N. sighed again, exasperated, then Remus perked up digging in one of the many pockets inside his vest.  After a search he came up with a bag, tied firmly shut with cord. He climbed off the bed and went to kneel next to the armchair instead. 

“I made this for you.” Remus opened the intricately tied knot, and from inside the bag, produced a scarf. It looked like heavy silk of some sort, dyed a beautiful saffron yellow, covered in single-thread embroidery. Vines twisted and twined along it, with a snake hidden among them.  D.N. stared at it for a long moment, then recoiled. 

“Are you out of your mind? Wait, never mind I retract the question.” 

“I made it for you a while ago but…” Remus admitted. “You wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I’m not taking it now.” He stood up, tossing the book on the chair. “What makes you think I would even want it?” 

“You’re not as strong now-” 

Danger Noodle hissed, flashing sharp teeth, pupils narrow. 

“-so I’m going to protect you until you’re stronger.” Remus finished as if  he hadn’t just been threatened. 

“I am still stronger than you.” the young fae said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height.

“Are you though?” Rowan asked, setting her project down and watching them. 

“I am certainly more powerful than you.” 

“Oh, that’s not even a question.” 

“So what this looks like is Remus is offering you his favor to wear, showing that you’re his...  I’m going to say ‘ward’, because you’re a kid.”

“I am not a kid!” D.N. retorted, stamping his foot like a child. 

“And therefore under his protection. Displaying a connection.” 

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.” Remus agreed. 

“Which is why I’m not interested.” 

“I don’t have to give you an oath to give you my favor.” Remus pointed out, he just stared up at Danger Noodle entreatingly.  The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the faint sound of someone watching a movie elsewhere in the house. D.N. rubbed the back of his neck again, and Rowan shivered, like a gust of cold air had made it through the window. Her eyes shut and she saw dead branches against a milky sky. Blinking the vision away, she got to see D.N. throw his hands in the air. 

“Uugh enough with the eyes. Fine. I’ll take it, but it doesn’t mean anything.” He accepted the scarf and looped it around his neck, spreading the folds upward to the base of his hair. 

“It means you’re wearing something I made you.” Remus pointed out and rose up, gathering Danger Noodle into a hug, to which he submitted, to Rowan’s surprise. “Which makes me happy.” 

“Mmgnh. Fuck off.” D.N. mumbled, face pressed to Remus’s bicep. 

Rowan decided not to comment on how cute it was.

[cablesscutie]

Oh could you do 3 or 17 for the zutara fluff prompt please?☺️

I love both of these- thank you! I'm going to save #17 for a little later, so here's #3: “You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Zuko flips down the visor in his car to fuss with his hair one last time. Mai and Ty Lee had insisted that he pull part of it up to keep him from hiding behind his hair like he was wont to do when he got nervous. In this particular situation, Zuko found that it made him extra nervous to know that he didn’t have that security blanket, scar on full display. This was why he didn’t do blind dates. This poor girl was already suffering through the awkwardness of an ex’s wedding, and now she was going to have to do it while pretending to be vaguely attracted to him.

Her text the previous night had included a reminder of the time and address, as well as an apologetic note that, hey I’m sorry to heap more awkward on this, but apparently this ex is friends with another of my ex’s and it ended Badly...and I might’ve implied that you were a little more significant to me than a blind date? Really I’m so so sorry and I can tell them you have food poisoning or something if this is too awkward, but really all you have to do is not mention that we’re strangers. Sorry!! He’d had absolutely zero clue how to appropriately respond to that message. His first impulse had been to think that of course he didn’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend in front of not one, but two of her ex’s. But Mai probably wouldn’t see this as too much for the favor he owed her. Then his brain had flitted unwillingly to the Instagram account Ty Lee had showed him, and before he could stop himself, his fingers were tapping out That’s fine - see you then.

“Okay,” Zuko sighs, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. He closes his eyes and pulls in a deep breath, holds it, and on the exhale unclenches his hands and forces himself out of the car. The temple rises up before him in a series of spires and exterior staircases, terraced gardens overflowing with practical plants rising up around all of it. He follows the trickle of people who seem like they know where they’re going, glancing about idly for a familiar face.

She finds him first, which he probably should’ve expected given that his face stands out pretty clearly. She’s also more petite than he’d expected. If she weren’t wearing heels, the top of her head would probably tuck easily under his chin. Zuko shakes his head quickly to erase the thought before it can take hold properly, which unfortunately comes at the same instant that she asks, “Zuko?” and leaves her blinking at him in utter confusion. “Oh. I, uh.”

“I mean yes!” he rushes to correct, reaching out to grab her elbow as she starts to turn away. “Zuko. Me. I mean.” Fuck, he’s such a moron. He clears his throat and holds out his hand to shake. “Hi, Zuko here.” There’s a familiar and terrible heat in his cheeks and spilling down his neck, and he wishes to Agni not for the first time that he could be anyone but Zuko right now.

Katara laughs at him, as she should, but it is a kind laughter, all dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes. The pictures hadn’t done her justice. “Hi Zuko,” she says, taking his hand and shaking it. “Katara here.” He can’t help but return her smile, goofy as it probably comes across. “Thank you again so much for coming to this shitshow,” she tells him as she drops his hand. “We should probably head inside - it’s starting soon.”

Zuko offers her his arm to be escorted up the stairs of the temple. It’s an old-fashioned gesture that has always gotten mixed reception, but Uncle has drilled manners into him so relentlessly that he always falls back on them reflexively when in a panic. Luckily, she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow with a smile, and his shoulders settle as he guides them both. Along the way, she catches him focusing on the planters, and asks, “do you like gardening?”

“My mother did,” he says reflexively, and he turns to her in time to catch the very moment she registers the past tense. He wants to kick himself for setting up pity or prying questions, but she just gives his arm a slight squeeze and says,

“So did mine. The flowers blooming every summer was her favorite part of the year.”

Usually, he is precious with his memories, but hearing the echo of his own grief in her wistful tone makes him actually want to share his mother with her. “She came from a family of traditional healers, and wanted to keep up the knowledge, so she grew all kinds of herbs and wildflowers that were used in old cures.”

She hums, and they walk along in silence for another moment before she says, “Did she teach you anything?”

“She started to.” It’s bittersweet, his mother’s unfinished legacy. “I have her books though, so maybe someday I’ll finish studying them.” Katara smiles at him, part sympathy, part understanding. Zuko’s heart pounds. When her eyes meet his, he almost wants to hide because it feels like she can see too much.

“Did you learn any cures for nerves?” Katara asks, the sardonic dip of her voice a gift to lighten the mood. Zuko smiles back, starting to laugh off the heavy conversation, but a flash of something catches his attention.

Katara’s eyes go wide as he lets go of her to crouch down and carefully pick a purple blossom. He does it just the way his mother had shown him, finding the right joint in the stem to make sure it will grow back, and with a gentle bend and twist, it breaks between his fingers. The fragrance follows him as he rises and offers the sprig of lavender to Katara. In trying to indicate that she should smell it, he almost shoves it up her nose when she leans towards it, but she giggles and wrinkles her nose adorably. Her fingers fold around his as she slips the stem out of his grasp.

“Thank you.

“Mom used to put a little vase of lavender in me and my sister’s rooms to help us sleep,” Zuko explained.

“I feel better already.” She sniffs the flower again as she slips her arm through his again to properly enter the ceremony space, her eyes fluttering closed for a fraction of a second that steals his breath away. This is actually going well, he thinks in utter astonishment. I keep tripping over my tongue like a moron, but for some reason she seems to like it. A voice in the back of his head that sounds uncomfortably like his teenage self sneers, Wow, she must be really desperate not to look single. Must be some impressive ex’s. Zuko’s heart stutters and slows back to normal. Right. This is a favor. He needs to focus.

Not least because his distraction causes him to walk right into the man who appears in front of Katara. “Sorry,” he says reflexively, stumbling back. Katara’s grip on his arm has tightened, keeping him from dragging both of them off balance. Despite her small stature, she is rooted firmly, anchoring them both. He realizes why as soon as the guy pretends to dust off his sport coat (which is not particularly neat to begin with) and purrs, “So Kat, this is the new guy?” as though Zuko isn’t even there. So this is the other ex.

“Zuko,” he and Katara say at the same time, in the same steely tone.

The ex looks briefly startled, but recovers enough to shake Zuko’s hand. “The name’s Jet.”

Zuko has never met Jet before, and yet he knows from the curl of his smile that he has made out with several Jets at various parties in college. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Jet squeezes Zuko’s hand a little harder, just to the edge of macho discomfort. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Katara scoffs - almost inaudibly, but it’s there - and Zuko can’t help but look to her and say, “It would be, wouldn’t it?” It’s the kind of snarky remark he and Mai used to share under their breath at their parents’ insufferable dinner parties back in high school. The two women are nothing alike, but there is something similar to the ease he feels with his best friend as he stands beside her. She bites her lip, and her eyes glitter with silent laughter, and Zuko feels a much gentler heat kindling under his skin. Jet manages to look confused and dismissive in one twitch of his ridiculous eyebrows, but returns his attention to Katara undeterred. His eyes linger as they trace obviously over the v of her dress’s neckline and admittedly tempting curves draped in navy satin before he flashes her a pair of puppy dog eyes and asks, “Save me a dance?” When she doesn’t immediately respond, he tilts his head and entreats, “For old times’ sake?”

Zuko is irritated to once again be entirely ignored, and the possessive part of him wants to snap at Jet that all of Katara’s dances are already reserved for him. Hard-earned self control wins out though, and Zuko manages to remind himself that despite his attraction and the ruse he is meant to be perpetuating, he is not actually Katara’s boyfriend. There is no real reason for him to be upset if she chooses to dance with Jet. There are several reasons for the flutter in his chest when her expressive face hardens to stone.

There is no excuse or cutting joke, just one word, a complete sentence: “No.” She gives him nothing to play off of, no buttons to push or entreaties to make, and he backs down quickly.

“Oh. Uh. Okay, I guess I’ll just...see you at the reception?”

“Yeah, you’ll see us there,” Zuko cuts in, mouth stumbling ahead without him. He puts too much significance on the word us, but seems to bother Jet, and Katara leans into his side, so he figures it’s okay. Jet lifts his chin in a parting nod to him. Zuko just meets his eyes evenly as the other man turns away to find his seat. Shaking his head as he watches the guy go, Zuko says, “Pft. If your friend invited that guy, I think you need better friends,” because he has no filter. And then he remembers yet again that he doesn’t know Katara, much less her friends, and he is overstepping all over this situation. His free hand comes up to smack himself in the face. “Shit. Sorry I’m probably screwing this up so bad; I’m the worst blind date in history.”

A small, warm hand closes around his wrist and tugs his hand away. Katara shifts to stand in front of him, blocking the rest of the wedding full of strangers from his view as his attention narrows only to the bounce of her hair and the crescent of her smile.

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

Here's the prompt list!

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 23

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Christmas morning finally arrives, and you and Bucky come to a decision.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild sexual content, fluff, mild angst, references to asexuality

AO3

Whether by habit or some instinctual memory of being back in this room on this day, your body knew to wake you up at the crack of dawn, which would have been a bummer if not for one important fact.

You were warmly tucked within the embrace of one sleeping demon. Definitely sleeping this time because his wings were draped over you like a blanket and his tail was looped snug around your leg.

Closing your eyes and releasing a sigh, you reveled in the warm security of Bucky’s chest pressed against your back. Neither of you had bothered to get dressed after last night, and all of him was pressed against you in the best way. You were on the edge between vibrating out of your skin in nervous energy and melting into a puddle from the intimate contact.

Perhaps your silent agitation woke him, because Bucky nosed against your neck and gave a raspy “morning” as he stretched and hugged you closer.

“M-morning,” you returned, stuttering while his stiffening cock pressed against your ass. Falling asleep naked was, in hindsight, not the wisest idea.

“Uh, sorry—“

Bucky began to roll away but you snatched his arm in time and draped it back over your waist.

“It’s fine, really, just… stay a little while?”

Bucky paused then rolled back the rest of the way, and you sighed at the return of warmth.

“We… we should probably talk about this…”

“Later.”

You rolled onto your other side until you were facing him and got an amazing view of his collarbone. Nuzzling against his chest, you made a satisfied hum in your throat.

Bucky let out a breathless laugh and ran his fingers through your hair. The humming intensified.

“You’re like a cat,” he remarked, his other hand tracing along the curve of your spine. “Craving warmth and attention.”

“I’m not the one with pointy ears and a tail.”

You gave the hollow dip at the base of his throat a lick for good measure. He stiffened and groaned, his cock now at full mast and pressed against your hip.

“Are you… uh… still hungry?” you asked, clearing your throat when your voice cracked like a teenage boy.

“Mmmm nope. Still very full from last night. This is… all you.”

Face on fire, you buried your face deeper in his neck. Bucky just laughed, the rumbling sound both comforting and rekindling the warmth in your gut.

“We should probably get up,” he sighed into your hair, then chuckling at your muffled groan. “I don’t want to leave this bed either, but… we’ll have lots of time once we get back to the city to…”

He trailed off at you staring up at him with big, wide eyes. His cheeks flushing pink was a rare, wonderful sight.

“We get to do this more?” you asked, daring not to hope. “Not just for feedings?”

He swallowed hard and licked his lips, tempting you to taste them again. You didn’t know how you would manage to keep your hands to yourself now that you knew what this was like.

“That’s what we should talk about.”

You huffed and let your forehead smash into the pillow. He rubbed your back sweetly but was definitely grinning down at you as he said, “You’re the one who said we should communicate more clearly.”

“Ugghhh,” was your answer muffled by the pillow.

Bucky smiled and kissed the top of your head, the amused, fond expression never quite leaving his face as the two of you got dressed. You couldn’t help sneaking glances at him; with or without the guise, his body was a goddamn meal in every sense of the word.

Coming downstairs meant you were met with the strong smell of pancakes, cinnamon, and hazelnut wafting through the house. Your mom and aunt were both working on breakfast, while your uncle shoveled the driveway and walkway  to clear the snow from the night.

Bucky volunteered to help him, and with a parting kiss on the crown of your head, he put on his windbreaker and disappeared out the front door.

Unlike all the other gestures of affection put on for show, this one left you flushed with a pounding heart. The knowing glance your mother and aunt shared made the heat in your face worse, but at least they were merciful enough to keep their comments to themselves.

Just kidding.

“Jacob seems very nice,” your mother said in that way mothers had of doing trying to prod for more information and thought they were being sneaky. “Will we get to see him over more holidays?”

You were in the middle of retrieving cartons of grapes, kiwis, and persimmons from the fridge in order to help make the fruit salad when you froze. Having Bucky over for… holidays? You jumped forward to other questions. What about birthday parties? Next holiday season?

How long was the shelf life of a demon pact? You couldn’t remember what the book had said, if anything.

“Sweetie?”

You blinked, struggled to form a steady smile, and turned back to the fruit when it didn’t quite work.

“Yeah, hopefully,” you answered weakly.

She shuffled closer and you could sense her staring, the weight of her concern pressing on your shoulders.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

The fruit cartons were cold in your hands, and the cool water you used to wash them with did nothing to stop the chill creeping over you.

“Course, Mom. Why?”

“Well…” She stood next to you to take the washed fruits and chop up the larger ones on the cutting board. “Because I know at the beginning of these things, when everything is new and intense, it can be a little… scary.”

You snorted. Now there was an understatement.

“But I know it’s going to all work out,” she said. “With Jacob, or whatever’s going on in your life, it’ll be okay. I just… have a feeling about it.”

You nodded and ducked your head, fighting back the sudden well of tears when your mother reached over and hugged you against your side as if you were a little kid again.

“But if anything is bothering you, I want you to tell me.” She squeezed your arm, and you smiled despite yourself. “Even if there’s nothing I can do, I’m your mother and I want to know.”

You did want to tell her, so badly. You gave another weak nod and a thanks, Mom so she’d leave the subject alone. You didn’t know where this surge of emotions was coming from, but everything felt too heavy and too much. It was Christmas morning, everyone was safe and healthy, and there was no reason you should be on the verge of crying into the fruit salad.

As soon as Bucky returned with your uncle and settled his gaze on you, his brows creased and he frowned. But there was no time to talk; your sister and her family had arrived, and it was a gentle sort of pandemonium after that. Embraces and excited conversation as everyone gathered around the tree. There were no children left in the family, with the exception of your two month old nephew, but it was a tradition you continued long after childhood.

Bucky kept shooting you concerned glances throughout the entire gathering, even after you decided to drop your own problems and focus on your family’s happiness. Your aunt and uncle were avid outdoors explorers, so shopping for them had been easy. Binoculars, survival gear, hiking boots, all pretty standard stuff. Your mother and sister had been harder, but some cute t-shirts and new books from their favorite authors had done the trick.

You were still bothered by the fact you hadn’t given Bucky anything. Last night had been something out of a fantasy, and that was before you’d managed to get Bucky into bed, and not having a gift for him was unacceptable.

After all the presents were opened and everyone got comfortable around the living room in what you recognized would be hours of slightly boring, adult conversation, Bucky caught your eye and nudged his chin towards the backdoor. Nodding discretely, you excused yourselves with the reason that you were going for a walk, and grabbed Bucky’s hand to lead him into the backyard.

You’d barely been outside ten seconds before Bucky sighed, turned right back around, and disappeared inside with the instructions to sit tight. You rolled your eyes when he reappeared with your jacket and beanie in hand.

“I’m not going to die of exposure from being out in the snow for a few minutes underdressed,” you griped.

“Uh-huh.” Bucky ignored you as he shoved the beanie over your head and used your flailing to slip your arms through the sleeves.

“You’re such a mother hen.”

“Well, one of us has to look out for you.”

“I am. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” You shook your finger at him.

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed you and lifted you up in his arms. “Is that why you couldn’t bother to put slippers on before going out in the snow?”

You buried your face in his chest so Bucky couldn’t see your expression. So what if you’d been so distracted you’d basically run outdoors in your pajamas?

He smirked and carried you to the old swing set you hadn’t been on since you were a kid. Only two seats, it had been built by your uncle soon after your sister had been born. It was one of your favorite childhood spots, and as Bucky set you down on one of the swings, you wondered if he knew that.

Bucky sat on the other swing and immediately picked up your legs and put them into his lap. You opened your mouth to complain, but closed it again. Bucky was softly smiling at you, and you couldn’t remember him ever looking so… happy.

��So…” You wiggled your legs and focused on your wet socks rather than your feelings. “Is this why you lured me away? You wanted to play on the swing set?”

You expected Bucky to be flustered or embarrassed by your teasing. Instead, he leaned across the small space and pulled your legs at the same time so you were practically sitting sidesaddle in his lap. He grinned at your shocked expression.

“No. But now that you bring it up…”

Bucky closed the last few inches and captured your lips in a soft, light kiss. It still hit you like a ton of bricks and you would have fallen backwards off your swing if Bucky hadn’t been there to wrap his arms around you.

You were in a daze by the time you separated. He chuckled at your expression but didn’t move far, and you were tempted to kiss him again.

“We still have to talk.”

You scrunched up your nose.

“Must we?” you asked. “Or should we make out instead.”

Bucky grinned wide enough to show perfectly white teeth.

“Maybe after.”

“I’m listening,” you said with your best innocent, attentive look. Bucky didn’t buy it, but he did kiss you on the tip of your nose before leaning back a more appropriate distance. Disappointing.

“Last night was…” Bucky’s gaze dropped, a thumb absently rubbing circles into your knee. “I don’t have words for it. It was incredible and amazing…

“But…” You exhaled heavily and leaned your forehead against the cold chain of the swing. Here was the it’s not you, it’s me talk. This was exactly why you didn’t want to have this discussion—

“But.” His other hand squeezed your leg, gently, to catch your attention. When he had it, he said, “I want to be a hundred percent certain it’s what you want.”

Oh. Not quite what you’d expected.

“Bucky… It’s… of course it’s what I want.” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them. “I’ve wanted this for a while now and didn’t have the guts to express that until last night.”

“Huh.” He blinked, mouth slightly ajar as if he’d never considered that before. “I... I’m asking because the bond makes things a lot more complicated. How do we know what’s binding magic and what’s… I mean… even if it’s not the bond, we’re still forced to have sex, and it’s easy to get attachments when you—“

You didn’t mean to let the giggle escape, but once it had, Bucky stared at you like you’d grown a second head. The confused-Bucky-face didn’t help, either.

“I’m not… not laughing at you,” you said, smiling. “I’m laughing because I think I understand what you’re worried about, and Bucky? That’s not what’s going on here.”

Bucky searched your face and frowned.

“But how do you know that?” he asked. “You could be confusing the feelings from sex for something else. Something more.”

Your smile widened as you struggled not to laugh again. You really didn’t want Bucky to take it the wrong way, misunderstand it for the relief it was.

“I know because my brain doesn’t work like that. Never has,” you said. “I don’t get ‘sexual feelings’ from looking at attractive people. Having sex with them wouldn’t change that. So… I’m trying to say, I don’t like you because of the bond, or the sex. I like you apart from all that. One’s got nothing to do with the other.”

He stared at you so long you fidgeted under his gaze.

“Is that why you haven’t been in many relationships?”

You winced and buried your face in your hands. Sometimes, you forgot this was the guy who’d been watching over you most of your life and knew you better than anyone.

Gentle hands pulled your arms away from your face, his expression kind and a little bit sad.

“It’s not a judgement,” he said quietly. “I always wondered why you were alone. Couldn’t understand it.”

You couldn’t meet his eye, the tightness in your chest suffocating, bordering on painful. All those years you’d been alone, believing you’d always be that way, never knowing Bucky existed. Countless nights you’d curled up in bed, heart aching with loneliness, and he’d been out there just… thinking about you?

Bucky wasn’t the only one with a low sense of self-worth. You just buried yours better.

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard. “I don’t feel attracted to people very often. And when I do, it just… doesn’t work out.”

Your stomach clenched and you wondered if you might barf right there in the snow, or worse, on Bucky’s lap. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation, not so soon and not here. You weren’t prepared for it, for his inevitable rejection. For the pity in his eyes as he finally understood.

“Or I’m not what they want.” Your voice was flat. Clinical. In direct opposition to the anxiety buzzing under your skin. “It’s as simple as that. I don’t blame anyone for wanting something I can’t give them. It’s… it’s no one’s fault…”

Despite the familiar words you had recited to yourself over and over, your vision blurred. You tried to retract your arms out of Bucky’s grip, but he pulled you forward against his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. The swing slipped out from under you, and now you really were in his lap. He didn’t seem to mind as he rubbed your back and propped his chin on top of your hair.

“It’s all right,” he said, low and comforting. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t.” You pressed closer against his chest, barely feeling the freezing temperature while wrapped in Bucky’s warmth. “I just want you to know that if I’m not what you want, then… bond or not, you don’t owe me anything.”

Bucky slowly pulled back and cupped your cheeks in his gloved hands, one stiffer than the other. His eyes were so gentle it was hard to breathe.

“I believe that’s my line.”

You rolled your eyes, if only so you wouldn’t start crying like a baby. You hadn’t realized how much emotional weight you’d been carrying until now.

“You’re stuck with me, Barnes. I told you that.”

He stroked your cheek, his gaze suddenly very far away as if he was seeing something else.

“And I made a promise a long time ago that I would always protect you,” he said. “Which I will continue to do, no matter where this goes or what happens between us.

“But,” he added, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with warmth, “I’m also extremely selfish and hoping we can continue what we’ve started. Whatever you’re willing to give me, whatever you’re comfortable with sharing, will be more than enough for me. Because you are more than enough for me.”

Great, now your eyes were burning for a totally different reason. Your anxiety had vanished, but now it felt like this burning affection was going to burst out of your chest like a baby xenomorph.

Before you could wonder if Bucky had seen any of the Alien series, and would you be able to rope him into watching them with you, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth.

And then you ruined the tender moment by grinning like an idiot and chirping, “So-o-o-o does that make you my demon boyfriend?”

“Oh, my God.”

“And me, your adorable human girlfriend?”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back and leaned away to give you a narrow-eyed glare.

“Yes.” He ended the syllable on a slight hiss, narrowing his eyes further when you grinned. “You might regret this, you know.”

“I regret getting out of bed every day. You?” You grinned. “No. Not a chance I’ll regret you.”

“I’m not sure whether to be assured or worried.”

You gave him a sympathetic pat on the cheek.

“Millennial humor. You’ll get used to it.”

Bucky leaned forward, his mouth suddenly very close, making you flush in record time.

“You do realize your generation did not invent fatalistic humor.”

“Yeah? Tell me more, Gramps.”

The crash of his lips against yours might have been a form of payback for your smart mouth, but you welcomed it gladly.

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