#i... did not intend for this to be over 1700 words

[the-kr8tor]

BOO!

A queer has appeared in your ask box yet again for his one other silly request for the holidays (wonderful)

How about Valentine's Day shenanigans with Ftm reader where both them and Hobie go on a little escape through different dimensions and they finally head back home the whole band has finished preparing his houseboat for you guys! (The end result being more of a friendship day than necessarily romantic)

-🪦

I hope this is okay! Thank you for requesting ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x ftm! Reader/ Spider-Punk x ftm! Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, spider-person! Reader, artist! Reader, established relationship, CW food mentions, spider trio cameo, fluff!

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Hobie finds you all scrunched up on an office swivel chair, back turned away from him and eyes narrowed at something. The spider society is awfully quiet today because of the holiday. It seems that most of the spideys are in their respective dimensions to celebrate it with their MJs, Gwens, Neds, and loved ones. Meanwhile you're in the dorms, sun shining down on you from the large windows that presents 2099 scenery while music blasts from your headphones.

You've given him your key card for whenever he wants to give you a visit or stay in the room when he's hiding from Miguel. This time though, he has something else in mind.

As he steps closer to you, boots walking softly on the carpet, he intends to not make you scream bloody murder from the surprised intrusion. So instead of snaking his arms around you, he kneels down to your side and gently takes one of your earbuds off. It still has you jumping in place, hand placed on your chest.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, hands immediately hiding the canvas on top of you. “Hobie! What are you doing here?”

Hobie raises an amused brow, glancing at the small canvas then back to you. “What do you mean what am I doin' ‘ere? You invited me over, love.”

“I–I did.” You stutter, paint brush falling from your hand, which he catches effortlessly as red paint smudges on his glove. “Sorry,” he hands it to you and you give him a thankful yet wobbly smile. “It's just— you're a bit early.”

He places his arms atop of the armrest and puts his chin on top of his arm, head tilted as he gazes fondly at you. “Am I always that late?”

You chuckle, nudging his chin with your thumb. “Not always.” inhaling, you bite your lip. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Independence day?” He teases, lips curling into a smirk.

You roll your eyes but your smile says otherwise. “It's probably independence day somewhere.”

Nodding, he chuckles. “What ‘bout today, hm?” Poking your bicep, you lean back on the chair.

“It's Valentine's day, Hobs.”

“And ‘ere I thought it's national sandwich day or some shit.” He mirrors your smile. “That for me then?” He gestures towards the obvious heart shaped canvas laying on your chest.

“How presumptuous of you.” Feigning a scoff, he sees right through you, but he decides to go along with your bit.

Sighing, his shoulders slump down. “Too bad, I thought we'd be exchangin’ presents.”

Your face brightens up. “You got me something?”

“We have to go to it, love.” Standing up, he offers you a hand. “C’mon then.”

“I– ah…” you take a nervous peek at the painting and then at his hand.

“No entrance gift required, love.” He says softly, knowing that you're still unsure of your present. He already knows that whatever it is, he'll love it regardless. “Let’s go before Miguel realizes we're gone.”

Without sparing a second thought, you take his hand.

—

The kaleidoscopic lights of the portal whizzes by whilst Hobie still holds your hand in his. It's not necessarily needed, but his excuse was that he doesn't want you getting lost. As if that's possible, but you still hold onto him, squeezing his hand.

The two of you land within a minute, landing in a dimension that looks like it was painted during the 1700s with its oil paints greeting you and a scenery that looks like it was plucked from a classical painting. Even the place smells like a painter's workshop as a swirly patterned breeze passes by.

“Woah!” You jump in place, eyes wide at the beautiful sight in front of you.

“Knew you'd like it.”

Turning to him, you pounce and embrace him, face tucked on the crook of his neck. “I love it! How'd you even find this dimension?” Leaning away, he grins at you, or you assume he is under his mask.

“Passed by it after I mispressed a number.”

“A happy misstep then.” You smile under your mask, and the two of you wish that you could take off the respective fabric.

Hobie hums in reply, tugging you away with his hand laced around your own. “Got somethin’ ‘ere for you.”

“My present?” Your face is starting to hurt from all the smiling.

He glances at you, intertwined hands casually placed inside his vest pocket while he continues to lead you somewhere.

“Come on, not even a hint?”

He still doesn't reply, just tugging you along the painted streets. A few people pass by and give the two of you a look because of the suits and masks but they mind their business and continue to walk away.

Leaning on his shoulder, you shake your head while admiring the streets. “Fine then, keep your secrets.”

“You just have to wait a few minutes, love.” Hobie squeezes your hand as the two of you stop by a park filled with fragrant wildflowers.

You turn to him, squeezing back his hand. “You're a sap, Hobie.” Nudging his shoulder with your chin, you blink slowly at him that reminds him of a cat he once took care of. “So a stroll around the pretty park then?”

“Better,” he moves to the side, showing off a sign that says you can pick the flowers as long as you only take the ones you need. Your heart swells with glee. “This dimension has flowers that grow really fast so they have places like these to lessen ‘em.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you twist around him to grab a pair of scissors and a wicker basket from the pile that they specifically left for the occasion. “Just confess that you're a sap.”

Hobie snatches the scissors away from you teasingly, eyes shining under the painted sky. “You can't be trusted with sharp things.” He walks further inside, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey! That was one time!” You bolt, following him.

—

Your basket is filled with red and pink flowers that you and Hobie painstakingly picked. Your hands smell of petals and the earth, while your knees are scruffed from kneeling down to snip off flowers. You don't mind the extra dry cleaning fee on your suit when Hobie's vest has leaves sticking out from its spikes and pins after accidentally falling down on a flowery bush.

“I told you to be careful. Your high platform boots are definitely not right for this environment.” You say as you pluck a blue petal from his hair.

“Don't shit talk my boots, love.” He says while he peeks at you whilst you continue to clean all the clinging greenery on him.

“It's not like you need the extra height, Hobie.” You dust your hands on your legs, still smiling at him. “Done! How are we gonna bring that home?” Gesturing towards the basket looped around his arm, he flicks away a fallen leaf from your shoulder.

“They have a place to wrap it, c’mon.” He walks ahead of you, hand reaching behind him and beckoning you over.

You jog to catch up with his long legs, hand magnetized to his own. As you curl your hand around him, he glances at you with a fond smile.

“You pick the paper, yeah?”

You nod enthusiastically, humming happily with the chirping birds above. “And you pick the ribbons.” He chuckles, bringing your hand close to his lips to give it a chaste kiss. “Where to next? Home?”

Again, he only glances at you with a knowing smile.

“Staying silent again, Hobie?” You narrow your eyes at him. “We're not going home yet?”

He smiles like a cheshire cat, teasing you as he tugs you closer.

“Cheeky bastard.” Your jab earns a hearty laugh from him.

—

The orange and yellow lights from the portal illuminate the side of your face briefly as you exit it. You're immediately in awe of what's in front of you, arm clasped around the bouquet of flowers with its red ribbons and blue wrapper that crinkles as you unconsciously squeeze it against your chest. You yank your mask off to see it all fully.

“Holy shit.” And here you thought the last dimension was the prettiest.

In front of you lies sprawling mountains, tall and ancient as it reaches the clouds and scraping the sky. Dusk paints the heavens, a mix of purple hues and warm orange dancing along the swirling clouds. Shining stars twinkle around the mountains, as if it circles around the mountain tops and gives them a crown of light and stars. The double moons are a sight to behold, both yellow and bright as if it's a cat's eyes watching you.

“Are we still on earth?” You breathlessly say as a cold breeze passes by and the grass dances in the wind. Turning to Hobie, you find him already gazing at you softly. Mask tucked inside his pocket and looking at you like you're the stars above. You beckon him over, fingers motioning for him to stand by your side. “Hobie,” you whisper his name, letting the wind carry it.

He calls for you with the same fondness, hand grasping your own, warming you with his mere touch. “Yeah, we're still on earth.”

“Well, I feel that our earth is inferior compared to this one.” You tug him close, palm placed right on his beating heart whilst he holds you by your hip affectionately.

“If it makes you feel better, all their food tastes bland ‘ere.” His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing along your nape.

“Shit, really?”

“Like water.” He nods, smiling at your shocked expression. “We'd eat ‘ere if it wasn't.”

“Imagine a picnic up here.”

“With tea and crumpets.”

“With marmalade and hot potato chips.”

He makes a face then chuckles, “weird combination but sure, why not, love, hm?”

“Don't knock it till you try it.” You giggle as you sit down on the soft blades of grass. Cradling the bouquet, you give it a sniff, it's still fresh and its painted petals are still beautiful as ever. He follows suit, sitting beside you as he grabs your waist to scooch you closer to his side. His palm stays on your waist, lovingly squeezing it once. “Thank you for today, Hobie.”

He sighs longingly as he stares into your eyes and watches the starry sky reflect on it. “What use is our interdimensional watch if we don't use it for dates, right?”

You chuckle, thumb brushing along his jaw before kissing the scruff on his cheek. “You're right,” you whisper against his skin as you pepper him with kisses that he takes wholeheartedly with a chuckle that's more akin to a giggle. “I have something for you.” Your stomach flips.

Hobie cranes his neck to look at you, hand sliding up your back to reassure. “Yeah?” His smile grows as you give him a nervous nod. “Why are you all nervous, hm?”

“Because you might not like it. I don't know.”

“Who said that? C’mon, unless it's my guitar in a hundred pieces ‘m sure I'll love it.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath as he smiles with endearment. Rummaging through your pocket, feeling through the hammerspace, you procure a small heart shaped canvas that you painted as best as you can with his likeness. You found that it's nearly impossible to capture his handsome face simply on paper. “Here you go. Please don't laugh. I tried.”

“Love.” He says it as if there's a ‘really?’ right before it. Staring at the painting, he finds that you've painted him in your art style perfectly. From the colours you used and from his smile, he thinks it deserves to be in a museum. “You’re bloody brilliant, c’mere.” Pulling you closer, he presses his lips against yours in a loving kiss that simply leaves you with stars dancing behind your eyes.

Hobie reluctantly pulls away as you're smiling against his lips. He gives you another peck, then another to the corner of your lips, and then one last affectionate one on your temple.

“I'm guessing you loved it?” You joke, hands gripping on his suit.

His irises are the size of dinner plates as he gazes at you warmly. “It's perfect.”

Grinning, you cup his cheek and give him a big kiss right on his warm skin. “I'm glad, so fucking glad.” You sigh, relieved.

Hand tracing your spine, he stares at the painting that fits perfectly in his palm. His eyes narrow at a particular detail on it. “I don't remember havin’ this pendant.”

You lean away, hands still on his chest as you take a peek at the painting. “Oh, almost forgot.” Digging into your pocket once more, you feel a small smooth box on your hand and take it out for him.

“I've got two presents?” He excitedly says like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I couldn't settle for just one.” You bashfully say as he opens the box. “It's for your necklace, the guitar pick on it seemed lonely.”

His face lights up further at the dainty silver pendant that's shaped like his own guitar shines in the light. Gingerly picking it up, he twirls it around his fingers, seeing your initials right next to his own engraved on it. “Shit.”

“Good shit or bad shit?”

He nods, still grinning. “Good shit,” you laugh as he embraces you. “Thank you, love.”

“Come on, let's put it in your necklace.”

—

Once again, the portal closes behind you. This time, home greets you. The houseboat floats in place, tilting with the tiny waves that laps at its sides. It's the same sight as always, the same sky and the same single moon. But you wouldn't have it any other way, it's home because of him, and you'd choose it over all the pretty places you just visited.

Hobie's arm is around your shoulder as he casually leans on you tiredly. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” You nuzzle the crook of his neck, arm occupied with your big bouquet. “Good thing Miguel didn't notice us gone because I can't have another Miguel burger for dinner again.”

“It has an aftertaste, no?”

“Right? I thought I was the only one who noticed that.” You say as he opens the front door. Hobie didn't use the key, you find it weird. Hopefully you didn't get robbed. Your senses don't go off, so probably not.

The scent of baked goods and savoury supper hits you immediately, making your stomach growl.

“Surprise!” Pavitr exclaims, jumping up and down.

“What?!” You stand there, flabbergasted at the trio together with the spider band all lounging around the house boat. The place has heart shaped streamers hastily tacked on the walls while candles flicker on the dinner table that's filled with all the food your stomach yearns for. You look at Hobie as he gives you a proud look while his chest puffs out and his lips smug.

“Happy valentine's day!” Yuri struts towards you, giving you a half hug while Hobie still hasn't let go of you. “Genius here lured us all in here for dinner.”

Ned slumps on the patchwork couch, tiredness seeping out of him. “I thought there's dinner waiting for us and it turns out he got us to cook for everyone!”

“Well, he did leave all the ingredients out for us.” Gwen defends Hobie, who gives her a nod. Gwen in turn flips him the bird. Hobie feigns an offended gasp and then flips her the bird while Miles guffaws right next to Gwen.

“I'm so happy you're all here!” If your heart couldn't get any fuller, it'll burst into a million tiny hearts out of your chest.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, can we eat now?” James whines on the dinner table, spoon and fork already in hand. “You two took your sweet time.”

With a chuckle, you spend the rest of Valentine's day with your loved ones while Hobie's hand never truly left your side throughout the whole night.

[littleplantfreak]

Down to my level pt. 2 (SFW)

Starring: Sugishita Kyotaro (he's 6'3 but idk how tall he is when he's all hunched over)

(It's a little different than the first two I did with Umemiya and Togame but I intended to stop near 500 words and I accidentally surpassed it and wrote 1700+ so although Hiragi was suppose to be here to he'll have to wait till next round sorry Ragi-chan!🥺)

When you first met Sugishita Kyotaro (if you could call it a meeting), he walked smack into the door frame of the local library. It didn't phase him in the slightest, but it sure as hell scared you enough to drop the books you were re-shelving. Looking around the bookcase, you can see the boy's forehead already showing tell-tale signs of a goose egg as he rubs it before bringing books to the main counter.

"Ah Kyo-chan! Returning Umemiya's gardening books again?" Hina-san, the head librarian, asks in delight before whisking the books away. "Do you mind helping an old lady move some boxes in the back? I have some snacks in the kitchen once you're done," she says, leading him into the back room before he can say a word. Not that he says anything after that; he just ducks through the doorway careful not to hit his head again.

Picking the books up and continuing where you left off, your mind wandered a bit to that boy. Glossy black hair falling in his face and a scowl that only softened slightly when Hina spoke with him, and he was wearing a Furin jacket to boot. He might be a little cute, you tell yourself before remembering that he could also end up being some scary violent guy that would beat you up if you said the wrong thing to him.  After a bit, he comes back out into the main room with Hina, and you end up spying crumbs left on the side of his mouth from the Madeline cookies you'd brought in the day before. You would have tried to warn him if Hina hadn't already made him lower his face to dust him off while she laughs. He looks completely used to this treatment and you give him the benefit and decide he is definitely cute, Furin boy or not. Sugishita catches the smallest glimpse of you peeking around the corner with your arms full of books before heads off for patrol.

The librarian told him you'd been working part-time during the school year, full time during breaks, and that you were a shy one, so he has to be careful not to scare you away. Funny thing is, you didn't look shy at all earlier. Eyes full of curiosity and a smidge of apprehension, there was no fear in the look you gave him both times you clocked him coming and going from the library. Sugishita thinks to make note of your name only because Umemiya-san said it's important to remember the names of the people around you, even if you don't use them often. It also happened to be a nice one, though if anyone asked him, he wouldn't say.

The next time you see Kyo-chan, he is face down asleep on one of the study tables. You aren't sure how long he's been there since you didn't even hear him come in, but he looks completely wiped out. From the small profile you can see, a few bruises color his face, and there is a bandage slapped over his eyebrow where you assume a small number of stitches are. Not wanting to disturb him, you walk back to the lounge and grab the small blanket that you usually curl up with on your breaks. You lay it on his shoulders with the gentleness of a butterfly because honestly, what would you say if he woke up to you covering him? Sure, it's a nice gesture, but he doesn't even know who you are.

When he wakes up, the first thing that hits him is the smell of cherries. He's aware of the blanket, and grabs it before it slips off him completely. Looking around, the only person in the library is Hina-san, so he returns it with a small thank you.

"Ah that wasn't me dear! It must've been our cute assistant, but they've already gone home. Aren't they sweet?" She gushes, prodding him for an answer.

"Guess so," he mumbles out, still sluggish from the afternoon nap turned full on sleep. He smells like cherries on the way home too.

The third time, Sugishita sees you first. The step ladder you're on wobbles as you try to reach the top of the shelves with the duster. Stretching further on your toes, you grab the shelf to steady yourself, but the thing is years old and not in the best condition. You can feel it give way as you tip sideways,  a squeak forcing itself out out of your throat. You brace yourself for a few nasty bruises until you realize your momentum has stopped.

"You're like a mouse," Sugishita says, and you stare in shock at the boy who caught you.

"Muh-MOUSE?!" Shrill is the only way to describe the voice coming out now. So maybe you do sound like a mouse. Who is he to say that though? He carries you away from the shelves despite the wriggling you're doing, desperate to put your feet on the ground. It's half-embarrassing, half-infuriating that his hold doesn't budge in the slightest.

"I'd appreciate it if you would put me down Kyo-chan," you huffed with your arms now crossed. His walk slows for a second before turning his face away from you. Apparently the way you called him had some effect, though you aren't sure what kind until you look at his ears. You swear they weren't that red before, and you start to feel giddy about it. "Kyo-chan, Kyo-chan, pleeeaaase put me down?" You make your voice sugary sweet. You would've batted your eyes at him too but the fast snap of his head back to you stops your teasing short.

You can only describe the look he throws you as hilariously appalled at your words, but it also confirms they were pretty effective. Neither one to back down, it becomes a staring contest until he speaks first for once.

"Sugishita Kyotaro." An air of finality hangs in the statement of his own name, but as this point you need to press his buttons just a little.

"I prefer Kyo-chan. It's cuter, don't you think?" He looks exasperated as he places you on the lounge's couch gently. Down on his knee in front of you, he grabs your calf to start prodding at your ankle.

"What are you- ow! Don't touch it!" You have to swat his hand away before he lowers your leg grumbling an apology and that saying it's probably sprained. You can feel it now that attention has been drawn to it though. A little red and not completely feeling right, it's almost like it's numb until you try to point a toe out. You cringe at the pain shooting up your calf. No amount of stretching or moving your ankle makes it feel any less painful than the first time, so you finally let it rest.

While you were experimenting with your new injury, Sugishita grabbed a roll of bandages and an ice pack from the kitchen to begin wrapping it. The way he gently takes your shoe off and handles the wrap reminds you of a prince. A silent, grumpy one, but there are so many princes like that in the romance novels that you may or may not have read in the fiction section. Your thoughts start off in a direction you'd do well to cut short but you can't keep a quiet "pretty," from leaving your mouth while you watch him finish up. And he really does look pretty. The sunlight hits him from the windows, lightening his brown eyes just a bit and his serious expression while he's concentrating on wrapping you up is no joke.  "Ah...I meant your hair?" You trail off cursing yourself for saying something like that after teasing him earlier. If it were anyone else you'd expect him to tease you back. You aren't looking at him anymore, until he tries to draw your attention with a grunt. He's turned around, crouched with his back to you.

"Hop on."

"Your back?"

"My back. Hurry up."

"You're going to carry me?" He looks over his shoulder again, with blatant annoyance on his face, and nods. You were wondering how you'd get home, and this seems like one of the few viable options now that you did consider it. Once he stands up, you realize just how tall he really is. Holy Shit. You have to duck with him when he goes through the low doorways of the library, letting Hina know what happened before you both leave and she waves you off.

The walk home is silent mostly due to reveling in the novelty of being taller than usual. Occasionally, you'll point out a stray cat or some flowers climbing up a fence you could only see thanks to the extra few inches. Even though they're met with a hum or grunt, he doesn't seem to be bothered by it.

To Sugishita, you were weren't a bother per se and Umemiya would be pleased to see him helping someone, but he was struck again by the smell of your perfume while he carried you. That, paired with the melody of your voice as you leaned and chatted about the difference in altitude made it hard to concentrate until you said his name.

"Sugishita-san thank you for taking care of me," thanking the stars as well for remembering to tell him while you weren't looking at him fully after calling him pretty minutes prior. He lets out a breath before saying his longest sentence to you yet.

"You can call me whatever you want."

Oh. Oh. He's giving you the green light to call him Kyo-chan again. You were trying to be heartfelt, but he's gotta go and be cute like that? Ears and the back of your neck burn, but you're pleased at the new development. You end up thanking him again, with a regular kyo-chan this time, before hobbling inside your front door wondering when you'd see him at work next.

First thing in the morning though, despite the rain, Sugishita's outside your house with an umbrella telling you to hurry up because he'll end up late for school. It seems he's made it his mission to tote you to both work and school until your ankle is healed. You might just have to fib a little when it starts feeling better to keep the piggyback rides for a while longer.

[maximwtf]

readder takes a bullet for izzy. need this fic asap. omfg. did u want finale yet???

Izzy x Reader

words: 1700

google docs pages: 3

warnings: ! S2E8 Spoilers (Kinda?) ! Gunshot wound, mentions of smoking and drinking, blood, death

opening: Ricky turns to fire his pistol and run, but you saw it coming and push Izzy out of the way. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! I can’t even lie, my angst loving heart was highkey excited for this one XD Thank you for the request, I love writing stuff like this !! This shall also heal my soul after watching ep8, I’m still a mess from it waaa

 “I’ll wait for you”

The long ferns dragged along the freshly stolen British navy coat as you made your way towards the shore with the rest of the crew. Your palm was around the handle of your sword, still convinced that this was a clear suicide mission. There seemed to be absolutely no chance for the whole crew to make it alive all the way to the ship and to make an escape. The Republic of Pirates was swarming with British soldiers, every corner being watched and checked actively. Though, you weren’t going to try and stay here either. You’d rather die as a pirate than get captured and be hung by the British. 

Izzy marched a little ahead of you with Ricky. You weren’t sure why he had been put in charge of the man, but there was no use in asking for him to hand over the job to you. He was still the first mate, and as loyal as he was he continued on with his duties. You weren’t scared for his sake, he was most certainly a more skilled fighter and a sailor than you were. But there was always the what if, at the back of your mind. As far as you knew, the whole area was surrounded by British soldiers. Each and every time you’d peeked to take a fast look, at least three men stood near with their guns. So the odds of one of them spotting the group and shooting weren’t nonexistent. 

Blackbeard and Izzy had a long history together, but so did you and him. From what you’d talked with Izzy, you’d joined the crew only a short time after him. The man wasn’t even the first mate just yet, which was one of the reasons why you’d dared to start chatting with him in the first place. By God, you wouldn’t have started hitting up someone in a much higher position in the crew just after joining. But there had started your decades long, complicated relationship. He’d always been a little snappish, and that had only amplified once he was given the position as first mate. But every time you’d been with him at the sidelines where he usually spent his time, he was just slightly different. He was the same man, but like there was less of a wall he had to keep up. So because he was seemingly comfortable with you around, you sometimes spent time with him. Share cigarettes, watched him carve figures out of small pieces of wood, whatever he was doing. Sometimes there were no words, just silent companionship. At times the air felt tense, and at some point that wasn’t just an itch you had sometimes. There was real tension, but neither of you addressed it. All the way up until you’d sat down to drink a bottle or two of rum with him. There were not many memories of said night, just one of the tension breaking kiss you’d shared with him. And of course the morning after, and the days that followed. The silence that suggested the both of you being at loss of what to do next. 

Your eyes focused on the soldiers in front of you, listening to Ricky speak to them as he’d been told to before. So far the plan was going as intended, but that wouldn’t last for much longer. The prince swung around, alerted the soldiers that the group he was with were pirates and pulled out his pistol. Your eyes widened and without more than a second to think you pushed the man next to you. There wasn’t time to check if he'd landed okay, since that hadn’t been a part of your plan, only to get him out of the bullet’s way. You heard the thud as he fell over, and soon after followed one of the most agonizing pain you could have imagined. The bullet must have hit you instead. There was no time to properly locate where it had hit, but you didn’t have to just yet. As long as you could somewhat walk, that was enough, since after you’d made it to the ship you could take a look at the damage. 

The rest of the unit had heard the gunshot and were hurrying to the scene. You reached out and offered a hand for Izzy, the other hand holding the spot you could see blood seeping through. He took a hold of your hand, noticing that something was clearly wrong. You could see his mouth open slightly, but before he was able to question you, you let go of his hand and pushed him forward by his back. “Fuck off, go!” You growled, eyes scanning the area for the easiest way out. 

The walk to the shore was a blur. You could tell you were stumbling, even the smallest of rocks getting in your way. Izzy was walking in front of you, but you could tell he was stalling more than a person running for their life would. “Did I not tell you to go?” You snarled a little at the stinging pain, now more obvious that it was coming from somewhere deep near your side. You wished he would have just followed the others, gotten away faster. But this brand new version of him wouldn’t do that to you, to anyone from the crew for that matter. You’d been proud of him through his change, but this was not the time for him to care about you. “Come on, I’m not leaving you here.” He paused enough to get you closer to him, and hoisted you up a little by your arm. “Fuck you.” You cursed, trying to walk a little faster now that he was helping you. 

The boat ride felt like forever, and as each of the waves hit the boat the stings of pain just felt worse and worse. You felt light headed and even without noticing you leaned on Izzy just a little more for support. He stiffened up, but kept you in place so you wouldn’t accidentally lean over the edge. You could have sworn you felt his thumb repetitively go over your forearm, as if to keep some sense in the moment .

Izzy got out of the boats first, and with the help of the others he got your form on the main deck. The first mate tore off his coat, laying it flat on the wooden deck before leaning your head over his lap. You could feel cold sweat creep onto your forehead and back, breaths shallow and quick. It was only now setting in what had happened, but you tried to bite back the feelings of panic. You felt Izzy tap your cheek, making your eyes land on his face. Some dirt had stuck to his face from the fall he’d taken because of you, you thought to yourself. “Come on, stay awake.” Izzy said, his voice a little shaken, but the same old commanding tone somewhere in there. “Oh, you’ll be fine, you carouser.” A groan left your throat, making you close your eyes for a moment. You didn’t feel like opening them after, but you did. You did when Izzy’s hand made contact with your cheek again. 

Before this you’d thought of the crew members watching. You’d noticed they were around Izzy, some of them hurrying to get anything to help. Though, you knew this was the day you’d feed the fish. Izzy’s expression looked tight. Like he wanted to cry, but tried not to for your sake. He was hunched over your form as his eyes watered. “Aye, now. Don’t hang the jib. You’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him. He’d changed so much, gotten to see how much the crew actually cared about him. He’d be just fine even if you weren’t there with him to stand at the sidelines. Only if he could see that as well. “You don’t do this now, ye fucking hear me?” He said, brows furrowed. You looked at him, his eyes. He looked oddly blurry, your head was spinning from the lost blood. Though, you didn’t mention it to him. “I’m not going anywhere.” You grit your teeth, finding breathing a lot harder than it had been before. You wanted to go, if that meant the struggle would finally end. “But even if I did, I’d be leaving you with the…best possible people.”

Your gaze stayed on Izzy, trying to follow his lips in case you missed something he said. But he was silent, like he was holding back something. The first mate swallowed uncomfortably, leaning over carefully, just to hide his words from anyone else. “You need to tell me if you-” He started, but that was enough. A faint smile appeared on your face. “Of course I fucking love you.” You said, for his sake silently, but you didn’t find it in you to speak any louder anymore. Izzy froze for a moment, some tension leaving his shoulders as he nodded. It was subtle, but as long as you’d known him you’d learned to find even the most minimalistic emotions from his face. His jaw trembled, but his mouth opened and he silently replied; “I love you.” Which was enough for you, more than so. But at that moment, you hoped those words would have been said earlier. Then maybe, just maybe everything could have been different. “I’ll wait for you.” You said, the struggle starting to feel better, like it was coming to an end. Izzy’s face blurred into a soft darkness, which slowly became the only thing still holding you. 

AN// Requests for Izzy are open, I love writing for him ahhh >:(

[labeteenmoi]

Little rabbit

Part 3 / part 1 here / Part 4 here

Fandom : The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Anders Lassen x OC

Warnings : smut in the wild

Summary : see warnings

Words : ~1700 (~1800 considering the grunts and sighs)

More than a job, it was part of her routine, of her way of living. Except Edin didn’t do it only for herself now but also for a whole bunch of hungry men, gladly adding her skilled catches to the meat provided by the British government.

Hence there she was again, retrieving the freshly killed hares from her traps on the following early morning, but with a new awareness on her mind. The thoughts of Anders Lassen had been hovering in her head and a step had definitely been taken in the loch the evening before. Rather quickly but much to her liking nonetheless. It seemed to her that this surprising officer lived by his own rules, he wasn't the kind of person who would question his motivations nor repress his desires, and that was fortunate because neither was she. So it wasn't a surprise when she finally sensed a presence approaching. 

Putting his skills to the test once more, just for the fun of it, she had gone further into the woods, leaving behind the pine trees and entering the rainwoods. From the pace of the faint rustles on the spongious floor, she knew it was him, undoubtedly slowed down by the density of trees in this part of the woods.

That man was definitely a skilled hunter, almost as good at moving his impressive heavy figure discreetly on this tricky terrain as at tracking her on her own ground. Before he could reach her sight, the girl climbed a tall aspen, high and bushy enough to hide amongst its shimmering foliage. It didn’t take long before Lassen appeared and stood right below her, searching the ground for the track he seemed to have lost for a second. 

Edin could almost see his perplexed frown as he looked around him, but all of a sudden his attention was drawn somewhere further in the woods, and he ducked, quietly drawing out his bow and arrow.

A tall light-furred animal was peacefully grazing and came out enough amongst the trees to be well recognized as a doe by Edin’s keen gaze, hence by Lassen’s as well.

The officer armed his bow and stretched the string, ready to shoot, when a high-pitched loud whistling emanated from above him. The doe froze in surprise for a mere second before hopping around in panic and disappearing into the depths of the wood.

Lassen blinked under his glasses with an annoyed pout before turning to the branches above him.

“Morning Mr. Lassen.” she let out with a smirk, playfully swinging her legs in the air from her branch.

“You scared off my dinner, little rabbit,” he uttered, biting his lips with a half-amused sigh.

She snorted, getting off her branch and swiftly grabbing at the trunk to start her descent. “I believe ye know my name now, Mr. Lassen.” she said, reaching the ground where Anders left barely enough space for her to land. 

“Hmm… The one I gave you suits you better,” he retorted with a wink.

For a moment she looked up at Anders with that mysterious piercing air of hers that really did something to him, before smiling faintly “She would have been too much… even for a man like yerself,” she added with a teasing look, “she is gestating.” 

Anders let out a soft “Oh…” looking sorry for a moment, putting back his bow over his shoulder. 

“But there’s more of them up north if you’re that hungry,” she resumed, pointing in the direction. 

Lassen nodded slightly, “So that’s how you intended to escape that wild boar, huh?” he said, patting at the tree behind her. 

She smiled back confidently: “I told ye I was fine.”

He laughed, shaking his head at her appealing assurance. Barely a moment of distraction and she had turned around and started to leave already. “Edin!” He jumped behind her and grabbed her arm, “where are you going ?!”

“I’m finished here,” she simply stated.

“Well, I’m not.” he retorted gently with a frown, pulling her slowly against the tree in front of him. “Is it that you don’t like my company?” His voice had turned lower, quitting the playfulness he usually addressed her to a deeper tone, brimming with an eagerness he seemed unable to restrain any longer. 

Her eyes narrowed as she fully grasped his intent. No more fleeing then.

With a seductive smirk growing on her lips, Edin looked intensely at the man’s smiley eyes: “I thought ye came to catch yer dinner, Mr. Lassen.” 

Reaching for the tree with his free hand above her shoulder, he trapped her in between his arms and the tree, tauntingly hovering over her face  : “But I’ll need some breakfast too.” 

“And what would ye fancy, Mr Lassen?” she whispered, matching his posture with a tempting approach of her mouth to his. 

“Rabbit.” he whispered on her lips.

Her eyes locked on his, she swiftly filled the small gap between their lips and kissed him. Now that they had both made their intentions clear, Anders would not let her lips go and pushed her back against the tree when kissing her back.

Eyes shutting and breaths deepening, their longing soon showed in their tongues avidly waving against each other. As they kissed ardently, Anders threw his bow and arrows behind him before reaching for her face, cupping her cheeks and sliding his fingers in her hair. Her hands landed on his sides, grabbing and pulling up the fabric of his jersey in the search of his skin beneath it for her to grope. At her sensual touch, caressing the potent shapes of his chest, their gestures became more frantic.

Anders hastily took off his suspenders while she swiftly unbuttoned his trousers, already tighter at his crotch from his hard on. He tried to undo the little buttons from Edin’s dress but settled for fondling her breasts through the fabric when sensing he was out of time; his trousers had already fallen at his ankles and she was taking down his underwear.

Sliding one hand on his ass and one on his cock, Lassen shuddered with a breathless grunt as Edin tightly gripped both of them and smiled through their kisses. 

“I want to feel you too, little rabbit…” he groaned against her lips, pulling up at her skirt frantically as she started stroking him teasingly.

“Hmm, ye’ll feel me, Lassen…” she heaved lasciviously, as she reached for the back of his neck and lifted herself up against him, trapping his firm waist between her thighs. 

He let out a surprised moan, feeling the wet warmth of her pussy on his aching cock and grabbed her buttocks, pinning her against the tree just roughly enough to signal his impatience without cutting her breath short. Sliding one hand in between them, Edin grabbed his sex and guided him inside of her, pressing her hips downward unceremoniously. They whimpered in a hoarse voice, relieving both their longings for that particular sensation.

“God…Ye're so big, Lassen…” she huffed in between his lips, her voice teeming with lust. He smiled widely with satisfaction; that woman’s unbridled manner really had the gift of exciting his senses. 

“Little rabbit, you're just my size,” he mumbled softly with a short rough thrust inside of her as a way of demonstration. 

He felt just as huge and large inside of her as his whole stature made her presume, making her gasp at each new push he made with her fingers clenched at his robust back. She could feel through his shirt and against her crotch the hotness of his skin, it seemed the elements didn't have any grasp on this man, whether it being the cold waters of the loch or the brisk air of dawn.

The usual hubbub of the woods had fallen silent, no doubt hampered by the primitive moans that grew in Anders' throat.  

“Fuck, skat, it feels so good…” he groaned against her cheek. It didn’t surprise her much how that man was so loud at expressing his pleasure, quite consistent with his outgoing manners, but it still felt quite exhilarating.

Edin strengthened her grip on him, tightening her legs around his bottom to bring him as deep as she could and letting out indecent wails as doing so.

“Oh… yes…” he hissed, increasing his pace with his hands gripping her buttocks ever so tightly. He was so crushing, pounding her increasingly stronger, so well that she sometimes wondered if it was the tree behind her or her bones that she could hear crack. 

A slim veil of sweat covered his skin, the tension in his arms and his stomach kept growing along with the intensity of his gasps and moans as she sensed him on the verge of climax.

“Aargh...too good…Edin…” he let out in tensed, ragged huffs as he bucked his hips under her in his last liberating jerks.

A warm sensation filled her, inside and out, reveling in the view of this uncommon man's delight, patterns of her skin printed on his glasses, their chests heaving in unisson. 

Their breaths decreasing under the timid resumption of the birds' chirps, their blurry eyes fell on each other with obvious satisfaction. Their contemplative moment lasted even when Edin pulled her hands on his arms to free herself from his hold, her back getting stiff from too much bumping against the hard trunk. 

He let her thighs slide from his hands, letting her land her feet on the ground smoothly, and recoiled unsteadily. Grabbing the trousers and underwear hanging at his ankles and bringing it all up at once, Anders glimpsed at her while she simply let her skirt fall down on her legs and pated the fabric for trunk debris. 

“Er… You’re not wearing any underwear?” he questioned in surprise while buttoning his trousers. 

“Only noticing that now, are we?” she grinned cheekily. 

Anders looked back down searching for his weapons while distractedly wondering if she really never wears any. 

Coming to him, he gleefully let out: “Let’s go find the deers, little rabbit.” 

But as he turned back to her, she was already moving away between the trees towards the camp. 

He sighed, dropping his shoulders and shaking his head in joyous disbelief: “I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute, can I?!” he shouted at her with a feigned annoyed tone.

���Ye have a good hunt now Mr Lassen!” she shouted back without a glance, but her impertinent smile was clearly perceivable in her voice.

“Edin! I’m still not done with you, skat!” he warned louder with innuendo in his tone as he watched her disappear deeper into the woods.

****

Notes:

*m'eudail : scottish gaelic for "my darling, my dear"

*skat : danish for "darling"

[hiskillingjar]

Hey! I hope you're having a nice day. I'm the anon that asked about the inside names a while ago, I really appreciate you getting out of your way to answer me! <3. I was thinking, could you please write Ren x Strade where Ren gets jealous of one of the new victims and Strade "consoles" him by letting him watch TV with him in the sofa and *maybe* having some fun only the two of them? I firmly believe that Strade canonically did those kind of things (even if we didn't see it) to keep Ren closer and not make him want to escape. You're free to decline the request btw, no pressure intended! Hope you have a great day (:

huh…the poison really DOES drip through (that's a succession reference because i enjoy quality television)

1700+ words, she/her for a fem mc

Ren had grown accustomed to his new routine in Strade’s domain, for lack of a better word.

In the mornings (or early afternoons), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, then maybe, occupy his time with a new show or his filtered internet access. Mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task!) In the evenings, if he made it that long, he’d make dinner, clean up, and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again, day after day.

It was easy, despite the danger, and it was stable, and though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a captive animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new pet had come in and fucked all that up.

And hence why now he was cleaning up after a dinner he hadn't even made (or enjoyed enough to warrant his exchange of chores. She was a vegetarian, for god's sake.)

He seethed silently to himself, dragging the metal scouring sponge up and down a greasy frying pan, sticky with brown sauce and burnt tofu, turning the dishwater a muddy brown colour.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, this was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade gave her when she presented dinner, reminding the young man of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he complimented the meal, commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way. 

“God, I can see that scowl from the other room.”

Ren let out a surprised yip when he heard Strade’s voice, dropping the pan in the soapy water and soaking the front of his tank top.

He always had a way of sneaking up on him.

“S-Strade,” Ren replied, looking over his shoulder to the older man, who was idling in the doorway of the kitchen, picking his teeth. “Sorry, I, um…I’m just doing the dishes.”

“I can see that,” Strade replied as if it was obvious (and it was) before he crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paced towards the younger man. "You're looking pretty dour, Ren. Why the long face, hm?" He then asked, raising a brow and leaning against the kitchen island, his hip slightly cocked.

"It's…it’s nothing," Ren murmured softly, his gaze going back and switching between his shaking hands, bunched up in the front of his murky grey tank top, and the dirty dishwater where the pan was still waiting to be cleaned.

"It's not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't be in such a mood," Strade retorted with a huffed chuckle. "Come on, tell me what's on your mind. I can’t deal with you acting bitchy for the rest of the evening."

"I just..." Ren sighed, forcing himself to relax. He had a tendency to be on edge around Strade, though. 

“Just?” Strade drawled out. “Don’t lie to me, Ren. You know how bad you are at it.”

"I…” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper as he glanced off to the side, his face heating up and feeling hot. “I miss you, I suppose."

"You…miss me?" Strade sounded genuinely surprised as he took a step closer, encroaching on the younger man’s space, as he so often did. "Well, that’s pretty silly. We live in the same house, buddy. I see you every day."

"You know what I mean," Ren replied quietly, biting his lip, his sharp, little fangs hooking over his lips and marking them with stark indentations, about to bleed. "It’s like….since you picked up the new girl, it's just been...different, ya know. Like, with everything and not just…mm, between us."

Strade was quiet for a good while, his golden eyes drifting upwards with thought, before he let out a good-humoured chuckle (low and pleasant and rumbling), shaking his head fondly as he stepped even closer to the young man and slid his big palm along the exposed skin of his back. 

"Are you jealous, Ren?" Strade murmured, his voice low and almost teasing.

"Of course, I'm fucking jealous," Ren replied openly (he was never good at lying anyway), his voice an irritated rasp as his extremities bristled with nervous (quietly delighted) energy at being touched so intimately. "I’m all alone and you've got a new...thing to play with. She's even doing all my chores, like...like you're husband and wife or something"

"Mm," Strade hummed with subdued amusement, resting his stubbly chin on Ren's shoulder and rubbing at the space where his skin and tail met. It was incredibly sensitive. "See, I always thought you didn't like my games...you fought back hard enough that I thought that way, anyway..."

"I-I don't," Ren said, his fingers curling into tight fists, trying to ignore the little jolts of pleasure that shot through his back as Strade pressed his thumb against the nub of flesh at the base of his tail. "But I, ah...i-it was worth it when you were nice to me, you know. Now, you just...ignore me. I hate it."

"Hmph," Strade huffed out a chuckle, so effortlessly charming, so easily likeable, no wonder he had no trouble picking up new prey. "Come now, there's no reason to be jealous. You know you're my first, don't you, fuchs?"

Ren said nothing but shivered as he felt Strade lean in even closer, felt his hot breath on his skin, the warmth and lowness of his accent when he said his pet name for the younger man enough to make every part of his body throb with desperate, needing want. 

He was a sucker, that was for damn sure. 

"You'll always be my first. Having someone new here doesn't get rid of that." Strade's hand ran further down, stroking over his tail before landing on his backside, giving it a firm grope. "There really is no reason at all to be jealous of someone new...though I have to admit, it's incredibly cute."

"Strade-" Ren whimpered, shaking hands gripping the edge of the marble counter (expensive, bespoke, how much blood had been spilt for him to afford this kitchen, this house, this life?)

"If I were a worse person, I'd use that to my advantage, you know." He continued, his fingers greedily palming Ren's ass before slipping beneath his shorts and reaching to the front. cupping and squeezing his slowly hardening cock as he pressed his cheek to Ren's, stubble-dotted skin against his, smooth and youthful and ripe for the taking. "Take this opportunity to see you really rip into my new pet, tear her apart, just for you to prove how loyal you are to me."

Ren bit his lip hard enough that he felt the slow trickle of blood bead down his chin, but the pain didn't deter him from shifting his hips forward and seeking more of Strade's warm grip.

"But, well..." The older man mused. "I'm pretty bad, but I'm not that bad."

"Mm," Ren moaned, bringing his fist to his lips to keep himself quiet (and to wipe away the blood) as Strade worked his cock to full hardness, his knot swelling with blood. "You're awful..."

"Ah, I don't think you mind," He quipped with another low chuckle, pressing his lips to Ren's cheek and squeezing him a little tighter. "Otherwise you wouldn't be jealous."

"Ngh-" Ren's hands went down to Strade's, his weak grip pulling at his wrist and his hips shifting forward even more, desperate for any degree of attention that the older man would give him, no matter the cost.

"You're my boy, Ren," Strade reminded him, his lips trailing down his trembling jaw, in a gesture as close to a kiss that someone like Strade could manage. "My number one. I'll never be able to replace that. You do know that, don’t you?"

"Mmhmm, yeah," Ren stammered, his voice weak and quiet and so utterly submissive that it made his legs (and cock) twitch. "I'm...mm, I'm your boy..."

"Yeah, you are," Strade growled indulgently, pushing his own hips forward and letting Ren feel the growing hardness of his cock through his khakis. "I hope you don't forget that, fuchs...I'd hate to have to remind you."

"Mm...n-no, sir," Ren replied quickly with a jerked nod of his head. "I won't forget, promise."

"Good boy," Strade praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head (right next to his twitching ear) and prying himself away, idly groping his cock as he did so but looking as casual and easy and so fucking untouchable, like he always did. "Hey, how about we have a night together, just us two?"

"H-Huh?" Ren looked towards the older man with a confused look (apparently unaware or uncaring just how much his cock was tenting his loose shorts).

"Yeah, I've got one of those, ah…those nature shows you like recorded." He beamed, just as he had with the girl when she'd made dinner, and it was enough to make Ren’s heart hurt. "How about it? Boy's night?"

Ren didn't care about nature shows. 

But Strade did, and it was one of the few things they actually did together, before the girl had interrupted their peace. 

So, Ren smiled back, his tail wagging and his ears perked up high on his head.

"Y-Yeah! That sounds...really great." He nodded eagerly. "Um, let me just finish the dishes and then we can...yeah, watch it."

"Wunderschon," Strade laughed handsomely and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "That’s great, I'll get it queued up.” He turned to leave the kitchen. “But don't take long, buddy, or I'll start without you."

"Sure, won't take long." Ren smiled to himself again, turning back to the dishes.

"Oh, and Ren?"

"Hm?"

"You really should warm up to our new guest already, hm? I never said I minded sharing her with you...and she's a better fuck than you probably give her credit for~"

[riderofblackdragons]

I Take Thee

Day 13: Team As A Family | familial curse | multiple whumpees | "death will do us part"

Day 14: Left for Dead | hunting gear | blackmail | "cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted"

Okay so I think it's kind of obvious, but I decided to combine days 13 & 14 together. It wasn't initially intended, I was going to do 2 separate days, but I really don't have any ideas for day 14, and well. Elijah did kinda leave her husband and son for dead, since Mikael killed Garmr's pack.

But I did have fun writing this, no matter how late it is, and apparently that's the most important part. This takes place in the An Original Mother AU, because really, I felt like it fit the prompt very nicely.

If there's any AUs in particular anyone wants me to do, I do take requests lol

Hope you enjoy!

Over the many years, Elijah had seen vows evolve and change, in meaning and in the words said. She could remember her own, promising to love her husband, and stay by him 'til he raised a hand against her, their wife, or any children they had together.

Of course, then she'd raised a hand against Tatia, and run from him, and she knew that it had hurt both of them but what else could she have done? She'd killed their wife, and she couldn't trust herself around their son. Elijah had needed to go, she'd even known it running purely on instinct as she had been, before she'd hurt either of them as well.

She'd regretted it many times over the years, the last glimpse of her husband and son staying in her mind, but she'd never brought herself to see if they'd managed to survive Mikael's decimation of the wolf pack. Elijah didn't want to know, not since her presence, protecting those two, would maybe have made a difference in their survival against her father.

It was centuries later that they'd found Tatia's descendants, Hale's descendants, and Elijah knew for sure that at least their son had gotten away. Even though she'd never know the truth if her husband had too. It was too long ago for Mikael to remember, and there was no one else alive to ask about it.

And she'd gotten married again, and again, to help her family survive whilst they were on the run from said father. Sometimes, she knew, Klaus would kill her husbands, typically as they left, fleeing yet again. Sometimes they'd managed to last long enough for Mikael to kill them though, Elijah knew.

Each of her vows, in her more political marriages, were more along the lines of "obey and honour thy husband", as opposed to loving until death parted them. In the earlier days, there was nothing about death, or everlasting marriage.

Why would there be? It was political, but both parties were aware that as soon as Elijah's family stopped being useful, or she failed to produce an heir for her husband in the first five years, then they'd no longer be wed. On her part, Elijah ended up thankful that she'd only ever had one child in a political marriage, although she'd had many miscarriages.

She'd loved Eirikur with all her heart, and been devastated at his death, and her siblings' roles in it. But she'd been grateful towards the start of his life, when Kol had killed Elijah's husband for daring to sleep around during (and after) her pregnancy.

Elijah had known that her husband's fidelity had run its course as soon as she'd gotten pregnant, but she still hadn't expected her younger brother's anger when he'd learned of it. They'd had to run, and Kol had left them to try to keep the heat off of Elijah's at-the-time newborn, but Elijah would be a liar to say that his fierce protection of her honour didn't make her feel happy, deep down.

The first time Elijah had done the more modern vows, it'd been 1700 AD, and it had been her new husband's idea. Three months pregnant, with what would turn out to be twins, Elijah hadn't really cared. She'd liked him a lot, enough to maybe consider herself in love, but she'd made sure that he organised their vows.

"Until death do us part," She still remembered swearing to him.

Pregnancy hormones had already started affecting her then - she'd started crying before he'd had the chance to say the same back to her. The structure of the vows was different to the ones she'd said before, around a century earlier, but she hadn't been surprised, with the language change.

What had surprised her was how similar the vows still were. Sure, there was some other things thrown in there that Elijah's previous marriage hadn't had, like the lack of obeying, and things that were clearly important to her then-partner as a witch, but the non-supernatural things were surprisingly similar, given the time between.

Elijah could've sworn that languages changed faster than that, but that could've been the way she and her siblings had also had to hop countries (and therefore languages) so often.

She'd lost that husband a few months after their wedding. Till death wasn't that long for them, it turned out - his former coven caught up to them, but he'd exhausted his magic sending Elijah to someone else she'd trusted. She hadn't appreciated ending up on top of her sleeping father, but she also hadn't really been able to complain.

Given that the one who'd sent her there was dead and all. She'd managed to leave before Mikael had woken up, anyways. Elijah hadn't wanted to deal with him trying to get her to give up her siblings, regardless of the fact that she probably could've used his help when the twins had come.

She'd refused to get married, regardless of what for, after that. As a family, they were powerful enough that most supernatural beings didn't mess with them - and political marriages were going out of style anyways, having one would bring more scrutiny than having two unwed women would.

Besides. Klaus had ended up with a whole city to run. Elijah had been with her half brother for decades, she knew he'd need help to run it. A marriage would have just resulted in some man thinking he could run the city in her stead, when she was already running it in Klaus' stead. They didn't need that kind of hassle.

Tag List: @captain-effy @what-the-fuckis-happening

If anyone wants to be added lmk!

[being-so-normal-about-reploids]

Hi. This is Nevi's side blog where I quarantine my funny little robot guys Hyperfixation + Special Interest Wombo Combo because otherwise it would take over all of my main blog @afniel though it does that too a little bit so you can see it's really working...lmao.

Mostly reblogs, mostly classic Mega Man and Mega Man X, but I'll make exceptions for other really good video game robots (looking at you Gravity Circuit) and there's some scattered original stuff.

There's a Mega Man fan Discord now too if you wanna come hang out with us!

I also write, which is a surprise to me but I keep doing it so it must be true. (I tend to put more writing stuff on my main blog, under the tag #Nevi Writes, because I've got 1700 followers there compared to mumbletymumble here...) I authored the Every End A Beginning MMX alternate timeline, which asks,

What if the games did stop after X5 as originally intended?

What if the War ended and X finally had to confront the fact that he was essentially a child soldier, carrying the entire would on his shoulders his entire long life because he was told nobody else could do it?

What if he eventually became a burnt-out, disabled veteran who never really learned how to relate to anyone or process anything he went through?

What if he did learn, because the sun doesn't stop coming up and it's never too late to start, and despite all the grim setup, it was actually a story about healing and self-acceptance?

What if Capcom took any of their worldbuilding seriously and actually thought things through for a goddamn change, but they won't, so I did instead?

>E.04642-SYS: Failure to compile. is the first fic, which is finished and uploaded and clocks in at a long-novel-length ≈165k words. The second, >W.09880-INT: Outcome unpredictable., is also done now! It's not meant to be a trilogy (I tell myself, repeatedly and pointedly) it's a goddamn trilogy. The third is now being posted on AO3! It's also illustrated! :D New art gets added as it happens.

Anyway that's the deal. Enjoy.

[nucleo-bang-tan]

The Uisa's Daughter | Teaser

Pairing/s: Kim Taehyung X Reader, Jeon Jungkook X Reader, slight Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Medieval Korea AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut

Rating/s: 18+ Mature Themes

Word Count: 430

Warning/s (For the teaser): Evil king, major character death, mentions of blood

Summary: In the 1700s, the Jeon Dynasty spread all across the Korean peninsula.  Happiness quadrupled with the founder Emperor's presence, or so it seemed. Secrets scattered over the palace in the capital city, Hanseong were known to none except a few.

Release Date: March 11 2024, 01:00 AM GMT

Masterlist

Prologue Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Regret is a funny thing.

You trust yourself while doing the actions, you trust the others around you. Barely thinking about the results, the consequences. But time takes it all away and you're left with this disgusting feeling called hate and annoyance of your past self clawing it's way until it finally breaks you.

You always thought of life as a matter of the present. To forget the past and live carefree of the future. No regrets.

Oh, but you were only human.

A human full of regrets.

Would it be better if you had ran away with him?

Should you have had exposed the Emperor the minute you knew what he wanted?

Would you not be stuck here if you knew your father better?

....should you not have asked for some better vegetables that day?

It was all your fault your lover was here,  bleeding out his insides. You saw as the King pushed the sword deeper into the gaping male in front of you.

The sharp tip of the legendary white tiger sword was now covered in blood, some dripping off the edge of it. You would ask how his lowly self dared to wield it but you needed to get your thoughts straight first. You opened your mouth to speak but all that was let out was a whimper.

Taehyung coughed up blood and looked at you with sad eyes. This could have gone better. His eyes spoke a clear message. He regretted it all. Just like you did.

But one thing he didn't regret was loving you. Heck, he couldn't help it no matter how much he tried.

"This is what you get for committing treason against me." The king spoke from behind Taehyung. He voice coming out with a series of pants. He didn't seem to regret a thing.

"T-Tae..." Your voice came out more silent than intended. "Taehyung?" Was the only word you could form.

Blood spilt from his mouth as he tried to smile for a reply. He wanted to run to you. Embrace you while petting your hair, tell you he'll be fine.

He saw as you cried for him, your brain barely registering the existence of tears and focusing more on the sight in front of you.

"What was that? Still speaking of this wreched man's name?" The king scoffed and abruptly pulled his sword out of the bleeding man. You let out a scream of his name and ran towards Taehyung who fell to his knees.

The king smirked evilly above him,

"I told you, I'll make you regret it, Y/N."

[rigelmejo]

Okay, after looking a LOT up: Pimsleur said on their official subreddit, that Japanese levels 1-5 have 2500 unique words. I also confused myself a bit earlier today, mixing up Pimsleur with Glossika. Pimsleur lessons generally have LESS vocabulary than some alternatives. Glossika generally has more vocabulary taught than Pimsleur. I am actually using the glossika audio files currently, NOT pimsleur.

My usual conclusions on pimsleur stand though: based on what other pimsleur users said (that the whole course only covers the material Genki 1 has), and that it has around 20 words taught each lesson, with around 2500 words if you do ALL lessons, then its not the particular program i'd choose. Its good if youre a beginner, and intend to do all 5 levels. If you are not a beginner, it may only review words you know. If you're learning on your own, consider how much you study: if you want to learn 2500 words within a certain time frame (like a year) then make sure you complete pimsleur lessons frequently enough to finish the lessons in a year (or whatever your goal is). 2500 words, or Genki 1 and 2 book's 1700 total words (which pimsleur was compared to by a pimsleur user), are useful. But they arent intermediate, theyre words you'll want to learn as a beginner and then PROGRESS TO NEW MATERIAL. Do not dwell on pimsleur for 4 years, if your goal was to learn beginner words in 1-2 years and then move on to intermediate material (but if you are okay with it taking 4 years then of course go through lessons at the pace that works for your goals).

Some information on Glossika Japanese: the current 2024 course has around 6,400 sentences and teaches a bit over 5,000 words. I had this information given to me by an official glossika representative. Unfortunately, they did not know how much vocabulary was taught in the original audio-only Japanese glossika course, which was around half as big. Their current course seems to teach to N4 (maybe N3), as the representative felt a learner could go from the modern course glossika to simple anime like Shirokuma Cafe and learn words from immersion onward. The representative also stated glossika doesnt explicitly explain grammar, so if you are NOT a complete beginner then you'll have more success. Alternatively, if you are a complete beginner, reference a Grammar Guide (tae kims grammar guide, imabi.com, Genki textbooks etc) or use another source for beginner lessons like japanesepod101.com which has explanations. My rough guess would be that old glossika audio lessons taught between 2000-3000 words, because all old courses used the same base english sentences translated, and I remember for most languages that resulted in around 3000 unique words used. So old audio lessons Glossika will teach a bit more vocabulary than pimsleur, and significantly more than pimsleur by around 2000 additional words if you use the new glossika online courses. Increased vocabulary is a plus, but the end result will still be upper beginner/lower intermediate knowledge when you're done. I'd recommend glossika over pimsleur because more vocabulary is great in a language learning product.

FREE OPTIONS:

These are what I actually recommend a learner start with. Because they're free. And they work.

Go on the Hoopla library app, or install Hoopla if you don't have the app yet. Register with one of your library memberships on Hoopla, it will give you access to tons of ebooks and audiobooks to check out. Now find: Japanese 1 Innovative Language. I personally found the audiobooks, Innovative Language has at least 9 levels of lessons from beginner to advanced. Unfortunately, I am having difficulty finding how much vocabulary all their lessons combined teaches. (A lot of language programs call some lessons Advanced when really you're only learning say the 1000-1500 most common words in them, which is still beginner level in terms of knowledge being studied or if you compare to textbook levels or language certification test levels). I am not sure if these lessons are the same as japanesepod101.com, but these lessons are similar, and they have a good amount of explanations so you can get grammar and cultural information as well as vocabulary - this means the course is more in depth than glossika or pimsleur, but it does teach a bit slower as there's more time that english is spoken. If you're a total beginner, or a beginner/lower intermediate learner who is looking for audio lessons with explanations, I recommend these. Theyre free! Theres a ton! Innovative Language also has a TON of lessons in multiple languages on Hoopla app, so browse.

Go to jaoaneseaudiolessons.com. Download the free 36 lessons, the free grammar guide, and the free transcripts. These lessons are FREE, they are made by people who have used stuff like Berlitz and Pimsleur and wanted to improve the method into something they'd find more useful. This site introduced me to the idea of "audio flashcards" audio of english then target language sentences. These lessons arent doing anything wild or new: what they are doing, is lessons like Glossika but with MORE explanation than glossika, and yet less english and less time wasting than stuff like Innovative Language. The biggest pro of this resource: they MADE a grammar guide you can use, they made a transcript so you can have your first reading material, and they made free audio. Ive used their audio lessons: they worked great for me. They worked better for me than Genki did (however Genki remains great for the speaking/writing skills i practiced with it), and helped pull me back into studying japanese. I am not sure how many words it teaches, a detail i wish ALL LANGUAGE LESSONS HAD TO MENTION. But my guess would be at least 1500 words. Their transcript book is 1075 pages, they usually introduce 1-7 new words per page, so on average 4 words, so the upper guess is they teach potentually 4,300 words in the 36 audio lessons. How is that for efficient? Even if these lessons only teach 1500 words (and i suspect the real words taught is probably the normal 2000-3000 of most beginner courses made well), at 36 lessons their lessons clock in as WAY less than Pimsleur or Glossika. These lessons recommend you listen to each lesson 5 times. So each lesson is 30-40 minutes (lets use 40 minutes per lesson), so 36 lessoms is 24 hours of listening material. Listen to each lesson 5 times, and you'll spend 120 hours on these lessons, not including time spent on the grammar guide or transcript. There is another reason i love japaneseaudiolessons.com: they wrote books that teach kanji with 1. Premade mnemonic stories (remember the heisig book expects you to make up your own stories which i found hard) 2. Mnemonic stories for meaning AND pronunciation (many premade mnemonic story resources like anki decks tend to only help with remembering definitions, not pronunciations), 3. Sentence examples to help you remember words, practice seeing them in context, and practice reading. Their books are by FAR my favorite kanji learning books. The kanji learning books do cost money, but i've found them useful and i was glad they existed. You do not need to buy the books, japaneseaudiolessons.com has a TON of free material that should get you through beginner level stuff. But if you, like me, like premade mnemonic stories including remembering pronunciations and example words in sentences, you may find checking out their kanji books is useful.

[lesbianrobin]

oh.... yes..... as an adhd steve-lover (and person who has a history of unknowingly crushing on adhd characters) i beg to hear ur reasoning......... please...

alright so a lot of this is gonna be like projection ddnkjcn and it turned into more of a general character analysis than an adhd analysis and i’m sure that some things i describe will differ from your personal experience so feel free to critique me but here goes:

Why Steve Harrington Has ADHD

Steve struggles in school, yeah, but that’s not really… crucial to my reasoning? I personally did pretty well in school despite having difficulties with getting work done on time and understanding certain things. The fact that he clearly tried to do well and just couldn’t is what’s important. That’s a classic ADHD thing, feeling like there’s some kind of invisible block making it impossible to think the way you’re supposed to be thinking and do the things you’re supposed to be doing. We see him studying a few different times with Nancy (though he’s reluctant to focus on the task in s1), it’s implied he’s written multiple drafts of the essay that he shows Nancy in the beginning of s2, meaning that he wants to do well. After Nancy critiques his essay, he basically decides to give up because he’ll never be able to make it good enough, and he probably shouldn’t even bother applying to college, and he’ll just end up working for his dad anyway. It’s a bit of an extreme jump from the relatively mild criticism he receives, but it seems to me like the kind of mindset that I (and others with ADHD) fall into constantly. First of all, rewriting something you’ve already written when you have ADHD can be… torturous. It’s impossible to focus because you’ve done it already, it feels pointless and boring, and your brain is just done with the topic. To Steve, there’s no point in even trying because he’s never gonna get it right, and he’d rather not even try than apply to college and have to suffer rejection. ADHD isn’t laziness or apathy. People with ADHD actually tend to care a lot about their performance in various aspects of life, and they care so much that it can often either propel them to excellence or drive them to depression over failure (whether that failure is true or perceived). Spoiler alert: we’re about to get into rejection sensitive dysphoria, folks!

I think this describes Steve perfectly. He wants to be the best at everything (Prom King, anyone?) and he cares a lot about what people think of him (to the degree that he spent three of his four years in high school behaving specifically to avoid the possibility of Tommy H and others making fun of him). Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, or RSD, is a condition which impacts almost all people with ADHD. This means that they are far more sensitive than most people to what others think about them. Think about Steve’s entire character arc: he essentially spends season one chasing the approval of Tommy, Carol, and Nancy. When Tommy and Carol’s desired behavior differs from Nancy’s, causing conflict, he’s forced to take a look at himself and decide what’s more important to him: pleasing his friends, or doing what’s right. Since Steve is a certified angel, he goes with what’s right, and from there goes on to apologize to Jonathan and help him and Nancy fight the Demogorgon. (Sidenote: the fistfight with Jonathan could definitely be considered as further evidence of ADHD! RSD can cause extreme emotional reactions when the person in question feels that they have been hurt or rejected, such as Steve believing that Nancy cheated on him with Jonathan. The fact that Steve resorted to cruel insults that he clearly doesn’t believe shows that he was acting out of his own hurt and anger, not out of true hatred for Jonathan.) 

Anyway, s1 Steve’s entire life is built around seeking approval from his peers. He realizes that his desire for approval has turned him into somebody that he doesn’t like, so he makes a change, and by s2 we see that he’s shifted somewhat: Now, he wants to please Nancy. He’s able to handle being mocked by Billy and Tommy H because he no longer puts any stock in their brand of approval, but being told by Nancy that she doesn’t love him elicits another (somewhat) extreme emotional response: he immediately leaves her at the party with Jonathan and doesn’t pick her up for school the next morning. He’s upset with her. Later on, he goes to her house with flowers intending to apologize, though he doesn’t actually know what he’s apologizing for. All he wants is for Nancy to be with him and like him again, because he can’t handle feeling unloved and rejected. S2 is also where we see Steve’s academic insecurity, and he hints at issues with feeling like a failure in the eyes of his father. By the end of the season, he’s able to handle not being loved by Nancy because he’s found a new source of self-esteem and approval: Dustin and the rest of the kids. Through acting as their “babysitter,” Steve’s found something to take pride in that nobody can take away from him. Billy may have overshadowed his basketball stardom and broken his keg stand record, but Steve no longer needs these shallow achievements to feel a sense of self-worth. 

S3 shows that, although he’s moved on from seeking approval from specific peers, Steve is still stuck searching for validation. He flirts indiscriminately hoping for anybody to respond positively, and he gets a job to appease his father. Here, I’m gonna jump ahead a little bit (because that’s just the way my brain is saying it’s gotta be lmao) and talk about a few of Steve’s other canon traits, then circle back around to how we see his ongoing struggle with RSD manifest in s3.

Now for the trait that people more commonly associate with ADHD, especially in men and young boys: hyperactivity. This one is a little more self-explanatory so I’m not gonna spend as much time on it. Steve excels in situations with clearly defined rules and expectations where it’s easier to stay on-track, as well as in high-pressure, fast-paced environments. This is why he succeeds in basketball and why he’s such a big damn hero every season. He thinks on his feet and steps up in intense situations without hesitation. Steve is the one who wedged something under the elevator door so that everyone could escape, he’s the one who took out a Russian soldier before he was able to alert anybody else, and when he saw Billy about to ram into Team Griswold Family, he crashed into Billy’s car. Part of this is the fact that it’s a sci-fi action horror show, and there are going to be dramatic action-packed situations, but it’s telling that if Steve is around, he’s almost always the one leaping into danger and adapting to the situation to deal with it quickly. Speaking of s3: The conversation Steve and Robin had on the floor in the Russian torture chamber!

This feeds into an even more elaborate Steve meta theory of mine about how he basically lives his life as if it’s a play and there’s a script and a set of rules that he’s gotta follow to please the audience, so I’m not gonna go into ALL of it, but this conversation is also important to the idea of Steve having ADHD and struggling with RSD. Steve says, “It just baffles me. Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just… bullshit.” When Robin says that she feels like her life has been “one big error,” he agrees. So far, Steve has lived his whole life according to one set of rules. If you flirt with girls and go to parties and play basketball, you’ll be cool and popular. Now that he’s graduated, he’s floundering. The structure of high school is gone and everything he worked for doesn’t actually matter in real life. People with ADHD often struggle more than others with the transition from high school to either college or the working world. Loss of familiar frameworks, routines, and actions can hit the ADHD mind hard, and this is pretty clearly happening to Steve in s3. In the beginning of the season, he can’t even manage to have a decent conversation with a girl without bringing up school and his own perceived failures. Sidenote: Robin also mentions that Steve was late to class every single day, which is both extremely relatable to me and the most ADHD thing I’ve ever heard. I knew exactly how long it took me to get from my house to the school, and I woke up with plenty of time to get ready every single morning, yet I somehow managed to be late so many mornings that I got multiple detentions and ended up having to skip a couple of classes entirely because another tardy would have fucked up my disciplinary record.

Later on in the bathroom scene, when he’s talking about why he didn’t talk to Robin back in school, Steve says, “…maybe ‘cause Tommy H would’ve made fun of me or I wouldn’t be Prom King. It’s stupid…” and it’s somewhat of a continuation of the earlier conversation. Steve is expressing the same sentiment. Now that he’s out of high school, everything that he once used to measure his success and self-worth is just stupid. This is another classic RSD thing! People with ADHD/RSD often set impossibly high standards for themselves and then struggle with self-hatred and doubt when they cannot live up to these expectations. Robin kind of inspires and encourages him to set new, more attainable standards for himself. Spending time with Robin makes Steve happy in a way that he’s never really been before, and he realizes that all of the benchmarks of normalcy and success that he’s been striving for don’t guarantee happiness like they’re supposed to. Instead of finding happiness in academic, romantic, or athletic success, he finds happiness in an unlikely friendship. His whole arc for three seasons has essentially been a big struggle with RSD and impulsivity where he learned how to handle social rejection and place the needs and feelings of others before his own.

There’s also a ton of little things in Joe Keery’s acting choices that support ADHD Steve, like his near-perpetual motion and the way that he’s gotta pace and eat a damn banana (both the traditional way and the no-homo breaking it into pieces way, might I add) so he can listen to Dustin talk about the Russian code. I personally relate to a lot of things he does, like mixing up basic names and facts (like Nazis/Germans in s2 and Gumby/gumbo in s3), and needing to explain a whole situation out loud before he really gets it (like when he runs down the entire monster situation in the mall in s3). I don’t know if those are ADHD things but they make me feel Seen. 

Anyways. That’s about it!! Thanks for asking lmao

[words-after-midnight]

What's a fun fact about Jeff (or other character) that you never have an opportunity to share?

OH MAN I HAVE SO MANY RANDOM FACTS ABOUT JEFF. As you've begun to learn, he's... quite a character (pun intended). I'll stick mostly to things that aren't mentioned/elaborated on in the novel! I feel like you already know a couple of these...

1. First of all he's from Birmingham, Alabama. Whenever he's asked where he's from, he's like, "oh, it's just a tiny little hick town in Alabama. You probably haven't heard of it." It's literally fucking Birmingham. (Btw, yes, he has what's described as a "mild Southern drawl.")

2. His parents had him when his mother was 18 and his bio father was 19 respectively. Both of his biological parents were left-wing activists in their youth, so he attended a lot of protests as a baby/young toddler. He was raised atheist and according to a Marxist philosophy.

3. He can fool a polygraph examination.

4. His childhood was - overall - pretty good. For him, at least. He does have some trauma from his teenage years, mostly stemming from multiple stints in juvenile detention starting at the age of 10. It's unclear exactly how these events affected him.

5. He has an unusually high pain tolerance, especially when under the influence.

6. He went to school in Birmingham until his junior year, when he moved in with his biological father in Philadelphia. He did (most of) his junior year at a school in Philly, where he caused a fuckload of trouble and was expelled not even a year in.

7. Extremely high maintenance when it comes to his appearance. "Spends two hours in the bathroom getting ready for a trip to the fucking post office." - Gabriel

8. Extremely Bisexual, but he prefers to take women out on actual dates because they tend to be - in his words - "better conversation partners." If you're a guy who wants to go on a date with him, you're gonna plan it, and it better be something he finds enjoyable (hint: take him to an amusement park).

9. He owns a scarf collection. We're talking over a hundred scarves.

10. He perpetually functions on 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

11. Loves cheesecake.

12. His favorite band is Pink Floyd (somehow don't think they'd approve).

13. His name is not short for Jeffrey.

14. Nicknames absolutely everyone. It's rare that he refers to someone by their actual first name.

15. Has a Thing about cleanliness - like, he eats pretty much exclusively "clean" food (he's literally one of those juice cleanse people, I swear to god), showers often, has like a 1700-step skincare routine, his room is immaculate, etc. This is pretty hypocritical considering he does like every drug on the planet, but yeah.

16. This is more of a core characteristic than a fun fact lol but anyway: chronically bored out of his mind and a massive adrenaline junkie. He'll do anything for a cheap thrill or some entertainment, in whatever form he can get it.

17. One time he tried to convince all of his friends that he didn't know about Congress.

18. His drink of choice is either straight whiskey, a mimosa, or the fruitiest fucking cocktail you've ever seen.

19. He was born on February 19th, 1983 (almost exactly six months older than Gabriel).

20. No matter who you are, he's convinced he can win a fight against you.

[sunflowersoldat]

Bring You Home Pt. 11 (Ending)

Warnings: Mild language mentions of death

Summary: You have your Bucky back, what else is there to do?

Word Count:~1700

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Series Master List

A/N: It was a wild ride my lovelies, feedback is much appreciated! I have one final drabble after this to post, but this series is finished. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed it! (this gif is for both the story and from me to all of you!)

You woke in the compound infirmary, Bucky sitting next to your bed, head propped up against the railing asleep, you smile lightly. Glancing around the room, eyes landed on Steve leaning against the wall. Eyes red rimmed, nose swollen and bruised, and a large gash on his right cheek that wasn’t there before.

“What happened to your face?”

He blinked twice, eyes locking with yours, he nodded in Bucky’s direction. “He wasn’t too happy with what happened… the way I treated you…”

Your eyes sparkled at the thought of Bucky getting protective over you, “Wish I could have seen that.”

He shook his head, “No you don’t… He may have escaped Hydra again, but whatever they did to him this time is still in there. The man who did this” Steve gestures to his own face, “wasn’t the man you and I know…”

“But did you really know him at all Steve? I mean the real him? You may have known the Bucky from the past, but I don’t think you ever knew this one…. If you did, you wouldn’t have left him alone…” you took a shaky breath, “he needed you, and I don’t think you realize what you leaving did to him.”

Steve sighed, “I’m not here to argue with you… I’m tired of fighting, you don’t need to understand my decision. I’m just being honest, I never intended to hurt him, but I didn’t belong here.”

“Neither did he… he adjusted, like you should… I mean you could have… he loves you…”

Steve shook his head, “I was his best friend y/n, he loves you more than I think either of us can fathom.”

You were quiet for a long moment, looking to Bucky sleeping beside, you his face bruised from your fight.

“He thought he was going to lose you…”

“I’m sure you would have enjoyed that.”

Steve took a deep breath and shook his head, “I never wanted to hate you Y/N. I have only ever tried to do what was best for him…”

You tore your eyes from Steve’s, gently caressing Bucky’s face careful not to wake him, there was a pang of hurt in your heart at Steve’s admittance. He did hate you, not that you could blame him, you weren’t overly fond of him either.

“No… you did what you thought was best, just not for him Steve, don’t lie to yourself. You did what you thought would benefit the both of you, you had intentions of making him happy and safe, but not without you getting something out of it.” You let your hand fall back onto the hospital bed softly,

“I never wanted this, Steve; I didn’t want to go back and get your help. I didn’t want to watch the man I love die in front of me for the fourth time… the difference between you and I, when it comes to Bucky, you make decisions for him, and I let him make his own. I may not like all of them, hell I might think they are the dumbest decisions ever made. But I do let him make them, because in the end it is his life. For too long has he had every decision made for him.”

You turned back to Steve expecting him to be angry, seething, something, anything, but he was calm. His eyes were sad, he sighed raking his hand through his golden hair,

“I didn’t mean it when I said I wished he wouldn’t have saved you… I don’t expect you to forgive me, hell I’m not even asking you to. I just wanted to apologize.”

You nodded your head slowly, “Apology acknowledged. When do you go back?”

Steve swallowed, “Soon, Dr. Pym is already here. Everything is ready.”

“Are you taking him with you?”

He nodded again, “His sister and parents would want to have him buried properly…”

Your breath caught in your throat, you had forgotten about Rebecca and their parents, maybe Steve had been right, you were no better than he was. Steve turned to leave, “Steven…” he turned around to face you again,

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, this isn’t what I wanted to happen. You were right, he deserved so much more than this.” Steve pursed his lips nodding slightly before leaving your room.

You turned your head towards Bucky, still asleep, lifting your hand to his face, you traced every line, you wanted to commit him to memory. Just in case. His brow scrunched as he opened his eyes, meeting yours, “Hey…”

You smirked, “Hey yourself. How do you feel?” you searched his face, his eyes were sad, tired, beaten and bruised, but other than that he seemed okay.

“I should be asking you that Сердце (serdtse heart) you are the one in a hospital bed…” he paused nodding slowly, “you aren’t asking about my physical well-being…”

You chewed your lip shaking your head. He looked away taking a deep breath, reaching for your hand, he rubbed it gently, “To be completely honest Сердце(serdtse), not great, horrible actually…” he brought your hand up to his face holding it between both of his, one cold, one warm.

You brought your other hand up to trace a deep cut on his forehead, he winced slightly. “You we’re pulling your punches, you know. Even under their control I can tell when you mean it.”

“Bucky, I-I didn’t want to hurt you…I knew you were in there, fighting to get out…”

“I know, but next time, you can’t hold back… you can’t let me hurt you…”

You scrunched your face, “Next time?! There won’t be a next time Buck, we are gonna figure this out, go back and see Shuri and….”

Bucky tenderly pressed his lips to yours, the familiarity of it overwhelming you, your Bucky was more confident, sure of himself, of you. You slipped your arms around his neck, whimpering when the motion stretched your abdomen sending a sharp pain through you.

He broke the kiss pulling away slowly, cradling your face in his hands, “When I woke up in that cell, I feared they’d killed you, that I wouldn’t have gotten to say goodbye. Then when you woke me up in the clearing, before knocking me out, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. My own little angel to watch over me.

Then I woke again, and he was standing over you with the gun in his hand, I thought I’d woken in my own personal hell. But you fought back and I realized it was all real, and I couldn’t let him harm you anymore…” his voice broke, “I… he is gone… I killed him…me? I-I…” he sighed when the words failed to come out,

“I know…” you whispered.

“I didn’t even hesitate… y/n, I just pulled the trigger. I-it felt bad, of course, but also freeing. I faced him/myself. He’s gone now. But somehow he isn’t… they managed to turn me into a monster again…”

You caressed his cheek, thumb tracing his lips, “You are not a monster… Bucky, h-how did they…”

“New words… different torture, but like you said we can talk to Shuri…”

“It’s going to be alright baby; we are going to figure this out.” You squeezed his flesh hand, “We will figure this out together, you Sam and I.”

“I don’t want to hurt you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did…”

You felt the tears well in your eyes, this man deserved more than this world would ever give him and it hurt you to know that the rest of his life would be a constant battle.

“Hey! You’re awake! It was pretty touch and go there for a bit. How do you feel trouble?” Sam’s booming voice came from the door, you smiled widely as you turned to see him.

He looked worse for wear, but that was to be expected, you and Sam weren’t super soldiers with advanced healing, “Dam Cap, you look worse than I feel.” You winked.

Sam smiled at you as he took a couple of short strides to the side of your bed, “Steve is about to head back… do you want to say,” he cleared his throat, “goodbye?”

You too a deep breath, but Bucky interjected, “she would rest, she doesn’t need to see the punk anyway.”

You sat up in the bed, peeling the covers off, “I’m not saying goodbye to Steve, Buck…”

Sam helped you out of the bed, and down the hall, you could hear Bucky’s footsteps coming up behind you as his arm wrapped around your waist, and he scooped you up into his arms.

“I’ve got you doll.”

You cuddled in closer to his chest, inhaling his scent, allowing it to wash over you. This wasn’t going to be easy…

After making a stop by your room so you could put on proper clothes, the three of you made your way out to the wooded area where the quantum platform stood. Steve was already dressed talking with Dr. Pym as he waited. You looked around, you spotted him, on a cot, covered with a flag.

As Bucky slowly set you on your feet, you wobbled over to him. Kneeling down, you reached up to pull the flag down. His beautiful face now void of all color, eyes closed as he lay there peacefully. A realization struck you, this is the only peace he will ever know, and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

You reached for his hand, as tears slipped down your face, you kissed his knuckles, whispering apologies, as you ran your hand through his hair. When your tears became too much and the sobs racked through your body, causing sharp pains to shoot through you, a hand rested gently on your shoulder. You glanced up seeing Steve’s solemn face on the other side of the cot, slowly moving to pick up his body. Strong arms lifted you, holding you tightly as your sobs lessened. You watched in a daze as Steve stepped onto the platform, he turned to look at the three of you,

“Keep each other safe, whatever it takes.”

That was the last time you ever heard from or saw Steve Rogers.

Damage control

Bucky's Duckies:

@texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12

@idiotonlegs @buckyys-doll @fangirllife98 @blackbirddaredevil23 @oceaniamaddness @ginger-swag-rapunzel @impala1967666

[batgurl1989]

How to Make an Announcement

Summary: Henry takes you to the market on your first public outing together as a couple.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: none

A/N: This was a super vivid dream I had last night, and I couldn't resist sharing it. It has not been proofread, so all the mistakes are my own. If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I am also open to requests.

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek @daddys-littlewhitegirl @diegos-butt

I gripped his hand tightly in my lap as we drove toward the open air market. Nerves were sending jittery butterflies into flight. His thumb traced soothing patterns on the back of my hand, but they did little to calm my thoughts. I felt like I was going to be sick, but knew it was all in my head. How had I let him talk me into this?

Oh right! Because it was Henry, and I was following his lead when it came to our relationship.

The pandemic had made dating easier. We had holed up in his house when the Witcher filming had shut down. It was easy to forget he was ridiculously famous, and I was basically a nobody when we were alone together with Kal in the house. But the lockdown had been lifted, and Henry decided it was time to venture out. Perhaps let the world in on our relationship status. Up until today, Henry had maintained that he was single. 

I wasn't anxious in the beginning to let the world know that I was with Henry. Sure my family knew, but they had kept it to themselves. It was hard to keep hiding the fact that I was dating Henry when I had been living with the guy for months. Mom was just happy I was happy, and I really was. Logically I knew when we became exclusive and then officially dating, that eventually, if I wanted to stay with Henry, his fans would learn about us. But that was the thing about the lockdown, there was no rush to announce it. No pressure from reporters on red carpets or in interviews. 

But today Henry woke up and decided it was time. Of course, if I truly didn't want to, he wasn't going to push me into this outing. But how could I say no to those blue eyes and charming smile that I had come to love so much? 

That didn't stop the worry from building up inside me, though. No matter how much I tried to fool myself, and how much I knew in my mind that this was for the best, my stomach had other plans. 

"You still okay, love?" Henry asked me, his gaze flashing over to me before turning back to the road. I plastered a smile on my face, trying to convince myself as much as him that I was fine. But the grip I had on his hand was giving me away. "I can turn around if you really don't want to do this."

"It's not that I don't want to." I nibbled on my lower lip. I had been trying to come up with the right words to explain my feelings, but so far hadn't. Taking a deep breath, I decided to just wing it. "Do you remember when you weren't famous? How it felt? The anonymity of it? That's what I have right now. And it's comfortable. However, since I want to be with you, I know I have to lose some of that. It's just hard to take the first step out of my comfort zone." 

Henry was quiet for a long moment after, though in reality it was probably less than a minute. I bit my lip harder, feeling the first bubbles of a freak out churning inside me as I watched him make his decision. 

"I want to go to the market with you." I blurted out before he could say anything. I gripped his hand harder if it was possible, worried that he would pull away from me. In my mind, I knew he wouldn't. Henry had always been hyper considerate; always a gentleman. He didn't want to rush me into anything I didn't want to do, but this was something I did want to do. "I promise, this is what I want."

"If you change your mind..." Henry let the rest of his sentence hang as he continued to drive us toward the market. I knew what he meant; one word from me, and we were out of there. 

When we pulled into the dirt parking lot of the open air market, Henry tugged a baseball cap on, covering what I lovingly called his pandemic curls. I didn't need a hat to help disguise me. No one here knew who I was, but I wondered how long that would last for. Henry opened the car door for me, offering me his hand. My grip on it was significantly looser than it had been on the drive. We were doing this, and it was going to be fine. Smiling up at him, we slipped our masks on and walked over to the bustling market.

The lockdown had been lifted, but there were still plenty of policies in place about social distancing and wearing a mask. Everyone at the market was abiding by these, so the stress of being in public was less than what it would have been in a grocery store. Vendors were all wearing gloves and masks, and no one was handling food they didn't intend to buy. I felt myself relax, and begin to actually enjoy being out of the house for the first time since the pandemic began. 

Between the mask and the hat, not many people recognized Henry. And the ones that thought he looked familiar didn't say anything. It was hard to tell for sure that it was him. Sure he had been posting to Instagram while wearing a mask, but the hat seemed to throw people off. We went up to several vendors, buying fresh veggies and bread for the house. No one seemed to realize who they were selling their goods to. 

I watched Henry in awe. He seemed to be enjoying his rare moment of anonymity along with me. He probably didn't get many opportunities like this anymore. Between being Superman, Sherlock, and now Geralt, he touched on so many different fandoms that it was hard to find someone who didn't know him. I hadn't been with him out in public before, so I never realized how differently he cared himself when he knew the world was watching. Of course, he was still ridiculously polite and considerate. It wasn't so much how he acted or what he said that changed. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was different, but there was something. 

He caught me staring at him, a smile twinkling in his eyes. Wrapping his free arm around me, he guided me toward the edge of the market, where there was less of a crowd. He pulled out his phone, and opened the camera to selfie mode. 

"Are you ready?" Henry asked, as he held the phone away from us, angling it so that we were both in the frame. 

"Definitely." And I wasn't lying. I finally felt ready to take this next step. I looked up at him, so he could see how serious I was. His hand on my hip squeezed, pulling me closer. I knew if it wasn't for the masks, he would have kissed me. 

He popped his hat off, his curls a wild mess in the breeze. I laughed, and that was when he decided to take the picture. I caught a glimpse of it as he pulled his phone toward himself to get a look at the picture. We both looked happy even with our masks on. My eyes were crinkled and you could tell I was laughing. 

"That one is a keeper." Henry tilted the phone so I could see it better. It hit me in that moment. I was dating Henry Cavill, and with a push of a few buttons, the world would know too. And I wasn't scared. I was happy our secret would be out. He typed up a caption, and tagged the market to drum up some business for them, before tucking his phone back in his pocket. "Ready to head home?" 

"Only if you are? Did we get everything we needed?" I didn't want to rush us, and I was enjoying being out with him perhaps a little too much. 

"We can keep looking." Though he said we could stay, he took us back to the car. Popping the trunk, we unloaded our arms of the food we had already bought. I turned to head back to the market, "But first."

He pulled me to him with one arm, while he pulled my mask down. He pulled his mask down, kissing me deeply. His tongue explored my mouth as I melted against him. It suddenly didn't matter that we were in public, putting our relationship on display. When Henry kissed me like that, the world faded away, and I knew only him. My favourite book series popped into my head whenever this happened. One day you may kiss a man you can't breathe without, and find breath is of little consequence. Henry Cavill may just very well be my Barrons. 

He finished the thorough kiss with a few quick pecks before he pulled away. He slipped his mask back up over his mouth and nose as I did the same. Turning we went to go back to the market. I spied a few people near their cars, mouths wide open staring at us. They knew who he was. Henry hadn't put his hat back on, in fact I think he left it in the car. And he had just had his mask pulled down. 

"Busted." I giggled quietly, nodding subtly to the people who were still staring. Henry laughed, pulling me tight to his side as we continued into the market for a second round.

By the time we got home, his Instagram was blowing up with questions about my identity, and what kind of relationship we had. Were we just friends? Did I work with him? Henry and I cuddled up on the couch with Kal to flick through some of the comments. Henry had learned not to read them all in one go as he had many followers. But as he scrolled through, I noticed one person saying they saw us kissing in the parking lot. I guess his fans knew now what I was to Henry. 

He loves me.  

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Shared Language

Ghiaccio x Florist!Reader, gn pronouns, fluff ending

1000 follower giveaway for @therealcozyy after a million years I’m so sorry

Warnings: kind of angst, hospitalization and IV’s but nothing major

At the end of a busy day, all you want to do is close up shop and trudge to the apartment the floor above you, and collapse into bed. Thirteen Bridal Bouquets, Add on roughly six each for bridesmaids, as well as walkin customers have you frenzied and harrowed and exhausted, your hands aching with the amount of work you pulled today. Annoyance shoots through you when you hear the patronizing ring of the bell, signaling someone new, and you squeeze your eyes shut, collecting yourself before you turn around. 

"I'm horribly sorry, but we are closed for the night, so-" Your voice trails off when your eyes graze over the Passione pin glinting on the man's shirt, and you visibly wilt when your eyes travel up to his face. "Of course. How much do I owe you?" 

"It's a protection fee. It's not any lower or higher than it's ever been," He responds, looking just as annoyed with the situation as you feel. You sigh, biting your tongue, and crouch behind the counter, skimming the shelves for the envelope you usually keep the fee in. 

"Right, here you are. Um, let me count it out just to make sure I have it all, if that's alright?" 

His eyes meet yours, narrowing, before he shrugs, resting his hands on the counter. You flip through the bills, organizing them by every fifty euros. He watches you count like a hawk, his eyes flicking to your face when you purse your lips in a particular way and freeze. 

"Shit." 

You disappear into the back office, and he can see you rummaging around, looking more and more stressed as you go. 

"Is there a problem?" He calls after you, an edge to his voice.

"No, no, it's-" You come back out to the front, looking near tears as you open the cash register. Your voice cracks when you speak again. "No, there's not a problem. Give me just a moment." 

By the time you've finished counting, there's ten euros left in the register, and tears have started to pool into your eyes. You have to swallow to speak, and when you do, your voice is soft and catches on each word. 

"There. Ten-Ten thousand Euros." You recount once more just to make sure it's all there, tucking it back into the envelope and handing it over to him. His eyebrows knit as he glances to your register, and your lip trembles when you speak again. "Now, really, sir, I do have to close up for the night." 

Even though he's left your shop, he remains in his car, watching you lean over your desk and cry as you appear to do some calculations. Wordlessly, he drives away. 

    -

You're in the middle of arguing with a customer on the price of a standard funeral basket when the bell rings, and one glance over at the door has you panicking. 

"Shit, sir, you need to leave," You usher the fuming customer out the door and swivel, your eyes wide, at the man from last night. "Was it not enough?! Are you going to take my-" 

"Woah, slow down!" He holds up his hands. "I just- do you want- cazzo," He spits, shoving his hands in his pockets. You shift nervously, hysteria quickly threatening to well up past your throat. "Shit. I saw that you didn't have much left yesterday, so I wanted to- buy you lunch." 

You aren't sure if you heard him properly, but when what he says finally registers, your legs crumple underneath you. 

You wake to a concerned blue haired man, and a curious purple haired one who's taking your pulse and checking you over for injuries. 

"Oh, good, you're awake," The purple haired one smiles cooly, helping you sit up. You press a hand to the back of your head, wincing. "Ghiaccio here called me in a frenzy when you passed out. I'd pass out too if he ever asked me out to eat." 

The blue haired one- Ghiaccio, glares daggers at his companion, practically frothing at the mouth, his teeth grinding back and forth. The purple haired one pays him no mind, continuing his conversation with you as if you were old friends. 

"I don't think you need to go to the hospital, but my advice is close early and get some rest. 

"I- what?" Your mind is still trying to catch up to what's happening- two men from Passione acting so casual with you it's like you've known them for years. You frown, gingerly rubbing the back of your head. Not Ghiaccio chuckles, the corners of his lips quirking up with the action as he repeats himself. 

"I- I can't. I can't afford to close early. My rent is due in three days and I have 300 euros. That makes me 1700 euros short and if I'm short again I'll lose my business." 

"Have you eaten since last night?" Ghiaccio speaks up, his words harsher than he probably intends. You stare at him blankly. 

"No?" 

"Do you want to?" 

"I-" You glance at the clock. "I would, but…" 

"What if we brought you some food back here?" Not Ghiaccio coos, earning a death glare from his companion. You bite your lip, slowly getting to your feet. 

"I guess so? If you're offering." 

"I'll be back in forty minutes," Ghiaccio ushers his companion out of your shop, and you're left alone to mull over what happened. 

True to his word, he strolls back into your shop forty five minutes later, a bottle of water and a box of margherita pizza in hand. He sets it on your counter, biting his bottom lip nervously. 

"Are you pitying me?" You ask him quietly, reaching out for the bottle of water, pausing just before you grasp it.

"Since when is doing something nice for someone pitying them?" He looks genuinely taken aback, and you can see anger rising in his face. You decide to let the issue go, opening the box and taking a slice of pizza. 

"It's not something you had to do," You take a bite, feeling a little awkward that you're eating in front of him. "But thank you." 

He takes a slice of pizza for himself, looking uncomfortably stiff as he eats. You share a tense silence with him, your mind reeling with the possibilities of his presence. 

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" 

"I could ask you the same thing," You turn to him, pulled out of your funk. "You're standing in my lobby still as a statue, looking like I just gave you the worst news of your life." 

"What the hell does that mean?" He snaps, stiffening even more. You cover your mouth to hide the smile forming on your lips. Maybe you could enjoy his company after all. 

"It means if your eyebrows knit together any further, you're going to form a unibrow," You take a discreet sip of the water he gave you, laughing when he swivels to face the window, trying to see what you're describing. 

His heart stutters when he hears it, the way your mirth sounds so musical and carefree. God, he thinks to himself. He could listen to that forever.

"Hey, listen," You set the bottle of water down, moving around behind the counter for a moment. When you look satisfied, he watches as you come around the counter and present him with a small bouquet, mixed with white clover, pink sweet pea, Hydrangeas, and peach colored roses. "Thank you."

His face burns as he reaches out and takes the flowers, his heart hammering in his chest when his hand grazes yours. You smile gently at him, retreating back behind the counter. He can't find anything else to say, so he gives you a gruff goodbye and leaves your shop, sitting in his car long after he arrives home. 

-

"Who're the flowers from?" Prosciutto looks up from his book, eyebrow raised in question as Ghiaccio enters the hideout. Ghiaccio balks, stammering in a mix of embarrassment and indignation. 

"The florist three blocks down. Why do you need to know?" 

"Oh? They never give me flowers when I collect their protection fee," Prosciutto hums, tilting his head. 

"When's the last time you bought them lunch?" Melone drapes himself over the back of the couch Prosciutto lounges on, grinning coyly at Ghiaccio as he searches for a vase. Prosciutto hums again in understanding. 

"Their shop still not doing too well, huh? How much did they have left this time?" 

"You make it sound like you want their business to fail," Pesci whines, jutting his lower lip out. "They're always so nice to me when I collect the fee. They'd lose their home if they shut down." 

"They had ten euros," Ghiaccio answers, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, setting the arrangement of flowers inside and carrying it to his room. He gingerly places it on his windowsill, tilting it until he's satisfied that it would get the best amount of sunlight. Prosciutto appears in the door, entering without asking and leaning over Ghiaccio's shoulder to peer at the flowers. His mouth quirks up into a smile when he's satisfied and turns to leave. 

"What? What's that face for?" Ghiaccio stops him from leaving, his tone demanding. Prosciutto looks too smug for his own good, his eyes slanted downwards as he studies Ghiaccio's form. 

"Look up the meaning of those flowers and you'll understand," Prosciutto sidesteps and leaves with a wave of his hand, leaving Ghiaccio fuming. 

-

He had wanted to come by sooner, but unfortunately, got caught up in an odd schedule where he'd travel from job to job, and got stuck in Rome for a month on a hit that only paid One Hundred thousand euros. By the time he'd come back home, he did nothing but sleep and keep up on the paperwork for two days. 

The next time he shows up at your shop, you're not there, and the windows and doors have been boarded up. The sign on the entrance says "Gone out of business."    

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" He kicks the door frame furiously with each swear, earning some strange glances and some comments. 

"Christ, man, they weren't even the best florist in town. It's a wonder they stayed afloat as long as they did." 

"Heard it was because they couldn't pay their rent this month. Honestly, with how much Passione charges, it's not even a protection fee anymore, it's an eviction notice waiting to happen." 

"Honestly, they're just flowers. Why is he so worked up?" 

"The person running the shop wasn't even that personable." 

The crowd he'd accumulated falls silent when he turns around, his expression nothing less than smoldering. Some furtive glances at his pin, and soon, the street is empty. 

He meanders back home, kicking pebbles to the side, glowering at anyone even remotely in his way, and slams the door so hard it almost falls off of the hinges when he arrives, earning a displeased look from Prosciutto. 

"What's the matter with you?" 

"Where the fuck are they?" 

"That's rather vague," Prosciutto lights a cigarette and leans back on the couch, resting his ankle on his knee. "Did you have a hit go wrong, or-" 

"The fucking-" Ghiaccio all but stomps over to where his colleague sits, ripping the cigarette from his mouth and taking a deep dreg himself. Prosciutto's brow furrows in annoyance, but he doesn't say anything as he pulls out another from his silver case and lights it. "The florist. They went out of business. Where did they go?" 

"Like I should know the answer to that," Prosciutto scoffs, tapping his ashes into the tray on the end table. Ghiaccio follows suit, taking another deep inhale, sputtering when it goes up his nose. Prosciutto huffs again, shrugging. "What am I? A babysitter? I told you they were going to go under." 

"Well, who collected their fee last?" Ghiaccio throws himself into the chair perpendicular to Prosciutto, tapping his ashes out. Prosciutto hums. 

"Had to have been Risotto. The rest of us were all on hits at the time it's usually collected." 

Ghiaccio bolts up, putting out his half smoked cigarette, earning a glare from Prosciutto. 

"If you're going to steal my smokes, the least you could do is finish them. These are expensive, you know." 

"Then buy a cheaper brand," Ghiaccio retaliates, walking back towards Risotto's office. "We're on a budget anyways, aren't we?"

Just barely in earshot, he can hear Prosciutto telling him to fuck off. Inhaling deeply, he knocks on his capo's door. 

-

"No clue." 

"What the fuck do you mean, no clue?" Ghiaccio's voice is nearing hysterics, and he taps his foot fast, his eyes blown wide. Risotto's demeanor doesn't change, he just hums. 

"Exactly that. I collected their fee two weeks ago. I was in and out. I didn't even know they were shut down until just five minutes ago, when you burst in here screaming about it." 

"Cazzo. CAZZO! Fine, I'll find them myself!" 

"You said Melone went and helped you with a fainting spell they had? See if he can help." 

"See if that slimy- oh." 

-

Of course. 

Of course it had to snow. 

You sit against the brick wall of the alleyway, doing your best to ignore the drug deal to your left, and the way your stomach twists painfully. 

"Hey! Hey, you!" 

You hunker down, your brow furrowed miserably, and close in on yourself a little more to stave off the cold. 

"Hey, you, on the ground! Get the fuck outta here. This is my turf!" Your screamer's legs appear in front of you, and you look up at him, dead eyed. "Jeez, you look like real shit, you know? When's the last time you ate?" 

"Leave me alone." 

"What, not even a hello?" Your perpetrator sneers, crouching to your level. You don't have it in you to even glare. You're too hungry. He scoffs, eyeing you. "Tch. Find somewhere else to starve to death, huh? You're making it hard for me to do my business." 

"Do you have to humiliate me any more than I already am?" You sigh, trying to get to your feet. "Fine. Just leave me alone."

You lean heavily on the wall, your legs trembling underneath you. Homelessness has not treated you well, and the stares your emaciated body receive only further your spiral into despair. 

You've barely made it to the next alley over when your legs give out, and you collapse face first into the accumulated snow. Hazily, you think to yourself that you have to get something to drink somehow, and pull yourself up, grabbing handfuls and shoving it into your mouth, nevermind how cold you already are, your thin long sleeves and tattered excuse for pants clinging wetly to your body. The only thing you can do now is wish for death to come faster than it does. You fall down onto your side and stare blankly at the opposite wall, willing yourself to fall asleep. 

You think you see a pair of legs come to a halt in front of you before you slip into a haze. 

-

When you wake again, a flat white ceiling greets you instead of a cloudy sky, and you notice the weight of a blanket on you. Hazily, you glance over and notice an IV drip hanging out of your arm, and a somewhat familiar blond haired man in a suit sitting next to your bed, smoking a cigarette and absentmindedly reading a newspaper. His eyes flick over when he senses your movement, and his brow shoots up. The paper is set aside, and he takes a generous hit from his cigarette before speaking. 

"Good morning. We weren't sure if you were going to pull out of that or not. You've been asleep for almost four days. It's funny. You lose your business, and suddenly, you drop off of our radar. It was quite a chore to find you, you know." 

"Are you mocking me?" You croak, trying to pull yourself up into a sitting position. The blond appraises you for a minute, puffing smoke out of his mouth. "Are we in a hospital? I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to smoke in hospitals." 

"I doubt the staff is going to give me a hard time," The man speaks lightly, lounging back. "You certainly are something. You've been awake two minutes and you already have a smart mouth?" A small smile lights up his features. "I guess you could say that you're a trooper." 

"I'm starving," You bite your lip, turning away, your eyes widening when you finally place the man. "Shit! You're from Passione! Oh my god, oh, I lost my-" 

"I already know that," The man waves you off. "I'm just here to keep an eye on you and take you home once you get discharged." 

"But I don't- I don't have a home," You place your thumbnail between your teeth, looking at him anxiously. He dismisses you again, snubbing out his smoke.

"That's why I'm here, kid." 

His vagueness annoys you, but one glance at the box of apple juice and ham sandwich on your bedside tray has anything you want to say dying in your mouth, and by the time you've scarfed it down, tears spark at the corner of your eyes, and any animosity towards the gangster has dissipated. 

"Thank you." 

-

The blond- he's since introduced himself as Prosciutto, drives in silence away from the hospital, not saying anything to you about where you're going. You fidget nervously in the passenger seat, jumping when he parks the care and tells you that you've arrived. 

You're still a little unsteady on your feet, so Prosciutto guides you down the stairs with a hand on the small of your back, and leans across you to unlock and open the door. The minute you step inside, you're greeted with almost everyone who's come to collect your protection fees. The only one missing is the blue haired one who bought you lunch- Ghiaccio. 

The...boss… Risotto, as introduced, gives you a quick tour of your new residence, telling you that everything is free range, that he's going to have you take on some of the deskwork in return, and shows you to your room. Inside is a bed and a few changes of clothes in the closet. At this point, you're teetering on the edge of bawling your eyes out, and you can barely choke out a thank you, giving him a wobbly smile. You swear you can see him smile in return. 

-

You're sitting on the edge of your bed that night, fidgeting nervously, your mind spinning 100 miles per hour, when there's a knock at your door. You practically jump out of your skin, and call out a shaky "Come In." 

The door creaks open slowly, and there he is, his hands hidden behind his back. 

Ghiaccio. 

You stand slowly, your eyes searching his face. 

"Did you-" You catch yourself, starting towards him hesitantly. He seems just as hesitant as he walks towards you. "Did you make this happen?" 

"Not really," His voice is soft and hoarse, and the way his brow is furrowed tells you just how worried he was, but the light in his eyes shows you how relieved he feels to see you in person again. "I just suggested it, really. Sort of… Panicked... When I saw your- your shop-" His voice falters when you reach out and grab his shoulder. Tears are welling in your eyes for what feels like the eightieth time today, and your lower lip trembles when your hand comes in contact with him. He's a little cold to the touch, but it's comforting and refreshing. 

"Thank you," You manage. He swallows thickly, revealing his hands and shoving something harshly in your direction. He's beet red now, and looking anywhere but you. You grab it, taken aback, and look down to inspect it. 

Now you really start to cry, tears spilling onto the arrangement of Daffodils, Daisies, purple lilacs, irises, and lavender roses. So much said in one little bouquet. A sob expels from your throat, and you look up at him, catching him watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

You set the flowers on your bed, stepping forward to wrap your arms around him. 

"They're good?" He sounds nervous, and stiffens at the contact. 

"They're wonderful," You confirm, your voice thick as you bury your face into his shoulder. His arms wind around you, then, and you can hear the relief in his voice when he murmurs to you again. 

"Welcome home."

[ikeromantic]

The Greatest Harm

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words - this scene takes place around the mid-point of Ch. 12 in the romantic route!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Unexpected Gifts

Kennyo stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the girl. She was knelt down, cleaning one of the tanegashima. Vital, if you intended it to fire later. But seeing her, a creature of peace, cradling an instrument of death, was strange.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. As if he, a monk turned demon, had any ground to criticize. This world made monsters of them all. Even kind little girls who still shuddered at the thought of harming someone.

The abbot cleared his throat to let her know he was there. “Neither Mitsuhide nor Motonari have returned?”

She still gave a little jump at the sound of his voice. “Ah! No! I mean - no, not yet.”

Kennyo entered the room. As he did, the girl’s posture stiffened. The muscles in her shoulders bunched tight, and her jaw clenched. Not an inappropriate reaction to a demon, but it still made him feel a spike of shame. For whatever reason, he did not want this girl to fear him. Perhaps Ranmaru’s reports were to blame. Yes. They’d given him an idealistic portrait of the chatelaine. One that couldn’t be wholly accurate.

He frowned at her and at his own reaction. Best to get to the point. “I’ve found the shogun. He is hiding with a daimyo just outside of Kyoto. Take note.”

She set the tanegashima aside and stood. Then hurried to the desk to pull out paper, brush and ink. “Ready!”

The abbot sat as far from her as he could. Perhaps with distance between them she would . . . Kennyo didn’t finish the thought. He set his staff down and adjusted his robes. “My informants spoke with several servants of the daimyo, confirming that he had a guest. The descriptions match, and one overheard the name Ashikaga.” He continued, providing the level of detail he knew Mitsuhide would require to plan, pausing as he went to give the girl time to write.

She smiled as she took down his report. A lock of hair fell forward on to her cheek, and she pushed it back, leaving a little ink smear in its place.

Kennyo was reminded of the children he’d taught at the temple. It made him want to protect her - to tell her to leave while she could, lest her innocence be tainted by the likes of him, the kitsune, and their pirate accomplice.

Of course he said none of those things. But he could not help falling into memory of better times.

When he finished, the chatelaine looked up at him to confirm there was no more to write.

“That is everything. You did well.” His cheeks ached as his lips turned up in a soft, paternal smile. An expression he had not worn in so long that his body had forgotten what it felt like.

The girl blushed and ducked her head. “Ah, it - it wasn’t anything special.”

Kennyo watched her reaction. Humility, gratitude for the compliment . . . He was struck again by the strangeness of finding someone like her here. Though he knew it was wiser to simply leave, he could not help but ask. “Why has a woman like you twined your fate with that of the kitsune?” He leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers. “You will never have an easy life with him.”

Though she could have, the chatelaine did not break eye contact. She gave a small, gentle smile. “He’s more important to me than being comfortable.”

“You unfortunate creature.” Kennyo sighed. “You cannot know all of the atrocities he has committed. The horrors done by his hand or at his behest.”

The girl’s shoulders straightened. “Mitsuhide makes no secret of his past. I learned about the things he has done when he trained me. I accept him just as he is - his horrible side and his gentleness together. I don’t separate the people I love into pieces and decide which parts are worthy and which not.”

It was, Kennyo had to admit, a good answer. And an unexpected one. Yet . . . how could a woman love someone with so much blood on his hands? It was like a compassionate spirit holding to a demon. An impossibility. “I cannot understand you.”

She did not answer, and Kennyo felt the gap between them grow wider. Perhaps there simply was no answer.

The abbot stood. “Forgive me young lady.” It had to be said, but he could admit in this moment, some regret. “I understand, at least, how important that man is to you. But one day I will come for his life.”

Kennyo expected her to be angry, or perhaps frightened. But she only shook her head and smiled. “You can’t have it, you know.”

He did not want her to see his stunned expression, or the battle in his soul. Kind monk and demon, twisting his heart until it bruised and tore. The abbot turned and left, hurrying down the stairs and into the unforgiving light of the bright, afternoon sun.

***

Mitsuhide toyed with the letter in his hands, folding and unfolding it. He had no right to destroy it, but if he burned it and only he knew . . . No. He’d promised his little mouse as much honesty as he could manage.

“Most beautiful flower, I will treasure your letter until the day my heart stops, and perhaps not even then.” The opening line caught his eye. Again. Yoshimoto was good with words. At least, compliments and confessions aside, the Imagawa clan leader agreed to their plan.

The forces of Azuchi and Echigo would meet in mock battle for a time. Long enough to draw the shogun’s eyes. The letters confirming the plan were already enroute, and the rumors set to burn their way to Ashikaga’s ears. With luck, it would be enough to give them an opening. And with more luck than he had any right to, the false conflict would not lead to unnecessary casualties.

“I can see your sweet spirit in the curves of ink, and feel your kind heart through every word.”

Well, perhaps one casualty would be alright.

Mitsuhide folded the letter up and stuck it in his pocket. Reading it again was not . . . beneficial. He would deliver it to his little one, as asked.

When he returned to their rooms, his little one was waiting for him. Her smile and “Welcome home!” was like warm sake to a chilled body. Mitsuhide walked to her and put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close for a kiss, and in the taste of her lips, he lost himself for just a few, sweet moments.

“I missed you,” she sighed and laid her head on his chest when their kiss ended. He hoped she could not hear how fast she made his heart beat.

“And I, you.” He took the letter out and looked at its deep-creased folds. Then, with a steadying breath, he held it out to her. “This arrived for you.”

His little mouse took the letter. “What? What’s this about?”

“It is from Yoshimoto.” He schooled his expression to neutrality, hiding his unhappiness at handing the missive over.

“Oh? Does this mean -”

Mitsuhide nodded. “He communicated our proposal to Echigo and they have accepted. Azuchi has already mustered troops and marches now to the agreed upon location.”

She looked to the desk and back to him. “Kennyo was by earlier. He left information on Ashikaga’s whereabouts. Do you want to read it?”

“I will. Later. I am sure it only confirms what Kyubei discovered. The shogun is hiding so near to us that -” he stopped, realizing the import of the rest of his words. He would need to leave. Tonight, or maybe dawn, at the latest. His throat closed tight and for a moment, Mitsuhide felt he couldn’t breathe. He would be leaving her here, alone. While he went to assassinate Ashikaga. He might not come back. Anything could happen to her while he was away . . .

“Love, what is it?” His little one could feel the tension in him, and sense his sudden anxiety. She dropped the letter she held to reach for him. Yoshimoto’s words fell to the ground, forgotten.

There was no avoiding it. He had his duty. And if he failed, more than his life or hers were forfeit. Mitsuhide looked at her and forced himself to relax, to breathe. “We will depart tonight. And I won’t return until the shogun is no more.”

She took a shaky breath. “Tonight is - is so soon!”

He smiled gently and tapped the tip of her nose. “Don’t look so sad. Didn’t I tell you that all I want is to know you are smiling, far from the conflict. Safe and happy.”

“I know.”

His little one still looked miserable. Mitsuhide sighed. This was more difficult than he anticipated. For himself and for her. He gently lowered her to the floor, and pulled her back against his chest. She tried to turn her head to look at him but he stopped her with a kiss just below her ear. “All I want you to worry about while I am gone is yourself. The greatest harm I could ever suffer would be leaving -”

The words wouldn’t come. Just thinking of her hurt left his mind in turmoil and his heart a gaping hole.

She turned until she could see him, and this time he let her. Though it wasn’t good for her to see such need in his eyes. He had to be strong - for her - and keep smiling. His little one didn’t speak, but she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. And traced a fingertip along his jaw.

“I should consult with Kennyo and Motonari before I leave,” he said, words and heart pulling against each other.

“All right.” Her hand dropped away from him, and she stood. “I’ll get you packed.”

Mitsuhide wanted to say more. He wanted to pull her back into his lap and kiss her. Wanted more than that . . . to touch and taste her every curve, and imprint those memories in his mind so that, in his time away he could relive this night.

But she was already walking to the desk. Her back to him.

“I’ll return soon.”

His little one nodded, and glanced toward him as he walked to the door. Her eyes were damp and wide. Holding back tears. Again.

Next: Strength

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Just based on “Baby It’s Cold Outside” 

Warnings: Written quickly and with little editing so I’m sorry if it’s not up to normal standards! No actual bad warnings! 

Word Count: 1700

_______________________

You curled into Tom’s warm body while you sipped what remained of the hot chocolate that you had been enjoying throughout the Christmas movie you and Tom had been watching. It didn’t take much convincing to get him to give into watching your favorite holiday movie. 

Tom was a sap when it came to the holidays. Holiday movies, Christmas music, baking cookies, excessive amounts of hot chocolate, driving around just to look at Christmas lights, and building snowmen were just a part of the holiday season with him and you loved it. How could you not? Especially when it meant you were snuggled into your boyfriend’s body with his arms wrapped around you and a ridiculously fluffy blanket cocooning the both of you. 

The credits had begun to roll though and you sighed, enjoying where you found yourself on this wonderful night. Tom clicked off the movie and tightened his arms around you, taking a big inhale of your scent that he wished he could be shrouded in for forever. He glanced down at your wrist, which now bore the beautiful bracelet he’d given you just earlier that night, a simple thin silver chain with small pieces of your favorite gemstone. Your eyes lit up when you opened the long box and you had thanked him repeatedly before he saw the panic flash in your eyes when you made a comment about how much it must have cost him. Tom had reassured you that it really hadn’t set him back much at all, which wasn’t a lie. He wouldn’t have cared if it did, though, because there was nothing that he could give you that would show you how much he loved you. 

“I don’t want to go home.” You groaned, burying yourself impossibly further into his hold. 

He chuckled, pulling you tighter to him, “Then stay.” 

You began to run your fingers over the top of his hand, tracing each knuckle gently, “I wish I could. I promised my parents I’d stay the night at their house tonight. Besides, I don’t want to drive in the snow this late.” It was Christmas Eve and your mother wanted to open presents first thing in the morning, just like how it was when you were little. She had been emotional and nostalgic this holiday season, the reality that her babies had grown up getting to her, and had made plans to make Christmas as close to how it was when you were children as possible. You really didn’t mind much, though. You only wished it didn’t mean you had to leave Tom’s loving embrace. 

Tom sighed and shifted as you stood up heavily. He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times and the beginning notes to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” began to play from the small device. You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Are you serious?” 

He stood up beside you and captured your body in his arms, as if he was going to begin a waltz with you. One hand rested on your waist and the other held your hand gently, “Very.” He smiled, looking down at you as he began to sway your bodies side to side. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You giggled in disbelief that he was pulling this card. “I really can’t stay.” You sang along with the music when the lines came up. 

“But baby it’s cold outside.” Tom sang back in response. 

With a chuckle, you pulled away, Tom’s grip on your hand tightening as you tried to walk away. The music continued serendipitously in the background as you laughed at the cheesiness that was your boyfriend. With a small tug at your arm, you spun into his body where your hand came to his chest, enjoying every bump and dip under his shirt.

My mother will start to worry

Beautiful, what's your hurry?

My father will be pacing the floor

Listen to the fireplace roar

So really I'd better scurry

Beautiful please don't hurry

Well maybe just a half a drink more

I'll put some records on while I pour

“I love you but I really have to go.” You pouted, leaning your head against his chest as you let him hold you just a little longer, “My mom is going to think I’m dead or something and then my dad is gonna kill me for making her worry.”

Tom kept his grip on your body, using his large hands to sway your bodies in time with the music. “Can’t you tell them you got stuck in traffic? Or maybe you just drank a little too much and didn’t feel safe to drive!” He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping you’d take his offer. 

“I can’t lie to them on Christmas!” You laughed, side stepping in time with Tom. 

He let go of you only long enough to sprint to his kitchen, “You don’t have to lie! I’ll make you something right now! I got beer, gin, vodka...” 

“Tom!” You chased after him and stood off to the side with your hands on your hips while you watched him mix a drink together, “You’re going to end up on Santa’s naughty list for trying to get me drunk.” 

Tom only shrugged, “I already have what I want for Christmas.” He put the finishing touch on the mystery drink he’d mixed up for you and handed it to you proudly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, looking down at the drink that appeared to be a mixture of a clear alcohol you hadn’t paid attention to and cranberry juice. He nodded his head a little, silently insisting that you take the drink. “You think you’re so charming.” You chimed, teasing being the only weapon you had against his powerful spell on you. With an eye roll, you took the drink from his hands and swirled the liquid around. 

The neighbors might think

Baby it's bad out there

Say what's in this drink?

No cabs to be had out there

I wish I knew how

Your eyes are like starlight now

To break this spell

I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell

Why thank you

I ought to say no, no, no sir

Mind if move in closer?

At least I'm gonna say that I tried

What's the sense of hurting my pride?

I really can't stay

Baby don't hold out

Baby it's cold outside

Keeping eye contact with him, you sipped the cocktail and sputtered when the fiery liquid went down your throat, much stronger than you’d expected, “What the hell is in this?” You asked through a mixture of laughs and coughs. Usually you were alright when it came to strong drinks but this one just took you off guard. 

“Nothing you don’t like!” Tom defended, knowing how you liked your drinks mixed. He had been in a rush though and had accidentally been heavier handed with the liquor than intended. 

“I have to drive. I’m not going to finish this.” You insisted, setting the glass on the counter, “Though your persistence is charming.”

“Is it working?” He asked, hope in his voice. 

You feigned a look of ponderance before taking off in a playful run back into the living room. Your keys were on the table and just when you bent down to pick them up, Tom grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down to the couch on top of him. “Mind if I move in closer?” 

You laughed as your body gave into Tom’s every touch. You didn’t even try to escape his clutches this time, only held onto his strong arms that were wrapped around your torso so you could touch him in some way. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, eyes sliding shut, “You know my weaknesses.” 

“Of course, I do, darliing.” He gave you a cheeky smirk. 

The two of you snuggled into each other’s embrace. Tom was so comforting, even when he was being a pain in the ass like right now. The way his scent enveloped you - clean but warm - made you never want to leave this spot for as long as you lived. “At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” 

You gave into Tom’s efforts for a while and laid there with him, the music playing in the background and the fireplace roaring. Your eyes opened again and you watched the snow fall outside, Tom’s breathing, the flames, and the music creating a perfect ambience for your moment of weakness. 

Your phone buzzed on the table and groaned, reaching out blindly to grab it. It was your mom, of course. “Who is it?” Tom questioned. 

“My mom. She’s asking if I’m okay.” You read over the message before glancing at the time, “Shit, it’s already almost midnight. I really do need to get home.” 

This time, Tom reluctantly let you sit up to type your reply. “Fine.” He whined, though not actually trying to make you feel bad. He totally understood why you needed to go home. He was just having fun messing with you tonight. 

You stood up, grabbed your keys, and made your way to the front door where you slipped your boots on. Tom came up to stand beside you while you were bent over and you came face to face with him when you stood up. He had a mischievous smile on his face that took you a moment to process until you realized his arm was outstretched above your heads. In his hand was a small sprig of mistletoe. With a little laugh, you leaned up onto your toes and pecked him on the lips, “You know you didn’t need the mistletoe for that, right?” 

Tom tilted his head back down again for another kiss, “Yeah, I know, but I figured it would add a nice touch.” 

“Merry Christmas.” You wrapped your arms around him one last time and looking up into those beautiful brown eyes that you got lost in. 

Tom’s lips turned upwards, almost like elfishly so, “Merry Christmas, love. You’re still coming over to my parents’ for Christmas dinner tomorrow?” 

You nodded, “Yes, I will be there tomorrow night with pumpkin pie.” You pecked him on the lips just one last time for good measure, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”