#like sure yes this is easy to sketch a line and follow and the racing incidents are more respect to change with perspective but holy fuckkk

[rosegasly]

.8 kph more. half a mile per hour more. wow. that is SO fucking on the edge and in those conditions too i am so sorry for checo

[clarenecessities]

As my followers may have picked up from my long, spiraling rants, I’ve undertaken a new research project, courtesy of the death grip She-Ra has on my brain. And guess what? It’s finally at Disseminate Information Stage! So I’m going to lay out all of the gods, demigods, and godbeasts of the Masters of the Universe. With sources!

This table is more of a cheat sheet. We’re gonna tackle this god by god, with a section on Actual Lore & a meta section to help you decide how valid you think they are, because frankly some canons are more canon than others.

Asklepia, Benevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: Asklepia is one of two snake goddesses, the benevolent twin sister of Serpentia. We know very little about her abilities, but the Snake Clan (a clan of human warriors) were said to worship her, and they were famed for their architecture and healing. She had the ability to curse and deform people--to what extent is uncertain, but she’s known to have condemned a fallen priest named Ka, whose disfigured likeness now adorns Snake Mountain.

Behind the Scenes: First appearing in the 1987 comic “Il Nero Cristallo Del Potere“, Asklepia remained nameless for over 30 years, until Masters of the Universe Classics (MOTUC) released a few choice bios. For the unfamiliar, MOTUC seeks to reconcile the often contradictory canons into one overarching narrative, which is great in theory, but in practice is kind of like putting ice cream on a hot dog. And calling it a Chilly Dog ® as if that makes it taste better. But I digress. In 2019 they released a bio for the Staff of Ka which finally put a name to the less-evil Snake Goddess, in an obvious nod to Asclepius and the asklepian (that staff+snake icon people put on medical stuff).

Sharella, the Green Goddess and/or “Avatar” of Asklepia

Lore: Contradictory

Long Version: Okay I’ve put avatar in quotes because it is... contentious. Basically, and you’ll see here why I felt the need to make this post instead of relying blindly on the wikis, Sharella was introduced (in the ‘87 licensing guide) as a tribal leader who had joint custody of Gray, the original name of He-Ro’s alter ego, while he was growing up. This was further developed by Emiliano Santalucia’s concept work, wherein she was the leader of the Green Tiger Tribe (GTT) specifically. While the comic concept was not run through licensing & is thus not “canon”, the idea of her leading the GTT persisted. This teeny tiny image of her from Tytus and Megator’s 1987 Italian box art was all we had until 2008, when one of He-Man’s accessories described her as the “warrior woman ally” of Queen Veena, “who had been changed into the immortal green-skinned avatar of the Goddess Asklepia”. In 2009, MOTUC released a figure for The Goddess, apparently forgetting they’d done that shit the year before because the packaging did say “K’yrulla” was her real name. They had to cover it up with a sticker. 

So who’s The Goddess? Way back in the days before Mattel solidified any of the lore around MOTU, there were mini-comics released with the toys. Initially, the Goddess served a similar function to the Sorceress in the cartoon, and was in fact sometimes called the Sorceress. She facilitated He-Man’s transformations, gave him missions, was generally magical and mysterious, etc. If you know who the Sorceress is, and you can picture Teela, but green? That’s about it.

Back to Sharella, though. The Third Ultimate Battleground rolled around in 2015, and for the first time since some packaging in the 80s, we saw Sharella in action! She was shot through the heart with a poison arrow. Yeah. But don’t worry, she received a blood transfusion from Moss Man (who we’ll get to later), and was transformed into the Green Goddess! She’s immortal now. How Asklepia figures in here is sort of unclear, which is weird since this is still part of the MOTUC line, but whatever. Whatever! Queen Grayskull (the aforementioned Veena) received a bio in 2015 as well, which described Sharella as her apprentice who became “The Goddess”.

Horokoth, Aspect of the Mother Goddess

Lore: DC went a little batshit (pun intended) with the lore for the Eternity War. Here the Goddess is three combined aspects, “Serpos” (Serpentia) for the Snake Men, Zoar for the human “Eternians”, and a third, invented deity called Horokoth, who represents the Horde. Horokoth is “the coming destroyer. The darkness at the end of days.” and is represented by a bat.

Behind the Scenes: That last link has a clearer picture of her, it just didn’t crop well. Also, I confess I couldn’t bring myself to read Eternity War. As thrilling as the prospect of a cohesive narrative is, if I wanted to see Adora slit her brother’s throat there’s the edgier side of deviantArt to peruse. Therefore I know little of Horokoth outside of a few still images of Hordak. The bat was almost certainly selected for the Horde’s vespertilian emblem.

Hordeous, God-Beast of Horokoth

Lore: A “primordial”, bat-like godbeast of Horokoth, created in response to the god Saz’s feline races. Their face was “forever infused“ on the surface of Horde World by Horde Lord (Hordak and Horde Prime’s father in the MOTUC canon) to grant their family power and immortality.

Behind the Scenes: Yes they’ve used some words wrong, but they’ve got the spirit, right? Hordeous was (allegedly, this is secondhand) an invention of the MOTUC crew in answer to Horokoth. Now, the Horde Supreme bio predates Horokoth’s introduction by about 3 years, but obviously the comics were in production already. There’s an undated sketch of Horokoth Hordak from an undated interview (thanks for nothing you useless website) but in that same gallery there’s an orko sketch labeled 2012 so. We’re good right? That makes sense, timeline-wise. Anyway the comics slam dunked Horde Prime out of existence and combined him with Horde Lord so it’s contradictory anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Serpentia, Malevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: The evil counterpart of Asklepia, Serpentia is the goddess of the Snake Men. The priest Ka of the Snake Clan forsook Asklepia in her favor, destroying Asklepia’s sacred orb and stealing the Serpent Ring (an artefact capable of transforming humans into Snake Men) from the Ophidian Spire with King Hsss. In DC’s triune interpretation of the Goddess, Serpentia (here ‘Serpos’) is blood, passion, and desire. A primal and primordial force appearing to the Snake Men in their own image.

Behind the Scenes: Okay yes I’ve reused the Asklepia pic but in my defense they are twins and this is the easiest one to crop. So here’s the thing about Serpentia: we only got a name for her in 2019. We knew there was a snake goddess, and she was pretty evil, or at least hostile towards mammalian life (see: the source of the pic I chose for her). Where Asklepia references the asklepian, ‘Serpentia’ is a much more heavy-handed snake reference, even though Anguis was right there. Those Masters Mondays came through for us, though, with the shield and staff of Ka, Ssssylph, and of course MOTUC’s Dark Despot Skeletor, which is. something. Though only recently named, Serpentia has been a shadow over Eternia since the Snake Men’s introduction in 1985 (or, depending on how much of the presented backstory you accept, even sooner in the form of Skeletor’s lair, Snake Mountain).

Serpos/Sarcedon, God-Beast of Snake Mountain

Lore: Contradictory, but the gist of it is he’s a very large snake with elemental magic and a grudge, that was turned to stone and became Snake Mountain.

Long Version: Snake Mountain was conceived of towards the end of 1982, but wasn’t revealed to the public until September of 1983, with the debut of the Filmation cartoon. For another year, the snake coiled around its summit was simply a carving, its mouth hollowed out for Skeletor to stand in and loom. But in 1984 the Snake Mountain toy was released, completely discarding the Filmation design in favor of the hewn face of the figure we now call Ka. Instead of a snake carving winding its way up the peak, the Mattel toy featured a ‘striking serpent’, alive and attached to the mountain itself. From there, it was an easy leap to make to ‘this carving comes alive’. So easy, in fact, that they did it twice!

First attempted in 1985 in the newspaper storyline “Vengeance of the Viper King”, the snake was here called Sarcedon, the World Destroyer. At the dawn of time, he was said to crush Eternia within his deadly coils. He burrowed deep into the ground, causing fearsome storms that nearly destroyed the planet. Only a fearless hero (implied to be He-Ro) could defeat and imprison Sarcedon. Using a macguffin called a Mirror of History, He-Man forced Sarcedon to behold his own reflection in a reference to the Medusa myth that kind of missed the point of it being reflective. Sarcedon was sent back in time, Snake Mountain was restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

That was the last of it until the MYP cartoon in 2004. Serpos as a name was actually first invoked by Mer-Man in a 1982 minicomic, but like it probably wasn’t about the snake. Anyway in the MYP cartoon the Snake Men get this thing called the Medallion of Serpos that lets them un-petrify the snake around Snake Mountain, grow two more heads, and unleash his godly wrath. He breathes fire, trashes Eternos, beats up He-Man, then turns his attention on Castle Grayskull to consume the Orb of Power (containing the strength and wisdom of the Elders, who had first trapped him in stone). He-Man cuts off Serpos’s extra heads with a sword upgrade, the Elders are somehow magically restored to life, and they re-petrify him. Snake Mountain is restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

Zoar, the Fighting Falcon

Lore: Contradictory, but it sure is a bird!

Long Version: While Sharella’s backstory is fraught because of the comics couldn’t decide what they wanted her to be, Zoar was similarly tangled up by the toyline. Initially male, he went through several color schemes, some prettier than others. Though there was a vague association with the Sorceress before the cartoon (recall that pre-Filmation, the Sorceress was just the Goddess), Filmation made them literally inseperable by designating Zoar as the Sorceress’s falcon form, to which she was confined when leaving Castle Grayskull.

Some of the comics and Golden books showed Zoar as being flipping enormous & ridden into battle as a steed by Teela and Man-at-Arms. Pre-Filmation, Zoar was always referred to as male, but post-Filmation, always female, as an incarnation of the Sorceress.

The Eternity Wars comics describe Zoar as the third aspect of the Goddess, the ‘Great Preserver’ whose light would shine through the universe for eternity. They pull off a sort of tripartite priestess thing where it’s Serpos/Zoar/Horokoth represented by Teela-Na (the Sorceress)/Teela/Evil-Lyn.

MOTUC, of course, had to reconcile all of these contradictory canons. How’d they do it? “In the folklore of Eternia, the golden falcon symbolized the godhead Zoar, a powerful deity of Preternia. As a god, Zoar could appear in both male and female guises and while the blue-tipped female falcon was associated with the Sorceress of Grayskull, the golden falcon represented Zoar's masculine nature.” So Zoar is genderfluid now, and the Sorceress is merely borrowing their form when transforming into a falcon. This bio also established that Zoar had anointed the first Sorceress, Veena (Queen Grayskull), which explains why she has wings for no apparent reason.

Also it’s not offically MOTUC but the scultors of the line, Four Horsemen, made a single anthro Zoar for Power-Con 2013. In case you need that for some reason.

Glorybird, Emissary of Zoar

Lore: Many millennia ago, there were three siblings, who were very poor and mistreated by their stepmother, but had hearts filled with kindness and love. Zoar, recognizing their resilience and desire to help people, sent an emissary named Glorybird. Glorybird bestowed upon each sibling a divine gift, but as they used their new powers to fight for good, their stepmother revealed herself to be a Celestial Witch & attempted to sacrifice them to Zoar’s “greatest enemy”, Horokoth.  

Backstory: Okay, so the Star Sisters (and Glorybird) were in exactly one episode of She-Ra, primarily to set them up as new toy designs. While prototypes were made for these, the figures weren’t actually produced until MOTUC released figures for them in 2012. Though they were referenced in Princess Prom, and we saw a brief cameo in a background, Glorybird was absent until the introduction of the Star Siblings in Season Five.

That’s right! This bird is a god, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Saz, God of All Felines

Lore: One of the “Gods of the Multiverse” (he is the only member named explicitly), Saz was a blue-furred, feline deity responsible for the creation of all cats, humanoid or otherwise. He transformed himself into an enormous cat-beast to defeat Serpos and Hordeous, whose progenitors created them in envy of his children. Though Serpos was defeated, Hordeous escaped into the cosmos, and Saz himself vanished mysteriously.

Behind the Scenes: “By the whiskers of Saz!” is a fun pseudo-swear made by various cat races throughout MOTU, first in He-Man’s “The Cat and the Spider” and later in She-Ra’s “Magicats”. That was the only real mention of him until... okay, so MOTUC bios aren’t always attached to the product. Starting in 2018, they did this thing called Masters Mondays where they put unposted bios on the org forums. So while we’ve had the sword since 2010, we didn’t get the background on it until March of 2020. And then a couple weeks later, the Cat Mask of Catra bio referred to him as a “mystical being” instead of a god, but the mask was from 2011 so. He may not have been a god yet. It really depends on when the bios were actually written.

Saz wielded a blade probably best described as a falchion, whose quillon & langet formed a vaguely triangular shape around a deep red gem. I want to be clear that while it looks totally rad, this sword would be very impractical and have poor structural integrity were it not made by a literal god. Do not make swords like this. Also it’s almost certainly riffing on the Sword of Omens from Thundercats (affectionate).

Sabe-Or, Son of Saz

Lore: A green-furred, orange-striped paladin, Sabe-Or is one of the only named Ancients. He inherited his father’s blade upon Saz’s mysterious disappearance, and lived for centuries more. Upon his death, he transferred his “heroic essence” into a group of Eternian tigers, forever transforming them into the Green Tiger Tribe, whence both Granger (steed of King Grayskull), and Cringer, steed of Prince Adam.

Behind the Scenes: So “Battle Cat Man” is a concept that’s existed since they decided to make their hero ride a wicked tiger into battle. If you show a kid a superhero, and a supertiger, apparently the natural inclination of most children in the 80s was to combine the two. There are so many custom action figures. So, so many. Sabe-Or is visually a clear reference to this concept, and canonically seems to be the closest we’re going to get outside of the Thundercats crossover, unless you count Cowarros from 4H’s Mythic Legions line (I do, because it means Purrrplor is also canon and I fucking love calling him that).

Moss Man, Ancient Eternian Nature God

Lore: An ally of King Grayskull, Moss Man was something of an Eternian cryptid in the centuries leading up to He-Man Times. He has control over all plant life, the ability to meld with plants, and apparently can imbue sentience to said plants.

Behind the Scenes: Moss Man wasn’t featured in many episodes, because he’s a little... incredibly over-powered. He’s literally Bigfoot from 5000 years ago with magic powers. And like, since I don’t think the writers appreciate how long 5000 years is, you know what happened 5000 years ago? Stonehenge. This bitch is Stonehenge-old. But sure, you can trace a direct line of descent from his contemporary. smh. Anyway according to MOTUC his real name is Kreann’Ot N’Norosh so make of that what you will. Also his toys were pine-scented. I just love that.

Evil Seed, Rebellious Creation of Moss Man

Lore: Created by Moss Man to help fight in the Great Wars, Evil Seed betrayed his master and turned to evil (who could have foreseen this...), finding joy in corrupting all forms of plant life for his own amusement. Moss Man imprisoned him in enchanted chains, keeping him restrained for many millennia.

Behind the Scenes: According to MOTUC, his real name is Sero Malustro, clumsy New Latin for “(to) plant evil-burnt“. Why his name is New Latin and Moss Man’s is... whatever that is, I have no idea. As you can see from the image I included, he originally had an artichoke head, which was upgraded for the Mike Young Productions (MYP) cartoon. Personally I think the artichoke rules.

Volcana, the Fire Goddess

Lore: Canonically, she’s a fire goddess, and the mother of the Volcano Magus. Together, they are a rising force that seeks to conquer Etheria in the wake of Hordak’s defeat.

Backstory: Volcana has taken a long a twisted journey, but was first revealed to fans at Power-Con 2016 in a panel revealing previously unseen concepts and characters. After the first wave of She-Ra toys, a second wave was planned with a snow focus, to bring more attention the Filmation-neglected Frosta. This began with the introduction of a fire villain, an “evil lady that glows with heat” who would attempt to melt Castle Chill. That concept actually refers to a character named Amber (not Ember, as one might assume) who was reworked into a benevolent counterpart, Volcana’s twin sister.

Volcana was later fleshed out to be a Fire Goddess with flame-red hair, x-ray vision, and arms sculpted with flames. Her cape flew up with flame detail that rose up to control the volcano (of Volcanica, a proposed toyset that seems to have been reworked into the Crystal Falls). She was emphasized by Mattel to not start fires, which, honestly, is probably why they scrapped the character. He-Man couldn’t use his sword as a sword; a woman made of fire was basically doomed.

Now, though, we’re several decades in and lines made for collecters that are largely in their 30s and 40s can say whatever they want! So she’s canon, even if Amber isn’t. Yes there’s only one mention of her. Amber technically was mentioned in an unproduced episode titled “Amber Waves of Flame”, but as it was unproduced, it’s noncanonical.

Volcano Magus, Sinister Son of Volcana

Lore: Living within a dormant volcano, the Volcano Magus of the German audio plays was the source of most of Catra’s power and all of her evil intent. He supplied her with magic for spells and schemes with which to assail the Crystal Castle, but neither she nor Clawdeen were aware of the dark influence he held over them.

In the MOTUC canon, he’s specified as the son of Volcana, a demigod from the “Region of Volcanoes” who craved the nature magic of the Whispering Woods. When he learned the Twiggets were inextricably linked to that magic, he used his powers to petrify the former Rebels (this was after the Horde's defeat) and kidnap three Twiggets to drain the magic from their souls. Twiggets, for the uninitiated, are like purple tree-elf things. According to MOTUC, Razz is a Twigget, though the ‘real’ name they assigned her doesn’t fit their naming convention. She is purple, I guess.

Kowl, who avoided petrification, read Razz's spellbooks to find a way to save his friends, and learned of an Entrapment Gem that she hid in a shoe, for some reason. He confronted the Volcano Magus, spoke in the ancient tongue of the First Ones, and sucked him into the Gem.

Backstory: Admittedly this stuff is second hand, as I don’t speak German & they only have transcriptions/translations for the He-Man tapes anyway, but if anybody can find me an audio file I will do my best to verify. The MOTUC stuff at least I can confirm 100% because it’s from 2019 & I do speak English, for better or worse.

Oak, the Jackal God

Lore: Oak was the terrible Jackal God worshiped by the denizens of Zhar, an ancient civilization that once existed in a remote, forested region of Eternia. Long ago, Oak was imprisoned within a statue which could be found within the Temple of the Jackal. When Skeletor removed the statue from the temple, Oak broke free of the enchantment which imprisoned him and wreaked havoc on Eternia. Although the Jackal God was immensely powerful, he could be weakened by the elements of nature and was ultimately foiled by a rainstorm conjured by the combined powers of He-Man's sword and the magic of the temple's guardian priest.

Backstory: I have lifted this from a He-Man guide word for word as I cannot for the life of me find a copy of the Brazilian Editora Abril comic he came from, O Templo Do Chacal (1986). The description is like, suspiciously similar to the plot of the He-Man episode The Cat and the Spider, except the Grimalkin was never described as a god. The rest of it--statue, Skeletor, storm defeat--plays out almost the same. True pity I can’t find the original source, but I do trust this guidebook. You may be interested in Ceres from the UK comics--another dog-slash-statue who frankly might as well be a god himself, but as he’s not called one in canon he’s not going on the list.

The Bitter Rose Goddess

Lore: As Man-at-Arms told the legend, “Every day, a woman climbed Rose Mountain to look for her husband to return from the war. Alas, he never came back. Her tears poured from her cheek and entered the ground. One day she disappeared, but where she stood was a single, solitary rose. It’s the only thing that grows on Rose Mountain.”

The Insect People, who lived at the base of Rose Mountain, believed that the Bitter Rose is all that held the mountain together (and when it was picked, they were proved right). After the flower was restored, it transformed into the Bitter Rose Goddess herself, who explained that she had been a prisoner of her love's sorrow, so bitter that she refused to allow anything else to grow on Rose Mountain. She blessed the surrounding area, blanketing the jagged peaks with roses, and disappeared.

Backstory: She’s kind of... barely a god. She showed up in one episode and no other media & has objectively less power than like, every single demon they ever brought in. I almost didn’t put her on this list.

Mask-Ra, Goddess of Masks

Lore: A goddess who created the magical Masks of Power.

Backstory: Mask-Ra was first mentioned in 2019 and like, look, I’m gonna be real. I don’t respect her. She’s an invention of MOTUC (unless they were drawing on this concept art of Maska-Ra, which I doubt bc he was a Man-E-Faces precursor) and they retconned her into having created Catra’s mask, which is kind of redundant given the entire episode Magicats. This mask did not need two bios. There are no other mentions of her in any canon.

Potential other Masks of Power: The Deemos and Tyrella masks from the He-Man episode “Masks of Power”, lizard and canine masks from the mini-comic “Masks of Power”, Lord Masque’s Demon Mask from the He-Man episode “House of Shokoti, Part 1″, and whatever the hell Red Shadow has going on.

Procrustus, Giant Guardian of Magic

Lore: During the creation of the various dimensions (5 in MOTUC canon but demonstratably higher everywhere else), the gods installed the four-armed, immortal giant Procrustus to guard their secrets at the heart of Eternia. There lay the Starseed, from which the entire dimension was created. It still held immeasurable power, and could be used to conquer entire universes. Hordak, in an attempt to access the Starseed, cracked Eternia in two with the Spell of Separation. Though he was (mostly) thwarted, from then on Procrustus was forced to hold the two halves of Eternia together from within, lest the planet break apart and the Starseed be exposed.

Backstory: First appearing in the mini-comic “The Magic Stealer!”, Procrustus is a lot more tangible than most gods. We know where he is, at all times, and he seems confined to one size. His powers appear to be largely physical, as he had to burrow out of the ground to investigate in the mini-comic instead of teleporting or like, magicking the dirt away. This was his only appearance until MOTUC released a figure for him in 2012. He also showed up in the Subternia map the next year, holding Eternia together.

Standor, Cosmic Creator of Power

Lore: “Before time began, the great Gods of the multiverse convened in the Hall of Power to create all that was and all that will ever be. Head architect of this great task was Standor. A cosmic being of unlimited imagination, Standor helped lead his fellow deities by fueling their energies with raw creative force.”

Backstory: Released for Comikaze 2013 to celebrate the partnership of Mattel and Pow! Entertainment, Standor is literally just Stan Lee But a God. The prototype was called Standar--idk why they changed it, but I think it’s because it’s too easy to confuse with “Standard”. They made a bio for his sunglasses. I don’t want to talk about it.

Bash-Or, Slain Mystic God-Beast

Lore: Very little is known of Bash-Or, the Ram. His last remnant was sealed within the Ram Stone by the ancient sorceror kings of Zalesia, imbuing it with his divine power to overcome any barrier, magical or otherwise.

Backstory: Bash-Or was revealed in the bio for the Ram Stone, September of 2020, but his spirit (previously referred to as ‘the Spirit of the Ram Stone’) was twice utilized by Skeletor in the MYP cartoon, to great effect, before the stone was destroyed.

[violetnotez]

Ohohoho yes anon let’s turn this broccoli boi to the dark side 😈😈😈 also thank u @gallickingun for helping me with the plot!!!! And @jojosmilktea for hyping up my banner cause I seriosuly don’t know what I’m doing with graphics 😂😂😂

Izuku x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: slight cussing

Summary: Izuku feels he is never going to get a chance to be close to you, being you two are so much more different than each other. But seeing you spar with Bakugo makes him decide that he has to shoot his shot-before it becomes too late.

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

Y/n l/n.

Your name was written at the top of the page in Izuku’s messy handwriting, the name particularly more neat than the other names in his notebook.

Right under your name was a crude sketch of your hero suit, just like the rest of his pages of notes. Yours was somehow a little different, a little more detailed than the rest. It seemed to have more care put into it, as well as a lot more notes surrounding it than the other entries.

The other pages about the heroes and students he had encountered were much more simpler than yours, the writing only focusing on their powers and their notable strengths. You on the other hand, were different-Izuku had seemed to write everything about you he could fit into that initial page, the immense amount of detail eventually spreading out to the following pages.

No matter how he looked at the situation, Izuku knew he had fallen head over heels for you. He knew he shouldn’t have-it was like you two were practically in two different worlds.

You were blunt, assertive, and a little on the rebellious side. You acted first and thought of rules later, being the first to challenge someone to a fighting match, or agree to a dare no matter how risque it was. You were a risk taker, and you knew it, which made you such a perfect addition to Bakusquad.

Izuku,on the other hand, was nothing like that- he studied everyday like a good student, and always made sure to stay out of trouble as much as possible. He colored in between the lines, and he felt like he was so bland when compared to your wild spirit.

Even though you two were completely different in every way, he couldn’t keep you out of his head. You never seemed to look down on him, always greeting him with a warm smile and asking him how he was. Your laugh echoed in his head like a catchy song, and the way you would send him smiles from across the room made his heart race. Izuku was fully aware that he was most likely going to get his heart broken if he didn’t make a move soon, but he was content at the moment with admiring your beauty and resilience from afar.

“Cmon y/n, I told you not to go easy on me!”

Izuku perked his head up from his note taking, noticing that voice to be none other than Bakugo. Poor Izuku’s eyes were blown out of sockets, though, as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him.

There was Kachan, his friend and sometimes rival, toppled on top of you, his torso straddling your hips. Bakugo’s large hands had your wrists pinned to the ground, his powerful legs pushing yours into the ground to keep you from squirming.

Uncharacteristic anger bubbled inside Izuku as he saw Bakugo on top of you in such a suggestive pose. He knew you two were just training, but-he couldn’t help but wish that he was the one on top of you, not Bakugo. Heck, he just wished he was the one you asked for help with training and not Kachan. Izuku never wanted to feel like he was competing with his friend, but right now, he felt like he was-and he was losing.

It didn’t help either that you were close to Bakugo, always hanging out with him and his friends. You weren’t that afraid of his yelling and his threats, merely laughing at him when he was on another rampage. Bakugo seems to treat you like an equal, actually offering you compliments from time to time and allowing you to train with him. Izuku knew only a few people could earn Bakugo’s respect, and it couldn't be a good thing for his love life if his antisocial best friend seemed to take an extra interest in his crush.

Izuku watched as you laughed at Bakugo’s statement, your sweet laugh ringing like bells.

“Hell Bakugo, you thought that was me going easy? I was just getting started!” You scoffed at the ash blonde boy, your chest then connecting with his.

Izuku sucked in a tight breath, holding it in as he watched you wrap your legs around your opponent. You then quickly flipped your bodies around, landing so it was now you, not Kachan, who was on top. Bakugo took a large gasp of air, his lungs unable to get a proper inhale from the sudden movement.

You shoved his shoulders into the ground, shimmying on his chest to get a better grip.

“God Bakugo, you're so quiet!” You smirked, “Didn't know you liked being a bottom so much-“

“S-s-shut the hell up you damn idiot, I’ll fucking-“ Bakugo instantly started yelling at you, the twinge of red in his cheecks hard to ignore for Izuku. You continued to laugh at his reaction, your body shaking from the giggles as you continued to sit on his stomach.

Izuku looked down at his notebook full of notes about his devotion to you, sighing sadly-

Yeah, he had no chance.

As you continued to chuckle, trying to hold your grip on the aggressive boy under you, you looked to your left. To your surprise, you saw a lonely looking Midoriya under a shady spot of a tree, looking slightly sad as he stared down at his lap.

You and Izuku were pretty good friends, as you both seemed to have mutual likes and interests in and out of class. You didn’t talk much to the green haired boy, but you found him to be extremely sweet and quite attractive. You also didn’t socialize with him as much as you wished you did, but since you two were completely different friend groups, it made it quite difficult to hang out with the greenette.

You wished you knew what was going on in that poor boy's head right now, his head hanging low on his shoulders. He looked so defeated, his back arched as if he was carrying a heavy burden on himself.

“Shitty woman-your hurting my fucking wrists!” Bakugo spat out, his eyes filled with anger. You smirked at your opponent, knowing full well that was his way of “taping out”.

“Sorry Bakubro-,” you replied, rolling off his stomach as he rubbed his wrists tenderly, muttering about how “crappy” you were.

You ignored your friend’s remarks, making your way over to the poor boy underneath the cherry blossom tree. He didn’t seem to even notice you walking towards him, his hands resting sadly on his notebook in deep thought. You smiled softly at him-he looked so cute when he was thinking so intently, even if he did look a little solemn.

“Hey, Earth to Midoriya!” You hovered your hand over his eyes, breaking his daze.

“Oh-uh-y-y/n!” He squeaked, his body jumping from your sudden presence.

You laughed at his jumpiness, causing a red hue to grace his cheeks. Izuku didn’t even notice you sneaking up on him...but the fact he had made you laugh made him stomach feel warm and fluttery.

You stood in front of the boy, thinking it might be better to be at eye level with him.

“Mind if I sit?” You asked

Midoriya shook his head vigorously, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. “N-n-no, not at all!” He said enthusiastically, scooting over so you had more room.

You plopped yourself right next to him, seemingly unfazed by the sudden closeness. Izuku, on the other hand, was freaking out internally.

He could practically feel the heat radiating off you, your infectious personality seeping into his, brightening up his spirits. Your shoulder was resting on his, the breeze flitting through both your hairs. He couldn’t believe you had come to him, let alone sit next to him and want to talk. Even if you maybe had a thing with Bakugo, this was a win in his head.

You looked down at Midoriya's hands, noticing the slight shake in his fingertips. You smiled softly-this boy was too nervous for his own good.

“Are your hands doing okay-I know you train really hard,” you stated matter of factly, tenderly picking up one of his scarred and calloused hands with your own.

Izuku’s brain was about to explode-you were touching him now? Even though his brain felt fuzzy and full of static, he loved the way your skin felt against his own. It was just as calloused, but the skin was softer and feather light, the pads of your fingers tracing each scar like a message in Braille. You flipped his hand over gently, following the roads of his skin as you inspected his hand.

Each touch left a ticklish feeling that settled in his skin, the tingling simultaneously calming and accelerating his heart rate. God, he could get used to this.

“Their-their doing fine,” he stuttered out, his face engulfed in red.

“You sure?” You gave him a knowing look, a small smirk on your lips. “Cause you look like you punched a wall”

You giggled at his embarrassed face, your sweet voice making his heart thump against his chest.

“Well, since I’m still not used to my power yet, it takes quite a toll on my body,” he rambled , staring at the hand you were currently holding, “s-so I have to train extra hard to allow my body to fully grow to handle its power.”

You nodded your head, letting go of his hand and resting yours on your knee.

“That makes sense,” you agreed, resting your head on the trunk of the tree, “You got a hell of a powerful quirk if you have to train that hard...I've always admired you for that.”

Izuku’s head shot up in confusion...admired him? He thought you didn’t even notice he was alive! He stared at your profile, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Oh, it’s really not that big of a deal,” he rambled on again, scratching the back of his neck, “it’s expected of me to do that-“

“No it isn’t!” You argued back supportively, “none of us ever train as hard as you do! You always try your best, no matter the circumstances. Hell, I don’t even think Shoto trains as hard as you and he’s the one that came to UA off of recommendations!”

“Oh-oh it’s not that big of a deal, I promise-“

You were beginning to feel frustrated that this shy boy couldn’t take your compliment. Midoriya was too sweet and humble for his own good, and it took quite a lot to get him to believe your words. You took that as a challenge, and you were all up for it.

Your arm crossed over Izuku’s body, encasing him in your body so you could fully look at his face. His eyes were wide from your sudden movement, his freckles much more prominent as his cheeks were dusted with pink.

“You are strong Midoriya, and I have a reason to admire you,” you stated, your face a mere inches from his.

Izuku couldn’t move, and really, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. You were so close: he could see every beauty mark, every strand of hair that graced your complexion. He could even smell your perfume, a light floral scent that made his head swoon. He was feeling so awkward, not knowing how to react, but he wanted to stay like this forever.

You smiled at the young hero, taking his quiet demeanor as him surrendering to your compliments. You swung your body off of his, leaving a cold spot in Midoriya's stomach from moving away so soon.

“Which reminds me…” you began, your hands resting your stomach. “I wanted to see if you wanted to train tomorrow after class-I'd really like it if you gave me some pointers on my technique.”

“Oh-I’d be honored!” He exclaimed, but then chuckled nervously at a sudden realization.

“B-but I think Kachan wouldn’t like it if I were there…”

You cocked your head in confusion, staring at the greenette’s face, perplexed by his statement.

“Bakugo isn’t going to be there-it'll just be you and me,” you stated matter of factly.

Izuku instantly fidgeted, feeling dumb for just assuming it would you and all your friends. Of course if you asked it would just be him and you! He instantly shook off the embarrassment, feeling giddy from happiness. You had asked him-not Kirishima, or Shoto, or Kaminari, or even Kachan-him, to train with you. He felt like he was on top of the world.

But then the alarm bells began to ring in his mind, a memory flitting back into his head that was stopping him from agreeing instantly.

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

He was at the lunch table one day, staring sadly at your table full of friends. Right now, they were currently trying to throw pieces of meat into your mouth, the yells and laughs flowing over to his quiet table. You were laughing, trying to catch the small bits of food and looking like you were having the best time.

His friends noticed his saddened demeanor, following his gaze to your table.

“Midoriya are you feeling quite alright?” Iida asked as he looked down at the green haired boy, “you're staring quite intently.”

“Huh?” Izuku shook his head a few times, looking at Iida with rosy cheeks, “oh-oh I wasn’t staring-or looking at y/n-san…”

Uraraka giggled nervously, giving her friend a strange look. “Uh-Midoriya, Iida never said you were staring at y/n...just that you were staring-“

“Oh! Well - I was- uh…” he stuttered out, not knowing how to get out of the situation. He was cursing himself internally for basically admitting to his crush he had worked so hard to keep quiet.

Iida took a bite of his food, focusing his attention at your table as well.

“Y/n is truly a free spirit-she’s quite a rebel as well,” Iida commented.

“Yeah, it seems like almost every week Mr. Aizawa has to speak to her about something she’s done… she’s really nice, but she is a little on the wild side,” Uraraka followed suit, focusing her attention on a quiet Midoriya instead.

“Do you really like her Midoriya?” She asked, her wide eyes seemingly staring into his soul.

Izuku giggled nervously, fiddling with his hands. “I-I guess...maybe….”

Uraraka pursed her lips, giving Iida a pained look. They both cared for Midoriya dearly, but didn’t know much about you except you were one of the “wild ones” of Class 1-A. You and Midoriya seemed completely opposite, and both friends felt that this crush would end badly for poor Midoriya's heart.

Iida sighed again, looking at his blushing friend, “Midoriya, it is wonderful you find so much love and affection for y/n-“

“But this probably won’t end well. She’s friends with Bakugo, and all of his friends-she’s just so different from you Izuku. We just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Uraraka finished Iida’s statement, watching Izuku slump into his chair a little more.

He felt almost defeated-his friends were right, you two were in completely different worlds and values. No matter how much he tried to weave a plan or scenario in his mind that would somehow end in you two being together, it just never seemed to work out.

The bell rang for lunch to end, Izuku still slumped in his chair in defeat.

“Cmon Izuku,” Uraraka said sweetly, offering her hand to him, “let’s go to class,”

He got up sadly, his friend's words echoing in his mind as he walked to class.

They were right-it wouldn’t ever end well for him.

—————-

But now, seeing your waiting face so close to his, he couldn’t help but say yes. He had to at least try, to see if maybe you did have something between the two of you.

Forget about your wild personality, or the fact you two were so different, or the way you seemed so close to Kachan-he was going to shoot his shot, even if that meant he was going to get hurt in the process.

This was his chance-it was now or never.

Izuku took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow.

“I would-love to train with you...and-and maybe,” he gulped, feeling his heart beat fast against his chest, “we can get some ice cream after?”

You smirked at the blushing boy, having a feeling at what he was implying.

“Just you and me?” You mused, leaning into Izuku’s body slightly.

He nodded feverishly, feeling his confidence begin to wane slightly at your sudden closeness.

“Y-Yep! Just- you and me.”

—————-

Taggings (if ya want to be added, just shoot me an ask or comment on this post!)

@birds-have-teeth @gallickingun @yuueimagines @bnhabadass @dabis-devil @freckledoriya

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Excerpt/Sketch Scene: Ardisci

I shared lines from this recently but in looking it over I remembered how much I love it so I decided to share. From Ardisci’s POV, Ardisci is the god of knowledge and is living sort of in-hiding on Earth.

---

Alright. So we’re here: Kaitlyn is lying on the couch, reading chapter 3 of her textbook on cultural anthropology. Netalia is lying on the floor, her book— a thick book with thin pages that’s a survey English literature— open above her. It’s open to Lines Written in Early Spring by William Wordsworth, but I’m not sure if she’s reading it— Buttercup, her golden retriever, is licking her face, and she’s laughing and pushing her away. I’m taking notes in my notebook. My reading, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, is open as a pdf on my laptop, though that’s mostly for show, since Netalia is here. My notebook, which Kaitlyn insists is technically a journal (but it’s not my place to say it is or isn’t— language and labels aren’t my responsibility to determine), lies in front of me, and I’m scribbling in it with a recycled water bottle pen that I got at freshman orientation that Netalia always marvels that I haven’t lost and Kait and I then share a knowing look about. If Kait (and the collective’s) definition of “journal” is a place for writing out one’s own thoughts, rather than simply noting facts for studying purposes, then yes, it is a journal. I don’t have much need for notetaking— even without the constant stream of direct-and-all-encompassing knowledge, simple information—what’s part of the collective knowledge—is provided to me automatically. But that’s why I love philosophy classes. In the science class I took I did find it interesting what aspects they taught or what they knew, but still, so much of it was known information, simply a method by which to integrate that knowledge. It didn’t excite me the same way. But philosophy? No answer came to me automatically. I know how others have answered the question before, yes, but there’s no collective answer, and I can listen to classmate’s opinions and thoughts and I actually feel like I’m learning.

Focusing. I’m journaling on the allegory of the cave. I won’t be able to bring what I write up in class, but thoughts—my thoughts, my own!—are coming tumbling out. Because I know the outside world, the sun, all of it, I am the regular people in this metaphor when everyone around me are the prisoners who know only shadows and can but squint at the sun. Because not knowing and a limited perspective isn't something I was ever able to to really have. Because not that long ago I didn’t even have an “I” through which to narrate. Google doesn't have an “I” and never has a choice in knowing that these are shadows, not the extent of human existence, but maybe I could know only that. And who would feel jealousy of prisoners chained up in a cave with only a fire casting shadows to quantify as real— and since when has jealousy been a thing I feel?

Kaitlyn had been the one to suggest I write, to journal. She’d given me a look that she told me later was frustration (which I don’t feel bad about not recognizing— psychologically speaking, most people don’t recognize the facial expression “frustrated” as they do “happy” or “sad”—it’s not a basic emotion) and said in a very calm voice that as much as she loved listening to my rants, not everyone had the collective knowledge at their disposal—she actually had to study. And she later suggested writing out my thoughts, telling me that writing could be helpful in self-discovery, which got a green-light from the collective knowledge, so I agreed to try it. 

Netalia pushes Buttercup’s nose away. “Buttercup, go-lie-down. I gotta read this.” Buttercup harumphs and trots over to me, pushing her nose into the space between my arm and my waist. That’s something I never got to appreciate—the simple joy of an animal burrowing into you. Of loving you. I suspect that’s something few gods get to experience—at least, outside of the Nature domain. And to have that physical form in which an animal can burrow into.

I can’t write with Buttercup there, so I finish the sentence, put my pen down, and turn to Buttercup, taking her face in my hands and scratching behind her ears. Buttercup starts panting, her tail wagging loud enough to slam against the carpet.

“Did the good doggie get snubbed?” I coo to Buttercup. It’s lucky humans developed a way to communicate thoughts, or I may never have had access to even the concept of thoughts and emotions, just behavior and knowledge of consciousness. At least a person can tell me what they’re thinking and feeling, even if it’s not always true— or all I’d have is what I can tell about animals, what their behaviors indicate. 

“It was not a snub,” Netalia said. “I have to read this.”

I quiet, just smiling at Buttercup and scratching behind her ears. Kaitlyn’s looking at me. I know what face she’s making without looking up, but I look up anyway because sometimes using the human eyes helps me interpret it better. There’s a slight smile. I think it’s in reference to “Some of us need to actually read the assignment.” Just because that’s usually what Kaitlyn likes to tease me about. 

Kaitlyn closes her textbook and sets it down on the table. “Talia, can we take Buttercup outside and play with her a bit? I think Addie’s getting antsy.”

Addie’s not really my name—my god name is Ardisci, and before going into hiding, Kaitlyn called me Ardi, which I love—never had I been close enough with someone for them to need a shortened way to refer to me. It felt affectionate. But going into hiding I needed a name-name, something not quite my god name. Kaitlyn had actually said that Adelaide felt too close to Ardisci to her, but once I’d picked it it had felt comfortable and I couldn’t pick another one, so we went with it. Plus, “Addie” and “Ardi” sounded similar, which made the transition easier. 

“Sure,” Netalia sits up, folding the book over her finger for a moment. “Her toys are in the basket next to the porch.” She stood and sat down on the couch Kait had been lying on.

I stood, giving Buttercup a tug towards the door. Buttercup lept, realizing what we were doing, and ran to the door, barking when it didn’t open for her.

“Hold on, girl.” Kaitlyn followed us over to the front entrance and grabbed her jacket off the hook, then handed me mine. Now out of earshot from Netalia, she said to me, “The rest of us need to actually read the assignment.”

“I know,” I said. My jacket was thick, zippered, and knit, with cables curling up the sleeves. I wanted to try knitting sometime, to see if it was as easy as the information of “how to purl” came into my mind. Kaitlyn had said she’d knit when she was younger, had described how she’d learned to spot the difference between a knit stitch and a purl stitch and how to make a cable or bauble. When I look at it I know, but I have a feeling that that knowledge is different from recognizing it.

Kaitlyn takes a moment to adjust the collar of my jacket, which wasn’t folded properly. “I know you know,” she smiles—me saying “I know” is ironic, she’s said, just as anyone saying “do you know?” is to me. But “know” doesn’t, in my case, always mean knowing, it means understanding, and that (I know) is a different thing. 

Buttercup bolts out the door as soon as I turn the handle to leave—it’s into Netalia’s family’s backyard, where Buttercup has previously been allowed to roam freely, so I’m not concerned—and Kaitlyn shouts to Netalia’s mom that we’re taking Buttercup out. Her mom, Lynette, tells us alright, and that she’s heating up some hot apple cider for us. Lynette was horrified my first year living as a human that I’d never had hot apple cider, and had filled me up on it ever since. I’d told Kaitlyn how I knew what apple was used, the origins of the drink, different versions, what was considered the best mixture. 

“Alright,” Kaitlyn had said. “But the drink you’re drinking right now. Do you like it?”

I’d been confused at first. I’d taken another sip— not really familiar with the concept of myself liking things. I knew it was generally accepted as good, but then I really absorbed the flavor, the heat, the spice, the sweetness. “Yes,” I’d said finally. “I like it.”

I bound outside, running to the basket under the porch and grabbing a frisbee. “Wanna catch?” I ask Buttercup. Buttercup jumps side to side, ready. I swing my arm, try to snap my wrist, and let go. Buttercup runs after it, but the frisbee curves, making about a 60° angle away from where I thought I’d aimed. I laugh, and Buttercup, who started running straight, looks around in confusion.

“I gotta get better at that!” I shout to Kait, and run over to where the frisbee landed. Running is nice, a feeling I’ve gotten used to. The exertion, adrenaline, my lungs pulling in air, my heart beating, lactic acid starting to flow through my muscles (which’ll make them sore later). One of the things I can’t know, I have to feel. I get to feel. I scoop up the frisbee and toss it again. This time Buttercup knows to watch it, and runs after the very curved path it follows. I run back over to Kait, meeting Buttercup halfway as she trots back with it. Kait takes the frisbee.

“Here,” she holds it out, but instead of letting me take it, guides my hand to hold it. She takes me through the motion of throwing it, of the flick of the wrist. “And here you let go. Eyes on your target.” she says. 

I know how to on an instructional level, but when Kait releases my hand for me to try, this time I pay attention not to the collective knowledge, but her instruction. I follow through, and this time it goes straighter, only curving a bit at the end. Buttercup races after it, then picks it up from the ground.

“Better,” Kait observes. She’s staring at Buttercup at first, but her eyes don’t follow the return, so she seems to have spaced on the trees. “Russell never quite figured out how to throw one,” she said.

I take the frisbee from Buttercup, spinning it in my hand for a moment. I don't look at her, knowing she won’t notice me averting my eyes.

I still haven't told her. I should tell her. It’s my obligation really, to our friendship and to my role as god. But really, just because I am the god of knowledge, did that mean I have to tell her? I’m trying to escape that role.

She’ll find out eventually. And maybe I can say I just hadn’t thought of it— I’d been shutting down the constant stream of information, and one person's death isn’t collective knowledge. If I hadn’t wondered, I still wouldn’t know, not actively.

But I do know actively. I’d checked in and realized. And decided not to tell her.

Her brother had died two years ago. That’s why he’d never found her, never shown up. I hadn’t known him, not really, but I knew him somewhat through Kait, though her memories and relationship. 

Maybe it’s a bit selfish, too. I don’t know how she’d react, but I have a feeling (that was new too, having a feeling) that knowing might change things. It might lead her back to her family, and yes perhaps I can stay in hiding without her, but I don’t want to.

A part of me has always longed to do this. Live as a person, learn, experience. Not be the source of all knowledge for once. And part of why I finally had was the pressure had gotten worse—but really, a large part of it was meeting Kaitlyn. Kait, who never used me, who never asked questions I wouldn’t know if I wasn’t god of knowledge. Who actually got to know who I was, with enough patience to handle me. Who’d believed I even got the chance to be an I.

I throw the frisbee again. It arcs a bit, but Buttercup jumps up and catches it midair. “Whoo!” Kait cheers. 

I bend down, clapping and then petting Buttercup. “Good job!” I tell her.

“Good job to you,” Kait says, tousling my hair the same way I’m tousling Buttercup’s ears. I grin.

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.4

Previously:  ch.1 ch.2 ch.3

Summary: Steve and you get closer, but it’s in order not to get too close. you both believe you know what you want, but... do you?

Word count: ~2,600

Warnings: SMUT, explicit language. 

a/n- hey lovely people! another weekend, another Cycle chapter😌 i’m so glad i managed to get this out today:) as always, italics are for thoughts. awesome divider is by @whimsicalrogers​. Enjoy! and well, thank me for the gif later;)

The morning after you went out, you got to work with your spirits lifted. Having gotten to know some more of your colleagues, you entered into the lab with a spring in your step, greeting everyone good morning.

Kate came up to you, asking how as last night. She was invited, but couldn't come, so she wanted to hear from you.

"It was great," you told her sincerely, "I wish you could've joined us, but I actually ended up having a really nice conversation with Steve," you smiled, expecting it to be the end of it.

Kate frowned. "Steve?" she asked, confused.

"You know," you looked at her incredulously, "Steve Rogers, Captain America, pretty tough guy to miss," you gestured with your hands to symbol a tall, wide frame. "He was really nice," you concluded.

"Oh, that Steve," Kate laughed, "sorry, I'm just not used to anyone calling him by his first name and not, you know, Cap," she giggled a tad awkwardly. "You know there are a lot of rumors going around him though, right?"

"I mean, I would expect there to be, since he's a superhero."

"They say he has a secret girlfriend he's keeping from the world. Or boyfriend, opinions are divided on that one," she laughed.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he doesn't," you chuckled, remembering last night's conversation.

"It’s just office gossip anyway, and we should probably get to work," Kate said and you nodded in agreement, starting to work on your current project.

"And you didn't even ask for her number?" Bucky asked. "You're even more of a lost cause than I thought."

"What?" Steve asked defensively, "It never came up," he shrugged. He made another move at Bucky, who dodged him expertly and caught his wrist, flipping him onto the training room mattress.

"Steve, let me ask you something, and please be honest with me. I'm your best friend, you can tell me anything. Do you even like women?"

"Yes!" Steve said, not particularly amused at Bucky's antics. He got up and got into position again.

"Then why, for the love of god, are you so adamant to never ever sleep with one?"

"That's not-" Steve sighed. "Look, I don't think she was actually interested, okay? She was giving me advice on how to get other girls, I mean, why would she—"

"Oh my god, Steve! She just told you how she'd like to be treated and you think she's not interested?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Steve grumbled.

"Tell you what, there's only one way to find out. Ask her out, worst thing she could say is no," Bucky suggested.

"Whatever," Steve said, grabbing his jacket and leaving the training room, leaving a smirking Bucky in his wake.

You were just in your office close up for the day when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," you said, not knowing who it could be, since you told the others to go ahead without you.

In enters one Steve Rogers, looking slightly disheveled, and yet just as handsome as ever. You shook that thought right out of your head. "Hi Steve," you greeted, "what can I help you with?"

"I was just coming by to ask if you might be hungry," Steve smiled timidly.

"After a whole day of lab work, I'd say the answer to that is a definite yes," you smiled back at him.

"Great, well, I just wondered if you'd like to grab dinner… with me," he chuckled. "I know a good spot down the street if you want."

"I'd love to!" you exclaimed. "Let's go," you said, grabbing your jacket from the chair and following him out into the chilly New York air.

"So, you've come to collect those flirting lessons I offered yesterday?" you chuckled as you were walking side by side.

"Something like that," Steve smiled.

You got to the restaurant and ordered. "So, humor me here," you said, "but how does the great Captain America not know how to flirt?"

He chuckled. "Well, for starters, because he's a righteous symbol of justice and liberty, flirting is more Bucky's thing," he admitted with a smile, "and I'm just Steve, not Captain America," he added.

"Wait, so it wasn't you who saved the world from these aliens a few years ago? Shame, you look just like him," you laughed and so did he. "But I get what you mean," you said, more serious this time, "I guess the entire world seeing you as a… how did you put it? Righteous symbol of justice and liberty?" you chuckled. "That can probably be a little intimidating."

Steve hummed in agreement. "Sometimes it is," he admitted. "Truth is, it makes you wonder how can the world buy this image so easily when I don't see myself that way at all. Not even close," Steve chuckled.

You felt a warmth blossoming in you at his open, honest demeanor. "Well, that doesn't disprove the fact that you're a hero, Steve," you said.

"I know it doesn't but… okay, you know when I grew up I was small and sickly, right?"

"It’s public knowledge," you agreed.

"I still feel like that guy, the guy who lived in Bucky's shadow, literally, and couldn't get what he wanted," Steve said with a far-off look.

"Steve," you said, reaching across the table and covering his hand with yours. His look returned here, locking eyes with you and words evaded you at his clear blue eyes meeting yours. You quickly regained your senses, "You don't need to live in anyone's shadow anymore, and for what it's worth you can have anything you want. I'm sure a baby would hand you his candy willingly," you said, and he chuckled.

"Hey, did I just Steve Rogers you?" you smirked.

"Oh no, we can't let that happen. Quick, tell me something about yourself before the sky falls down on our heads!" Steve exclaimed and you laughed.

"Okay, okay, let me think…" you furrowed your brows exaggeratedly. "In the future, I would really like to get married." You looked around suspiciously, "phew, I think we're in the clear," you joked. Shit, why would you say that? Congrats, you just managed to scare him away.

"Why?" Steve asked, his gaze resting intently on you.

"Because… sharing your life with another person is something I want to experience," you explained. "Being there for someone who loves me, heart and soul, no matter what, is very appealing," you chuckled. "And well, I guess there's still some little girl in me that wants a fairytale romance. Someone to sweep her off her feet and be her one true love. After all I've been through, it’s bizarre I still believe that, but I do," you concluded with a smile.

"Glad to know I'm not the only one who still believes that," Steve said with a reassuring look. "But… why do you think it's bizarre to believe that?"

"Besides the obvious reason that fairytales aren't real?" you asked, and he just smiled, nodding at you to continue. "Well, I guess every man I've been with has disproven that theory. People who I thought would actually be there for me, who wouldn’t only want me, but also love me, ended up walking away. And at a certain point, you just have to go with the flow. I did one-night-stands for a long while. But lately I decided I can't keep ignoring what I want any longer. So, I have to keep believing, even though it doesn't seem achievable," you smiled sadly.

"For all it's worth, I think you'll succeed," Steve smiled back at you, squeezing your hand.

"You think I'll succeed with anyone in particular or…?" you trailed off, and he blushed.

"Whatever you choose to," he answered.

"Well, I think the universe is definitely repaired since I shared all of that and our food hasn't even arrived yet," you chuckled, changing the subject.

You kept the chatter light until your food came and ate in relative silence, but it wasn't an unwelcome one. Every once in a while your eyes would meet and you'd simply smile at each other, gladly eating the delicious food. At the end of the meal Steve insisted on paying, and after a lot of convincing you managed to get him to split the check.  You left the restaurant as you entered it, side by side.

"My apartment is actually a couple of blocks from here, so if it's in your way you can come up for a coffee maybe?" Steve suggested.

"Yeah, sure thing," you agreed, surprised at how easy it was to be around him.

You went up to his apartment, chattering about work and life the whole way. Steve matched his pace to yours, so you were casually strolling through the streets of New York with Captain America by your side.

"Manhattan's probably a shock after living in Brooklyn, isn't it?" you inquired.

"You get used to it," Steve shrugged, unlocking his apartment door.

You let your eyes wander around his apartment, taking in the orderly state of it, the warm, simple environment that seemed to surround Steve wherever he goes, and his house reflected that. There was a canvas right in the middle of the living room, propped up against an easel. There were paints strewn around on the coffee table, but for now all the canvas held was a pencil sketch of the New York skyline. You let out a small chuckle about how… Steve this all was. This is when you truly understood what he meant before – how different Steve was from Captain America, because this is when you started to truly understand Steve.

"I'm so sorry about the mess," Steve said, starting to pick up the paintbrushes and paints.

"It's okay," you smiled, tracing the pencil lines with your fingers. "It's beautiful," you looked at Steve.

"Hopefully it'll look even better when it's colored," Steve said. "Here, I wanna use this color for that building and…" Steve started describing his plans for the painting, but all you could see were his lips moving, his eyes shining with excitement.

"That's great," you said, your heartbeat racing.

"Here, I can show you how to do it," Steve suggested.

"Sure," you agreed.

Once Steve showed you how to hold the brush, you started painting a bit of the background like he told you and he let out a chuckle. "You're doing it wrong," he said, and before you had the chance to be irritated his hand was covering yours, his tall frame against your back as he started showing you the right brush movements, the right amount of pressure to apply on the canvas.

"There you go, see? It's easy," Steve said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. You turned around to see it too, and your breath hitched. He was smiling, but you hadn’t realized how close you got. His face was just within reach, and if you just tilt your head upwards a little…

Steve made the first move, bending down to capture your lips with his, his tongue seeking permission into your mouth, which you granted readily. Your tongues explored each other's mouths and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, while he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you close.

Suddenly he broke away from you and you chased his mouth with yours but he put a hand on your shoulder. "I… we work together," he said, "and I don't wanna be another shitty dude," he added, smiling a little.

"Well, you raise good points. But, we don't actually work together that closely, and it's not shitty if we're both on the same page. Besides, if we don't do this right now we're gonna regret not doing it and that will just create more tension," you reasoned.

"You're probably right," Steve panted a little.

"Thank you, I watch a lot of rom-coms. Now, are we on the same page? We get it out of our system and that's it?" you knew it sounded a little harsh, but that's what needed to be done so no one got hurt.

"Deal," he said, and in an instance his lips were back on yours, more feverishly this time, his hands traveling down your waist, your ass, your hips, which he grabbed onto and lifted you up, and fuck, super-strength came very much in handy.

He led your way to the bedroom, one am supporting you up and one sneaking into your shirt to unhook your bra while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling a little, just enough to hear Steve groan into your mouth.

He pretty much tossed you onto the bed and you got rid of your shirt and bra while he threw away his shirt as well, revealing his toned chest and abdomen. You stared, practically drooling before he climbed on top of you and you started kissing his neck, his jaw, nipping gently on his sweet spot.

His hands found your breasts, teasing your nipples and you arched your chest against him at the touch. You started working his belt, and he looked at you one more time. When he saw the wanting look in your eyes it was all the confirmation he needed to take off your pants and your underwear, and kick his away too. He started trailing kisses on your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts and your stomach, every nerve in your body lighting up at his touch.

He finally reached between your thighs and looked up at you before licking a long stripe between your wet folds. You threw your head beck and moaned, because who knew America's golden boy can eat pussy like a fucking god.

He continued licking and sucking swirling his tongue around your clit and around your entrance, lapping at your folds, driving you crazy with every flick on his tongue, and it didn't take long before you fell apart at his touch, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as Steve continued his assault until you came down from your high.

He made his way back up your body and you pushed your hips up against his, feeling his hard length against you. "Steve," you looked at him in a silent plea.

"You sure you-"

"Yes, yes, yes please, I'm so fucking sure," you cut him off and he smirked a little before climbing off you, and you were about to whine when you saw him reach for a condom, and well, he's not America's golden boy for nothing I guess.

He put it on and climbed back on top of you, capturing your mouth in a breathtaking kiss, so much so that you didn't notice him lining up with your entrance until he pushed his tip into you, and started driving deeper and deeper inside your sensitive walls. The stretch was a lot at first, and you gasped, but then it turned into a moan when Steve started really moving, driving into you in slow, deep thrusts that caused you to claw at his back.

"Feel so good around me," Steve groaned, and you could only moan in response, clenching around him. He pushed your leg up a little, and the new angle had him hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, and in no time the coil in your stomach snapped again, and you milked him through his orgasm too.

You were both panting as you laid down next to one another. You were silent for a moment before Steve spoke. "Think it worked? We got it out of our systems?"

"I mean," you smirked as you straddled his hips, "we can't be too thorough…"

Bucky is slowly but surely slipping away from me and becoming quite OOC, but it’s cool we love him anyways. please tell me what you thought and thank you so much for reading! <3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland@jazbot2000

Cycle Taglist: @dee-vn @alex747

if you wanna join / be removed from these taglists, comment/message me! much love <3

[depths-of-hope-and-despair]

Retrospect

Not altering her typical nightly routine, Aditi found herself clutching onto one of her empty glass bottles by the end of the evening. Thankfully, she made it back to her room before finally closing her eyes, in hopes of a good night’s rest. Her last thought was that she would end up in the same office once again.

And wouldn’t she know it, she actually returned into the very same office, seated on the very same chair, with the very same man expecting her visit this time, smiling widely as he arched his back like a cat, basically buzzing as he greeted her: “Ah, if it isn’t Aditi. Back already, you just couldn’t get enough of me the last time.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and opening a notebook, scribbling in it as he continued. “Not that I can blame you, of course. I also have been looking forward to our....reunion.”

He slid the notebook aside, instead focusing on her again and asking: “How was your day? Did you follow my advice or were you not ready yet? Have you read any good books lately?” Typical therapist talk, though there was something about it. He didn’t break eye contact, just like last time, but this time he seemed more prepared.

Aditi blinked rapidly to take in the vision before her, not believing her eyes at first. Why was she back here? Her dreams rarely repeat. What is this? Her confusion turned to annoyance quickly, growling at the man in front of her, already unhappy with his presence. “Is this some kind of joke?” She spat, looking around the room for the sign of any change in scenery. “I try to drown my sorrows with alcohol to sleep peacefully for once, and I’m sent back here. Wonderful...” She grumbles.

Her gaze narrowed again at his questions. “It has been one night. I am not a speed-reader, I prefer to take my time and enjoy books. As for your advice, yes. I did open up to one of my roommates. Which wasn’t very successful, due to her having no emotional intelligence whatsoever.” She couldn’t help but pout that time, actually angry her attempt to open up took a backseat. “What on earth could you possibly have for me now? What else do you want to know?” She asked, guarded and standoffish.

“Magnificent! I see we are already making great progress, good job!” He remained calm, not caring about Aditi’s anger in the slightest, merely jotting something down in the notebook as he continued: “It is an important first step to take the courage and open up to someone. It is great for coping and you have more support that can help you direct your focus away from the past.”

The fact he practically ignored her seething anger only fueled it to new heights. “Your “step forward,” got me nowhere, aside from being judged.” She hissed, her hands gripping the table hard enough to leave small indents with her claws.

“Quite the opposite, Aditi.” He reassured her, observing her denting the table, the wood basically regenerating itself after a few seconds, elaborating: “How would you feel, if someone suddenly revealed something deeply upsetting to you? Maybe your friend was caught off guard. I’m sure they will react differently tomorrow, when they have time to digest the information. You said they lacked emotional intelligence. So it takes longer to compute.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Her bright eyes shined through the dark, staring straight through him with an unreasonable amount of annoyance.

He chuckled, looking up at her, intense eyes almost glowing in the blue light. “I can get you something to drink if you want, but therapy usually takes more than one session. Granted, most people only need one session from me.” His laughter was darker this time, more sinister, but before Aditi could question him, he procured two pieces of paper and two pens.

“For our session today, I thought we would make the pictures ourselves. Who needs Rorschach anyway.” He spoke lightheartedly, sliding a paper and pen across so Aditi could take it, explaining: “It is easy, really. We all have something that causes us grief. Just let your thoughts wander and draw what’s currently haunting you on the paper. I will do it too, since you seem to like it when I participate.”

Aditi scowled down at the blank thin canvas offered to her. What causes her grief? What kind of therapist needs to know that? Did he believe he could make her grief subside by talking about it? Ridiculous. However, she knew the dream wouldn’t end unless she played along sadly. Disgruntled, Aditi picked up the pencil and paper and began to draw. She drew three sketches that immediately came to mind when associating with grief.

The three sketches she slide over to him, were; a sketch of a boy with spiky hair and wearing a button up shirt and tie with a smile, a sketch of her own clawed hand, and lastly, a sketch of a woman with short hair, cat pins in her hair, and broken arm. She too was smiling. She tapped her foot impatiently while awaiting his own paper and the questions to come.

He merely smiled, unfazed by her impatience, turning to his own paper and beginning to scribble. His artistic talent came fully to shine, taking a few minutes longer than her as he drew like a madman. He handed Aditi his paper, revealing a small picture. It showed a man with black hair that was parted in the middle, he looked similar to Albert, trying to get away from a group of horrific looking creatures and a man, only a big, toothy smile visible.

As sneaky as ever, Aditi grabbed his paper quickly, eyes glancing over it and firing her question off before him. “Who is this? Why does he look similar to you?” She questioned.

“He is my arch nemesis. We met during college. He....doesn’t have it easy at the moment. Someone wants him dead and almost succeeded, he disappeared for a few months. I am concerned he will meet an untimely demise.....” He sounded like he wanted to add something to that, but he already said enough. He was just a dream after all.

“And that brings you grief... why exactly?” Aditi asked, one of her claws carefully tracing the sketch under her palm. “You say he is your worst enemy, yet you feel grief at the thought of his demise? Do you worry you’ll be bored once he’s gone and nobody will challenge you? Or is it.. something else?” She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s....complicated...” He responded, sighing into his hands as he contemplated whether he should tell her or not. He decided with a more simplified version: “He...challenges me in a way I have never seen with anyone else before. In university we raced to be the best in our class and he pushed me to great heights. Without him, I feel....bored. Nothing presents a challenge anymore. What fun is it to be at the top without someone you can watch squirm at their defeat?” He chuckled at the thought, reveling in the thought that he won in college against Vincent, even if their rivalry wasn’t the reason for his concern. It was… something else entirely. “Enough about me, dear. It’s your turn.” He held his hand out expectedly.

Begrudgingly, Aditi handed over the paper, watching him study the little scribbles closely before he wondered: “Who are they? A friend? Or a relative?” He seemed oddly off-put when he said relative, not even questioning if Aditi hurt them. He already knew she did.

Her expression flattened. Not deflating with depression, more so turning into a forced neutral gaze. “The male is one of my partners. The female is... my sister. A relative, yes.” She explained.

He studied the drawings a little closer, squinting and nodding to himself. “I see. Something bad must have happened if it causes you so much grief. Did you get in an argument with your relative and your partner got hurt in the process?” He traced the lines with his maybe gloved hand before putting the paper back down, looking back up at Aditi.

The tall girl sighed at him requesting an elaboration from her. “My partner, he... I was fated to kill him and be the successor to his legacy. Of despair, that is. The later years of my life, when he rebelled and chose hope, I was taught to hate him for betraying us. And now, look where we are. How can I be certain he loves me? Or that he is only toying with me to keep himself safe? How could you love someone who was destined to be your enemy? I don’t understand how he can choose. I understand Lucy. She found me, and I am grateful for her existence to no end. She means a great deal to me, and I would do anything to protect her. I feel the same about him. Yet... there is always the doubt in my mind. That he can’t love me. That he would be better off alone.”

“Just because he chose hope over despair doesn’t mean that he cannot love you. One doesn’t exclude the other.” His gaze softened a bit as he continued: ��Your concerns are valid and you are not stupid for having these doubts, but if you ask me, you should seek conversation with him. At the end of the day, I’m just a therapist, and not a mind reader. All I can do is reassure you and encourage communication.” He grabbed his pen and drew a heart around the three of them, showing it to her: “See? It’s not as difficult as you think it is. Sometimes life seems like rocket science, but really, it’s just a quick skip over the river. You just need to take the offered hand.”

At this advice, she sunk into her chair and huffed. “.. It feels impossible to communicate how I feel to him without hurting his feelings. I fear, should I say anything wrong, he’ll blame himself. I pick my words carefully, but, there is no use tiptoeing through a minefield, is there? At times, it... feels better to be silent. To not make the problem worse. It’s... difficult to understand why anyone would choose me. Truly, their standards for beauty must be low.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and frowned at the ground.

He nodded at her doubts about the relationship, admitting to her: “I don’t think that silencing the problem away is going to help. You may not hurt him at the moment, but you are hurting yourself that way. If you leave these doubts unaddressed, they might be the reason the relationship will fall apart. Even if it hurts for a moment, I’m sure he will understand. It is a roadblock you need to work past. You are an intelligent and beautiful young woman, I’m sure both of them are willing to work with you for you.” He tapped his pen against the sketch of the three of them, surrounded by the heart again, inquiring: “Don’t let your doubts, or your pride, get the best of you. You might regret it in the end.”

“... I suppose. I don’t want it to fester forever, but I also don’t want to blurt out my own worries during an awful time. Timing does matter, I believe.” She sighed with a frowning, knowing he was right but unable to fully vocalize it outside of a slight nod. “.. I will talk to him. In the future. I will.” She promised to herself and him all the same.

“Now. About your sister.” He folded his hands together, resting his chin atop them as he leaned forward to listen.

She paused to inhale before speaking. “My sister has never liked me. We had opposing views from a young age. Our...” She swallowed trying to hide the contempt she held or having to use this word. “... mother. Our mother pitied us against one another frequently, to build our competitive spirits. She wanted a life she couldn’t have. I only wanted her to stay safe.” Simplifying their story into a normal family felt so strange. She was stubborn about not telling this man everything just yet. Dancing around the details would be fine for now. “She was reckless. I saved her from danger, took the blame for her idiotic decisions, and showed her everything I knew. Yet it.. was never enough. She never wanted anything to do with me. Mother treated her differently as well. Gave her... things I wasn’t allowed to enjoy myself. I grew jealous because of that. Between her taking my efforts for granted and my own jealousy, I came to resent her, sadly.” Her eyes looked to the side, clearly unhappy with this fact. She didn’t want to hate her own sister. She was the closest she had to someone who understood her own strife. Why did they have to be enemies? Was it her own fault? Was it Trifle’s? Both of theirs? Or was it all to blame on Celia? Would blaming anyone even fix the problem at all...?

He listened patiently when she revealed her concerns about her family. For a moment, just a moment, he felt a connection. It made him shiver, but he quickly disguised it as an arm movement. He had this weird feeling yesterday too. He should look into this more. But for now he needed to offer some advice. “So your sister got preferred to you by your abusive parental figure?” He tried to sum it up, humming and tapping the pen against his palm. “Maybe....try to see things from her perspective? I understand you wanted to protect her, but maybe she didn’t see it like that at all? Think about her character in comparison to yours and what your attempts at protecting her might have looked like from her perspective. And, if you find something....maybe try to contact her and apologize? I know, I know, it doesn’t fix anything that happened, those memories will always remain....but it is not only to clear your conscience, but also to show her that you changed. That you realize your past flaws. Try to explain yourself, how you feel jealousy over everything she had that you were denied. Try to explain your perspective too. Maybe she will understand it. Maybe she won’t. But at the very least you tried and got it off your chest.”

“I never.... said... she was abusive..? My mother.. I mean.” Aditi spoke of her confusion before being able to filter the words coming out. Realizing she had let out her doubts, only made her surrender more information. Was there any use in hiding it? He’s inside my head. He likely already knows. This “therapy session,” is only fun and games for him. “... Captor. She wasn’t my mother. She was my captor. My birth mother died when I was very young. My birth father likely doesn’t know I exist, since he never reared his face in my life. My captor raised me. Celia, is her name. My sister... isn’t blood related. I don’t.. have a family. I never have.” She admitted, frown noticeably turning less forced and more genuinely sad. “Trifle,'' is my sister’s name. She wanted freedom. I wanted her to keep her head down and survive. We had different priorities. I hate..” She took a deep breath, shuddering on the way out. “I hate her. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to hate her. But, every time I see her I- hah... she’s everything I’m not. I feel like a child again when I look at her. I feel helpless to my own emotions. It makes me feel... weak. So, I... I don’t look at her anymore.”

“Ah, so she wasn’t your mother after all, and she is not your blood relative. You were....all her prisoners, do I understand that right?” Now he had a better picture of the situation, thinking about it for a moment. “It is a difficult situation you are going through, and it probably always will be, but please trust me when I tell you, that it is okay to feel resentment. When you see her, all you can think about is what she had and what you hadn’t, right? ....I think you should take your time with this. Maybe tell her or write to her that you need some time away from here if you and her see each other often and just...take your time. It is okay to feel resentment, it is okay to carry that resentment for years, but you must also not forget that you are not there anymore. You have a place of your own, and you have acquaintances and you have a relationship” He smiled, tilting his head lightly as he assured her: “You are not alone. And things will get better. We will take it one step at a time, alright?”

The advice centering her family affairs seemed to catch her off guard. All her life, by everyone she confided in about Trifle, she was told her resentment wasn’t valid. She was wrong for hating her sister so adamantly. Trifle didn’t deserve it. She was a victim too. Never mind that Aditi was treated worse on purpose. Poor Trifle would never hurt a fly, and Aditi was cruel to her, so she must be in the wrong, right? She was the villain, like always. Everyone invalidating her only grew her hatred more, towards her sister and herself. It felt strange looking someone in the eyes, who thought she wasn’t entirely at fault. She couldn’t seem to find the words. What was there to say? The fact someone finally understood filled her with relief and tons of sadness on top of it. She barely knew him, and he understood her side more than anyone else did. It was pathetic, but gratifying, all in one. “... We? What do you mean? You intend to keep coming back to my dreams?” She felt herself smile for once. “You’d miss me too much? Heh..”

“Yes, Aditi, I just don’t know how to continue without my favourite hostile patient by my side, we are essentially best friends now!” He chuckled, he had no malice in his voice. He was just joking, thankfully, starting to chuckle to himself as he leaned forward, commenting: “I can tell you have taken a liking to me too, considering all the information you share with me.” He had a little smile on his face, a mixture of smug and happy, enjoying that he finally got through her walls. At least a little.

That description of her family life made him furrow his eyebrows though. Could she be...? No, this wasn’t possible, was it? He didn’t know, it could be her. But there were so many people with the same story. Did her find her? After all those years? “Aditi, would you mind answering me a question? You can always decline of course.” He cleared his throat, getting a little nervous as he asked: “Are you....did you have a name before your current name? You were ‘adopted’, weren’t you?” He just....needed to make sure....

Hearing his question, one of her hands reached up to toy with her midnight hair. “Yes. I’ve had three names in my lifetime. Aditi is my chosen name. Oddity was the one my captor gave me. My birth name was Orabelle.” She explained, tilting her head to the side curiously. “Why do you ask?”

When she said her name, he dropped the pen he had still been holding in one hand, his face morphing and making it look like he just invented a brand new emotion. He muttered something under his breath, hand starting to erratically grab the pen and write something in the notebook, calming himself down in a matter of seconds. “....I’m sorry Aditi. but I cannot tell you yet....I will eventually though, I promise....” And he meant it.

A weird noise echoed through the office, like a cuckoo-clock that was being tortured and Albert sighed, the disappointment heavy on his face. “It seems like this is the end of our session. How unfortunate.” His lips quirked up to a gentle smile, his two fangs poking out from his upper lip again as he ended their conversation with: “I hope we can see each other again very soon.”

Aditi watched his responses to her comments, mouth twitching to a smile when she felt needed. The reaction to her name caught her attention most, of course. When he dropped the pen, her smile dropped with it, back into a curious frown with her eyebrows knit. As he promised to inform her of it later, her mouth opened to protest but was once again cut off by the strange sound. “What do you m-?” She began, but as soon as the words left her, she jolted back to reality, waking up in a cold sweat like before.

[starlightsearches]

A New Life Pt. 2

I liked the Kylo Ren soulmate AU so much and I got so much love on it that I decided to write a second part! I hope you guys like it! (Here’s the first part if you missed it)

Requests are still open ✨

Kylo Ren X female reader soulmate! AU Pt. 2 

AN: Mentions sex. 

It’s only been a few days since you’ve boarded the Finalizer, but you’ve certainly made yourself at home. So far, Ren has provided you many items that you requested, including an impressive collection of art supplies, a veritable rainbow of a wardrobe, and most eclectically, a maintenance jumpsuit, which you’re wearing right now, the top half tied around your waist over a sleeveless white shirt. 

It had been sweet, and strange to him at the time, when you asked for it, walking through the hangar as Ren took you on a tour of the ship. You had been wide-eyed, admiring the sleek, black organization of the Order, so different from the simple and slow life you had known. You watched the workers at their duties, and a few radar technicians had scurried by, trying to avoid Ren’s attention while still getting a good look at you; the ship was full of talk about his new “guest,” but that had been the first time you’d left his room, and everyone wanted to see.

“What are they wearing?” You had been asking questions non-stop, and Ren tried to answer as many as he could to the best of his abilities. He liked to watch as you listened, processing the information with the slightest of scowls while you internalized it.

“Jumpsuits,” he was grateful it was a question he could answer easily; the more difficult the question was to answer, the more focused you looked, and the more distracted he became by the shape of your brow and the set of your eyes, “standard issue.” Your gaze had followed behind the techs, the look becoming familiar to Ren already. He liked that he was learning to read you without using the force, that your subtle gestures were becoming windows for him to peek through even when no one else could.

“Could I have one?” You had asked, still so polite, despite the fact that he had never said no to one of your requests before. That didn’t mean he wasn’t confused.

“Why?” Compared to the other clothes you had requested, the jumpsuit was plain, and the green-gray color incredibly ugly. You had looked at him, lashes framing your pleading eyes, the corners of your mouth turned up into the slightest of smiles.

“Please?” That was all it took. Ren would give you anything you wanted. Asking something of you, though, was not something he felt prepared for.

“They want us to do what?” you say, sitting curled up on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap. Ren sits across from you, very careful not to move. You had already scolded him a few times for fidgeting too much, and he doesn’t want to ruin your drawing.

“Um, a wedding?” Ren says. He wasn’t sure how to explain, had been putting it off for the last few days, but the longer he waited, the more impatient the general became.

“But why?” You laugh when you say it, and Ren adds your laugh to the mental list he’s compiling of his favorite things about you. “Aren’t weddings between soulmates kind of, I don’t know, silly?”

“Well, actually,” he clears his throat, and you go back to sketching, staring at him for a moment before adding another line on the flimsi and blending it out with your finger, “no one really knows-” he swallows before continuing, “that we’re soulmates.” You pause in your drawing. 

“Why not?” You look up, confused, and then disappointed, leaking sadness out of the corners of your mouth, and it reminds Ren why he didn’t want to have this conversation in the first place.

“The First Order frowns upon connections that could put the organization at risk. Soulmates are seen as a hazard.” You nod solemnly, dropping the sketchbook into your lap and looking pensive. “Some people know, obviously, but it was decided that it would be better if we kept the true nature of our relationship secret.” He watches closely, taking in your microexpressions with a careful eye. You hum through your lips, deep in thought, and Ren waits anxiously to know what you’ll say next.

“So what will everyone else be told?” 

“We’ll keep the details private. Our marriage will be seen as a political alliance . . . would that be alright with you?”

“Of course,” you say, after a short pause, “it doesn’t really matter to me, whether there’s a wedding or not.” Ren relaxes, and you start another sketch, slower this time, more detailed.

“You never wanted a wedding?” he asks, watching your hand glide across the flimsi; your hands go on the list as well.

“I don’t think there’s been a wedding in my village . . . ever.” You look up into the distance, trying to remember. “When you live somewhere as remote as I did, most people meet their soulmates at a very young age. By the time they’re old enough for something like a wedding, they’ve usually been bonded for years. The additional ceremony is pointless.”

“What about people without soulmates?” Ren wonders out loud. It’s pretty common for people in the Order to marry without finding a soulmate, for political alliances or companionship, but your life is so different from his. Despite the difference, it’s easy for him to talk to you. He never feels like you’re judging him. Being around you is like being someone else and himself wrapped up into a person who makes sense.

“They stay in the village, help raise the children and take care of the cattle and whatever else is needed. We support them when they are too old to work. In a way, we become their soulmates when we care for them.” You smile fondly at the memories, and he watches the faces of old friends flash by in your head.

“Seems sad.”

“Not forever,” you say, and then pause before adding, “I thought I was one of them. The sadness doesn’t last.” You set your drawings to the side and stand from the couch, stretching for a moment.

“Are you glad,” he asks, even though it scares him to hear your answer, “that you’re not . . .  one of them?” You go to him, sitting at his side and curling yourself up next to him. The couch is already too small for him alone, but he can’t be uncomfortable when you show him affection like this.

“Yes,” you smile, and he places one hand in your hair, always trying to gauge the invisible boundary between not enough and too much. Will he ever be too much for you? The thought haunts him.

“What about after the wedding?” You ask quietly, your face buried in the fabric of his shirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it traditional for the couple to . . . go somewhere? Like, a honeymoon?” Oh. Ren’s heart races, he’s suddenly highly aware that he can feel you everywhere on him, the press of your body against his a little terrifying now. All your contact up until this point had been initiated by you, never more than an innocent resting of your head on his shoulder when you sleep or the brush of your fingers against his arm when you’re walking side by side down the corridor. He hadn’t wanted to pressure you, to make you uncomfortable, but it was difficult to maintain control, his eyes always managing to catch the gleam of a zipper at the back of your dress, or the shape of your hips underneath the fabric of your jumpsuit. And now you're inviting more, and it frightens him how much he wants it.

“I- I don’t think I could leave,” he says with some difficulty, purposely avoiding the true nature of your question, “I need to stay on the ship.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply. You’re looking at him now, your chin resting on his sternum, and your eyes examine him mischievously; you recognize the effect that you’re having on him, and you like it. It calms him a little, knowing how easily you accept him as he is. “I guess we’ll have to have a honeymoon here.” You roll off of the couch without warning, and run your fingers down the length of his arm. The gesture makes him shiver, and he can’t look at you when he feels this way.

“I’ll tell the general to schedule the wedding as soon as possible,” Ren says, focusing all his energy on keeping his voice steady. You bend down to eye level where he lies, and place a lingering kiss on his temple before whispering in his ear.

“I can’t wait.”

[happytroopers]

Day 3: Betrayal

i’ve never written for slick before!!

surprise, you don’t die in this one!!

This one does get a little long- and I’m planning a part two

_______________

Being a nurse in the 501st wasn’t easy, sometimes when you were frustrated you swore that they always assigned the most reckless troopers to this legion. Between General Skywalker(who sometimes you thought just tried to see if something could kill him) and Captain Rex- who was always beside Skywalker when the Jedi attempted something ridiculous-  Regardless, you enjoyed your job. You were making a difference in this forsaken war. 

That’s what got you stuck on Cristsophsis. The republic wasn’t exactly losing the battles- but there were too many near misses for your comfort. For example, in a sneak attack earlier that day, separatists cut Republic forces off in a way that look suspiciously like they knew you were there. They’re ambush left you knee-deep in injured troopers.

___________

*a few hours earlier, before the Jedi, Cody, and Rex, arrived* 

“You’re being careful, right?” Your mother’s grainy voice glitched over the call. The signal wasn’t even good enough for a hologram- but even just hearing her voice made the rough day a little better. You smiled fondly, closing your eyes and imagining her sitting at her kitchen table, and breathed a small laugh.

“Yes, mom. I’m always careful. Besides, I’m not even in combat this time. Just waiting for the boys to get back, and then they’ll set me to work.” You assured her. She sighed on the other side of the line.

“Speaking of boys, Where’s that boy you’re always talking about?” She teased, you didn’t have to see her to know she was smirking. You blushed. 

“Mom! I can’t talk about that here! He could get in trouble.” You scolded, checking over your shoulder for any listening ears. You only found Slick smirking by the door. He jerked his head back, telling you everyone was back. “They just got back Mom, I gotta go.”

“Well, your father’s gonna be sad he missed your call. Be careful honey, I love you.” She sighed sadly, the worry leaking back into her voice. You smiled sadly, she always hated goodbyes. 

“Give him my love. I love you too. Bye for now.” You nodded, clicking the off button. Slick came behind you, kissing the top of your head and placing his hands on your shoulders as you fiddled with the signal transponder. “I can never get these things to turn off.”

“Here, I got it for you. They need you in the medical bay.” He offered, letting you out of the chair. You stood up, stretching to peck his lips. He seemed tense. 

“It was bad, wasn’t it? You alright?” You questioned as you shrugged on your work coat. He didn’t answer, just smiled softly. 

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, sweetheart. Better get going. I’ll meet up with you later.” He told you, motioning you out. Your eyebrows crinkled but you nodded, smiling softly at him- but he was already turned around working on the transponder. 

You could tell something was wrong but decided it would have to wait. So with a last worried glance, you stepped out into the corridor. Deciding the medics and medical droids were probably overwhelmed, you broke into a jog once you turned the corner- nearly running into General Kenobi (who was being trailed by General Skywalker, Commander Cody, and Captain Rex). 

“Sorry, sirs.” You politely apologized, moving aside before resuming your journey. You could feel General Kenobi’s eyes on you. 

“It’s alright.” He called after you, but you had already turned another corner. 

Finally, You slowed to a stop as you entered the bustling med bay. A medic immediately ushered you to a medical bench, explaining as he went. 

“They were ambushed. Damn seppies were basically waiting on us.” He growled, “All the critical injuries are being taken care of, but so many of our guys got-”

“Got it. I’m good. Just get me a patient.” You smiled assuredly. The medic- with a tattoo peeking out of his armor’s neckpiece- nodded, motioning for an all too familiar soldier to stumble towards you. 

“Gus- is there ever going to a mission where you don’t pay me a visit afterward?” You scolded, sitting him down. He peeled off his helmet to reveal a mischievous grin. 

“Why break tradition?” He winced as his wrist flopped with his hand gesture, “I think you’d miss me too much.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly, “You’re so full of it. Give me your hand, it’s clearly bothering you.”

“Anything for the Sarge’s girl.”

You rolled your eyes. Gus was a close friend, one of Slick’s men. Gus, along with Chopper, Punch,Jester, and Sketch, had become your closest friends. There was rarely a time that you weren’t with at least one of them- or with Slick. They very happily adopted you as a sisterly- occasionally motherly- influence on the group. To your amusement (and sometimes annoyance), they often as protective of you as Slick.  They were your best friends- basically your second family. 

And you had Slick to thank for that. Even before you started dating, he was always so nice to you. Checking up on you after a battle- or at least sending one of the boys if he was busy. On the rare occasion, you were in combat, he tried his best to keep an eye on you. He always offered a seat at dinner, walked you home from 79′s. The whole nine yards. You loved him more than life itself. 

“Yeah, you sprained it pretty good. I’ll get you a bacta patch to wear overnight under a brace. That should fix that if you’ll go easy on it.” You explained, gloved hand holding the swollen wrist as you rubbed bacta gel on it. Then you looked up to his face, he had a blooming bruise on his temple and it was crusted with dried blood. Gus followed your eyes, smiling to put you at ease. 

“Yeah, clanker got me pretty good there, huh?” He joked, tilting his head so you could see it better. 

“Kriff, Gus.” You muttered, dabbing at the wound before reprimanding him. “No wonder you’re stumbling around, you probably have a concussion. You’ve got to be more careful!”

He smiled at you, “Yes, ma’am.”

That only earned him rolling eyes as you checked- which proved what you thought. A mild concussion. 

“Alright, grab an ice pack and mild pain reliever on your way out. I’ll come by the barracks with the brace later, it’ll take me a while to find one. Go drink some water and, afterwards, get some rest.” You ordered as he stood up. 

“You give orders almost as good as the Sarge.” He joked as he began to walk away. Another trooper was already ushered to your bench. 

“Just go.” You smirked, already starting the patch up for the next trooper- a shiny with a rather unfortunate facial tattoo. As you worked, you noted that Gus didn’t seem near as tense- something was definitely bothering your lover. 

____

With the other ten civilian nurses, five medics, and fifteen medical droids, you worked through every sprained wrist, mild concussion, a fractured rib, busted lip, and every other injury that walked into your medical bay. It had taken two hours, but you were finally done for the moment. Until your next shift- but that was plenty far away, plenty of time to eat, shower, and sleep, you thought happily, as you cleaned up your area. 

Leaning over to pick up some dropped gloves, you sighed disdainfully at your other find. A dc-18 pistol discarded under the bench- definitely Gus’s based on the painted patterns on the grip. You’d give it to him when you gave him the brace, you decided, checking the safety before tucking it in your waistband. 

So, ever so tiredly, you made your way to the mess hall- idly daydreaming about Slick sneaking into your quarters that night to cuddle, which he usually did after a battle. When you finally made it, they were already shut down for the night- much to your disdain. A little irritated, you decided to just go straight to Slick’s men’s barracks, maybe one of them would have some snacks. 

So you shuffled towards the barracks, ready to just hang out with the boys until Slick got done for the night. Then you could check in on him, and hopefully get some quality time with the Sargent.

As you walked in, head hung in exhaustion, you fished the pistol out of your waistband. To your surprise, the barracks door slid open flooding the corridor with yelling. 

“There’s no way she could do something like this!”- that was Punch

“Now if you all calm down, I’m sure we can figure something out.” - that was Slick, you’d know that voice anywhere. 

Cody and Rex were standing in the middle of it, trying to regain control of the situation. 

“(Y/N) loves this battalion, and she’s loyal to the republic. You’re wrong!” - Gus, who looked ready to fight

“Gus, you need to calm down, they’re only doing their job.” Slick answered him. Your eyebrows furrowed, what were they accusing you of?

“Sarge, that’s your girl! How are you so calm about this?”- Jester asked incredulously. 

“There’s no way she’d hurt any of like that!”- that was Chopper. 

Finally, you had enough of the yelling so you shouted, “What the hell is going on here?”

Every trooper in the room snapped their head to you, Cody and Rex immediately pointing their own weapons at you, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) drop the blaster.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, immediately following the orders, “Gus left this in the medical wing! I brought it back with the brace he needed! What’s going on?”

Rex kicked the blaster away while Cody rushed forward to restrain you while hissing, “How much, how much did they pay you to sell information?”

Your mind was racing only, mouth gaping as you tried to process the information, “Sir, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about!” 

“You’re a civilian, you left a comm running after a personal call, we know you’re the mole,” Rex explained, handing Cody a pair of cuffs. Your eyes widened, immediately seeking out Slick’s. 

“No, no, you have to believe me, I wouldn’t do something like this!” You frantically assured them, panic rising up. 

“Go easy on her!”

“She’s not resisting!” 

“Sarge, there has to be something else.” 

You heard three voices but were so shellshocked you couldn’t find the troopers who said them. All their worried faces blurred together. Then there was the angry faces- Rex, Cody, and a few of the scattered troopers who watched disdainfully. 

Your eyes were moving so fast, as your panic rose. Your breathing was frantic, and suddenly Slick was in front of you- eerily calm, “(Y/N), we’ll figure this out- you don’t have to say anything yet.”

“Slick?” Your voice was quiet and broken as Cody and Rex pulled you away. “Slick, I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

You expected him to follow you- he never let you go through anything alone. But he didn’t just stayed still with his men, watching you get pulled away. Tears pricked your eyes, why wouldn’t he come with you? Why wasn’t he helping you? 

“(Y/L/N), come on.” Cody warned, so you finally stopped dragging your feet as the door slid shut- cutting you off from your family, cutting you off from Slick.

How could he just leave you? 

____________

Five minutes later you were handcuffed to a table in an interrogation room. You were anxious, hungry, and tired.

Ten minutes later they had turned the air down. You were shivering, wishing they’d just come in and talk to you. 

Fifteen minutes later and your tears began to spill over. How could they think you betrayed them? You had given so much for the Republic. Where was Slick? He left you alone- surely he knew you were innocent. 

Twenty minutes later your head was resting on the table when the door was sliding open. 

Cody and Rex walked in, eyes narrowed in on you. Under other circumstances, how terrible you looked would have been comical- but you couldn’t muster the energy for anything other than sad eyes. 

“(Y/L/N), can you tell us where you're from again?” Cody asked, standing across from the table you were cuffed to. Your voice was scratchy as you answered. 

“3rd level coruscant born and raised. My family still lives there.  I-”

Rex interrupted you, “And why did you leave a comm channel open in the communications room- right before us and the generals came back to discuss the battle? You seemed in an awful hurry when you ran into us.”

You stammered your answers. 

 “I-i-I uh,” You paused to collect yourself, “I don’t know if you remember it, but I received clearance from Commander Cody to make a personal call. You can trace it if you want- it was too my mother on Coruscant, a family friend is sick in the hospital.”

“That doesn’t explain why you left the comm open and running. Like a spy.” Cody chimed in. You snapped your gaze to him, wringing your hands.

“Slick came in to tell me that they needed me in the medical bay. It always takes me so long to figure out how to shut them down. So he offered to shut it down for me, so I left him in there and went to the medical bay. Then I ran into you.” You explained. Cody and Rex shared a look, and you couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing. 

“And why come armed to the barracks?” Cody asked, sitting down. You bitterly laughed, wiping your hands over your face. 

“That was a misunderstanding, I swear. Gus was in the medical bay, he carries a dc-18 pistol, it must have fallen out of his holster when I was caring for him. I sent him for food and rest, and didn’t find the blaster until after I was done with my shift. I was already coming to give him a brace for his wrist, so I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to bring it to him on my way.” You stumbled through that explanation. 

“And your relationship to Sargent Slick? One of his men called you ‘his girl’.”  Rex asked, watching you carefully- seeing your cheeks reddened.

“I suppose you could say we’re an item. Have been for two months now. If this is about the relationship- I know of at least thirteen other civilian/soldier affairs.” Your eyes flitted to Captain Rex, who you knew for a fact was with an engineer that worked on the resolute. “We keep each other sane during the bad times.” 

The last statement was barely above a whisper. Cody and Rex shared another look, “Have you noticed anything odd about then men? You spend more time among them and some of them are more comfortable around you than us.”

You noted this was the first question not about you, but were grateful for the change in topic, “Oh, uh, most of the men are just frustrated with the battles on this planet- I guess the ambushes make sense if you’re accusing me of being a mole. But some are more tense than others.”

“Like who?” Rex pressed. 

“Well, I know he can’t be involved, but something’s been bothering Slick since he got back.” You answered, “And of course the medics are in a tizzy- these attacks aren’t easy on the men as you know.”

“We’ll be back.” 

____

They came back after fifteen minutes, uncuffing you, “What you said, checks out. We’re sorry for the false accusations.”

Despite the frustration, Rex’s apology at least seemed sincere. Cody helped you up and motioned you out, where Slick was waiting for you. 

“Back to square one.” Cody muttered as they left the two of you. 

“Maybe not.” Was the last you heard of Rex as they turned a corner. 

“Sweetheart, are you ok?” Slick asked. You whipped around to him with a glare. 

“No thanks to you.” You hissed, walking away. The exhaustion, fear, anxiety, and hunger had formed into anger. And it was all directed at Slick- he didn’t do anything to help you. 

“(Y/N), you know that’s not fair. They’re my Commanding officers, I can’t argue with them.” He tried, following you and placing a warm hand on your still cold shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re freezing.”

“Yeah, that’s how they make you talk in an interrogation room.” You growled, ripping your shoulder away “Don’t change the subject. You didn’t have to argue, but you hand me over like a.. like a.. like a sacrifice. Gus, Chopper, and Sketch were more helpful than you.”

“(Y/N),” he grabbed your arm, whipping you towards him, just strong enough of a hold so you couldn’t get away. You gave him a warning glare, and he dropped your arm, “I let them take you because I knew you were innocent- they wouldn’t find anything on you. Sweetheart, I know you’re angry and I’ll contact you once I’ve gotten everything in order.”

With that he breezed away, leaving you again. Contact me... Find anything on me... like a sacrifice.

Slowly everything clicked. Your heart stung with betrayal. Were you not enough for him? What did the separatists give him that could be worth this? 

But none of those questions mattered. You knew how he was thinking- and you knew what you had to do. 

______

This is way longer than it had to be, but I enjoyed thinking about the 501st from a different angle. I’ve never written for Slick (honestly I think I like Chopper, Gus, and Sketch even more) 

[weeping-petals]

Shadow Rabbit

Word Count - 2,493

The Crystal Gems need to have a talk about their encounter with the hostile Spinel, and send Steven off on a quick ‘errand’ to pick up doughnuts. By the time he returns home, he has even more questions.

“That can’t be right. You didn’t just fall asleep.” Pearl began, promptly when they return to the Crystal Temple.

 The blast of light faded, and each member of the Crystal crew stepped off. Pearl followed close behind Steven, still aboard the ‘you’re wrong and I must be correct’ train. Behind the Pearl, Amethyst made a face.

 “Maybe fell on your head,” the lilac gem posed. “Or got dropped, tossed, hurtled. Maybe a fist collided with—”

 “Would you guys stop it!” Steven burst. He tugged off his hoodie and threw it aside. They weren’t listening, and hastened to judge ever sentence that popped out of his mouth. All throughout the hike back, they boggled him with interrogation of what happened, how he felt. The trio was uncharacteristically clingy, more so than if he had fallen into actual peril. “That’s how it happened. We were sneaking around, well, she was sneaking. I stopped paying attention, and… yeah, it was really boring.”

 Amethyst shrugged. “No, that doesn’t sound like Spine. Try again.”

 Pearl disregarded the coat on the floor (very unusual) and knelt on her knee, to examine Steven once more. “You must’ve suffered a concussion. You shouldn’t have been sleeping, in fact, you should stay awake for the next few hours. To be safe.”

 Steven was at his wits end. “I didn’t FALL! The complete opposite of interesting happ—”

 “I could use some doughnuts,” Garnet blurted. She put a hand on Pearl’s shoulder, stole her away from Steven, and set a hand on Amethyst’s head. The two gems went along with the gesture, grasping a hidden meaning. “Steven, you’re the best at catching doughnuts. Do you mind running a quick errand?”

 This was a universal request to excuse them for a short spell. Steven toed the floor with his sandal and pouted. “Sure. Any special requests?”

 Pearl raised a finger. “Two bakers dozen.”

 Amethyst piped up next. “Filling. And coating. Lots of sprinkles. BACON!”

 “Red and blue,” Garnet wished, clasping her hands together. “You better take the wagon.”

 It hurt a little more than it should have, despite knowing it was gem business. The topic always spooked his dad, but it fascinated the pants off Steven. He should have been a part of it; he was the one kidnapped, but he also wanted to help Spinel. The time he spent in her company (or captivity?) felt like days, though it was only a few hours. The sun was rising on the tranquil shores of Beach City, the denizens emerging from storefronts or meandered their way along the boardwalk to begin opening shop. The Crystal Gems spent a whole day and night out in the forest.

 The wagon was easy to haul off from the beach and to the road. He ventured to the front of the Big Doughnut and hurried inside.

 “I need a bakers dozen! ASOP!” He whooped.

 “Whoa-whoa!” Sadie, opening shop today, struggled with two large boxes of merch. “I barely got the displays set. Can ya kinda give me a sec?”

 Steven immediately chilled. “Oh. Sorry! Forgot what time it was. What time is it, by the way?”

 “Barely got in, if that’s a good ref,” she offered. She set the boxes on the counter and began opening, pulling out pre-packaged pastries. “You’re up early for a Saturday.”

 “So, time doesn’t flow differently in the magical petrify forest. Huh?” Steven tried to sound clever, stroking his chin as he crossed to the counter. “In-teer-esting.”

 Sadie smirked as she rose up from behind the display case. “Magical forest? Time flow? Is this more of that gem stuff?” If Lars was here he would be groaning at her, to not get Steven started. But it was nice to have some positive company while she was setting up, and Steven was always getting into some wild adventures. It kept him out of trouble.

 “It was cool,” Steven enthused, eyes starry. “We – the gems and me – went out to check on this rock forest, where this temple was bein’ built. There were crystal trees, bigger than the city, bigger than the temple and the city combined!” He swung his arms up, exaggerating details. “It was sunset there, while here it was middle of the day! Oh-oh! And there was a gem there! A real gem, like Garnet, Pearl, or Amethyst!”

 “A gem person? Y’mean, other than those gem monsters….”

 Steven broke from his whirlwind showman and gawked. “Why does everyone keep hating on her? She’s not a monster!”

 A loud thump resounded from the counter, likely from Sadie bumping her head. “Hold up, take it easy.” She straightened, rubbing her crown. “I’m going off on all those stories you tell, and the fact the other gems are always fighting these… monsters.” She cast her eyes away, hesitant. “And, aside from you, your friends, and… your mom – I had no idea there were other gems, gem people, around. So….”

 “A bakers dozen! Make that two!” Steven announced. “I have to get back, so I can ask them about her.”

 “I gotcha the first time, kiddo.” Sadie resumed ripping packages and lining up the inventory. “That’s like twenty-six doughnuts, and we’re not officially opened yet. What sort of doughnuts you want? I can go through the boxes and get started.”

 “My dad!”

 Thump!

 “Maybe he knows something about her!” Steven did an about-face and raced to the door. But halted. “Wait, Amethyst might be upset if she doesn’t get her doughnuts.” He did a little dance at the door, indecisive about what he should do and fighting the urge to blast out to the carwash. Even worse, what if his dad didn’t know anything?

 “Yes, do that!” he harped.

 Sadie sighed and dropped her forehead to the countertop. Adorable as Steven was, he sure was a mess.

 “So,” she said, after hauling out the third box from storage. “Did you catch the name of this new gem?”

 Steven sat at one of the tables, swinging his feet under the chair. “Spinel.” He was twiddling his thumbs on the tabletop, focused intently. The crash of the box snapped his attention back to Sadie.

 “Spindle?”

 “Spinel,” Steven repeated. Sadie gazed at him, expression perplexed. “Hmm?”

 “Sorry. I’m sure I’ve heard that name before.” She shook her head. “No idea where.”

 “My dad?”

 “Nope.” Sadie collected up the boxes and made progress on filling up the order. “That’s half my stock. Anyway, I think it was… Sour Cream? Certainly not Lars. I think it was around Halloween, we were sharing creepy stories about stuff that frightened us, y’know, when we were kids. That guy Sour Cream told us about this imaginary friend that was a kind of variant of this crooked man, and he called it Spindle—”

 Outside the Big Doughnut, Steven burst from the doors screaming, “SOUR CREAM!”

 Sadie was not close behind, didn’t catch Steven, and stood at the threshold. “Steven! YOUR DOUGHNUTS!”

 For the better part of the day, Steven raced across Beach City checking every nook and cranny he laid eyes on, every shady alleyway seeking the ‘Cool Kids’. He ventured to the abandoned warehouse, but the nights activities ended hours before dawn. In desperation, he tried hammering away at Lars door, but the father of Lars answered and spoke on behalf of his son that “that boy is still sleeping.” Steven raced off, exploring all the likely cool places the Cool Kids would meetup. He had no idea where Sour Cream lived, let alone other go to hangouts. He didn’t want to race out to the cliff.

 At long last, Steven began a desperate patrol of the shoreline. And there, near the pier of Funland he spied the Cool Kids in the midst of a round of hacky sack. And there was Sour Cream, balancing the lumpy satchel on his knee.

 “Sour Cream!”

 “Huh?” He balanced the sack on his elbow, right before Steven nearly bowled him over. “Brah! What gives—” He passed the orb, and Jenny managed to nab it on her ankle. “I guess I’m taking two!”

 “I have questions! Questions! And you have answers I need! Please!”

 Reluctantly, Sour Cream let his arm get tugged by Steven, and went along with the pre-teen. “I was in the middle of something. Do you get bad reception at your house? Texting is a thing.”

 Steven stalled. Above, the noises from screaming ride goers spilled down as the coaster careened through its track. “That’s… true. I’m used to talking face-to-face though. Heh.”

 Once Sour Cream liberated his arm, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “That’s more direct. I see the appeal.” He nodded. “I can’t help but catch those vibes of tension radiating off you. You got something you think I’ll help you with?”

 “I don’t know.” Steven was beginning to second guess. He was in such a hurry to locate Sour Cream, a task deemed all but possible, he didn’t gather up a good question. Or beginning. “Uh… did you ever know a gem?”

 “Amethyst? Yeah. Forever a long—”

 “No-no-no.” Steven took a breath. And stalled. Amethyst? He shook his head. “A gem named Spinel?” The bafflement that met him was disheartening.

 “Sorry lil dude. Aside from Amy, I don’t know any gems.”

 “Well,” Steven cupped his chin and considered. “What about the crooked creature? Spindle?” At first Sour Cream shook his head, but then, recognition lit up in his eyes.

 “Ooh, yeah. That thing.” He turned his gaze up thoughtfully. “This critter used to hang around the city, I’d see it lurking in the shadows sometimes. Kinda spooked me, but I didn’t get the ambiance it was dangerous.” He stooped on the sand, and began sketching out a face, grin, bent body, and tall ears. “It was sort of like a rabbit, made of ramen. Say, who’s been telling you my stories?”

 Steven didn’t answer. He was mesmerized by the crude picture, and could see how Spinel could be mistaken for a rabbit. Minus the fluffy tail. “Spindle?”

 “Yeah! Er, don’t know where the name came from.” Sour Cream weaved his arm in the air, fish like. “It did this deal, sort of slithered up and down walls. I’d see it, but no one else could. Meh. As I got older, I stopped seeing it. One day, I guess.” He shrugged and stood. “I grew up.”

 The story was very strange, but there was no mistaking what was staring at Steven from the sand. “Thanks Sour Cream. That really helped.”

 “Really? I didn’t do much.” He wiped the sand from his hands.

 Steven waved, as he took off. “That was all I needed. Sorry for stealing you from the game!”

 “No prob. Don’t do anything I would!”

 It was a long hike back to the Big Doughnut. Long, because Steven was halfway to the Crystal Temple, before he realized he’d forgotten the goods. He hurried back to the shop and raced inside.

 “Where’d you go?” Sadie asked, upon coming from the back storage.

 “No time to explain! I hope I’m not too late!” He grabbed the doughnuts, nearly forgot to pay, and went back to the cash register.

 “Too late for what?” she was getting panicked. Steven was sweaty and red, from running around too much in the sun. “Are you okay?”

 “Thanks for the doughnuts! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Steven blew out of the store, nearly plowing into Lars.

 “Crud, what is it now?” Lars barked, scuttling aside. “Don’t they feed you?”

 “I was just leaving!” Steven threw the boxes onto the wagon and took off, leaving a cloud of dust.

 Lars scratched his head. “Weird. Usually he tries to hug me… or something else weird. Sadie!” He entered the shop. “Did you give him caffeine again?”

 “Again!?”

 Racing a second time back to temple winded Steven. He managed to not lose a single doughnut or box on the uneven, and soft surface of the sand. Local seagulls took an interest in his cargo, and a few brash winged beasts pursued prepared to tear apart the precious goods if the boy stopped for the barest of moments. It raised the stakes for Steven’s skirmish back to the home, but he managed.

 “Shoo! Rawr!” He swung his arms at the seagulls, as he unloaded the boxes. They were still following him, gracefully gliding on wind current, while Steven ascended the steps. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 Steven plowed through the screen door. Boxes went flying, a few doughnuts scattered, and seagulls poured in through the gaping portal. “Hey guys!” More seagulls swooped in, settling on the confectionary treats slain in the madness.

 The Crystal Gems gawked with varied stages of horror. Except Garnet. This was not the scenario she anticipated, but it was no less what she would’ve expected.

 “My DOUGNUTS!” Amethyst roared. She shifted form mid leap, and a large liger pounced on the crushed boxes, hissing and swiping at the laughing gulls. One bit her on the nose. “OW!”

 Steven rolled away before he got stepped on. He still had a lone box in his hands. “Salvaged one!” He scampered up and held it out to Pearl.

 “Aw, uh, thank you… Steven.” She took the box and handed it to Garnet, whom just held it. “It took you longer than we expected.”

 “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!” Liger Amethyst shook her mane. Seagulls had overrun her, while she competed with them for eating the doughnuts. The birds were stealing the crumbs from beneath her jagged teeth. “THAT’S MINE YOU SEA RATS!”

 Pearl grimaced and clasped a hand over her mouth. Garnet sighed.

 “I think that’s enough of that.” Garnet handed the box back to Steven. “Cover your ears.” Pearl did that for him, but Steven was concerned, and dropped the doughnut container to set his hands over Pearl’s.

 Garnet formed the gauntlets and walked over to the doorway, where Ligerthyst combated the bold avians. She raised her hands over her head.

 “OUT OF OUR HOUSE OF SUFFER MY WRATH!” She screamed. That was it. She was loud, and commanding, and terrifying when needed.

 The seagulls screeched and flapped, vacating the premises in a white cloud. In their wake, feathers covered everything, including a scratched and scuffed up Liger. “ooOow.” Amethyst pawed at the boxes, tears formed in her eyes.

 Steven shifted his head to view Pearl. Her hands went tense, and were uncomfortable on his head. He couldn’t hear, but Pearl looked super upset and paler than usual. He pulled away from her grip.

 Amethyst sniffled. “Nothings left. It’s all gone. Everything. Gone.”

 “Look! We still have one box here! TADA!” Pearl snatched the box off the floor. She barely got the lid off, before Ligerthyst lay siege to the contents. She sighed, relieved.

 Steven almost expected vultures to descend, it looked like one of those nature documentaries in the veldt. Anything would be more pleasant than those seagulls. “Um, so… did Spinel live in Beach City, too?”

 The room went silent, and all three gems looked at Steven. Ligerthyst had crumbs all over her muzzle.

[starkravinghazelnoots]

Orange or yellow and Peter or Tony for the drabble thing! (rly predictable ik sorry!)

ORANGE

Energy, balance, warmth, enthusiasm, vitality, expansion, flamboyancy, and autumn.

This turned into way longer than a drabble. I couldn't resist the pull of writing some Biderman in honor of Pride. I had a ton of fun writing this, so I hope this lives up your expectations and that all of you enjoy!

I apologize in advance if the line break doesn't work. Tumblr really hates when I try to use line breaks.

xXx

How to be Proud

Peter was pretty confident in himself. What's more, he had an extremely supportive family and group of friends, some of whom understood what he was going through better than others.

But that didn't mean it was always easy to be proud of himself. It wasn't for Peter, at least.

But Spider-Man? He didn't have that problem.

"Don't fucking touch me, homo!"

Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask as he shot a web over the criminal's mouth. "Trust me, buddy, I'm not gonna touch someone as nasty as you." He gestured to the purple, pink, and blue cape tied around his neck. "And for the record, Mr. Homophobe, I'm bisexual. If you're going to insult me, at least get it right."

Peter called the police to report the location of the tied-up criminal before swinging away. His curfew was in ten minutes, which meant he had to hurry if he wanted to make it back to his apartment on time.

He dove through his window right as the clock on his dresser changed to midnight - on Fridays he was allowed that extra hour, but he did have a tendency to push it.

"How was patrol?" May asked. She was leaning against the door frame of his room. She must have just gotten back from her shift at the hospital, because she was still in her scrubs.

"Pretty good!" Peter said, standing up. The Iron Spider mask disappeared from his face. "Stopped a bank robbery and some petty theft. I also rescued Mrs. Post's cat again. He keeps escaping and climbing up the tree next to her house." Peter snickered. "It's still so funny to me that she named her cat Jeff."

May smiled at his amusement. "Well, I'm sure she was very grateful."

He laughed. "Yeah. She always tries to give me cookies or some other kind of sweet before I leave." Peter snapped his fingers, remembering the last thing he did before returning home. "Oh, I also stopped a kid from being beat up. I don't know who he was, because he ran away when I swung down into the alley, but I took care of his attacker." He untied the flag from his neck and hung it over the chair in front of his desk. "He was a nasty guy, too. Homophobic. Smelled like hot garbage."

May chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing you were there to take care of him." She gestured to his bisexual flag. "Get any compliments on that?"

Peter beamed at her. "Yes! It was so great. A girl actually burst into tears when she saw me because she was so happy her favorite superhero was bisexual, too."

May held her arms out, and he eagerly accepted her hug. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."

Peter smiled. "Thank you, May." His voice was muffled by her shirt. "I love you."

May pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, I love you more."

"I love you most."

"Then I love you more than the most!"

Peter laughed. "You're the worst."

"Oh, I know."

xXx

MJ slid into the chair in front of Peter, startling him out of a daydream that definitely had not involved the aforementioned girl. "We're still on for Pride tomorrow, right?"

"I am," Ned said excitedly. "I can't wait!"

Peter nodded, taking a sip from the cup of coffee in front of him. He loved this little café. "Yep. It's gonna be so cool to go with both of you." He'd been looking forward to Pride all week. It would be his first time going as openly bi, and he wasn't sure whether he was excited or terrified.

MJ smiled. "Nice. Because I had a little idea that I thought the two of you might be interested in."

Peter glanced at Ned, who shrugged. "Alright," he said, turning back to MJ. "What's your idea?"

She smirked. "There is a third person I propose we bring to Pride. But I wanted your approval before I invited him."

"Sure. Who is it?"

MJ's grin widened. "Spider-Man."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You want to invite Spider-Man?" It was always weird having to refer to himself in the third person. "Why?"

MJ shrugged. "He's an out and proud bisexual superhero. I think a lot of people, especially the teens at Pride, could use that kind of confidence boost."

Peter felt the blood rush to his cheeks, simultaneously embarrassed and flattered. "Oh. Okay."

"Do you have a specific thing you want Spider-Man to do at Pride?" Ned asked.

"I'm glad you brought that up." MJ pulled her sketchbook seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on Peter's desk. "I drew some concept art for what I think Spider-Man should wear."

Peter looked at her sketch. "Don't you think that's a bit flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?"

MJ shrugged. "So what? Sure, Spider-Man is pretty down-to-earth. But if he was going to be flamboyant, wouldn't Pride be the perfect time for him to do it?"

Confidence surged through Peter's veins. "Yeah. You're right."

MJ rolled her eyes, smirking. "Of course I am."

xXx

Tony stared down in disbelief at the picture in his hands. "Parker, you want me to do what to the Iron Spider suit?"

Peter beamed at him. "Just follow the picture. You're the best Mr. Stark! Okay bye now."

Tony sighed as his intern dashed out of the building. "That kid is going to be the death of me."

xXx

"How's the suit?" MJ asked, popping her gum.

Peter smirked, gesturing to the watch on his wrist. "It's ready whenever. And can I say that it looks cool as hell?"

"Of course it does. I designed it."

"I can't wait," Ned added. "You're gonna look so badass, Peter."

Peter laughed. "Well, I don't know about that."

Pride was in full swing around them. Both Peter and MJ had bisexual flags painted on their cheeks, and Ned had a classic rainbow. Peter also had his bisexual flag tied around his neck, and MJ had an ace flag tied in the same way. Ned had turned down wearing a flag as a cape, instead choosing to wear a long-sleeved black shirt with rainbow patches running down the arms.

Time flew by. The trio marched for over an hour, maybe two, before breaking off to go to a drag queen comedy performance, then went to lunch together.

"So there's a concert in about thirty minutes," MJ said as they were leaving the restaurant. "Want to go to that?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm down with whatever."

"As long as it doesn't last too late in the afternoon," Ned pointed out. "Spider-Man is planned for what - 4ish?"

Peter laughed. "Don't worry, Ned. I'm watching the clock." His heart was racing, and he wasn't sure if that was from nerves or from excitement - either way, he couldn't wait.

The concert itself was decent. Peter thought he might have enjoyed it better had he actually known who the band was. Not to mention he was distracted, glancing at his watch so often he couldn't truthfully say he was paying attention. He a made a mental note to look into more of the band's albums later.

"Hey, Peter," MJ said, smirking at him. "It's 4 o'clock."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You guys are really living for this, aren't you?"

"Duh," Ned said, beaming. "Do it, dude!"

Peter laughed. "Alright, alright." He ducked into an empty alleyway - how fitting that the concert had been so close to one. Apparently the universe was rooting for Spider-Man to show some pride.

After making sure no one was around him, Peter crouched behind a dumpster and tapped at his watch. Within seconds the Iron Spider suit rolled out and covered him. He blinked for a moment to adjust to his sharper vision.

Peter then shot a few webs at the side of the building in front of him, getting a running start before swinging up onto the top of it.

He looked down at the crowd below him. The bright colors of a hundred LGBT+ flags filled him with elation and immense confidence. He'd never be able to replicate that feeling.

Peter shot a web at a pole near the crowd, swinging down and around so that he landed on top of it.

"Hey! New York Pride!" he shouted. His suit magnified his voice. A quick glance at his arm revealed that the suit was doing exactly what it was supposed to do - shift through the colors of as many pride flags as possible. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here to remind you that you should never be ashamed of who you are! You are all amazing, beautiful, inspiring people. If it weren't for you guys, then I'd never have been able to feel comfortable expressing myself." As if on cue, the wind picked up, causing his bisexual cape to flutter behind him. "I'm able to be who I am because of this city. Thank you, New York!"

The crowd started cheering, and Peter swung down into the middle of it, managing to hold short conversations with various people before being whisked off to talk with someone else.

He ended up in front of a young boy who had the trans flag painted on both of his cheeks and a pan flag tied around his neck.

"H-Hi," the boy stammered. "I love you, Spider-Man! You're my favorite hero!"

Peter smiled at the kid. He looked to be maybe around 13 or 14. "I'm flattered. Have you been having fun today?"

The kid didn't answer, instead staring intensely at Peter. Finally he blurted out, "Thank you for saving me!"

Peter blinked. "Saving you?"

The boy nodded. "Y-Yes! A few nights ago, my stepfather, he - he kicked me out of the house, and he followed me away, and he... He started hitting me, but then - then you showed up and you saved me!"

Peter was thankful his mask hid his shocked expression. He remembered that encounter all too well. "That was you?"

"Yes. And I live with my aunt now so everything is okay but I just - I just wanted to say thank you."

Peter almost asked why the boy's stepfather had kicked him out, but given that the trans flags on his cheeks were streaked with tears... That told Peter everything he needed to know.

"Hey," Peter said, placing his hands on the kid's shoulders. "I want you to know that you should always be proud of who you are, okay? No matter what anyone tries to tell you, your identity is beautiful." He winked at the boy. "Remember, Spider-Man will always be on your side."

It was no coincidence, Peter figured, that at that moment his suit shifted from the colors of the trans flag to the pan one.

He said goodbye to the boy before swinging up and out of the crowd, high fiving people as he went.

Pride.

It was a funny word, really.

Pride meant a mixture of confidence in oneself and trust in others.

And in that moment, Peter had never been prouder.

xXx

Mr. Stark: quite a stunt you pulled at NY pride today, Mr. Parker

Peter: lol sorry i didn't tell you that was what the suit was for

Mr. Stark: first of all, it was so obvious that was what the suit was for. second, why didn't you tell me? did you think I'd disapprove? kid you know I've been out since the 90s

Peter: I was worried you might think it was too flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

Mr. Stark: there's no such thing as being too flamboyant. I made a few modifications to my own armor for a trip I myself plan on making to pride tomorrow

Peter: what?! without me, Mr. Stark? how could you

Mr. Stark: Pete. I never said you couldn't go with me

Peter: so I'm invited?!

Mr. Stark: whatever you want, kid

Peter: yesssss tomorrow is gonna be awesome

Mr. Stark: uh huh. Sure.

Peter: :D

Mr. Stark: hey, kid?

Peter: yeah?

Mr. Stark: I'm proud of you. You know that, right?

A single tear fell onto the screen of Peter's phone. Maybe of happiness. Maybe of thanks. Maybe even just of sentiment.

Peter: thank you, sir.

Mr. Stark: but don't get used to the compliments

Mr. Stark: i have a reputation to maintain

Peter: sure, Mr. Stark. sure

Peter put his phone on his dresser, falling backwards onto his bed. The day had been perfect. Even if he had chickened out yet again in confessing his feelings to MJ. But that was okay.

At least he'd made Mr. Stark proud.

Huh.

Peter chuckled to himself.

Maybe he should pull flamboyant stunts more often.

xXx

Thank you for requesting this! Other drabbles probably (for my sake lol) will not be this long. If anyone else wants to send a request, please feel free to do so. Again, thank you for reading!

[queenofthemindynasty]

Even If You Say ‘No’ - pt 4

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/n}, a brilliant, young producer at BigHit Entertainment, tends to be overly self-critical of her work and scarcely gives herself credit when it’s due. Hoseok, A.K.A. J-Hope of BTS, puts so much effort into keeping up the spirits of the other members, he hardly has time to worry about his own well being. What will happen when the two cross paths?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol Universe

Warnings: explicit language, mildly suggestive themes

Word Count: 2890

With a shrug of her shoulders and the nagging thought of I’m going to regret this later, she said, “Alright, fine. I guess if you really want to teach me that badly.” She still doubted she’d learn much at all, but it didn’t hurt to give it a try just to humour him. She tied her hair back into a ponytail.

His face lit back up again. “Yes! I do,” he insisted with a nod.

First he walked her through a bit of stretching to get started. By the time that was over, though, she was already tiring out. Why was she doing this again? She was just going to end up embarrassing herself.

“Is there any choreography in particular you wanna learn?” She shook her head. “Okay…How about MIC Drop?” he suggested, going to start up the music. She nodded indifferently, but then realised he’d had his back turned.

“Sure.”

“Cool.” The song started playing from the sound system at a slower-than-usual tempo. “I’ll show you first, then I’ll work you through the steps. Okay?” She nodded, watching his reflection in the mirror with intent as his verse approached. He raised his arms out to either side of him, the action quickly followed by a jerk of the head. Even with the music slowed, his body was still a flurry of precisely calculated movements. She didn’t know whether to watch his feet, his arms, or wherever else. Before she had much time to think, “Mic mic bungy!” sounded from the speakers, marking the end of his verse. “You wanna give it a try now?”

She shook her head in utter befuddlement. “I guess…?” It was a joke how flummoxed she actually was. Either way, he was already on his way to reset the track to the beginning.

It was still slow, which she was thankful for. She wasn’t half way through the second stanza when she saw herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked akin to some sort of stiff-jointed marionette. Immediately upon seeing herself, she threw her arms down and dropped out, laughing bitterly at her own patheticness. “I can’t do this,” she chortled into her palm.

“Of course you can! You’ve hardly even tried it yet.” She opened her mouth to retort his claim, but he interrupted her. “You can’t expect to get it perfect on the first try, dummy.”

Why are we still here, she asked herself inwardly as Hoseok had her start from the beginning again, just to suffer? She leaned a little too far over in her frantic struggle on the line, “I don’t care.” She lost her balance and almost fell flat on her face. She would have if Hoseok’s arms hadn’t caught her in the nick of time. He was so quick, she didn’t even see him move through the reflection.

“You okay?” The sonorous, gravely vibrations of his voice rippled through her, emanating from his chest which stayed molded with her back as he heaved her into a standing position. She nodded, his slim yet sturdy arms still firmly wound around her waist.

“Thanks,” was all she could manage when her heart was acting like it had just run a marathon.

“Jeez, {Y/n}. Take it slow. No need to push yourself that hard.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “I know you’re enthusiastic to learn this, but don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Okay…”

If she hadn’t already been mortified from not having control over her own limbs enough to stay upright, being close enough to feel the disturbance in the air caused by his every breath did it. That was all it took for her to reach the point of no return. He was so gentle, holding her as though she were a glass doll that could fracture just with one touch out of place. Her heart was ricocheting off the walls of her ribcage. How long had it been pounding away like this? Could Hoseok feel it? Of course the physical exertion was a contributing factor. That was likely why her lungs felt so full and yet somehow, simultaneously empty. Even so, it seemed impossible to tear her focus from the way her frame slotted into his, how her head fit so nicely into the juncture of his chin, how the solidity of his arms stayed pressed softly into her waist, and how the scene in its entirety was being reflected back to her with every passing moment. How much longer was he going to stay like this?

Not long after she’d started counting the seconds in the back of her mind, his arms retracted from her, leaving her with a far-off feeling of abandonment in the pit of her stomach.

“What do you say we try that again? I can slow it down more if you want, and I’ll do it with you this time.”

She nodded. “‘Kay.”

Even after the tempo had been further lowered, she still stumbled a bit on the same line. Her instructor steadied her by the shoulder, sniggering and ‘aww’-ing in a sweet yet patronising manor. She knew she couldn’t get through two measures even at a quarter of the regular tempo. She didn’t need him to remind her. She sagged, becoming as a ragdoll as she let her arms hang limply in front of her out of shame.

“Look, let me show you what you keep missing.” She straightened up partially to look at his figure. He started going through the first few steps, chanting the lyrics under his breath in the place of music. “When you get to, ‘my spoon is dirty,’ you’re not spreading your legs far enough apart.” His feet were just barely past a shoulders’ width apart. “So when you get to, ‘I don’t care,’ and you try to lean over,” he leaned exaggeratedly to his side, “you don’t have a balanced stance and you fall right over.” He was stifling a laugh by the end of his explanation. “Try and get a wider stance.” He showed her the corrected steps. She tried to imitate him, but it was apparent that it still wasn’t quite satisfactory.

“Still a little narrow.” He chuckled, she sulking. “Make sure there’s some bend in your knees, too.” He showed her again. Using his image in the mirror, she corrected her position until it resembled his. “That’s better! Okay, let’s do that part again.” He lead her through it unaccompanied and her balance remained solidly intact this time.

After a while, she’d figured out the basis for learning a dance. It was just like the song writing process. You started with the sketch—the basic silhouette of the steps for lack of a better term—and worked out the finer details on that foundation. (She would probably end up saving that part for another day.) Soon, she was flying through the first part of the routine at full speed without stopping. After she’d gotten through it at the normal tempo for the first time, she was heaving for breath and drops of sweat were streaming down the side of her face. She didn’t have the stamina for this even if she had figured it out rather quickly.

“Water?” Hoseok was standing next to her, offering his bottle to her.

She huffed out a, “Thanks,” before downing half of it in about three seconds.

“That was awesome, what you just did.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled shyly. “I knew you’d be a natural at this. I told you, didn’t I?”

She heaved a sigh through an almost imperceptible smile. “Sure. Whatever.”

Learning dance from Hoseok had been an experience she wouldn’t have traded for anything. She’d been amazed at how much she’d actually been able to learn. They’d stayed in that studio for hours together, going over each part of the song in detail. By the end, she’d been able to perform the whole choreography without stopping, albeit still slowed and her individual movements still unpolished. Hoseok had been beaming with pride even so. He’d been fully supportive of her the entire session, saying things like, “See? This is easy for you,” and, “You were lying to me earlier when you said you couldn’t do this!”

Eventually, though, night had fallen, and she’d regretfully had to part ways with him. She could hardly believe herself for this, but she wanted so badly to return to that moment, where it was just the two of them in that barren, empty studio, her body fatigued and her heart racing. Her thoughts always returned to the moment she was wrapped up in his arms, both of them still as statues save for the syncronised rise and fall of their chests.

Right now, it was early evening, and she was in her own studio, trying to get in some last-minute edits (which, as usual, was not going the way she wanted it to). These songs would most likely be included in their next album, Love Yourself 轉 Tear, if she ever got around to finishing them. Even in the midst of producing, she still couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to her dance lesson from the day before. She needed to get these tracks in by the end of the following day, which meant she only had thirty hours to finish them. She was the slowest-working producer she knew. She had to focus.

She heard knocking at the door, right as she was telling herself to get back on track. She swiveled around in her chair. There was what looked like a pair of hands pressed up against the other side of the frosted glass, like a puppy pleading to be let inside. She was going to have to answer it, wasn’t she? Sighing, she stood up from her seat and cracked open the door. Peeking out into the hallway, she made eye-contact with the last person she needed to see at the moment.

“Hey, {Y/n}!”

She forced a smile. “Hello, Hoseok. Is there something I can do for you?”

He smiled at the door frame. “Not exactly. I’m off work for the rest of the day, so I just thought I might come by and keep you company while you’re here. I had a feeling you still would be.”

“Yep,” she exhaled, “I sure am.” She thought about having him come in and watch her work. Initially it seemed like it would just serve as an even bigger distraction. But on second thought, she always tended to subconsciously work more diligently if someone was watching her, seeing as she wanted to impress them. Even though it was honestly an excuse, it was reason enough to let him.

“Would that be okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” After opening the door the rest of the way, she pulled up the extra chair to the right of hers. “Want a pair of headphones?”

“Sure.” She handed them to him as he took a seat. She plugged his and her own into the splitter before putting her pair on and getting back to work.

She’d been right, it turned out. With him sitting beside her, watching and hearing every change she made, she worked ten times more efficiently. It wasn’t making the music itself sound much different, and it caused her to be just a bit more critical of her work, but she was much more focused now at least. He wasn’t saying much to her at all, contrary to what she would have expected. Why don’t I work like this all the time? she thought before remembering Hoseok wasn’t always free to sit in her studio with her. Neither were the other producers for that matter. Oh well. She’d have to make the most of it while it lasted. She backed up the cursor a few bars and hit play to listen to the changes she’d just made. She’d been making noticeable progress ever since Hoseok had come in.

Until he rested his hand on her knee.

She didn’t really notice it at first; her mind had been fixed on editing. But after a while, she felt the weight of it there, pressing into her leg ever so faintly. Her thoughts started racing. She began moving the cursor back to the same place, playing the same four bars again and again each time she’d missed hearing it. Did this mean something? He’d never done anything like this when she’d been with him in his studio back when they were working on tracks for Hope World, nor had he since then. Now was he just doing it subconsciously, or was he doing this to her on purpose? Was it actually some sort of test? The thought of him toying with her like that made her lose any capability of rational thought. But she held it in, taking a deep breath and making an attempt to refocus.

After a while, she’d managed to relax into his touch, setting aside thoughts of other possible implications and finding it a comforting reminder of his presence as she continued working.

“Hey. You know what I noticed?”

The voice broke her out of her thoughts yet again. She moved her headphones behind her ear and swallowed down her nerves. “No. What?” She kept her gaze on the screen to seem as unbothered as possible.

Even without looking, she could hear a hint of a smirk in his voice. “You seem pretty comfortable around me lately. More than usual, I mean.” She fidgeted in her seat. “Just yesterday, you let me touch you and hold you without saying anything about it.” Crap. He had noticed. “And now I’ve had my hand here for, what, ten minutes?” She just continued moving things around on the screen, trying to make herself look busy. When she didn’t respond, the weight disappeared from her leg and his arm moved to hang around the back of her chair. “How about if I do this? You still okay with that?”

She saw him watching her for a reaction through her peripheral vision with a smirk on his face. He was pushing the boundaries. She just nodded even though this development had brought his body significantly closer to hers and she could feel his body heat. At this point, she could tell this was meant to be some sort of game he was playing. And she didn’t plan on succumbing to defeat. He placed his other hand higher up on her thigh, making her head spin and her heart skip a beat. “How about now? Still good?” His voice had dropped to a deeper, more suggestive tone, and he was just centimeters away from her ear. She nodded again. It was an automatic response by now. And even though his teasing actions were overwhelming, she found herself wanting him to continue.

His hand once again vanished from her leg. He took her chin between his thumb and index finger and turned her head so she was looking at him. She repositioned her headphones to hang around her neck when she saw he’d taken his off and placed them on the desk. His expression was hard to read. His gaze was serious, as if analyzing her expression to know if she was truly comfortable with the situation. But behind his stern expression, she thought she caught a glimpse of something she’d personally never witnessed in him before.

He leaned forward, tilting his head, and his lips were on hers.

Her eyes squeezed shut out of instinct. The sudden contact sent an electric shock through her whole body, making her heart and mind stop. She turned to face him and before she realised it, she was kissing him back.

The kiss was an impossible mix of rough and gentle. The moment she reciprocated, he exhaled thickly, seeming to lose a little more control over himself, though she could still sense from him an effort to maintain chastity. His lips moved slowly yet harshly against hers as she tried desperately to match his movements. The hand that had been hanging from the back of her chair had buried itself in her hair while drawing her closer to him.

She was being kissed by Jung Hoseok.

And so passionately. She’d never thought that, in her whole life, she’d get to experience how this felt despite having fantasised about it on numerous occasions. And it was certain she hadn’t been the only one by far.

Out of nowhere, the image of thousands of shining lights and cheering voices appeared from the dark behind her eyelids. Suddenly the feeling of his lips pressed against hers made her realise what a filthy, selfish whore she was. Her eyes flew open. She pushed herself off of him. His hand fell to her shoulder as he looked at her shell shocked. Before he could say anything, though, she pushed him the rest of the way off of her and stood up. Setting her headphones clumsily on the desk, she stared back at him.

“I—” she started, all knowledge of the Korean language suddenly having left her. Her eyes darted around the room. In a panic, she managed to splutter out the words, “I have to go. Good night.” Then without thinking, she grabbed her bag and rushed out the door not giving so much as another glance in his direction.

How could she have forgotten her place that easily?

[lady-charinette]

A Clawful Plan & A Pawssibly Good Day (Chapter 10) - Dinner for Two Marichat Fic

A Clawful Plan & A Pawssibly Good Day

Plagg quietly sipped at his coffee the next morning, idly watching Pierre set down the chairs for the morning hours when the restaurant would open for business.

His voice seemed loud in the emptiness of the large space and the lack of the usual talk of the crowd and bustling kitchen, “Did Adrien say when he would be back today?”

The chair scraped slightly against the floor and Pierre pushed it under the table neatly, a sigh escaping him, “He said to expect him just before-“

The doors opened as if on cue and the blond himself walked in, hoodie pulled down deeper to cover his face, hair messy, “Hello Pierre, Plagg.” Adrien moved the protective cover of the hoodie away from his face, smiling tiredly at his friends, “I’m sorry for being late, had late night shoots yesterday and an exam earlier this morning.” He didn’t have any eyebags, he couldn’t allow himself to, being a model, but Plagg could definitely see the exhaustion in that green stare.

“Why don’t ya take the day off? It’s a Wednesday.” Wednesdays were reserved for Adrien to freely study for university if his schedules called for it, like upcoming exams or catching up with lost lectures or attend events his father forced him to go to.

Adrien rubbed his chin, resting his hand on his hip and Plagg snickered at the model pose, “Wednesdays are always so full of customers, are you guys going to be alright?” he scratched the back of his head, a sign he was uncomfortable with ditching work.

Pierre offered a kind smile, “Of course, you don’t have to worry at all Adrien. Just make sure to keep up with your studies and don’t forget to rest too.”

Adrien smiled at the elder man, bowing slightly in gratitude, “Thank you Pierre.” He looked at Plagg, who was watching him curiously, “Plagg, don’t trash the VA room again, please.”

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes playfully, “Yeah, yeah, mom don’t worry. Now shoo and go before I change my mind and sit your ass down here.” Plagg was about to take a sip of his coffee before an arm planted itself around his shoulders abruptly and a hand roughly ruffled his already messy raven hair.

“Thanks Plagg, Pierre! You guys are the best!” with a smile to Pierre, the blond raced out of the restaurant, leather bag filled with today’s lecture papers.

Pierre chuckled at the dark, murderous frown on Plagg’s face, “Shut it old man.”

Pierre’s expression changed drastically, a brief flicker of something more sinister shining in those old, brown eyes, “Excuse me, Plagg?”

The raven haired man stiffened, “A-Apologies sir!”

The old butler nodded approvingly, his usual friendly disposition in place and Plagg sighed in relief, sagging further into his seat, muttering about secret demon butlers and pesky blonds.

His phone vibrated with a new message and he lazily took it out, quickly typing in the password and opening the messages.

They were from Tikki.

‘Good morning stinky sock! I hope the cheese cake I made you yesterday was alright. Have a nice day at work, catch you for lunch tomcat!’

A heartwarming smile softened his normally sharp features, Pierre discreetly watching the man’s lips transform into a gentle smile as he typed a reply.

‘Morning, sugar cube. Of course it was, it was purrfect. Don’t overwork yourself either today, I’ll wait for you with lunch outside the shop.’

Adding a silly emoji at the end, Plagg sent his message taking another sip of his coffee.

For some reason, it tasted sweeter.

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

Marinette stubbed her toe against the desk, cursing under her breath and Nathaniel paused in his sketch to look over his shoulder curiously, a sympathetic smile on his lips, “You okay?”

The dark haired woman sighed, slumping back onto her chair, “Fine…”

Nathaniel set his pencil down and turned towards his friend completely, “Sure? You don’t look that fine to me. When did you go to sleep?” he had always had an eye for detail, ever since his childhood days where he first began to draw every day. It also meant he nearly always picked up on miniscule details other people failed to notice.

As often as Marinette wore very little to no make-up, today she had applied a thicker layer under her eyes, which blended into her skin tone to hide the dark eyebags.

Marinette should’ve known Nathaniel knew better, she gingerly touched the smooth skin beneath her eye, “That obvious?” she offered a tired smile and Nathaniel shook his head.

“To me, yes, but not to others.” His small smile stretched into a concerned frown, “Seriously, what’s up? You’ve been on edge lately. We made the deal with that model and the fashion event is only a few days away, I would be relaxed in your stead.” The red-head crossed his arms, carefully observing the woman before him who wrung her hands in her lap nervously before her.

A drawn out sigh and a groan followed her next words, “I know but-! Argh!” she threw her hands in the air, standing up and pacing back and forth in a line, hands gesticulating wildly, “Have you ever met a person you thought was really funny and kind and interesting but like, you don’t know them all too well and you suddenly see a different side to them that you didn’t expect and you don’t like that side of them and you feel really helpless and frustrated?!” Marinette still continued to pace before hands clasped onto her shoulders and Nathaniel gently grabbed her attention by turning her towards him.

“Hey, easy, stop trying to walk holes into our floor.” Nathaniel soothingly squeezed her shoulders again, “I…I guess I can relate to what you’re saying Marinette.” The surprised look she gave him made the professor chuckle, “Remember Chloe? I used to have a bit of a crush on her in primary school, until she started with that bullying anyway. That went away pretty fast. I mean, I don’t really think it’s the same as your situation, but I can relate with the liking someone and not liking certain aspects of them thing. It’s natural.” He shrugged, noticing her calming down slowly, “…Want some coffee?”

Slumping her shoulders, Marinette nodded and Nathaniel led her toward the kitchen, setting up fresh coffee while Marinette slowly started talking about the restaurant she frequented in her breaks.

Once both steaming coffee mugs were in front of them, along with a cookie plate inbetween, did Nathaniel stare at the woman in bewilderment, “W-Wait…you…you’re saying there’s…a toy?” Nathaniel still tried to wrap his head around the quick explanation Marinette had given him, about her recent behavior, her extended breaks, everything. “And…there’s a guy voicing that toy and you…started liking him?” Nathaniel rubbed at his chest, feeling a stinging sensation there, but he tried to curb it.

Marinette, pink faced, slowly nodded, “I mean, maybe ‘liking’ is a bit strong, I mean, he’s really nice and funny! I like his puns! And he keeps me company while I eat, he’s easy to talk to and get along with and well, I don’t know! I l-like his voice okay!?” Marinette slapped her hands to her face, the tips of her ears a beet red and Nathaniel burst into laughter at her shy reaction, “S-Stop laughing! I’ll demote you!” the threat was empty, but it sounded adorable coming from her red face.

Nathaniel coughed a few times, trying to hold in the chuckles trying to come out, before he took a sip of his coffee and it finally died down, “So…you like his voice, huh?” Nathaniel adjusted the collar of his shirt, feeling slight embarrassment bubbling within his own chest at how cute Marinette reacted.

“Ugh, Nath!” Marinette looked ready to spontaneously combust or throw something at him, “It’s-I-I mean- it’s not like I-“ she backtracked, eyes blown wide, elbows planted on the table and hiding her eyes, “Uhm…I…actually did see him.”

The professor’s eyes flew open, leaning forward over the table, “Wait, what? You did? When? How comes you didn’t tell me?” he tried pinpointing when it could’ve possibly been, maybe the time she visited him? But that meant she saw him on campus and that was highly impo-

“I-I met him after your lectures…I kinda bumped into him in the hallway…”

Nathaniel choked.

“What does he look like? What’s his name?” alright, maybe Nathaniel was getting too excited to know this guy, but he definitely wanted the best for her, even if it meant throwing his own infatuation out of the window.

He tried ignoring the prickly, painful sensations in his heart.

“H-His name’s Erik, he’s a bit taller than me, messy dark hair, he likes to joke around and um, he teaches art psychology or uh, art therapy in your university.”

Nathaniel’s body froze and his blood ran cold.

Images conjured up in his mind.

Memories of the past two years of him working as a professor to be exact.

And him.

‘Yo, Kurtzberg, playing with colors again? You’ve got something there on your cheek.’

‘Hey tomato-head, cooped up alone in that room, doesn’t that drive you up the wall? Go out and have some fun, maybe you’ll get some friends along the way!’

“Nathaniel?” Marinette rose an eyebrow at the vacant stare he seemed to have set on a fixed point on the table and she waved her hand.

‘Heh, this looks like a bird shit on it, if I have to guess what’s on your mind, I think the answer stays the same dontcha think?’

‘Most artists only dream of being able to tell what art truly means like us therapists, it’s a shame you chose the weaker craft of the two.’

“Nathaniel? Hey! Earth to Nathaniel!” the man jumped, as if ripped from his own thoughts, wide eyes looking at her.

“Uh, s-sorry, I-uh, got lost in thoughts.” He scratched his head, ruffling his already messy hair.

Marinette noticed the familiar almost haunted look in his eyes, it reminded her of her younger days when she used to be bullied in school. Her hand reached across the table and settled lightly over his fist, “Does he treat you badly at work?”

She had a hunch, but she couldn’t picture it. It didn’t fit together, the picture she had of Chat Noir when she was in the restaurant and when she met him at campus.

Maybe she was wrong, after all.

Nathaniel smiled weakly, “Don’t worry, I tell him off politely whenever he tries to act all alpha male on me. I’ve learned a thing or two following high school.” He winked reassuringly, and patted Marinette’s hand closed over his fist, “It’s just, I always had bad vibes about him, before he started being a jerk to me. He just spells trouble.” He noticed the conflicted look on her face, “But don’t let my personal judgement influence your own, if you say he acts differently in the restaurant, maybe the jerk behavior is just an act? Maybe it’s just me.”

At that, Marinette immediately shook her head, “No! Don’t think that for a second! I don’t know what it is but I’ll find out, he can’t treat any of my friends that way if…if I really do end up liking him that much.” She looked unsure of herself and Nathaniel hated seeing her like that.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, “I wouldn’t worry too much Marinette, if he likes you, he will realize what a mistake it is in letting you go.”

Marinette flushed, smiling warmly at him, “Thanks Nath, I can always count on you to cheer me up when I need it.” She grinned awkwardly, “Well, except Alya as your female counterpart.”

Nathaniel smiled.

-----------

Adrien almost groaned in bliss at the explosion in his mouth, the delicious pastry from the bakery he grabbed on the way felt like the first taste of heaven after enduring weeks of hell.

He was on his way to catch up on his studies at Nino’s place, before getting ready for the fashion event later this afternoon, he had enough time to pour over the new materials his professor gave him before he had to drive towards the address for the fashion event, of course hosted by Agreste Fashion, with a model wearing a dress made a growing designer. He hadn’t caught the designer’s name, but according to conversations he overheard, the designer must be good at their craft with decent production time.

He hoped to get breaks in-between, he hadn’t eaten much except for the pastry and a small breakfast in the morning before the exam. He bet Nino had some leftovers from yesterday, maybe even something edible in the fridge.

Nino was a surprisingly good cook, courtesy of Nora who loved and treated him like he was her very own little brother since his and Alya’s high school days. Nino mentioned Nora being a bit of a tough nut, instead of showering him with affection, she usually showered him with ‘tough love’ when she visited, whatever that meant.

Adrien smiled when he spotted the building Nino’s apartment was in, he also remembered the very stunned look the DJ gave him when he humbly asked to temporarily share living quarters.

‘Sure dude, you know you’re always welcome, but what happened? Did you lose your apartment? Did your dad piss you off?’

As probable as the last possibility was, Adrien had explained what the true reason was, his apartment was empty.

Not furniture-wise.

It lacked warmth.

It lacked everything a room with people living in it should have, warmth, personal belongings, trinkets that were useless or not that pretty but were still held dear.

Trivial things that made his father scrunch his nose.

Trivial things that made Adrien smile because they reminded him of his mother, when she would take little trinkets and souvenirs from places she would visit for her roles and bring back with her.

Adrien himself didn’t have much, not many personal things, the things he recently got that were closer to his heart were pictures of him and Nino. Those were already in his apartment, one in a frame, the other clipped to a piece of string he remembered seeing in Nino’s house all those years ago, when they were still teens. It inspired him to do something similar, it felt so personal, so real.

For now, only Nino’s picture hung there, they also made a few pictures with Alya at the club as a memory, those would come there too.

Adrien hoped many more would come. Maybe even some with a certain dark haired woman with bluebell eyes.

He took out the spare keys Nino gave him, quickly unlocking the front door and jogging up the stairs before finding the door to Nino’s apartment already unlocked.

Was Nino home?

Adrien pushed the door open, stepping in and setting the keys in a bowl near the doorway, taking his shoes off, “Nino?” he called out, already smelling something delicious wafting in from the kitchen.

“M’ here dude!” the boisterous voice of his friend called back and a small smile lit Adrien’s entire face as he made his way towards the kitchen.

The rooms were small, but enough for one, or two to comfortably live in.

Nino was sitting at the kitchen table, steaming plate in front of him, fork rolling around in the sea of noodles, vegetables and sauce, “Hey man, grab a plate and join me, you haven’t eaten anything much, right?”

The blond snorted softly, shaking his head as he fixed himself a plate and glass of water, “It’s scary how well you know me after all those years.”

The DJ grinned boyishly, gently punching his friend in the shoulder, “Once a model, always a model, huh?”

Adrien chuckled, “Once a friend, always a friend.” Nino’s teasing expression softened, and he nodded immediately, both men chuckling.

“I thought you were in the studio practicing for that gig you were hired for?” Adrien had to admit, even if Nino was nowhere near Marlena’s caliber of cooking, the food was still good.

He wolfed down the veggies and noodles when Nino started talking, “I was, in the morning though. It’s already two in the afternoon, don’t tell me you forgot how to read the clock?”

Adrien rolled his eyes playfully, “I forgot the time, it flew by so fast after that exam, I was just rushing from one point to the next.” Nino spotted the leather bag set on the couch in the connected living room, frowning in concern.

“Aw man, you still gotta study, huh?”

The blond shrugged, swallowing down the noodles, “Yeah, but I should be done in no time. It’s not that much, besides I still need to get ready for that event today, so I’ll go over to my apartment to prepare. I think I’ll sleep there too, so don’t stay up late okay?”

Nino huffed, taking a big gulp of water, “Whatever you say, mom. Just drive safe and don’t drink too much, young man.” Nino imitated the voice of an old woman and both men, despite themselves, burst out laughing at their silly antics.

Adrien enjoyed these things.

Whenever he entered Nino’s apartment, it always reminded him of home, or the closest thing he could associate to it. It reminded him of their school days and strong friendship and what a good man Nino was.

The two men continued eating and chatting and laughing, even after half an hour went by, Adrien felt at ease, the papers in his bag temporarily forgotten, the fashion event forgotten.

All that mattered was the food, his friend, the atmosphere.

It smelled – it felt – like home.

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

Erik strolled across campus leisurely, scanning his schedule for his next class, when he spotted the familiar sight of a certain dark haired woman in the distance.

A grin automatically stretched his lips and he waved to catch her attention, “Marinette! Hey!”

The woman jumped, surprised by the call before she relaxed upon noticing him and waving back.

Erik walked up to her and smiled down at her, “Hey, visiting tom-uh Nathaniel again?”

Marinette smiled, “Hey Erik. Yeah, I just wanted to go over a few things concerning work, I won’t be a bother for too long.” Erik looked around, that explained why she waited near his office too.

Erik planted his hands in his pockets, “I see. So, you don’t have some time today, huh?”

She flashed him an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I don’t. I have to help organize a fashion event and help dress the models.”

His interest peaked at the word ‘models’, “Models, huh? Mind if I watch?” the grin on his face was positively feral, but the look in Marinette’s eyes hardened to steel.

“Watch?” she rose an eyebrow and Erik backtracked quickly.

“You know, your work, how you work.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I may not make it actually, I have classes starting soon until late. See ya tomorrow, purrhaps?”

A smile made its way on the frown previously marring her pretty features and Marinette nodded, “Sure. Good luck on your lectures!”

“Yeah, you too!” he waved and moved towards the long stairs ahead.

Marinette sighed, rubbing her arm.

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

A few hours later…

Flashing lights, clicking heels and painted faces greeted Marinette as soon as she entered.

Paparazzi, bodyguards and models as far as the eye can see.

There were so many people.

She took a breath, before carrying her designs and bag with designing tools towards the changing areas. It didn’t take her long at all to spot a model, or several of them.

Most were doing their make-up, chatting or doing pep talks. Marinette couldn’t fault them for it, she would be a jittery, nervous mess if she would’ve even have to imagine stepping foot onto a catwalk, or anywhere where hundreds of eyes would be on her.

She wasn’t good in the spotlight.

After greeting and going over the minor details and major parts of the show, Marinette helped them put on the dresses she designed, feeling at the same time odd but comfortable, handling something that was hers, her very own work in her hands, and helping models put them on, adjusting things and offering advice.

It felt liberating but also frightening, like an otherworldly experience.

Marinette wasn’t new to fashion nor to handling fabrics or designs, but she was new to this; the spotlights, the flashing cameras, the crowded fashion galas with hundreds of models running up and down looking for their agents, bodyguards or organizers.

She smiled kindly when another model thanked her for her help in braiding her hair, it wasn’t part of the job, but she would help wherever she could if it meant easing the anxious looks on the young women’s faces.

She wasn’t much older than them and yet, she felt obligated to keep them as comfortable and relaxed as possible under these circumstances.

Some models were seasoned experts, doing breathing exercises or small, personal rituals. Some were tracing patterns on their hands to calm themselves, others were looking in the mirror and silently encouraging themselves, some were chatting with others while again others were drinking juices or water to distract them from the big event which would open any minute.

It was almost time to shine.

Marinette excused herself from the changing rooms, making sure the models were taken care of before she stepped out.

The large, luxurious ballroom was filled to the brim with people. Some were already sitting, looking like they belonged to the VIPs or high end people who would asses the event. Others in suits were chatting amongst themselves near the buffet, people with cameras were keeping a low profile and trying to discreetly take pictures without disturbing the guests too much.

Marinette was glad she had the pass around her neck, people would mistake her for some lost woman who accidentally stumbled into this fine establishment and not a semi-respected designer whose work was about to be put up on stage.

She took a deep, staggering breath, accepting a glass of orange juice from a waiter who was parading around with a plate full of champagne and orange juice glasses.

She gulped the liquid down in nearly one go, frayed nerves still breaking at the seams, but at least she was sure she was hydrated.

Marinette decided to mingle about the crowd, greeting a few other designers she’d met a handful of times, but otherwise keeping to herself.

Due to so many people, there wasn’t much room for individual people to really distance themselves from the crowd. It was inevitable to hear some private conversations.

Marinette pretended to enjoy the ambience while subtly listening in on any remotely interesting conversation topics.

She spotted a group of male models a few steps away, talking, some chuckling. Almost all of them had bathrobes on, they would obviously come up on stage later, after the female models were done with their performances.

As Marinette tried to slip past the group of males, back towards the changing rooms to check on her models, she nearly tripped over her own feet when a particular voice caught her attention.

She was sure she wasn’t imagining it, but when she turned around, there were several models talking, it was impossible to say which voice belonged to whom. There was a blond with green eyes, a brunet with blue eyes, several black haired guys with brown eyes.

But there was only one name that hit her like a lightning bolt when she heard a familiar voice sound from among the group.

Chat Noir?

Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed it :3 By the way, is the plot advancing too fast?

[vladfromparis-blog]

Wow I can not resist translating this French article on Timothée, I feared the worst with the title but .....please read it ! “ “Timothée Chalamet: new genius or actor totally overpriced?”

https://mcetv.fr/mon-mag-culture

- Timothée Chalamet is on everyone's lips since "Call Me By Your Name". But the machine would not race a little too fast?

- A name of our home’ very French name ). A square jaw. A “minois” (pretty kitty face)  cut to the bill. And an early career that foreshadows the best. In a good big year, Timothée Chalamet has established itself as one of the great hopes of cinema. closevolume_off Capable, alone, to move the “minettes” (youg girls) to see works rather arty kind. This is because the young man has not yet signed big franchises. Or strong commercial popcorn movies. Is it enough to make him a rising star? Or the "Chalamania" (we have just invented the term, leave Google quiet) would it be transient? In other words, the French-American would not make too much noise for nothing? As always, your faithful servant tries a fair and objective statement (well, a little).

- TIMOTHEE CHALAMET AND THE PHENOMENON CALL ME BY YOUR NAME The first time the general public saw the beautiful brown in a theater, it was probably in front of the sublime Interstellar. He then camped the son of the hero, erased. To the extent that the legend says that during the projection of the film in preview, the interpreter would have shed a tear. Emotions? Yes and no. The actor especially expected to have a much more important role! It is true that the film signed Christopher Nolan, we will remember a bluffing scenario. A Matthew McConaughey at the culmination of his talent. A music steeped in sadness. But not really the face of Timothée Chalamet, just sketched. It will be necessary to wait for the month of February 2018 (in France, at least) so that the artist is identified by a doubled. At first thanks to his performance in Lady Bird. If, this time again, he only plays a role rather than a second, the actor pats us in the eye. Magnetic and different, he plays Kyle, the popular and jaded bad boy of almost everything. A perso sure of him, inverted reflection of a certain Elio. Or the protagonist of Call Me By Your Name, who really reveals Timothée Chalamet.

-TIMOTHEE CHALAMET, SQUEEZED IN THE ROLE OF THE TEEN LIKE OTHERS :  Elio is a teenager like the others, in phase of discovery with his sexuality. At once fearful and sure of himself, erudite, his diaphanous complexion scotches us to our seats. It is that in this film, the twenty-year-old (yes, we know, he is barely fourteen years old) dares everything. To roll a “galoche” ( french kiss) with full mouth to his partner, Armie Hammer? Done. Simulate a handjob in a peach? No problemo. Put your head in a used (alleged) boxer ? Easy for him ! As moving as it is daring, Elio propels Chalamet into the big leagues. So that a (deserved) rain of nominations for the biggest competitions of the 7th art will follow. The professionals talked ... More recently, you could see the comedian in My Beautiful Boy. Where he camped Nick, a teenager pampered by his father, but struggling with alcohol and drugs. A complicated partition, as the theme of addiction has been treated many times in the cinema ... But once again, the French-American is doing just right. Subtle, never too much, we take a liking to this drunk teenager, constantly drunk and / or drugged, unable to not lie to those who love him. There are a lot of Elio and Kyle in Nick. And this is perhaps the only real criticism that can be issued at the moment. In a sense, the actor knows how to take risks. And at the same time, stays in a certain comfort zone, with rather indie films where he plays "normal" teenagers. Not that we would like to see her little loops in a horror movie or Avengers but ... after all, why not?

-TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET, A GOOD CUSTOMER WITH THE SENSE OF STYLE Finally, if we talk about little Tim, it's because his style and his way of being are not left out. Like it or not, today, being an actor is not just about making movies. If some opt for discretion - and it's their right - others play the ball game promotion thoroughly. This is the case of the young man, excellent client. Who, on the set of Everyday in 2018, had impressed the gallery by speaking entirely in French. Before amusing him by revealing that his sister considered Louis Garrel as his "Zac Efron". Oops! And when it's not joking in interviews that he attracts the spotlights, it's for his ole ole outfits on the red carpets. Regarded as a fashion icon, many Tumblr tables were already able to find his outfits from Call Me By Your Name. Timothée Chalamet persists and signs his hype actor status with even more daring outfits. For example, at the London Film Festival last October. Rather than a dark James Bond tuxedo like his colleagues, the ephebe unashamedly comes out of Alexander McQueen's colorful flower costume. Not necessarily the cup of tea of ​​the author of these lines, even if she willingly recognizes the cojones of the actor! In the same vein, for the last edition of the Golden Globes, Chalamet is squaring a very queer harness signed Louis Vuitton. An accessory with slightly SM accents. Who give back, the air of nothing - and no bad word - a big blow to our old macho and narrow Hollywood. 

     Mélissa Chevreuil

PERFECT ANALYSIS ! 

[octannibal-blake]

⭐️☀️ obviously bellarke. Congrats on the milestone! I love your blog. ♥️♥️😘😘

thank you sooo much, jess! i love YOUR blog! also, you didn’t send a word with your request, so i picked freckles because…idk it was right there and clearly, we are both fans of the bellamy blake freckles.

url: not my style | okay | good | great | amazing | BELLAMY BLAKE

icon: not my style | okay | good | great | amazing l RAVEN REYES

theme: not my style | okay | good | great | amazing | CLARKE GRIFFIN

posts: not my style | okay | good | great | amazing | MONTY GREEN

following: no, sorry | yes | i am now | YOU ARE MY PEOPLE

comments: lmaoooo obviously i’m biased because i’m 100% here for everything and everyone bellamy blake and if i hadn’t already been following you 4everrrr your bio would have won me over. A+! anyways, you’re amazing. 

we draw our own constellations

More often than not, Clarke can’t sleep. Sometimes it’s because her mind is racing and other times it’s because she decided to drink coffee a little later than she should have. Whatever the reason, she finds herself sitting in the rocking chair by the window (it was $3 on craigslist, practically a steal) and sketching. Usually it’s abstract things, like the curtains of her window or the moon in the sky. Today, it’s the boy currently sprawled out on her bed, snoring softly.

Drawing Bellamy is one of her favorite past times. He was her first real muse when they were kids, often posing with random items so she would draw him. He liked being a model for her, having her sketch all his sharp lines and when she would finish with it, he would grin and compliment himself on his own good looks. She would then question why she decided to choose him as her best friend.

He isn’t modeling for her this time. She’s catching him at his most vulnerable, naked and asleep. The nudity is a relatively new development. She’s been harbouring feelings for him for years, burying them down because timing was never right or because she feared she would lose him altogether and that was just not an option. Luckily, he felt the same and after a particularly messy misunderstanding they finally spoke their truths and have hardly seen the outside world ever since. To her complete surprise, he’s really good in bed.

She runs the pencil along the page, the familiar lines taking shape. She concentrates on the dip in his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, and the curve of his shoulders. She shades the signature messy curls, ensuring each hair is in it’s proper place. Drawing him is easy, her familiarity with every piece of him working to her advantage. But then she gets to the details of his face. The edge of his jaw is difficult, but she manages to get the shape right. She even gets the small crease in his forehead, but there is one thing she’s always struggled with. His damn freckles.

She loves them, the way they’re sprinkled along his cheek and form constellations over his nose. They suit him. They’re what makes Bellamy looks so…Bellamy. And she can never get them exactly right. She looks at him intently, doing her best to gain a pattern but she finds herself erasing every small dot she makes. She isn’t sure how long she sit there doing that before he begins to stir.

“Don’t move,” she snaps gently at him as his eyes flutter open. He freezes on instinct before realizing what she’s doing. He lets out a soft groan.

“If you wanted to draw me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

She doesn’t respond, just continues drawing while her eyes flit between him and the paper. She hears him move in the bed, “Quit moving!”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he argues back, flipping the covers off himself. Normally, she would take the time to admire him. But her frustration is level ten.

“I can’t get them right!” she tosses the sketchpad onto the comforter with a huff and he pauses at the edge of the bed.

He picks it up and runs his fingers over the page, “What are you talking about? This is perfect!”

“I can’t figure out your damn freckles.”

He laughs then, falling back into the covers and holding his hand out to her. She takes it with a sigh and lies down next to him, taking the time to examine him more closely. Her nose is nearly brushing his cheek when he turns and kisses her softly.

“You know me better than anyone,” he mumbles, nudging her nose with his own and grabbing the picture from the bed. He holds it up to her with a smile, “But if you’d like to get a closer look at all of my ‘damn freckles’, I have them everywhere.”

She can’t help her curiosity. So she spends that entire morning figuring out exactly where they all are.  The next drawing she does of him is scary accurate.

[onthesandsofdreams]

Between the Witch & the Hunter

Fandom: Wonder Woman Pairing: Steve x Diana Rating: T Summary: “Listen Diana, I believe you, but this man… well, we’re in a bit of trouble if he’s the responsible one.” “Why?” “Because,” Steve starts, staring at the sketch. “This man is a congressman.” Words: 1573 Notes: For @wondertrevnet‘s Lock Out Bingo, Square: Dancing. | Chapter 3 out of 4 [WonderTrev Bingo Masterlist]

Read @ AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 

It took Diana seven agonizing months to figure out who had bound Ares.

Steve had been a good sport about it, “At least it’s not a god doing the killing, we’ve had more chance to beat whomever is doing this, take it easy.”

But Diana was not taking it easy. She was full of determination, she wanted the killer found and jailed, she could and would not stand for injustice, much less gleeful murder. The only upside was, that she had the time to deal with the realization that she was a demi goddess. But that didn’t change her sense of identity, she was a witch first, daughter of Hippolyta, nice to Antiope, she would keep on keeping on. That didn’t mean, she was happy. It was quite the strange thing, to feel like the rug had been pulled from under her. Steve had been a good friend, they had grown closer in her time working at ARGUS and with him. He was funny, honest and respectful; he was also honorable and incredibly loyal. She liked that about him.

Diana did her best to ignore how her heart would race whenever he was close. It was best to ignore that, she didn’t want to give herself the false security that he could love her. He was a hunter and she was a witch, there could nor would ever be anything between them. It broke her heart a little.

On the first week of the seventh month of her search, it finally paid off. She managed to combine two of her abilities to track the killer. When she describe the man to the sketch artist, Steve had frown. “Damn it.”

“What?” Curiosity had gotten the best of her.

“This man, you sure it’s him?”

Diana frowns offended and glares, “Yes, Steve. I am sure.”

Steve raised his hands in a pacifying manner, “Listen Diana, I believe you, but this man… well, we’re in a bit of trouble if he’s the responsible one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Steve starts, staring at the sketch. “This man is a congressman.”

Oh that is a problem, Diana understands now his worry. “And how should we go about it?”

Steve sets the sketch down and grins, “He will be throwing a party soon, hopefully, we’ll be able to lure him away from all the glitz and arrest or kill him.”

“Can we get in? I mean, if he’s a congressman, wouldn’t it stand to reason he’d be protected?” Diana frowns once more, she doesn’t know well how the game of politics, much less how much or little politicians are protected.

The grin Steve gives her grows, “Diana, we’re ARGUS. We can say that we’ve identified a thread to him, go there and mingle for a bit, get him alone and we’ll get him.”

“Would my word count for anything?” She is afraid, she can identify the man and she knows the magic well, she knows that magic doesn’t lie. And the bond that the chain Ares wore is clear as day.

“Yes, because you’re with us.” Steve’s voice is gentle. “Because you signed the contract, the government knows that if we hire anyone, we stand behind them full force. You won’t be treated badly Diana, I promise.”

Steve’s words settle into her bones and relief washes over.

***

Steve and Diana are the ones who will attend the dance, Etta couldn’t get more tickets to the gala. But she gets her a wonderful blue dress, it’s really lovely and she knows that it will look good on her.

The day of the gala arrives and Diana readies herself. Spells her sword, makes her as small as a pocket knife and hides her in her tight. She is ready by the time Steve knocks on her door. The look that Steve gives her doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

Diana says nothing, simply smiles and takes his arm. They have a killer to get.

***

The hotel where the gala is taking place is one of the finest places Diana’s ever seen. Everything’s gold and glitters under the lights. The man, congressman Ludendorff stands at the microphone and gives a welcoming speech, but all she sees is a killer who had no problem getting in bed with Gods. Much less Ares of all of them.

They sit down for dinner, Diana’s stomach feels in knots so she simply has bits and pieces. Steve however, does finish his whole plate. They chat with their table companions for a while. Until the music changes.

Diana and Steve take to the floor once the music changes. They sway and dance, for a moment, Diana can shut the world out and pretend there are no problems. The world narrows down to her and Steve. About how nice it feels to simply sway in Steve’s arms, to simply allow the music to wash over them.

That only last for an hours. After that, Never taking their eyes off their target. The man is walks around the hall like he owns it, she refuses to scowl at him. There is no need to alert him of her dislike.

“Should we arrest him now?” Diana asks, while she has accompanied Steve to other smaller missions, this is so unlike anything she’s ever done.

“Not yet, too soon,” Steve whispers at her. “We have to wait at least a couple of hours, sorry.”

Diana resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I understand.”

***

They wait several hours, and much to Steve’s worry, they see him talk with a woman with a scar in her face. Diana doesn’t know who she is, but judging at how on edge Steve has gotten, she’s bad news. “Who is she?” She whispers.

Steve never took his eyes off the woman, “Her name is Isabel Maru, she’s a doctor, who has been on our radars for a while, but we haven’t been able to pin something to her.”

“Is it bad that she’s here?” Diana whispers again and looks at the woman, she’s attractive and that scar doesn’t take it away, but it makes an impression for sure.

“Yes, if those two are working together… something’s going down. And they are going outside, that’s not good, let’s follow in a minute.”

It’s the longest minute of Diana’s life. But once Steve gives the go ahead, they walk fast and begin searching for them, they find Maru and Luderndorff in the back garden of the hotel. They begin to approach, but then Maru nods and runs. “Fuck,” Steve says. “Keep Luderndorff speaking if you can, she worries me more.” Then rushes off to try and stop Maru.

Diana approaches Ludderndorff, she’s on edge. And he seems so calm, unworried. As if he had been expecting them, “Congressman Luderndorff, you’re under arrest. I’m Diana Prince with ARGUS.”

The man has the gall to laugh, then he touches his ear. “Do it Isabel.”

No sooner than he speaks those words, Diana hears an explosion. She looks back, the hotel is still standing, but she can see some gas coming out of the windows. “What did you do?” She rushes forward and grabs Luderndorff by the collar.

The man shrugs, as if this were a game. “What I needed to do.”

No sooner than he says that, Diana feels a gun pointed at her stomach, but she has her magic as an advantage. She summons the wind, and Luderndorff is airborn and then dropped, the impact makes him loose his gun and she takes the advantage of grabbing her sword and restoring it to its proper size. Luderndorff is fast for a man his age, he crawls for his gun and points it at her once more.

Diana moves towards him, never in a straight line. She moves almost erratically, she won’t give him a clear shot. “You are a monster,” she hisses. “Who do you think you are to kill?”

“I am better, I am making a better world,” Luderndorff says and shots. He misses her, but that doesn’t stop him. He shots until he’s out of bullets.

Then, in desperation or anger runs towards her. Diana stands tall and raises her sword, Luderndorff tries to hurt her, but she keeps him at bay with her sword and spells. It’s almost a different sort of dancing.

But Luderndorff pulls something, and Diana stills. It’s another detonator. But she will be damned if she allows him to use it. She casts an illusion spell and Luderndorff begins to frantically look everywhere. “Stand back! Or the whole place goes to hell!”

Diana doesn’t hesitate anymore, she rushes forward and impales Luderndorff on her sword. ARGUS had given the order to bring him dead or alive. She’s picking dead. Grabs the detonator out of his hand and watches as he gasps for air, then sways and falls dead at her feet.

***

Three minutes later, Steve rejoins her. “We lost Maru,” he says and Diana can tell he’s angry himself.

“What did she do? Inside the hotel, I mean.”

“Gas. Everyone in the gala is dead.”

“Gods above,” she whispers and feels like a failure.

Steve sees her face fall, places his hands gently on her shoulders. “Hey, we’ll get her. She can’t escape us now, we know she’s involved and we witnessed what she did. She’ll be easier to track.”

Diana gives him a weak smile.

Steve smiles back at her. “So much for a night of dancing.”

Diana can’t help it, she snorts.

[distinct-elements-of-speech]

as we go on (1/?)

[read on ao3] [part 2]

(5B canon divergence, featuring: reunions! ladies kicking ass! and my really old theories from 5B spoiler pics because I started writing this back then and lost it until now! Part 2 will be posted soon.]

“Get out of the way!”

Emma barely has time to register the voice before a blur of something (someone?) hits her. They both stumble into an alley, Emma's shoulder hitting the bricks with a painful thud, and she curses under her breath. The faint light from the street lamps fades as they move into the shadows, the stranger gripping Emma's arm.

“What the f-” Emma starts, but a hand covers her mouth immediately, muffling her voice. The alley is narrow enough that there's only a few inches between them, and she can just make out a pair of bright blue eyes in a pale, pretty face.

“Quiet,” the woman hisses. “They'll hear you.”

She raises her eyebrows, staring intently at Emma until she finally nods. Taking her hand away from Emma's face, she quietly pulls a sword from the sheath at her waist, moving to the edge of the alley. Emma peers past her to the street, inhaling sharply as a column of hooded figures marches past.

“They're gone,” the woman says finally, though she doesn't lower her blade. “Come on, quickly, before the next shift.”

Emma follows her out of the alley and onto the abandoned street. “What are those things?”

“A bloody nuisance, is what they are,” the woman mutters. “And dangerous, for people like you.” She turns back to Emma, and out of the shadows there's no mistaking it- there's something about the slant of her chin and the shape of her eyes that's utterly familiar.

“Thanks for the help,” Emma says hesitantly.

“Part of the job,” she says, gesturing down at her outfit. “Sort of.”

“There are crossing guards here?” Emma snorts, staring at the woman's safety vest.

“Really? You’ve somehow ended up in the Underworld, and you’re curious about my job?”

“Well- no,” Emma says, crossing her arms. “What I actually want to right now is who the hell you are.”

“Interesting choice of words.” The woman smirks, and Emma huffs out a reluctant laugh. “But I’m the least of your worries right now. I don't know what someone who's still alive is doing down here, but you need to get back home before Hades finds you.”

“I'm not leaving without what I came for,” Emma shoots back.

The woman quirks an eyebrow. “Must be someone important to you, then.”

“Very,” Emma says softly. “And it's my fault that he's here. I have to fix this.”

“Listen to me carefully.” She slides her sword back into its scabbard, her mouth thinning in a hard line as she studies Emma’s face. “I’ve been here for ages now, okay? In all that time, I’ve seen very few people return to life, and none of them have managed it without an immense sacrifice. It doesn’t matter how you feel about this person- trust me, they aren’t worth it. The price is too high.”

“There’s no price too high,” Emma says. “I know it’s dangerous. I already sent my family back home, but I’m not leaving without him.”

“Fine,” the woman sighs. “Fine. I’m not sure why I bothered saving someone on a suicide mission, but- fine. Don’t try to blame me when you’re trapped here for all eternity.” Shaking her head, she turns to walk back to the crosswalk down the street.

“Hey, wait,” Emma calls, taking a few steps after her. “You never told me your name!”

“Milah,” she tosses over her shoulder, not breaking stride, and Emma feels the ground shift beneath her feet.

“What?” she croaks out, because there's no way, she can't possibly have just stumbled into her.

But her mind is racing now, remembering the notebook full of sketches Killian had shown her on the Jolly, the portraits of a woman with dark curls and laughing eyes and-

“It is you,” she breathes, and god, but she hadn't even considered the fact that Killian's first love might be down here, that she could run into Neal's mother, that she could ever have the chance to talk to this woman who created such tidal waves in her life.

Milah stops her retreat, glancing back at Emma suspiciously. Whirling on the spot, she pulls her sword out again, stepping forward to bring it just under Emma's chin. “You know me. How?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Emma says, raising her hands in surrender and taking a step away from the blade. “I'm not here to hurt you, I didn't even realize you'd-”

“Don't move,” Milah snaps, and Emma halts, shifting her weight between her feet. “Now. Why don't you tell me who you are and how you know me, because I've never forgotten a face and I don't recognize yours.”

“My name is Emma. Emma Swan. And I know you because-” She hesitates, weighing the odds of Milah believing her against the odds of getting stabbed over how utterly ridiculous the story will sound. “It's complicated.”

“I'm waiting,” Milah says, raising her eyebrows.

Emma sucks in a deep breath. “I knew your son, Baelfire. And- and I'm here for Killian Jones.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy in the air. “How?” she says finally, not lowering the sword. “It's been centuries, and you're clearly not from my time. How could you possibly-”

“Like I said, it's complicated.” Emma nods at the blade. “I'll tell you everything, I promise, but- could you maybe put the sword down?”

Milah narrows her eyes, staring at her for a long moment, before she finally replaces the sword in its scabbard. “I'm listening.”

It takes a while- and they have to take cover in the alley twice, even with Emma only telling the bare bones of the story- but Milah doesn’t interrupt her, face inscrutably blank, one hand always at the hilt of her sword. When Emma finishes (her voice catching slightly as she details Killian’s sacrifice, and god, it hurts), Milah stares at her for a long moment.

“You said you have his ring?” she says finally, her face still blank. Emma nods. “Show me.”

Slowly, Emma reaches for the chain around her neck, tugging the ring out from under her sweater and taking a step closer. Milah gently runs a finger over the engraved band, tilting it until the red gemstone catches the light.

“It’s true, then,” Milah says. She looks up, meeting Emma’s gaze for the first time in several long minutes.

“Yes.” Emma can’t keep the longing from her voice. “I have to bring him home.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Milah grins, the wide and vibrant smile that Emma recognizes from the sketches, and loops her arm through Emma’s. “Let’s go find him.”

“Wait, you- you’ll help me?” Emma says, blinking rapidly. “You’re not, I don’t know, angry?”

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” She begins towing Emma along the sidewalk.

“Because I-” Emma hesitates, nearly tripping over the edge of the curb as she stares at the other woman. “Because I’m in love with your, er, lover?”

Milah’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why would that make me angry?”

“Because I- because he-” Emma blows out a frustrated breath, nearly jogging to keep up with Milah’s pace. “Look, most of the people I’ve met from your world are a bit- possessive.”

“Right.” Milah nods, pursing her lips as she considers Emma’s words. “Well, you have met my husband, who is still just as possessive as ever.”

“No kidding,” Emma mutters. Milah flashes her a smile.

“But no,” Milah continues, glancing over her shoulder as they turn onto a side street, “I’m not angry. Killian was- is- gifted in many areas, but he’s not good at being alone. If you love him as he deserves- which it seems you do, as you’re down here to claim him- I’m glad of it.”

“Oh.” She lets the words settle over her for a few seconds. “Wow. Thanks?”

“Besides,” Milah continues, unlocking the front door to a slightly-charred house and steering Emma inside, “he’s not good at being alone. He needs something to devote himself to, whether it’s a cause or a person.” She slams the door behind them, shucking off her safety vest. “He does much better if it’s a person. Causes make him dramatic.”

“Everything makes him dramatic,” Emma says under her breath, and Milah laughs.

“That sounds like Killian.” She opens a small coat closet and begins to dig through it, voice slightly muffled. “Which reminds me, does he still do that thing in bed where he-”

“I, uh, wouldn’t know,” Emma cuts her off. Her face heats up as Milah turns to stare at her, and she’s fairly certain that even her ears are turning pink. “We haven’t exactly- I mean, there hasn’t really been a chance- we’ve, um, been-”

“Wait.” Milah’s eyes widen, and the expression reminds Emma so strongly of Killian that all of the air vanishes from her lungs. “You mean you haven’t?”

“It’s not like we aren’t trying to get there,” Emma insists. Milah shakes her head slowly.

“You’re in love with Killian Jones,” she says dramatically, “and you haven’t even experienced what he’s like in bed? What do you do, just look at each other?”

“We’re usually fighting monsters,” Emma mumbles.

“Gods, this is urgent.” She winks at Emma, diving back into the closet. “We need to get both of you home as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” Emma says dryly. “I appreciate your support.”

“I haven’t seen him in town, so we’ll have to go find him ourselves.” Milah finally steps back into the hallway, several dark cloaks over her arm, and slams the door. “Which means we probably need to go to the Vaults, unfortunately. Here, put this on, you’ll blend in a bit more.”

“The Vaults?” Emma asks, taking the cloak the Milah shoves into her hands. “What exactly are the Vaults?”

“It’s where Hades keeps the important people,” Milah says, the happy look on her face fading, and rolls her eyes. “That’s where he kept Rumpelstiltskin when he came down here.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I was summoned,” she says, a note of disgust creeping into her voice as she pulls on her cloak. “Hades thought that seeing me would make my former husband unhappy, since he’d found love elsewhere. He was right.”

Emma sweeps the cloak around her shoulders, pulling her gun out of her inner pocket and checking the safety. “Do you think you can get back there?”

“It’s not going to be easy, but yes.” Milah leads the way down the hall and into a small, grotty kitchen. The scarred wooden table glitters with an assortment of swords and daggers, all carefully polished to a bright shine. “You’ll need better weapons. That gun won’t be much help if we encounter any Reapers.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Was it made in the mortal world?” she asks. Emma nods, and Milah shrugs. “Won’t work. Only weapons crafted here in the Underworld have any effect on them, and for some reason guns haven’t caught on.”

“Huh. Okay then.” She flips the safety back on, tucking it into an inside pocket, and surveys the blades spread across the table. “Swords it is.”

“Do you know how to use one?” Milah raises an eyebrow. “Do people even use swords in your time?”

Emma lifts one of the swords from the table, twirling it easily in a decent approximation of one of Killian’s showier moves. “Think so.”

“I knew I liked you,” Milah says, adding a pair of daggers to her own collection. “Take whatever you want. The swordsmith’s an old friend, and he gets bored easily- he’s always asking me to take new toys off his hands.”

Emma nods, giving the sword another experimental swing. Eyeing the table, she picks up a leather cuff that looks suspiciously similar to the one they’d used on Zelena. The familiar tingle of magic snakes up her fingers, and she carefully hooks it through one of her belt loops. Finally, she drops an oddly-modern switchblade down the side of her boot.

A bell rings out, low and eerie, echoing through the tiny house.

Milah freezes, tilting her head slightly. “Seven, not too bad,” she says quietly, reaching over to pull the hood of Emma’s cloak over her head. “New additions.”

“Will that change anything?”

She shrugs. “Anything’s possible down here. If they’re going to the Vaults, we’ll have to take the back way in, but at least the main guards will be focused on the fresh meat.”  Tugging up her own hood, she shoots Emma a wink. “Let’s go find our man, shall we?”