#men being shorter than their women makes my heart melt

[ronkoza]

Love fans assumption that Panam is taller than V, like she’s 180cm tall and V is 165cm, which is great because Vesna is 163cm tall.

[theglitterypages]

Haikyuu Boys As Your Boyfriend

******

Bokuto Koutaro

•He's a big baby

•He's the type of boyfriend to hug you all the time, he loves warmth and affection so please be generous enough to give him those.

•Clingy but not in an annoying way, you'll jusy feel like you have a boyfriend and at the same time, a son (LOL)

•Bokuto is the type of person who will always apologize first after arguments. Arguments will be very rare though, because when it comes to you he'll always listen.

•Kou is probably an insecure boyfriend, he thinks more men are much cooler than him that's why he's always working hard to improve himself.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will definitely avoid making you jealous, he'll limit his interactions with women because he doesn't like it when you're jealous, you're cute when you're being jealous but he's afraid that you might leave him.

•Loves kissing you

•He will always tell you how much he loves you.

•Your picture is his wallpaper and lockscreen.

•His IG, FB, Twitter or any other social media platforms is full of you, your pictures. messages for you and stuffs.

•Bokuto is your diary, he loves listening to your rants, it doesn't matter if you guys aren't together, just call him and he's always ready to listen.

•He's the type of boyfriend who will always brag about you, he's just so proud of everything you achieve. It doesn't matter how big or small the achievement is, he will celebrate it no matter what happen.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Baby Bear!” you opened your arms widely as you ran towards your boyfriend. Bokuto lifted you off the ground, he kissed the tip of your nose before putting you down. “I miss you, baby.” he told you as he let his hands rest on your hips.

“I miss you too, sorry if I don't have much time Kou.” you apologized and he just pulled you closer for a hug, “Shh it's fine. I know you're busy, but how's your tests?” he asked.

You looked at him with sad eyes and the poor baby panicked, not knowing what to do, “What? Did you fail? It's alright baby, I'm proud of you, I know how you worked hard for this.” he pressed his lips on yours with a smile, he cupped your face and let his forehead rest on yours before kissing you for another time, much longer than the first one.

“I almost got my exams perfect baby!”

“You scared me! But I know you can do it!” he laughed and showered kisses on your face as he keep on saying how much he loves you and that he's so proud of you.

“HEY, HEY, HEY! MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE PRETTIEST AND THE SMARTEST GIRLFRIEND EVER! SHE ACED HER EXAMS!”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kageyama Tobio

•Cold at the beginning of the relationship

•Kags is not yet used to physical contacts so don't expect much at first.

•But as the time passes by, he'll start wondering how it feels like to keep you in his arms for a long time so he will try and do it once when you two are studying in his house.

•Because Kags loves how warm and comfy it is to hug you, he'll start hugging you a lot (not in public though, he will be so shy)

•He's the type of boyfriend who'll fall asleep while watching movies (Forgive him, playing volleyball is hard)

•He wouldn't call you baby, babe or other endearments but he loves it when you give him one. His favorite endearment? LOVE

•Kags is a supportive boyfriend, he's the first one to cheer you up if you're sad.

•He's sharp as hell so he would always notice if you're not feeling well once he notice that he will do everything he can to make you smile or to make you feel better.

•Loves it when you keep on asking him to carry you.

•He loves the fact that you're shorter than him (Readers, if you're taller than Kags sorry😭)

•He would always walk you home.

•Sweetest thing he do for you? Taking care of your fingernails 💅🏻 he would definitely watch tutorials in applying nail polish. He also takes care of his fingernails so he wanted to do the same for you.

•When it comes to kisses it also take him some time to kiss you, he always wondered how it feels like to kiss you but he doesn't want to creep you out so he'll behave for quite some time.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°

“Tobio, you used the wrong method for this equation.” you called him out, Kageyama was quick to look at the problem that you're pointing out and his mouth gaped open as he realized his mistake. “Sorry, I'll do it again.” you giggled and showed him your homework, “Look at mine and compare it to yours, both methods are similar but they will have different answers so beware.” Kageyama started revising his answer while you continued studying for the another subject.

When he was done he looked at you just to see you so focused on what you're doing, you were pouting while answering your own homework and he couldn't help but stare at your pinkish lips.

You two have been dating for almost a year and you two haven't kissed because Kageyama is too shy to make the first move but right now he couldn't help but be tempted.

“Y/N, look at me.”

When you looked up at him, he immediately grabbed your nape and pressed his lips on yours. He was still unsure of how to do it but he did his best and boy, Kags is not too bad for a first timer.

When he pulled away you couldn't help but look at him completely dumbfounded. He will chuckle on your expression and will lean down to press his lips on yours for the second time.

“I love you.” he whispered.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Kuro Tetsuro

•The type of boyfriend who acts like a Dad (no one can change my mind)

•Kuro will definitely keep on reminding you that eating vegetables is good for you.

•He will monitor your sleeping routine. He would even buy scented candles for you to help you sleep.

•He's so smart so expect him to help you in studying.

•Kuro is addicted to kisses, he will always do everything in his power to steal a kiss from you even if it's in front of his teammates.

•He will tease you a lot for being smaller than him but once you get pissed he'll stop and he will keep on bugging you until you finally agree to forgive him.

•He will always talk about you, in fact he never shuts up about you to the point that Kenma is asking you what kind of love spell did you put in Kuro. He'll politely ask you to decrease the effect of the ‘love spell’

•Kuro loves pinching your cheeks (it hurts so you will get mad) once you get mad he'll be showering kisses all over your face and will talk to you in a baby voice saying things like, “Oh look at baby YN looking so cute with red cheeks. Sorry baby, come here I'm gonna kiss the pain away.”

•What is the sweetest thing that Kuro did to you? He installed a period tracker app on his phone, so he can remember your cycle. If you're on your period, expect Kuro to be extra gentle. He won't tease you or anything, he will buy you snacks and he will always check up on your mood.

~°~°~°~°~°~°

“YN, the captain of volleyball club is looking for you.” says one of your classmates. You smiled at your classmate and nod but before you could stand up from your seat, Kuro is already in front of you, “How're you feeling? Do you want to go home? Internet says ginger tea is good for reducing nausea during period.” your eyes widened and you covered his mouth using your hands.

“You don't have to announce to everyone that I'm on my period Tetsu!” you whispered yell and he gently removed your hands from his mouth. “Okay, calm down. Sorry, I know that there's a whole lot scientific process going on inside you, I understand your outburst. I brought snacks for you.” he lifted the plastic bag on his left hand and smiled at you.

You were about to smile back at him but you realized something, “How did you know I'm on my period?” Kuro blinked for a few times before clearing his throat, “I saw the period tracker on your phone, I installed the same thing on mine so I can monitor your period. My Mom told me periods are uncomfortable and painful so I just want to do what I can for my dearest girlfriend.” your heart melted at that and you started crying, Kuro's eyes widened as he pulled you close to his chest.

“Shh, baby what did I do?”

“Nothing. It's just that...I love you so much.”

“Oh experts believe that the drop in estrogen and progesterone, which occurs after ovulation, triggers mood swings during or before your period.” Kuro whispered as he caress your back gently. You sniffed and hugged him tighter still crying because you just felt so loved. “These hormones reduce production of serotonin, a chemical neurotransmitter, it's natural to be emotional, baby.” you looked up at your boyfriend and when you saw how serious he was you just couldn't help but laugh.

“You're such a nerd. God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~°~°~°~°~°~°

[khneltea]

Jasonette headcannon #1 section b.

Woah, so apparently y'all like this stuff. Uhm, takes inspiration from @mochegato and @SquareBrain on AO3

Previous

↬ Jason will never admit that he felt scared out of his wits as he rocked up to the shop

↬ nope, nuh-uh, never

↬ the store owner who stood a head shorter than him wasn't scary in the slightest

↬ so, dressed up in his best leather jacket and jeans, plus that old red shirt that may or may not have a bullet hole in it somewhere but was the best one he could find, he opened the door to the shop

↬ only to tremble in his boots at who was in the shop (whether it was anger or sheer fear, he will not admit to either and will deny all allegations of said trembling)

↬ inside was 2 of the biggest crime lords in Gotham, the one from the docks and the one from the underground, notorious for trying to tear each other's throats out, sitting peacefully on pretty pink cushions and enjoying pastries and tea out of tiny dainty tea cups

↬ what.the.actual.fuck.

↬ the glaringly pink (he supposed that was the theme) door to the right suddenly burst open and out comes the lady of the hour, and behind her was a very hot teenage girl (about 15 years old), but for some reason, he didn't really pay attention to her

↬ all eyes were on the two ladies, the hot one giggling away about a quinceañera while the owner of the shop smiled serenely, surveying the surroundings (probably checking if there was a gang war)

↬ her bluebell eyes popped out when they saw him (he says it was because he was handsome, but don't listen to him-)

↬ "hello! Welcome to my boutique, would you like to take a seat while checking our ready-made garments? Or are you here for a commision?"

↬ "uhhhhhhh..." Jason didn't think that far ahead. And it's hard going impromptu when there was a beautiful lady devoting all her attention on him

↬ she smiled like she knew exactly what he was thinking

↬ "why don't you take a seat, monsieur, and I'll help you out dans juste un instant (oh gosh, I'm sorry all you people who speak french who are going to call me out for using Google translate-)"

↬ so he's just sitting there, a tiny tea cup with little black cats and ladybugs on the sides held in his hands as he sees her negotiating a purchase with one of the mobster groups

↬ he nearly sighed in relief when the crime lord by the docks left with the gorgeous girl (probably his daughter now that he thought about it) after leaving a heavy briefcase and a business card in exchange for a beautiful sleek gown and matching accessories

↬ kinda scared him how friendly they both seemed to the store owner and how...warm that look in both the father and daughter's eyes were

↬ and he couldn't help but flinch when the crime lord from Gotham underground (is this a thing-) grins while the blue eyed woman started taking his measurements

↬ "doll, you're always welcome to come over anytime. You're good at business, I need more people like that."

↬ she has the fucking audacity to laugh. Laugh, I tell you

↬ "non, non, monsieur. I am quite happy with my little shop over here. Besides, the young ones would miss my pastries too much if I moved."

↬ he waved a hand. "Those street rats? If that's all that it takes to get you on my side, then consider them to be in better protection and care than those kids Wayne adopts every 5 seconds."

↬ got to say, his heart went thump when he pieced together that she took care of the street kids

↬ she grins "well, you're already giving them protection for living in my block, so that's all I need. Don't worry about the rest, I've got it covered."

↬ the crime lord shrugs. "Eh, I don't really care about the brats. But you, you're the one that needs protecting. Where else will I be getting these good suits that don't tear all the goddamn time from knives and guns? Plus, what's another 5 or 6 men patrolling this area to keep my favourite designer safe? If it makes you happy that they're inadvertently looking out for the kids, then better for me."

↬ wait those suits protected him from knives and guns????? Who the hell was this woman???

↬ smiling in response, but not as brightly anymore, she stood up, jotting down some notes in her book

↬ "alright, monsieur, you'll have to come in to a fitting on Saturday, presumably before your interaction with Monsieur Falcone at 1pm, so would it be presumptuous to ask if you come in at 10:30?"

↬ "not at all, my dear! it's a pleasure of doing business with you"

↬ "also, preferably, don't wear the flashy red suit you have, might i recommend the blue one from the fitting before last week's? Monsieur Falcone would gladly appreciate the red suit blaring in his eyes after the concussion he received recently"

↬ wait

↬ how the fuck did she know that

↬ falcone got that last night (he should know, he gave it to him)

↬ and the only ones who should know about it right now are him, Falcone, and no one else

↬ either this kid was magic, or she was Alfred level shit (he's still not convinced that Alfred is fully human)

↬ "thanks doll" and the crime lord leaves

↬ she turns to him, smiles and everything

↬ "alright, monsieur hood, what would you like to purchase today? or are you still having difficulty choosing?"

↬ uhm fuck ok

↬ how the hell do you talk to pretty, badass women that can probably take over the entirety of Gotham in a day

↬ "uhhhhhh got anything in red that doesn't make me look like a fucking period stain?"

↬ she giggled in a way that you know it's not flirting but just generally found it funny, and he thought it was the creation of the universe

↬ "i'm sure we can find you something, monsieur hood."

↬ proceeds to pull him up (what the fuck she was so strong for such a tiny girl) and lead him to the back room

↬ fabrics upon fabrics upon fabrics lay everywhere in chaos, but he felt like if he moved something, the balance of the room would be upset

↬ finally comes to a bar that ran from one end of a rack to the other, thin fabrics lining it

↬ the blue-eyed girl takes a beautiful black silk cravat with red embroidery that boldly stood out (yes, he knows what a cravat is, sue him for wanting to know what Mr Knightley, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy wore in the books) and drapes it over his neck, critically eyeing it

↬ in the process, pulling him down by the neck to look at it and being very close to her pink plump lips

↬ uhm fuck what do i do what do i say who am i what is life what the fuck austen you didn't prepare me for this-

↬ "as i thought", she says, "this is a good colour scheme for you, but probably more of a black with a tinge of brown and a more muted red colour scheme for everyday use."

↬ she walks away and comes back with a measuring tape and measures his neck, shoulders, arms, and starts measuring around the torso

↬ he doesn't even register this because of how efficient she is and because he was used to it from living with Bruce fucking Wayne (he won't admit that he was just too distracted by the way her dainty little fingers brushed against the back of his ears as she leaned forward to check the measurements, nor when they fluttered against his biceps and chest)

↬ when she's done, she starts writing measurements and mumbling under her breath, which snaps him out of his stupor

↬ "why did you take my measurements?"

↬ "a good cravat needs a good suit, and what better than for me to make a matching one when I have the time and resources to do it?"

↬ she fucking grinned at him like a devious minx who knew more about him than she should and he melted a bit. 

↬ just a little bit.

↬ turning around, she stuck her hand out, still smiling like a fucking seductress

↬ "I'll be making your suit and cravats, let's hope to a wonderful relationship, it's going to be a pleasure working with you."

↬ he tried to match her smile, but ended up feeling like a dork with his heart beating 200 times a second. and he felt like an even bigger dork when he took her hand and gave her a small kiss on the knuckles. "believe me, the pleasure is all mine, dove. might i dare, i fain would ask, for your sweet name? that while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, i feel that yours would double in so."

↬ she smiled back at him.

↬ "why, good sir, it is a good show of faith in the honey to the flower of life, as Hugo quotes, but I wish you would take me to dinner first before such matters. My name, you ask? It is Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

↬ He smirked. "My name is Jason Todd."

↬ "I know, Monsieur Hood."

↬ "Wait, how the fuck do you know-"

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - iv

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; talk of death, ptsd/flashbacks, war zone, heavy violence, course language, panic attack

➳ word count ; 2k

➳ note ; Hello! I know that this chapter took a little longer to get out, and it is a little shorter than usual, but it’s because it takes a lot of time and research to make sure that I’m doing this story justice. That being said, I hope that you enjoy!! The journey for these eight have truly begun now, and boy, do they have a lot coming. :3

masterlist

For a while now, your life has been slipping between your fingers. Like a shadow passing through the night, every moment has melted through you, pooling at your feet until you’re slipping, falling, thrown to the ground. From the moment the first bullet was delivered through your skull, you have lost grip of your control; of the things you hold dearest to you.

Sitting here, surrounded by these seven men, that empty cavern in your chest aches just a little less. It hasn’t started to fill up yet⎯⎯might not for a very long while⎯⎯but the silence no longer echoes. 

“It still feels weird to think about,” you say, soft voice carrying through the room with ease. They are all listening so carefully that you cannot meet any of their eyes. “That I died, I mean. I’ve had time to rationalise it, but my whole life has been spent thinking one way⎯⎯believing in life and death, mortality, the fragility and preciousness of living⎯⎯but now I’ve been killed multiple times, died naturally a handful more, and so it feels as though the whole world has been skewed and I’m yet to find my balance.”

Your fingers fiddle together in your lap, eyes downcast to the empty soup bowl on the coffee table.

“The story of how I died the first time is kind of a long one. I can’t tell you about the final moments without explaining everything that led up to it, but there are a few years of history to go through. So, if you want me to condense it…”

“We have all the time in the world,” Namjoon assures, and it could be a joke, a satirical remark regarding your current situations, but instead he speaks with the utmost care, as if he is afraid of any wrong word, any misstep. He is telling you that they are patient, that they don’t mind waiting, that they will listen to every word you say. For you.

And it warms that hole in your chest enough for you to meet his eyes⎯⎯all of their eyes⎯⎯and offer a small smile. Then you nod to yourself. This is a story you need to tell, no matter how painful the memories are.

“Two-and-a-half years ago,” you begin, “the Special Warfare Command uncovered the elaborate smuggling operation of North Korean forces. Untraceable men⎯⎯assumed Black-Ops⎯⎯would enter South Korea through other countries using fake documentation. It’s unclear how long they stayed, months or years, but they would eventually kidnap vulnerable children and smuggle them to North Korea via Mongolia and China.

“Unfortunately, it took years to trace the movements of these men to a point where we knew what they were doing and how they were doing it. The SWC eventually concluded that North Korea were kidnapping and training future sleeper agents and spies, and avoiding suspicion by hiding in the Gobi Desert. They had an entire base of operations on a grey-zone of the border between Mongolia and China, and managed to leave no traces of their movements.”

You need to take a deep gulp of air at this point. Up until now, you have merely stated facts; regurgitated information as you have been told. However, you know that everything from this point on will become personal. You try to think back on your years of conditioning in the army.

“It was at this point that my team was requested for the operation. The 707th Special Mission Group has hundreds of personnel, all within two assault companies, one support company, and one all-female company. There are many missions in which female operators are a better fit, this one included, and out of the female company, my team was chosen.

“When I was promoted to Captain, and at such a young age... All I felt was excitement. Excitement for such an honour, for the experiences ahead, for being able to lead my very own team. The women on my team worked so well, too. We had many successful missions, small and big, and we were ready for this operation. We were ready for Operation Fawn.”

The air in your lungs stutters as you exhale, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’ve avoided thoughts of the thirteen women who had become your friends, your family, but now you are submerged in the memories. Both joyous and tragic.

A few of the men around you look as if they want to move forward, to comfort you, but they also know that it isn’t their place to do so. Not yet.

“The plan was relatively straight-forward. We had found the location of the children, and so it was our job to silently infiltrate the site. Remove all hostiles, retrieve the missing kids, bring them back safely. It wasn’t unlike other missions we had completed before, so we were confident that we could execute it without fail.”

Pulse pumping loudly in your ears, heart beating violently in your chest, you begin to see flashes of that night, playing before your eyes without your permission.

“Get down!” A bullet whirs through the air where your lieutenant’s head had just been, close enough to be able to hear it cutting through the air. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, peeking around the corner of the collapsed wall for the rest of your team, “how the fuck are there so many of them?”

“Captain.” A voice cuts through the chaos, the intercom in your ear crackling to life. “They’re still pouring in - West entrance - all armed. There shouldn’t be this many men.”

You land shots on three oncoming men, their bodies falling to the ground, but they are quickly replaced by more on their way. You have to do something; you can’t allow your team⎯⎯or the children⎯⎯to die tonight. 

While your lieutenant watches your back, you fiddle with the dial of your radio, changing to a different channel.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?”

No response comes through, and you’re forced to move from the wall with your gun poised, firing shots at any unfamiliar figure you see.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?!”

A grenade explodes a short distance away, shaking the ground and sending you stumbling.

“Command, this is Dragon, Operation Fawn has been compromised! I repeat, Operation Fawn has been compromised! Delta Team needs immediate backup, over a hundred hostiles, and counting!”

Either the commotion around you drowns out the voice in your ear, or you’ve yet again received no response. You are starting to get desperate.

“Jesus fuc⎯ we’re completely overwhelmed, Command! My team can only hold out for a little while longer, but these fuckers just keep pouring in! Something is wrong, there shouldn’t be this many of them, we can’t fucking⎯”

Somebody tackles you to the ground. Gunshots, shouts, dirt in your face, a hand on your throat. The man on top of you is heavy, but you’re able to roll him off of you and shoot him between the eyes.

The blood splatters across your goggles.

It’s all too much. There are men everywhere, and you can’t see any of your team members throughout the chaos. You can’t get through to your command centre. Everything that was supposed to be easy tonight has gone wrong. Something heavy, and dark⎯⎯something that feels a lot like doom and panic and we’re going to die⎯⎯lurks in your guts, but you can’t think about that right now. You have to find your girls, have to save these children, have to stay alive⎯

Your fist aches nearly as much as your thudding chest.

Images of death and violence fade away as you blink violently, flexing your fingers individually and then all together, mind still scrambled, still alert.

There are hands on your shoulders, solid and heavy and grounding, and a pair of soft eyes searching for yours. All eyes in the room are on you, but all you can focus on is Yoongi, who looks as if he knows, as if he understands.

And there is a fist-sized patch of red on his left cheekbone. God, your fist, his face, what have you done, oh god I’ve hurt him⎯

Cool air blows on the silent tears that stream down your cheeks, your bones trembling with adrenaline and fear and sorrow. He’s saying something, lips moving slowly, but the clouds in your head are muffling everything. His hands move to hold yours.

You recognise the movement of his lips as the words breathe, it’s okay, and you try your best to obey, but your throat has closed up, tight like the grip of that enemy soldier who had held you to the ground⎯

Yoongi brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing your fingers into him, and you faintly feel the thudding of a heartbeat against your palm. Then, he breathes in, slow and deep, and you follow.

In and out, one by one, Yoongi slowly guides you to breathe steadily once again, your chest growing less tight with each shaky gasp. The tears have stopped flowing, and your limbs have calmed into only a slight tremor, and the darkness in his eyes are captivating. You want to lean forward, let them swallow you whole, but you instead squeeze his hands in silent thanks.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, and you realise that your head has calmed down enough to take in your surroundings. All seven are watching you with a careful and guarded eye, but you find no pity. It brings you a sliver of relief.

Rather than replying, you merely nod your head and allow Yoongi to pull you up onto shaky legs. Exhaustion is already weighing you down, and all you want to do is escape your own mind.

They have been once before. You, asleep in the spare room, and them, huddled together on the lounges. They are worried about you, but they are also much more; the fear in your voice, the heartache in each memory, was familiar to them. As they watched you relive your trauma, they relived theirs as well.

“I’m sorry, I-” Namjoon’s words stutter out, unsure, unplanned, unlike the way he usually speaks. “This is my fault. I should’ve known- it was too early to- and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt...”

“Hey, no.” Seokjin’s hands on Namjoon’s shoulders are as firm as his words, kind eyes seeking regretful ones. “Don’t blame yourself; this is nobody’s fault. She made her decision to tell us. Don’t take that away from her. And we all know that she couldn’t help that reflex. Yoongi’s been hit harder.”

“We didn’t even hear the rest of the story,” Jimin pouts, nibbling his lower lip between his teeth. “Like, how she died, how her team died, what happened to the mission.”

“We’ll have to be patient,” Yoongi sighs. His cheek is already blue and purple, and will probably be fully healed in an hour. “We know the fundamentals, anyway. A mission that was supposed to be clear-cut somehow got turned on its head. It cost her team’s lives.”

“How does something like that even happen?” Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s pout is not quite as full, but still full of the emotions he is trying to keep in. “It isn’t just her team that got hit, but the entire Special Warfare Command. This was a big operation, guys, so something like this should’ve been prevented.”

“Do you think…” Jeongguk is clutching a pillow close to his chest. “Do you think somebody from the inside betrayed them?” Six faces turn to look at him, shocked at the implication, shocked that it makes sense. “I mean, the information about the operation would have been top secret. North Korea has resources, sure, but they shouldn’t have known the when, where, and how of the mission. Somebody had to have turned.”

“Who would’ve done it?” Jimin’s question is not asking for an answer. He feels sick at the thought.

It is at this moment that Hoseok chooses to emerge from his deep silence. When he speaks, his voice is regretful. Knowing. “I think she knows exactly who did it.”

< prev - next >

tags: @leafyturtle​, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01​, @basicgukk, @softescapism​, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​, @m1nt-3lla​, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb​, @hemmofluke​, @the-bisaster​ 

[marvelyhp]

A thousand yous

Synopsis: Adelaide (or Y/n) opens up to Bucky and he tries to settle her fears and finally tells her how he feels.

Word count: 1790

Disclaimer: I don’t own the papasito of James “Bucky” Barnes.

Side note: This is another out of nowhere piece that came up. I thought about making this a series or a story but I’m not sure. I guess I got tired of seeing it in Google docs and put it somewhere else. Oh and Adelaide’s name can be changed for y/n or y/n l/n for the end, I just prefer to use actual names. I’m writing all this as if I expect anyone to read this.

++++++++++++++++++

Bucky found her sitting beside the window, her head propped against the glass pane. Eyes focused on the moving lights of the cars and the city, yearning gleaming in her face.

“I miss wearing my dresses,” Adelaide whispered, her breath leaving a trail in the window.

Bucky’s heart stopped at the sound of her voice. He let her words sink in before answering her, eagerly wishing she was opening up to him and felt more comfortable around him. Hope grew deep inside him.

“You mean the red one, with the white flowers?” Bucky started walking towards her to settle beside her on the windowsill. His knee brushed hers as he sat, looking at her face, not bothering with the twinkling lights in the city but the lack of them in her eyes. He missed that shine, her smile, and her carefree personality. But he was so thankful to have her next to him right then, it didn’t matter if he had to discover her all over again.

“Oh, the red shirtwaist. That was my favorite. I just miss the simplicity of it.” It came as a whisper, and he noticed the wavering of her voice.

Memories of her in that red dress, the one that left him more breathless than usual crossed his mind. He remembered her dancing with him in a fair, surrounded by hundreds of people. He remembered Steve dancing with a pretty brunette to his side. Her smile stood out most for him, the way it would light up her whole face, light up his whole world. The way her beautiful golden skin glowed. He remembered her twirling and giggling as she danced with his finger in her hand, her long onyx hair an umbrella as it rose around her.

The girl in front of him was not the Adelaide he knew. He couldn’t read her as well as he used to but she was rough around the edges, he saw the anger in her eyes every day. He saw the fear hidden behind a mask of indifference. He saw how fidgety she was around men, and untrusting of women. She didn’t let anybody in. He thought about how much she resembled him after he left Hydra, the things he saw in her that he knew he still harbored.

“It feels ridiculous to miss that,” Her voice resonated through the room. The darkness of the room would’ve swallowed them if it weren’t for the rays of moonlight coming through the windows. “To miss something so banal like dresses.”

“Don’t you miss anything else?” He didn’t want this moment to stop, he didn’t want her to stop talking. He wanted her to tell him, to open up to him more. But he wishes for her to mention him, even if once. He wanted her to mention him without that anger she felt towards him.

“I do. I miss the way everything was so simple then, even if it wasn’t. Nothing seems quite as complicated and exhausting as this,” A sigh escaped her lips as she shuffled on the windowsill, turning her body and her eyes towards Bucky. “I miss dancing. I miss Brooklyn and the way it was back then. I miss...” her voice trailed off as her eyes lowered to the ground, leaving Bucky’s blue orbs confused.

“What?”

“Forget it.” Her eyes lingered on his eyes before lowering to his lips. She quickly withdrew them, focusing in the moving bright lights.

“I miss Brooklyn, too. I-I miss Steve, so much. Every day I wake up and wish he was here to tell me what I’m doing wrong, or laugh at the stupid things I say or just call me an idiot. He was the only one who understood me.” Bucky’s voice had taken an edge of sadness. The memories of Steve laughing, dancing with his off-beat moves, being plain stupid and his heroics coming into view in his mind.

“I miss Steve, too.” It was a whisper, but the pain and sadness laced in her voice made him feel as though she was screaming. A pang of jealousy poked at his heart. Steve’s face and words as they talked about Adelaide that afternoon in the apartment in Romania shooting on his mind. He shook his head, Shame settling in his gut at his thoughts. It didn’t even matter now because Steve was no longer with him, he could no longer defend himself or say what he thought.

When Bucky looked at her face, she was still facing the window, her lips slightly pressed together. Her lids closed, a small tear glistening in the moonlight. He waited for something more but nothing came.

“He missed you too,” Bucky’s lips pursed. “He used to talk about you all the time. Anything we would do would remind us of you, but he would be the first one to comment on it. Damn it, sometimes I wanted to shut him up”

“Why did you?”

“Because it was too painful, talking about you.” A sigh escaped his lips as his hands traveled to cradle his face to then push his fingers through the mass on top of his head. “I couldn’t hear about the way you used to dance, or the way you smiled or the way you scolded the both of us. I didn’t want to remember the days we went on dates or think about the nights we spent together.”

Silence engulfed them both, the only sound interrupting were the horns of the cars below. Adelaide’s eyes closed tightly, her arms hugging her elbows. A tremble escaped her lips and Bucky felt afraid he had said too much, that he had pushed her too far. Even then, he decided to continue. He needed to say this, to get this heavy load off his chest.

“I couldn’t talk about you because I didn’t want to remember what I had lost. Of all the things and people I’d lost, you were the one who hurt the most.” His heart thundered against his rib cage, forcing his chest to rise and fall unevenly. He felt his hands shake slightly against the skin of his thighs. His eyes focused on her.

He focused on the way her chest rose and fell erratically. He focused on her body, shaking slightly as she stood up from the windowsill. He focused on the way she paced the living room. He focused on the way she kept muttering ‘no’ under her breath and shaking her head side to side.

“The only thing I thought for 80 years was you, Ady.” She was in denial and that’s when he threw caution to the wind.

“Stop.”

“Your smile was the only thing Hydra couldn’t erase, Ady. It didn’t matter how much of you I forgot, your smile was always there.”

“James, stop.”

“Your face was the first thing I remembered. Please, Ady-“

“Stop calling me that!” She cried out. She had stopped pacing at this point, having turned around to face Bucky. Her head was hung low, her white hair hiding her face.

Bucky just sat there with wide eyes and his mouth in a firm line. Her shout had surprised him having been the first time she had been so vocal. The first time she had expressed so much emotion since he had recognized her coming out of Doctor Raynold’s session.

“I’m not her, James. I am no longer that woman you so clearly loved and treasured. I don’t know who I was, who I am, or who am I supposed to be anymore. You don’t know me anymore, and neither do I.” Her fists were clenched at her sides, her voice shaking with every word spoken.

Seeing her so broken, so fragile, broke something inside him. He felt his heart twisting painfully in his chest. Without thinking, Bucky stood up and crossed the space between them in four powerful strides. His hands found her cheeks, tilting her head up.

Thin almond eyes stared back at him. Tears fell from her eyes, marking a pathway from the pool in her eyes to her chin. His thumbs cleaned her falling tears before he whispered his next words. His heart a thousand miles a minute.

"I don't care if you're not the Adelaide I knew. I would suffer through everything again if it meant finding you, whoever that is at the moment," Multiple tears fell from her bloodshot eyes, tears he washed away like the ocean washes the sand. "I would get to know you a thousand times if it meant having you." Their lips were mere inches away, her small refined nose brushing his. His breath mixing with hers. Both of them breathing heavily, their bodies leaning towards each other involuntarily.

Bucky thought about how close she was. He could feel the warmth of her body melting the coldness around his heart. Her stormy grey eyes looking longingly at him and he forgot the promise he had made to himself. He threw his promise out the window because he couldn't take things slower than they had been.

"Fuck it." That was all he said before he crashed his lips onto hers. He poured every lonely night spent thinking about her into the kiss, every tear he shed about her, every desire he had to see her for eighty years. The kiss was desperate and full of longing.

Adelaide's hand grasped the base of his neck, pulling his head towards her, deepening the kiss. All those emotions she had so desperately tried to hide came floating out of her chest. She had missed him so much. Her right hand caressed the soft brown hair on his head. She had taken a while to get used to the way his hair looked, much shorter than it used to be. His beard tickled her chin and even though she remembered how soft his face used to be, she had started to like the beard and how manly he looked.

They kissed passionately until their lungs no longer held any breath. Until a burning sensation flourished in the chest, lungs screaming for air. Bucky rested his forehead against hers, panting.

"I loved you," he pressed a kiss at the tip of her nose. "I love you, " his lips moved towards her cheek. "and I will always love you, Adelaide Wright." His lips settled on hers once again, this time slow and lovingly.

[le0watch]

A Flower for Your Thoughts

The night is still young, the palace filled to the brim with young women hoping to catch the prince’s attention. Each young lady has her own dress, and the colors range from white to black, and the sizes from large and puffy to thin and flat.

They’re all so loud and persistent, and hardly give Prince Langa the space he desires. He doesn't even want to be here- it was a decision made by his mother and chamberlain back in their Kingdom of Snow. His mother was beginning to get worried that he was too lonely, and his chamberlain had suggested that they come here to try and find him a suitor. Because then, with a wife, Prince Langa wouldn't be lonely again.

And while Langa would love for a wife, this feels too forced, and not natural. The women here only care that he's a prince, and for the enormous amount of wealth and fame that comes with marrying him. None of them actually care for him… just his title.

He sighs heavily, sitting on the edge of a fountain somewhere in the large palace garden. He's been here a while- no one has been able to find and annoy him as of yet, and the sound of the trickling water was soothing compared to the yelling and calling of the women in the castle. He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, the loneliness he'd come to know so well back him settling in his gut.

“It's the same here…” he mutters quietly, staring at the cracks in the ground and the ants crawling through the grass.

Suddenly, someone flops down beside him on the fountain’s edge, her dress a brilliant blue that spills around her legs and feet. It splays out across the edge of the fountain, some of it brushing through the water beneath them. He flinches, ready for yet another suitor to try and woo him for his wealth.

“Where is everybody?” the girl says, and Langa is struck by how cute she sounds. He hasn't looked at her yet- afraid if he does, it’ll break the spell and she’ll start fawning over him. He feels her eyes on the back of his head a moment later, staring at him. “Did you get lost?”

A reflection of light catches his eye, and glances down at the ground eyes widening as they land upon a gorgeous pair of glass heels. He's never seen glass slippers, or shoes for that matter, but they go wonderfully with her dress.

“Pretty…” he mutters, before he realizes what he's doing.

“Huh?” the girl says, taken by surprise.

“Your shoes. I've never seen any made of glass before,” he explains, and finally works up the courage to look at the girl’s face. He nearly gasps, because she's even prettier than the shoes or dress she is wearing.

Her bright red hair is pulled into two braids that trail behind her shoulders, the rest of it a mess of curls on the top of her head. Her eyes are a gorgeous honey amber color, and they sparkle even in the dark of the night. Freckles pepper her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's looking at her lips, a soft, plump pink.

He has to tear his gaze from her lips as they turn upwards into a bright grin. So bright, Langa momentarily believes her to be the sun, and that morning had come early. Her beautiful blue dress contrasts prettily with her red hair and eyes, sparkling gently beneath the stars.

“Oh, you meant the shoes,” she says sheepishly, chuckling lightly. What a beautiful sound. He almost wants to take back what he'd said, and tell her that no, he'd actually meant that she was pretty.

“Yeah,” he responds instead, because his brain is slow and sluggish as always. This doesn't phase the girl, however, but makes her tilt her head to the side with a crooked grin.

“How long are you gonna stare?” she asks, making Langa jump out of his skin. Oh, great. She’d caught him staring at her like a buffoon- very unprincely indeed. But she instead exclaims, “Let's dance!”

That takes Langa by surprise. She was being so bold- she's not even asking him, she's just saying it like it would be the natural thing for them to do. “With me?” he asks, quite stupidly. Who else was there for her to ask? He blames his short circuiting brain on her and how pretty she is.

“Is anyone else here?” she says pointedly, her grin only widening. She sounds excited, and she grabs his hand, hopping to her feet and pulling him along with her.

He lets out a noise of surprise as he stumbles to his feet after her, surprised by her straight forwardness. Wasn’t he supposed to ask her to dance, if at all? Yet, he doesn't pull his hand away, nor does he say anything negative in response.

Once they're both standing, the girl waits patiently for him to get ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet. When he rests one of his hands in her hand and the other on her waist, her face flushes a pretty red, and she sheepishly chuckles.

“I uh- I’ve never actually danced before,” she tells him shyly, and he blinks down at her. She’s shorter than he is- but not by too much. Her head reaches just above his chest, and is peering up at him through her pretty red lashes. “So uh- could you teach me?”

Langa’s cheeks grow warm at her shy but excited demeanor, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her pretty face. She flushes, and squirms a little under his gaze.

“I'm sorry- I shouldn't have asked if I didn't know how-” she begins to apologize, slowly pulling away from Langa.

But the prince quickly catches her, keeping her close. He smiles down at her warmly- the first time he's smiled in years since his father died- and gently guides her hands to their proper places, one on his shoulder and the other lightly gripped in his. His body buzzes from their intertwined fingers to his toes, a warm happiness settling in his gut.

He hasn't felt so infatuated in a long time- or ever, for that matter. But somehow, this adorable redhead had caught his attention. Maybe it was from how she treated him like an equal, or maybe it was due to her sunny disposition. Anyway, Langa feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest at any second.

He's never felt in love before, nor has he ever experienced a crush. These are new sensations and emotions he's experiencing, but he's highly enjoying them.

“Your hands go here,” he explains, meeting her amber gaze. Her eyes seem to glow, like a pair of stars in the night sky above them. “And I will lead. Just follow my steps, and you'll catch on pretty quick.”

“Oh- okay!” she exclaims with one of her bright grins. He nearly melts under its warmth, but begins the most basic of waltzes, as to not overwhelm her for her first time. He listens to the faint music playing from the distant castle, taking the first few steps. She stumbles for a moment, and trips over his feet, but he steadies her each time. She flushes and apologizes sheepishly when she steps on his feet, but he reassures her with a small smile.

“Wow, you're a good teacher.” She sounds whimsical, and it makes him smile again.

“You're learning it on your own,” Langa points out. “I'm just guiding you through it.”

“Guess you're right about that!” she exclaims with another bright grin. He loves when he smiles and grins; she smiles with her whole face, eyes scrunching at the edges, the tips of her lips stretching to both of her ears. “Now, who might you be, anyways. I've been dancing with a stranger this entire time.”

“Wait, you don't know?” he asks in surprise, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. Everyone who’s come to the ball is merely there to meet him and hopefully get him to pick them as his wife. Does she really not know- or is she just acting?

But no, in the short amount of time Langa has known this mystery girl, he knows for a fact that she wasn't acting, somehow. The genuinity shining in her eyes coupled with her curious smile proves that to him.

“Should I?” she asks, a teasing edge to her voice. She draws in a sharp breath of surprise when Langa twists her outwards, before pulling her back close to himself again. He smiles down at her, and she smiles back up at him, holding tightly to his hand. Her hand seems to fit almost perfectly in his.

“I suppose not, if you don’t,” he replies. She doesn't have to know right away, right? That would probably break whatever magical spell has set over them, and turn her from a fun young maiden to one just as desperate for his wealth as everyone else. “But you may call me Snow. That's what my mother calls me. And your name?”

The girl hesitates, her dress fluttering around her legs when Langa twirls her, holding his arm high to allow her room. When she’s pulled back in and they fall back into step, she finally says, “That isn’t too important.” Her smile dropped while she said this, making Langa’s heart plummet into his stomach. Oh no, he had upset her. Or, she just feels as if she is inadequate beside him. He has to remedy this instantly.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but the girl beats him by saying, “Why don't you tell me more about yourself, hm? Like why you're outside all alone.” She smirks up at him, her previous negativity disappearing in an instant. She's masking. Langa’s familiar with masking. He was basically raised to always have a princely mask over his face. He doesn't like her masking one bit. But he also knows he can't force someone to stop.

“Needed to get some fresh air,” Langa replies honestly. “It was much too crowded and loud inside, so I stepped out for a moment.”

The girl doesn’t respond until he's finished spinning her through the air, gaining a beautiful burst of laughter from her. Once she’s on the ground again, her laughter tapers off, but a smile remains on her face.

“And what are you doing here, hm?” she asks, and Langa's mind instantly begins rushing for an answer. “I thought only the maidens of the land were invited to the ball, not the men.” She’s teasing him, fluttering her pretty lashes at him.

He swallows heavily, butterflies in his stomach. This girl has to have magic, how else could he be feeling so much because of her all at once?

“That is true,” he says, wetting his lips nervously as he dips her low. She gasps before giggling, latching onto his arm to keep herself from falling. Even though he would never drop her. He doesn't want to tell her he's the prince, yet. Soon, but not now. Just a while longer as another random guy at the palace. He is enjoying it. “I work here. In the palace, I mean. I'm… an apprentice!”

Her eyes widen and she grins up at him, her flowing dress brushing against his knees. The blue of her dress contrasts amazingly with her bright red hair, and he thinks the color suits her.

“Snow the apprentice,” she says. Langa likes the way she says his nickname. Or maybe he just likes her voice. Maybe a bit of both. “I like it.”

Langa lets out a breath of laughter, and dips her for the final time in their waltz. They break apart, and he bows while she courtesies low to the ground. Her dress is like a halo around her, and she looks much like an angel on earth.

Once they've both straightened back up, Langa glances towards the palace, biting his lower lip. He’s sure that he is not yet missed- he could show her around the garden. Maybe even give her that flower… yes!

He holds up a hand in offering, and asks, “May I show you around the garden?”

She hesitates only a moment before she takes his hand, dipping her head shyly. He smiles, and she smiles back at him. He leads her through the garden, pointing out the plants he knows the names of.

“Those are my favorite flowers,” he says, pointing to a patch of blue flowers. “They’re called forget-me-nots. The story behind them just makes them all the more special.”

The mystery girl looks down at them, before releasing his hand to crouch in front of them. She picks one of the many buds, before turning back to him. A light flush colors her freckled cheeks as she stands on her tiptoes to slip the stem of the flower behind Langa’s ear. His breath catches in his throat at her close she is- her breath mingling with his, and he can see each time her pretty lashes flutter, and the way her lips hanging slightly open.

Once satisfied, she draws back, looks over her work, and then grins brightly. “It matches your hair!” she exclaims, and he's taken by her all over again. She retakes his hand, and he has to draw in a deep breath before he can speak again.

“Th- thank you very much,” he says, clearing his throat. He's sure he's blushing. His face is hot enough. He then tugs on her hand, “Now I want to show you something.”

“Haven’t you been showing me the garden?” she teases, but follows after him obediently.

He doesn't answer her, looking this way and that for the flowers he has in mind. Finally, he spots them: red hibiscus flowers. He tugs her along quickly, and she lets out a surprised laugh, stumbling a moment to be able to keep up with him. Once he's reached them, he gestures for her to sit down. She raises an eyebrow at him, but does so anyways, her dress pooling out around her on the grassy ground.

“Hope this doesn't ruin my dress,” she mutters, more to herself than Langa. He hums in response, but focuses on the task at hand. His father had taught him how to do this as a gift for his mother when he was younger, and they constantly did it for her when Mother’s Day rolled around.

He gathers a hand full of the brilliant red flowers before he steps to stand behind her, dropping onto his knees to reach her hair. He sets the fistful of flowers on the ground beside himself, and takes his gloves off. He then combs his bare fingers through her puffy hair, eyes widening at how soft it is beneath his fingertips. She stiffens at first, before relaxing as he gently cards his fingers through her hair.

Langa begins to part bits of hair into two sections, throwing the right side over her shoulder. She stays silent as he works, and when he looks at her freckled face, he finds her eyes lightly closed as she soaks in his soft touches.

He smiles softly at her relaxed expression, before beginning the braiding process. Each time he loops one large strand of hair over the other, he weaves a flower or two between them. He continues this until he's finished the first braid, smiling at his work. He guides the large braid over her left shoulder, and then quickly picks another handful of hibiscuses.

As he focuses on the right braid, the pretty girl in front of him hums softly. “Didn’t think you knew your way around a woman’s hair,” she says softly, lightly tracing the braid with her finger. “This is beautiful.”

“Just as you are,” Langa says before he could think it through. He hears her take in a sharp breath of air out of surprise, looking at him through the corner of her eye over her shoulder. He smiles at her with a wink, and her face turns a deep red similar to the flowers weaved into her hair. “My father taught me, so I could do this sort of thing for my mother. She's always loved it when I do it, so I thought you would as well.”

“I think I do,” she whispers, running her finger along one of the flower’s petals. Langa watches her for a moment, getting caught in how gorgeous she is just looking at the flowers in her own hair. Then, he shakes himself inwardly and gets back to work, weaving more and more flowers into the second braid.

When he's finished, he guides the second braid over her right shoulder. She traces this one as well, before turning to face him, grinning brightly at him, blinding him all over again. “Thank you very much, Mister Snow!” she exclaims, and grabs one of his hands. Their fingers weave together, and he looks at their interlocked hands with wonder.

“And thank you for letting me do it, fair maiden,” he answers courteously. She giggles at him, and he slowly brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of her hand. Her breath catches, her face flushing an even deeper red. Man, red really is her color. “I've had such a wonderful time with you- please, I must know your name.”

She wets her lips nervously, her amber eyes sparkling with anxiety. He lowers her hand, and begins to lightly trace her knuckles with his thumb. She watches this for a few seconds, before drawing in a deep breath. She steels herself, before meeting his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says, and he unconsciously scoots closer to her, his knees brushing through the grass. He stops at the edge of her dress, not wanting to drag his knees across the well sewn stitching or fluffy layers. She leans in close, like she's about to tell him a secret, and he leans towards her without noticing, holding his breath with anticipation. “My name is-”

She cuts herself off when the loud bong of the nearby clock tower sounds, her eyes going wide, grip on his hand tightening. He stares at her questioningly, still waiting for her to say her name, only for her to suddenly be pulling away, pushing to her feet while brushing the front of her dress off.

“I have to go,” she says, taking Langa by complete surprise. His mouth falls open as she begins to quickly walk back they way they’d come, dress swaying around her wildly. Her expression is one of regret, but she doesn't stop going, turning back for one moment to tell him, “It was a fun night. Thank you very much.” She does a small curtesy before taking off in a full on sprint.

Langa almost can't do anything at first. All he could do was stare where she'd just been, his hand, now empty, held out uselessly in front of himself. The grass where she'd been sitting has an indention in it from the grass laying across it.

Then, he snaps out of it, and scrambles to his feet, taking off after her. “Wait!” he calls after her. His heart is hammering in his chest- they were having such a good time, why did she have to suddenly leave? The ball isn't even over for another two hours. They had plenty of time, and he wanted to get to know her more. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I'm sorry!” she calls back, disappearing around a corner. Langa runs as fast as his legs could take him, and finds her already halfway down the steps of the palace. Her dress flares out behind her in a mess of blue, brushing across the tops of the steps.

At one point, Langa’s heart stops when she seems to stumble and nearly trip over one of the steps. He hardly even notices the large amount of noise growing behind him; everyone inside must have taken notice of his plight.

But the girl catches herself, pauses to look back, and then takes off again. Langa stops at the spot she had- spotting one of her beautiful glass slippers. His eyes widen and he crouches down to pick it up.

Bad idea.

Because the girl manages to get into her carriage and the carriage takes off as soon as the door is closed. His heart plummets and even though he knows it's in vain, he still gives chase after the carriage as it pulls away.

“Wait!!” he shouts after the receding carriage, to no avail. He glances around for his horse, but is stopped when his mom appears beside him, panting.

“Who was that?” she asks breathlessly. Langa’s mind buzzes; no no! He doesn't have time to talk! He has to get his horse and get to her before he loses her! But his mom catches his wrist before he could run, stopping him in his tracks. “Snow!”

He snaps out of his daze, and looks down at her desperately. Kojiro suddenly appears beside his mother, looking between them with confusion. “She- I- She's the one, Mom! And she hasn't even told me her name!” he manages to exclaim.

His mother’s eyes widen, and she looks at Kojiro, who seems to understand her look. He peels away from them towards the palace guard, hopping onto his horse.

“Calm down, sweetie,” she tells him soothingly. He's trembling, he realizes. He doesn't want to lose this mystery girl and her pretty face and kind personality and the things she makes him feel. He’d just met her and started smiling again! “Kojiro and the guards will go and bring her back, alright? Just wait right here. They'll be back soon.”

Langa wets his lips, biting his lower lip anxiously. He tightly grips the glass slipper she’d left behind, the only connection he has back to her.

His mystery princess.

[jeongyunhoed]

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, cussing

A/N: Sorry for taking so long in updating this, but here we go, the penultimate chapter.

Masterlist

Chapter 7

The seven of them were gathered around Yeosang in his living room, giving him looks as if  prompting the vampiric-looking male to explain everything. Yunho was growing impatient, thinking of Mirae and what may have happened to her, what was happening to her at that moment. Mingi was playing with his lighter while Seonghwa was fiddling with his bow and Hongjoong had the blade from his sleeve out. 

“Madame Seo has been around for years, and when I say years, I mean decades, you could say she’s almost a century old even if she looks the way she looks,” Yeosang began. “I met her at the time of the Gwangju uprising. She was an adviser to Chun Doohwan, you could say she whispered things in his ear that led to that coup that killed so many people,” He looked down as he recalled that day. 

“She always believed in that kind of purge. It was her philosophy as much as it was Ose’s, the demon in hell she worships. Anyway, she came to my office to discuss investments in some businesses she planned on starting, the brothel, the fashion label, those things. She knew who I was, Ose granted her the gift of reading minds, she figured out I was a mutant, who lived much, much longer than she did,” 

“She still can’t read Mirae’s mind even if she tried,” San muttered, shaking his head. 

Yeosang glanced at him. “It didn’t take me long before I realized...Madame Seo was developing affections for me. Of course, she wasn’t my type. I was...shall we say, married at the time, to the woman who was the mother of my children, who turned you all into what you are right now. When my wife died, she made her moves on me, and each time I rebuffed her…” 

“Smooth,” Yunho gave him a look. 

“Yes, yes she was. Years later, I find out that she came between Na Youngji and Ji Myungsoo, became Myungsoo’s mistress and later on wife, and then that actress died. It was easy for me to find out because she told me. She told me Ose had granted her seven children, seven demon children, to do her bidding, so she could become his queen,” 

Hongjoong raised a hand, looking puzzled. “Hang on, you’re telling me that Madame Seo, that woman we’ve been looking for, is the queen or wife or whoever of this Ose demon?” He said. 

“Yes. Yes, she is. But of course she needed a human husband, enter that basketball player. Madame Seo had Youngji killed, of course, just to get to him, but when he figured out who she really was, she had her children kill him too. Fast forward to today, where she has everyone, including those in government, wrapped around her finger. Madame Seo’s ultimate plan was to get everyone to bend to the will of Ose, while she prepares for his ascent,” 

“And the reason why she’s got people under her control is because of those girls she sends their way?” Wooyoung asked, and he nodded. “She’ll expose them if they rat her out,” and Yeosang nodded again. 

“So, a bunch of middle-aged men going this far to get laid? They’d actually sell their souls for this?” San looked disgusted. 

“Sex, power, and influence. Madame Seo can give it to them too. Protection from the media and from the press. There’s a reason why there are dating scandals getting exposed just when someone in their circle is being looked into by the authorities, ever wonder why Yang Tan gets those tips of celebrities supposedly dating each other?” Yeosang glanced at Yunho and San. 

“...Mirae did say Hyuk would tell her most of those were publicity stunts,” San muttered. 

“There you have it, gentlemen, I’ve explained all I need to explain.” 

“What does she hold over you?” Yunho asked before Yeosang could walk off. 

“She knows I killed that Park Enterprises CEO,” Yeosang replied. “Among other things.” 

“Those other things are?” Yunho pressed again. “You might as well say it. If you’re going to help us, better come clean with what she’s holding over you.” 

Yeosang gave him a look. “She also knows I killed the rest of the people in my bloodline, including my wife. And now, she’s also jealous of Mirae.” 

“Why?” Jongho questioned. 

Yeosang pursed his lips. “Why do you think she’s jealous? Think about it.” 

“Because you like her,” Wooyoung figured it out, scenes flashing in his head the more he looked at the vampiric-looking male. “But she doesn’t like you the same way.” 

“I am fully aware of that, but that is no one’s business but mine,” Yeosang stood up straight. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to retire for a bit,” and he walked off.

~

Yunho caught Yeosang in his study later that day. He was sitting by the window, drinking a glass of milk from a champagne flute. “For someone like you, I would’ve thought you took a liking to alcohol,” Yunho spoke as he stepped inside the room. 

“I’ve been there, drank everything that was ever invented. Eventually it gets nauseating to drink even a drop of it,” Yeosang mumbled without looking at him. “But I do have a supply. Would you like some absinthe? It’s not as strong as you might think, as long as you put in some water over a cube of sugar.” 

The vampiric-looking male gestured to the table nearby that had a tall, green bottle that was labeled in its name, the yellowing sign made Yunho realize that the liquor was likely older than him. “I guess I could have some,” He said. 

Yeosang stood up and went over to the table, pouring some of the green liquid into a small glass. He placed a flat piece of metal over the glass, and a sugar cube. Yeosang carefully poured water over the sugar cube, letting it melt through the piece of metal until it reached the drink itself. From green, the drink became a cloudy yellow and Yeosang handed it over to him. “It’s best that way.” 

“Thanks,” Yunho took a sip, his nose wrinkling at how strong the flavor was. He wasn’t a very experienced drinker even if he could hold his own. 

“Has...Mirae told you about how we met?” Yeosang asked all of a sudden, gazing out the window. 

“She met you when she found out you killed that CEO of Park Enterprises,” Yunho replied. “What about it?” 

A smile crept up on the vampiric mutant’s face. “Nothing, I just keep thinking about that day. She came to the house of Park senior, inspected the body, argued with her brother, but if you’ll forgive me for saying, I was more entranced by her than I was with Park senior’s daughter,” He said. 

Yunho raised a brow, curious as to what he meant. “And?” 

“While she put up quite a front around me, I knew how she really felt,” Yeosang muttered. “Like many women before her, I could feel her shudder every time I was near, I could see her staring at my lips whenever we talked, as if she was begging me to kiss her, to ruin her like those women before her.” 

Yunho stared at him, unable to speak, but Yeosang went on. “I had her cornered in my room one of those days she was doing a search for evidence. I could say I could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife. You’re probably wondering why the fuck am I telling you this,” a satisfied smile crept up on Yeosang’s lips, a giggle escaping him. 

“Now you’re asking me that?” Yunho could feel his blood boil. 

“I’m telling you this for the simple fact that Mirae needs someone who would take care of her. Treat her like the queen that she is. She deserves that much, you know? I can, can you?” Yeosang looked over at him. “You don’t deserve her, Jeong Yunho.” 

“But you do?” Yunho put his drink down on the table with a thud. 

Yeosang smirked. “You already died in Morocco, you had your chance with her. It’s over, Yunho.” 

“No, no it isn’t,” Yunho got up. “She’s with me and she always will be.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Yeosang chuckled. “She’s been playing you the entire time, in fact, I could still hear her moans whenever I remember her under me-” He stopped when he saw the prongs of Yunho’s sai pierce through his heart. 

“You’re not picturing anything,” Yunho was glowering at him, watching the vampiric male fall to the floor, turning into a pile of dust. “Anymore.”

~ 

Yunho’s eyes shot open and he sat up. He had been sleeping on the large couch in Yeosang’s living room. Seonghwa and San were sleeping on the other sides of the couch, Jongho was dozing off on the lounge chair near the window, while Mingi, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung were sharing the mound of couch cushions on the floor, including the cushions from Yeosang’s study. 

He couldn’t believe what he dreamt. He knew it wasn’t true. Yunho reminded himself that it was probably the dust he inhaled from those documents talking again, but he still couldn’t help but think that maybe the feelings he felt in that were genuine. Mirae had already told him, reminding him that she never felt anything for Yeosang except for the fact that she respected him. 

Yunho knew he didn’t have a reason to be jealous, but those things the shorter male was taunting him in his dream struck a nerve. Maybe he had some resentment towards Yeosang, maybe he was jealous. It was making him miss Mirae and wonder what was happening to her, he couldn’t hear anything from her even at this hour. 

“Good morning- or should I say, good afternoon to you,” Yeosang said quietly upon stepping in, looking a little disapprovingly at the rest of his groupmates on the floor. “Well, better here than in the guest room, I’ve got Egyptian cotton sheets that should not and will not be ruined.” 

“Afternoon? What time is it?” Yunho asked. 

“It’s five p.m., one hour until the television special of that idol group,” Yeosang replied. 

That made Yunho almost jump out of his seat. “Then we don’t have time to waste,” He took one of the cushions to hit San and Seonghwa awake. “Get up, get up, it’s time.” 

Yeosang stared at them. “By all means, move at a glacial pace, the sense of urgency is astounding,” He rolled his eyes. 

“What have you been doing then?” Yunho shot him a look. 

“For your information, I was attending meetings. I own this building. I have a business to run, two and two makes four,” Yeosang replied. “...And I saw Mirae.” 

Yunho’s expression fell. “...And?” 

“As unconscious as the last time I saw her. Madame Seo has been trying to keep the idol group from feeding on her, they already tried last time, remember?” Yeosang said. “She only showed me a video of her.” 

“Okay then, we’re back to where we started. Where are they keeping her?” San asked this time. 

“I-I don’t know,” Yeosang shook his head. “The background is somewhere I can’t figure out.” 

Yunho raised a brow at his answer. “Oh really?” 

“Yes, really,” Yeosang glanced at him. 

The rest of their groupmates were already at their feet. “Did Madame Seo give you the video?” Wooyoung suddenly spoke. Yeosang shook his head. “Are you sure?” He asked, but froze as he began to see flashes of what the vampiric male was talking about. 

Mirae was strapped to a metal chair unconscious, with bits of dried blood on her nose and lip. Wooyoung kept blinking as if he could see everything twice as fast. There were slabs of bodies and thick metal doors. He turned to the rest of them. “I think I know where she is,” He said. 

~ 

The van had pulled up in front of an old hospital building that afternoon. “Alright, we’re here where Wooyoung said it was,” Yunho looked over at the back. Yeosang stood out from the rest of them with his striped suit and walking stick. “This is the place, right?” 

Wooyoung looked out the window. “Yeah it is.” 

“The morgue?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Yep, that’s where I have a feeling they’re keeping her,” Wooyoung muttered. “I can’t be sure, but it’s worth looking.” 

“Then what are we waiting for? We have to get in there,” Jongho took his nunchaku out while Mingi opened the door. 

All of them got down from the van, Yeosang looking especially conscious and walking behind them as they opened the doors to enter the morgue. The cold air hit them as they stepped inside, noticing that no one was around, not even a security guard. “Strange how there isn’t anyone watching,” San said. 

“It’s a morgue, I don’t think anyone would think of coming in here unless it’s to identify a body or turn in one,” Hongjoong shrugged as they scattered to look around. “Well, we’re here now, where would she be?” He turned to Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung felt around the doors, partly realizing how he had quickly taken to this ability of his to sense memories and events. Yeosang observed them, the rest of them pausing when he approached the column of three doors on the left. He ran his walking stick on the side until he tapped the doors. “If I remember correctly, yes,” He turned the handle of the middle door clockwise, the entire column of doors opening to reveal a secret passage lit with torches. 

The air coming from behind the doors felt damp and there was a faint whistling of the wind in the darkness that was ahead of them despite the torches illuminating part of the way. “Funny how there’s so much more to this place than we thought,” Mingi mumbled, keeping his lighter on as the eight of them approached the passage. 

“This is the way?” Yunho said. 

“Yes, at least from what I remember, I haven’t been here in decades, well, she invited me down here,” Yeosang replied simply, immediately taking a step inside when San pointed the arrow of his harpoon gun at him. 

“Alright then,” Yunho nodded, making the rest of them follow him down the dark path. The door closed behind them. “Who is she trying to have her children summon from above?” He suddenly remembered what Yeosang told them before they had fallen asleep. 

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me anything about who she plans on having summoned here, other than Ose’s ascent,” Yeosang said over his shoulder. “Probably sore at me even more now,” He muttered under his breath as they walked down the slightly rocky path. 

The further they walked, the more torches began to light up. They realized that they were walking down a spiral path, and as they were approaching the bottom, they found a crowd of people whose appearances and identities were obscured by the crimson red robes and hoods they were wearing. In front of them was a woman whose face was obscured with a shawl but was cloaked in the same crimson red robe. 

“...It’s a good time to come up with a plan now,” Mingi muttered to them as they stepped back, hiding themselves behind the pillars. 

Yunho stared at the formation of the hooded figures. “Where is Mirae?” He asked, glancing over at Wooyoung, who was watching the figures move. 

“Is she not here?” Wooyoung mouthed, and Yunho shook his head, having a better view of the area. “...Oh no.” 

“She’s in N Tower, damnit!” Yunho realized, frowning in frustration. 

“We don’t have much time, some of you go with Yunho to N Tower, the rest of us will try and tear these guys apart,” Hongjoong suggested. “For Mirae, and the world.” 

“For Mirae, and the world,” They nodded. 

“Leave Madame Seo to me,” Yeosang removed the concealed dagger from his walking stick again. “You and San better go. Tell Mirae I said hello.” 

The spikes were protruding from Jongho’s arms and legs again, and he stifled his cries of pain as it pierced through the fabric of his clothes. 

“Ose, Ose, Ose, Ose,” The crowd began to chant as they bowed several times in front of the woman. 

“Try not to kill anyone, try,” Yunho said to them. 

“You and I both know that cannot be guaranteed,” Yeosang gave him a look. “Death is sometimes the answer.” 

“That’s why I said try,” Yunho muttered. 

“Something tells me we have visitors in our midst,” They heard Madame Seo say, stopping the bowing that was happening in front of her. “Yeosang? My love? Is that you? You seem to have brought friends with you, why don’t you come out?” She asked in a honeyed voice. 

Yeosang stepped out, sheathing his knife in his walking stick again and looking calm. “I couldn’t resist coming back here, you showed me this place once before, I seem to vividly remember us having a good time here for 24 hours, was it?” 

“Oh I remember that very well, you showed me how strong you’ve gotten, and the many other moves you’ve learned from where was it? The Kama Sutra?” He could tell she was grinning. Madame Seo looked over his shoulder. “Come out, come out, I love me some strapping young men with weapons. Don’t bother teleporting though, you’ll find that it can be quite useless in here,” She looked at Yunho rather pointedly. 

Yunho stepped out from the shadows, making the rest of them follow suit while several suited men appeared to take each of them, bringing them to the middle of the room. “Where is Mirae?” He asked. 

“Oh my, you’re- Why you’re Mirae’s love, aren’t you? I’m not surprised, a handsome young man like you and-” Madame Seo paused upon giving him a once-over. “An immortal, no less.” 

“Again, where is Mirae?” 

“She’s somewhere safe, depending on how you look at it,” Madame Seo chuckled. “So, at last, here in front of me we’ve got the ones who have been looking for us, after quite a few warnings not to. By now, knowing what you know, there is a place for you in our circle, Ose would be pleased to have warriors like yourselves leading the charge in what would be the biggest purge on Earth.” 

Madame Seo snapped her fingers, and a few hooded figures entered carrying small bowls of the gold powder towards her. “I’m sure you know what this is, right? It can either release your inhibitions, or release your worst instincts, depending on who you are,” She felt the powder between her fingers. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Yunho was glowering at her. “Where is Mirae?” 

“Impatient, are we? Well, contrary to your thinking that she may be at N Tower, she isn’t,” Madame Seo shook her head and removed her shawl. 

The hooded figures bowed and the rest of them stared at her. Madame Seo’s face was feline-like. “You missed me going down on you, didn’t you?” She glanced at Yeosang, who remained calm. She clapped her hands, and the figures carrying the bowls of powder backed away. “Reveal to them the future,” She said to them, and they pulled down on a lever. 

The ground underneath them began to turn, the surroundings changing into what looked like an old operating room used by doctors to perform demonstrations of procedures. There was a space at the back that was lined with several stones that had markings. Yunho felt like collapsing upon seeing Mirae. 

She was strapped to a kind of chair that had needles pointing at her nape, her wrists, and her spine. Mirae was wearing the familiar electric collar, and she was beginning to regain consciousness. “Remove the collar,” Madame Seo instructed, and the two hooded figures followed, taking the collar off of Mirae’s neck with a few clicks. 

A few more hooded figures began to appear, pushing a television monitor that featured the special of the idol group. “This handy dandy machine that your Mirae is strapped to, can extract the essence of who she is, her mutant essence.” 

“If you plan on killing her, fat chance,” San spoke. 

“Oh I know that. Mirae’s just going to go through a lot of pain, spinal injections are painful after all,” Madame Seo smiled. She took out a small vial full of murky, red liquid from her pocket. “We’ve tested out the initial extraction from her by the way,” She held it up in front of them. “Painful, very, very, painful. But unfortunately more is needed.” 

Madame Seo put the vial in a compartment of another machine that resembled a laser that was pointing at the marked stones. A loud whirring sound was coming from the machine. Before they could take a step further, they were suddenly held back by the hooded figures behind them, while the rest that were watching began to chant again. 

Mirae’s eyes were opening and she gaped upon seeing Yunho. “Yunho- Yunho!” She yelled, struggling to get out, only to be overpowered, feeling her strength wane even further than the first time. 

“Mirae!” Yunho struggled as well but to no avail. He was soon caught in a headlock, with his hands behind his back. “Mirae!” 

An evil smile played across Madame Seo’s features and she turned on the machine that Mirae was strapped to. Tears were falling down the sides of Mirae’s face as the needles began to pierce through her wrists and then her nape. Mirae let out a scream, her eyes beginning to glow red but fading just as quickly. 

The television special was beginning and they could hear the music playing. The idol group had begun to perform their first two songs. “Mirae!” Yunho kept yelling, trying his hardest to break free. “Mirae!!”

“It’s so easy to get the best of people when they care about each other,” Madame Seo watched them with an amused expression on her face. “Increase the pressure,” She instructed the figures, who turned up the speed level of the needles drilling into Mirae. 

She turned to San and blew the gold powder at his face. San’s eyes were turning red and he collapsed, squirming in his place at what he was beginning to see. She blew the gold powder onto the rest of their faces. Madame Seo began to chant the familiar Latin phrase they had heard. The beginning is the end is the beginning. Yunho tried to maneuver himself to break free, taking a deep breath when the gold powder was blown into the air. 

“Mirae dead, Mirae dead, and it’s all my fault, all my fault,” San looked shaken, eyes still red. “Mirae dead, Mirae dead, it’s all my fault…” 

“San! Mirae’s not dead!” Yunho managed to finally overpower the figure that was restraining him, only to be thrown to the other side of the room due to the figure’s strength. “San! You’ve got to help me!” He called out, trying to wrestle with the figure who had grown larger. “All of you! Help!” 

Wooyoung quickly unsheathed his katanas, keeping his nose covered as he attempted to slice through the figure that restrained him, who brought in a sledgehammer. “Shit,” He collapsed, squirming as the dust had gotten to him as well. 

The music played louder, and Yunho could see a beam of light coming from the background of the idol group that was dancing. Mirae’s screams were dying down, her strength declining, the more the needles penetrated her body. “Mirae!” He rushed forward only to be knocked away by Madame Seo herself. 

“I think not, Yunho,” She said, getting into a stance. 

“Oh I think so,” Yunho charged at her.

[mrsgreenworld]

Sen Çal Kapımı Episode 15 aka Soulmates

I know it's never taken me this long to gather my thoughts on a new SCK episode. But as I mentioned in my previous post Mike Flanagan's shows happened to me 😭😩😱

However, I also think it's because I had some mixed feelings regarding the episode. I guess while I was trying to watch it live (trying being the operative word here) the problems with the live stream influenced my overall first impression. I wasn't able to watch a good chunk of the episode and, of course, it got me annoyed and that, I guess, mixed up with my feelings about the episode. But after having rewatched it with subtitles I have a full and clear picture.

All in all it was a nice episode, very light compared to a much heavier angst of earlier episodes. I liked that light-hearted moments and humour were back. It was also a shorter episode which served it well. However, it felt a lot like a filler episode which, in my opinion, did nothing to move the story forward.

The things I loved / liked:

☑️ Eda: she was a true star ⭐ (ahah, pun intended) and the main highlight of the episode for me;

as a woman I was so proud to see her handle this situation with such strength, dignity and self-respect;

unfortunately, despite the old gender stereotypes slowly dying out, despite the fact that women are becoming more and more independent and aware of their value, we are still often portrayed as a weaker sex; I am not talking about physical strength, of course;

we are the ones left, we are the ones who suffer, we are made to love men with everything we have, we build our whole lives around them, we let our world revolve around them... so, when they leave or we lose them for any other reason - it's the end, everything falls apart, we fall apart; I am so sick of still seeing it on screen; that's why I freaking LOVED seeing Eda not fall apart, or at least she didn't fall apart for long;

I loved that she allowed herself to grieve, to cry, to be angry and to express this anger straight to Serkan's face; I think we saw Eda go through her own 5 stages of grief; but she didn't let depression take away more than one night of her life;

I love that Eda found out that Ayfer had contacted the grandma and, while her reaction might have been a bit too emotional (which is actually normal and understandable given she's still hurting after having had her heart broken and stamped on), I really enjoyed Eda protecting her personal boundaries and basically saying to stay the *uck out of her life - you go, girl!👏💪😎

I enjoyed the way Eda handled herself at the office and how she behaved around Serkan; she wasn't stealing lovesick glances at him or just brooding, she wasn't overly hostile, she wasn't running away;

oh, and when Seyfi brought that box, how she handled that - a standing ovation👏👏👏, everyone bow down to my Queen! 👑👸

speaking of that box where Serkan asked Seyfi to gather all of Eda's things, how he ordered to put away all her gifts - as Eda put it "he's trying to get rid of any trace of me"; in a way she's right; Serkan is trying to get rid of everything that could remind him of her and their shared moments but we know it's not because he doesn't love her (like Eda thinks), it's because he does and it's too much for him; and it's such a contrast to Eda who actually said to the girls that she wouldn't throw away or burn or whatever any of Serkan's gifts or other things that remind her of him and them, she openly said that she's not the one to run away from the memories; and it was so powerful - seeing the writers make a woman so undeniably stronger than a man👌👏

I also liked Eda around Efe, there wasn't anything romantic, I think it was completely professional and it didn't feel or look (at least to me) like Eda was trying to use Efe for petty reasons like make Serkan jealous (but of course our boy was jelly nonetheless 👽😁)

the little moment with Aydan: it was nice to see Aydan trying to comfort Eda (I guess she earned a few points for that) and I really liked the message she was trying to deliver - you can find love and happiness again;

I loved seeing Eda take that in, accept the message, agree that she will be ok one day; and I also liked seeing her not accept Aydan's support which felt a little bit like pity; Eda didn't want to be pitied and she said what she thought to Aydan's face; was it a little harsh? maybe, yes; but I understand where it came from and, given how insensitive, hostile, rude Aydan had been towards Eda in the past, Eda not really buying this whole support thing is pretty understandable;

☑️ Edser: whatever state these two are in - deliriously in love, flirty, pissed off, annoyed, lovesick, heartbroken - if they're together on screen it's always glorious;

do I like seeing them angsty and heartbroken? of course NOT! but the longing between them is SO GOOD!😍🤩

I loved that they introduced this soulmate theme; it wasn't there front and center but rather woven subtly through the episode: first, of course, pretty openly stated at the very beginning of the episode, in the parallel conversations Eda / the girls and Serkan / Engin; then symmetrically at the very end of the episode - the papers with the names of the drivers for the race, then Serkan being the one to notice Eda's absence, him just feeling her and being led by his heart until he found her - not bad for an emotionless robot, huh?😏😉

THE RINGS!😍😍 glad that they brought Eda's💍ring back into the picture; she demonstratively put it on the middle finger of her right hand; obviously she did it on purpose, she even explained the reason behind this decision - from now on it will serve as a reminder what kind of person Serkan Bolat is; but of course I think there's something deeper at play here; Eda could have easily put the ring on her left hand but she went with her right hand instead, with the middle finger which is so close to where it used to be, where an engagement ring should be - on her ring finger; so I think it's also a way for Eda to be closer to Serkan, it's almost like a phantom of what they used to have as well as of all the things they won't have... I am also 99% sure I am overthinking here and the intentions of writers were much simpler 🙈😆

anyway, I loved that Eda and Serkan both noticed and pointed out aloud that the other was wearing their ring; also Serkan's reasoning "to keep other women away" - why don't you tattoo "I am the property of Eda Yıldız" on your forehead, mister?👀🙈😆 could he be any more obvious?

the coffee scene was priceless 🤣🤣🤣 Serkan was so damn confident that Eda poured that cup for him and then him mumbling "for Efe" under his breath... like an offended child 🙈😆

them fighting looked a lot like flirting and the electricity⚡generated during their arguments could easily power their whole office building - I am sure;

the car ride to the presentation and that presentation itself - while I didn't entirely enjoy it and how controlling Serkan was I cannot help but admire the way his mind works; I also think he was doing it for Eda, it was his way of supporting and looking out for her without being too obvious; this way they also get to work together and even if it's just for work he will be closer to her;

Serkan showing up at that sport motivation thing like a boss 😎 and shamelessly checking Eda out 😏 I mean, was he aware there were other people around? and how is it possible that Eda was still buying the emotionless robot crap? the emotions the guy was looking at her with were enough to melt the glaciers 🔥🥵

and finally - that moment at the sea when Eda told Serkan that he wouldn't have apologized if he hadn't feared for his life; his immediate response was that it wasn't about that, "what if something had happened to you?"; when Eda answered with "Does it matter?" I swear I thought Serkan was gonna take her by the shoulders and shake her;

that jaw tick? man, he was pissed 😤

at Eda - for saying something like that, for being so careless with her life;

at himself - for allowing her to think that it wouldn't absolutely destroy him if something were to happen to her;

but the moment Eda left all anger left him and Serkan just looked... defeated;

☑️ Eda and Efe: might be an unpopular opinion but I actually liked their dynamic in episode 15; as I have already mentioned I didn't see or feel anything romantic and while I still don't trust Efe (him being from Mardin - a coincidence? nope, don't think so🧐) I liked how supportive he was with Eda; I think she needed that push to get back to work; okay, there is very likely some ulterior motive here but at least in this episode he seemed pretty genuine and it didn't look like he was using Eda; he wasn't provoking Serkan that much either;

☑️ Selin and Serkan: a short scene with the two of them in Serkan's office and Selin's reaction to Serkan and Eda's breakup; maybe to someone it may seem too strong but I actually liked Selin calling Serkan out on it like that; honestly I half expected her to find excuses for his behaviour;

☑️ Engin: keeps being a loyal friend who doesn't just offer silent support; I like how he always tries to reason with Serkan, doesn't shy away from telling him unpleasant truth;

glad he was there for Serkan at the very beginning of the episode;

loved how he checked on Serkan at the office and then tried to convince our RoBo that it's ok to not be ok and maybe take a vacation;

then the exchange:

Engin: "So, out of sight, out of mind?"

Serkan: "Exactly"

Engin (spotting Eda coming into the office with Efe): "Interesting how that's gonna work out for you" - interesting indeed 🙈😆;

Things I didn't like / was annoyed with:

❎ Serkan: yes, my baby boy made it into this category - there's first time for everything 🙈😆

just to be clear - he is still my cupcake and I love him dearly but here's the thing: we don't always like those we love;

I think in episode 15 Serkan was controlling and childish; and I completely understand where these tendencies come from but it doesn't mean I am gonna turn a blind eye on this or try to justify his behaviour;

that "Efe left but Serkan is here" scene was intented to be funny and endearing I guess but it was highly manipulative; and when during the car ride Serkan commented on Eda behaving like a teenager I was like "excuse me?! have you met yourself, mister?!" because that manipulation to make Eda go with him was worthy of a 12-year-old 🤨;

❎ Selin: when is she not annoying?🤔 while I liked that she didn't take Serkan's side and called him out on his change of heart, unfortunately, she still managed to make it about herself; it never fails to amaze me how selfish and self-centred this character is;

❎ Alptekin: what a poor excuse of a father and a man he is... almost feel sorry for him;

don't apologize on behalf of your son - he's a grown ass man who is capable of speaking for himself;

apologize for yourself, your mistakes and if you're not ready - then don't go to Ayfer just to make yourself feel better 😤😡;

❎ that almost copy-paste from Erkenci Kuş at the end:

getting lost and falling down into a pit in the forest? been there, done that in EK episode 19;

okay, we had beautiful sea views and they placed it at the end to add more suspense but all in all it was awfully similar and also kinda came out of nowhere;

after that emotional scene between Eda and Serkan we were whooshed into "Eda is not here, let's go find her"; I have no problem with the absence of the moment where she actually fell into that pit - wasn't that necessary - but a scene that could have served as a building block to this would have been good - show Eda going for that walk.

And... that's pretty much it.

Gonna get down to episode 16 now

[dat-town]

what the hearts wish for

Characters: Seonghwa & You

Setting: pirate au, mostly based on Pirates of the Caribbean

Genre: adventure spiced up with a little romance

Summary: Oh, the two of you had quite a history, a sequence of chance meetings as if the thread of your fates were so deeply tangled, it couldn't have been separated. You have met up before, sparred before, talked before, saved each other’s life before but you never addressed what this unsaid thing was between you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, murder

Words: 3.4k

I blame numerous things for this, first and foremost @restlessmaknae​ (yes, I love suffering, thank you), then the wonderful Ateez concepts and cinematography, whoever’s idea it was to display a boat in the set of their Music Bank performance, listening to too much PotC music lately and the current book I’m reading. Also this prompt, kinda:  “just once i wanna put the blade of my sword under a pretty boy’s chin and tilt their head up so i can see both fear and arousal in their eyes is that too much to ask?” (source)

"It's the Royal Navy!"

The watchboy from the crow’s nest hollered and his words made you snap your head towards the back of your beloved ship, Cassiopeia. Behind you, catching up with one of the fastest ships on the Eastern Sea, there were indeed three almighty watercrafts of the infamous Royal Navy. You let out a not too ladylike swear.

"Let the mast down and follow the wind. We need to reach Blackbeard before them," you yelled at your steersmate behind the wheel.

A hand gripping tightly on the handle of your nicely crafted sword and knowing no fear you stared ahead into the storm you were approaching and under it the Black Medusa, that damned pirate ship you had been chasing ever since your father's death. Finally, this was your chance and you weren’t willing to let politics or law mess this up for you.

Women were said to be misfortunes on sea, only angering the goddess of the waters but you earned your title after your father had deceased. Instead of his misogynist men, now you had your own and as he had once been one of the Pirate Kings of the Seven Seas, now you could have been considered a Queen. However, you had no care for titles like that. You didn’t have that luxury. You only wanted the head of the man who oh so cowardly pierced a bullet into your father's chest.

"The water is starting to get wilder, Captain! We are facing an enormous maelstrom," a cabin boy yelled, his panicked voice telling you clearly how crazy he thought your idea was. Chasing a ship down in a spiral trying to make sure you didn't fall into your own end, into that deep abyss? Yeah, it might have been a bit unusual but if one wasn’t ready to die for glory and gold, then he shouldn’t have become a pirate to begin with. You had no time to waste on such weak men.

Not to mention, now that even the Royal Navy joined this chase, there was no way back. Whether they came for you or Blackbeard, only one set of ship could have survived this storm. The Navy needed this blast of fun, you thought to yourself with a slightly amused grin as the wind got stronger. The raindrops started looking like tears on your face and the ship shifted towards the spiral, following the schooner not too much ahead. If you could get beside it, you knew you could have ducked it into the tempestuous sea.

"Prepare the cannons!” you yelled at your crew from the front, nails digging into the wooden material of the foremast pillar as the ship tilted further. Your wet hair got into your face and your hand kept slipping on the surface you grabbed on but you were almost there, ready to avenge your father's death.

However, you were so focused on the distance getting shorter and shorter between the Cassiopeia and the Black Medusa, that you didn’t even care about the compass attached to your belt spinning like crazy. Otherwise maybe you would have noticed the smaller ship from the Navy's Armada getting close. Truly a shame, your father would have been so disappointed to see you being blinded by your rage and vengeance so much that you didn't notice an enemy boarding your ship using the shrouds.

"Are you crazy? Do you wanna die?"

The man yelled into your face, his hands gripping on your shoulders, shaking you as if he could have shaken some sense into you but you just glared back at him. His perfectly styled black hair was now wet from rain and splashing sea water, the now messy strands even got into his dark eyes. The crimson scar on his cheek still hadn't healed completely since your last encounter and his almighty royal uniform was just as soaked as your loose and dirty clothes. You liked meeting him out on the Sea like this because there, almost all your differences seemed to disappear and you liked your chances fair. An odd thing for a pirate, isn’t it?

"It's none of your business!" you shouted back at him, shredding his hands off you but the ship took a sudden turn which made you both lose balance. You would have fallen, body pressed to the wall of the ship, so close to the mouth of the maelstrom if it weren't for him and his quick reflexes to catch on your wrist.

Heavy rain falling down on you, you stared back at him, letting him pull you back, back to his chest and you once again realised that his hands weren’t like a typical prince’s. His were rather calloused just as his skin was a map of scars because he wasn’t the kind of prince one would have expected. Unlike his older brother who mostly dealt with political and economic issues by the side of their father preparing to follow his lead, the second prince had become a general, a soldier, fighting for his country like any loyal subject of his, not expecting more of them than he would have given himself.

"You're running into your death," the man reminded you much softer this time and you knew he was right. You knew you could only get ahead of the other ship to cannon it properly if you went in a smaller circle in the spiral but if you went any closer to the center of it, the maelstrom would have pulled you down, bury you underwater along with your precious ship. It was a suicide mission but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

"If I can take that monster with me, I don't care!" you snickered, pulling away, hands searching for the grip of your weapon while you tried to find your balance on the unstable ship. Knowing you had your sword with you had never failed to put your heart at ease. It was a stable point.

"But I do," the man claimed oh so confidently, voice resonating through your bones, in the blood rushing through your veins and it got to your heart. Your movements halted, your mouth parted as you looked back at him from under your raindrop dotted eyelashes.

In that moment, under the pouring rain, features lit only by lightning, cheek scarred, General Seonghwa looked nothing like the prince you had met at your first encounter. Because oh, the two of you had quite a history, a sequence of chance meetings as if the thread of your fates were so deeply tangled, it couldn't have been separated. You have met before, sparred before, talked before, saved each other’s life before but you never addressed what this unsaid thing was between you.

Not when the pirates invaded the Royal Summer House in Busan and he caught you stealing crystal and gold. He had a sword pointed at your heart and even though he wore a night robe, his eyes, dark like the starless night, were awake. He spoke to you in an authoritative, strict tone, knowing no forgiveness, no tremble in his grip… until you looked up, revealing your youthful, feminine features to him. And oh he was too naive, too soft at heart, the darkness of his eyes melting like caramel over fire. He would have never dared to lay a finger over a woman like this, so just a few bats of eyelashes was enough and he lowered his sword along with his guard. Despite you being a trespasser, a thief, a criminal, he looked sorry and he made it ridiculously easy for you to escape with handful of expensive assets. After selling most of them at a good enough price, you still worn a few of the rings you had stolen from the royal family. A souvenir, you liked to call them, not that you needed any reminder.

Not when the Navy ambushed the den your crew - your father's crew then - had resided at. He seemed utterly confused to find you there but as chaos broke out, you soon found yourselves on two different sides again. He learned that day that even women could be good at swordplay as you sparred through the building, up the attic then the roof. He almost fell as his boots slipped on the slippery timber and you could have let him found his death there, at such an unprince-like place, in the mud down there, among the poor and drunk but you made your choice in a split second. You grabbed his hand before he could have fallen entirely and pulled him back to safety, telling him that he owed you one. Panting, he looked at you with those dark, star-filled eyes of his and you felt his burning gaze on you even when he let you run off.

Not when he paid back the favour. He hid you in his royal carriage when you were running away from guards in another kingdom's coastline city. At first you wanted to hit and kick whoever dared to yank you into the vehicle while you were hiding behind a brick wall watching out for the guards but when you saw him in his shiny, dark blue uniform, his general badges on instead of his crown, you decided against it. He acted stern but you could see the amused crack of smile in the corner of his mouth. You would have liked to call him out on it but indeed there was something funny in always meeting like this. As if it was more than coincidence. Almost life fate, that silly thing. Then, just before he let you go close to the port, he asked for your name and you saw no wrong in telling him. If he had wished to put you on the wanted list, he would have done it earlier and he wouldn’t even needed a way to address you for that. But what you didn’t consider was you not being prepared for him calling your name oh so sweetly.

Not when your father was murdered and his old crew left you on an uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere and he found you. He wasn't even looking for you, his ship just happened to pass by and seeing you on that wrecked boat trying to find your way with that compass of yours, he took you in. He made up some silly story of you being some lady kidnapped and abandoned by pirates. You were grieving too hard to protest or call him out on his lies,  threatening him or acting like a proud pirate. Because at least for a night you let yourself be vulnerable and cared for. Before that, you had never worn such soft silk before and never tasted wine as nice as the ones in his chambers. You two sat by his bed with your backs to it and slightly tipsy you told him about your father, that he had been your only relative left and that you had nothing from him but a stupid compass showing you what you really wanted even when you didn’t know what it was. He also told you about his family, that he could never be a king because he wasn't the legitimate son of His Majesty, that he found his true self out there, on the sea. You two exchanged too many innocent secrets that night and by the morning you were too embarrassed to face him. So like a coward you never wanted to become, you stole one of the extra boats and left before he could have woken up.

Not ever since even though you had met quite a handful of times. Like last time when you gave him that pretty cut under his left eye as a warning.

That time, he was cornered by dozens of mercenaries who pondered over the amount of money his head could have worth and even though he fought well, they overnumbered him. Beaten and chained, he laid awake at night when the Cassiopeia passed by. That was his luck, otherwise you wouldn’t have noticed him and wouldn’t have ordered your men to rob the mercenary ship while most of those men were sound asleep.

“Long time no see, princeling,” you whispered as a greeting when you crouched down in front of the man who looked no less elegant even as a hostage. It wasn’t fair.

“Too long, if you ask me,” he dared to smile at you, hissing when pain shot into his split lip. He deserved it.

“It would better be the last time,” you gritted your teeth as you examined his confines. Damn, he wasn’t even paying you for this, so why did you feel like saving him once again? His men were probably already after him, there was no need for you to be so gallant. He was a prince after all, even if he wasn’t the son of the current king, he wouldn’t have let him get away like this, right?

“Then you should give me a proper parting gift as a goodbye, something to remember you by,” Seonghwa said and his daring words made you raise a brow.

Legs tangled as you kneeled in front of his sitting form and your mouth twitched at his sudden cheekiness. You lifted the dagger in your hand, using it to tap his chin from underneath with the metal blade. Tilting his head up you had a clear view of his blown pupils, his slightly agapé mouth and you couldn’t help but wonder what was in his thoughts. Was he afraid? Or the darkness of his orbs were from a different kind of feeling?

You leaned closer, so close that even a whisper would have been too loud between the two of you and smiled down at him wickedly.

“Beware of what you wish for,” you warned him before you swiftly cut through the ropes around his wrists and then grazed the blade along a part of his cheek on purpose lightly but just enough to draw blood. You freed him, lent him a lantern and a boat, then let him on his way. You were a pirate captain after all, not a charity service.

And now here he was trying to stop you? He had quite a death wish.

"Your father wouldn't want this," Seonghwa added at your silence and you hated that he was most probably right. Your father would have wanted you to take the glorious road instead of a martyr’s.

"Captain, what should we do?" your right-hand yelled at you from behind the wheel and looking around, you quickly realized the three ships moved in sync in concentric lanes by now but at least the Navy ship and the Cassiopeia caged the Black Medusa in. They were done for.

“Fire!” you ordered and all your men behind the cannons followed your word.

The noise and tremors of the shots shook the entire ship, even more so when your ship got hit as well. You stumbled backwards, until you grabbed one of the mast’s ropes to steady yourself. The ship tilted to one side dangerously, everything sliding down there and you knew well that once a watercraft this big buried somebody under, there was no chance of survival.

"You have to leave the ship!" Seonghwa reminded you as he pulled you towards a safer part of the ship. He was crazy staying there with you. He should have left already, not caring about dirty pirates dying among heavy waves. This was your fate after all.

"Not without my men!" You claimed and oh, they said there was no loyalty among pirates.

"Tell them to leave, too. The Medusa is sinking already," the general remarked and he was right.

However, it couldn’t have been all thanks to your crew: the Navy was firing the other pirate ship as well. You knew what Seonghwa meant by leaving though: to escape the doomed ships only to reach theirs but once a bunch of pirates were on a Navy ship who knew what was going to happen? You couldn't let yourself trust them just because of Seonghwa. But you had no time to ponder over such things. You needed all your physical strength already to not fall into Death's welcoming arms.

"Everyone, leave the ship! Take the boats or follow me!" you shouted at anyone who heard you and the pirates who were brave enough not to escape by then, now followed your orders. Your ship was close enough to the Black Medusa to crash into it time and time again which sent your balance off but it also meant that the deck-plank reached the other side, making it convenient to climb over.

"Go!" the man behind you encouraged you and the corners of your mouth twitched.

"The ever so gentleman," you rolled your eyes and willed yourself not to look down at the stormy sea beneath you while nothing but two sinking ship and a piece of wood held you. You naively thought it would get better once you set foot on the black ship's board but it was already so unstable that sparring with one of the pirates there looked as if both of you were drunken bastards. At least you saw most of your crew members jump or swing over to the ship, one step closer to safety.

With a kick in the chest you managed to throw an enemy to the water when you heard a playful voice behind you. You would have recognized his anywhere, you realized.

"Captain," Seonghwa called out for you and you turned towards him confused, a part of you afraid that something had happened, but instead you had to catch something thrown at you. Looking down into your palm, you recognized your compass that somehow had detached from your belt. Your father had gotten this tricky device after many struggles and it was the only thing you had from him, so you treasured it dearly and the general knew about it, too. As well as about the reason why the compass was so special. You stared at it, at the pointer that wasn’t spinning anymore. No, it showed you a clear direction.

“Watch out!” You screamed when you saw Blackbeard striking down at the general and you quickly drew your sword again to fight the old pirate.

It didn’t take long for the scene to become chaos: you and Seonghwa fighting back to back with four pirates. Sparring through rain and beside burning barrels, feet slipping on the sloped board, you felt adrenaline, vengefulness and something else you couldn’t name rushing through your veins.

“Y/N, I...” Seonghwa panted from behind you but you didn’t want to hear it. It already sounded too much like a goodbye.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him while your sword’s blade slid one of the men’s throat. You heard one fell to his knees on the prince’s side as well.

“But in case, we wouldn’t...”

“I told you to shut up,” you sneered between your teeth before turning around and tossing a rope around both of your bodies, you told the man to hold on and with one strike you cut through the rope that was anchored by some counterweight. Without that, the two of you shot up to the foremast’s level as the ballast pulled down on the other side. You needed to jump from there to the top of the Navy ship’s cabins and falling onto your knees on that steady watercraft’s surface had never felt so good.

“You’re unbelievable,” Seonghwa whispered beside you and soldiers rushing to you from all sides it was one kind of a moment, a now or never.

“You have no idea,” you chuckled as you toppled the man over, your light weight over his wide shoulders and there was a mischievous glint in your eyes but a genuine smile on your lips before you pressed against his body, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Beside you laid the gilded compass with engraved runes pointing at him, like it always did, knowing the deepest and most sacred wishes of your heart even when you didn’t.

And Seonghwa kissed you back, sliding a bloody hand behind your neck, into your soaked hair, pulling you closer, smiling against your lips, murmuring his silly confession into the seam of your mouth. No title, revenge, gold or sinking ship mattered then, just his warmth close to you, soft touches burning on your skin and silly promises you wanted to keep. Just like him.

[let-it-raines]

for catch me if you can, I want to see the proposal! I really thought that was going to happen in the epilogue (which I looooooved), but since it didn't, I need to see it now please!!!!

This was literally the first Catch Me If You Can prompt I got after I posted the story (with several other requests for this coming after because you guys apparently really wanted to see this), and last night I finally got the story that was in my mind out into words! So, I hope you all enjoy this one! Thank you for being so kind to me and letting me explore my favorite little universe some more ⚾️ 

Found over on ao3 with all of the other words | here |

-/-

November 2020

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What? Emma, what?”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong?”

Emma tosses her phone at Killian and then sits up in bed, kicking away the comforter and getting her foot caught before she not-so-gracefully rolls out of bed, nearly landing face first on the rug. Or the hardwood. Yeah, she definitely would have hit the hardwood.

Probably knocked out her front teeth, too.

That would be attractive.

Oh my God.

This is happening. It is. It’s really, really happening, and Emma doesn’t know what to do. Does she actually want it to happen? Of course she wants it to happen. She’s wanted this to happen for what feels like forever. She’s waited and bided her time and written report after report and dealt with sexist men, including her boyfriend.

Okay, well, he’s a special case, but it still happened. There were still repercussions from that, and most men don’t see the error in their ways like Killian does.

There are still repercussions from all of it, from being a woman.

The hoops she’s had to jump through have been insane and unfair, but she did them anyway. She watched tapes and kept stat sheets and analyzed them and has freaking notebooks on every player on the Yankees as well as every other team in the American League.

Oh shit.

But does she actually want this?

It’s a change. She likes where she is now. She likes what she does. She likes traveling with the team and being out on the field and…

No.

No, no, no.

Fuck all of that.

She’s always wanted to be more than the pretty girl on the sidelines. She loves her job and admires every woman who has it, but she wants to be in the big leagues. She wants to break that damn glass ceiling with a baseball bat.

“Holy fuck, Swan. Is this what I think it is?”

Emma stops and turns on her heels to look at Killian as his eyes shift between her and her phone. His mouth is hanging open, and she can’t really imagine what she looks like.

Ridiculous.

Definitely ridiculous.

“It’s my offer for a final interview.”

“To be a full-time booth commentator for the Yankees?”

She bites her lip and nods her head. “Mhm.”

Killian chuckles and drops the phone to the mattress. “You’re a badass, love.”“I am a badass.”

“You’re an amazing, talented, intelligent, witty, beautiful badass.”

“Please, keep flattering me. I’ll take all of the compliments. You can make me blush.” 

“And I can see that blush all the way down.”

Emma laughs before looking down and oh shit.

She’s naked.

Like, completely naked.

She got offered a final interview for her dream job while not wearing any clothes, and how is she going to tell people that?

Well, she probably doesn’t have to tell them that. She can omit that part.

“Twenty-nine, I think I’m losing my mind,” she mumbles before walking across the room and picking up Killian’s shirt from the night before, slipping it over her shoulders before she walks back over to the bed and straddles Killian’s lap. “Is this real?”

His hands run over her shoulders, little sparks of electricity shocking her, before he’s tucking her hair behind her ears. “It is indeed.”

“I’m so excited.”

“I’m so proud.” He leans forward and softly presses his lips into hers, and she instantly melts into him. She’s vibrating with nerves and excitement and the slight desire to vomit, but Killian takes all of that away in the movements of his mouth and the curl of his tongue with hers. She has so much to do, so much to prepare for, but that can wait for at least this moment. “I am proud no matter what happens going forward.”“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re far too supportive.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles before wrapping his arms around her until he’s shifting her onto her back. “Now, you really shouldn’t have put this shirt on.”“And why’s that?”

Killian looks up at her and winks. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t sleep for two weeks.

Killian probably doesn’t sleep because she tosses and turns throughout the night.

It might be the least amount of sleep she’s gotten in her entire life, and that’s certainly saying something considering her childhood and the amount that she doesn’t sleep when she’s traveling for work.

There might be less of that soon.

Or not.

She doesn’t know.

She has to be a shoe-in for the job, but there’s this part of her that still doubts that the networks are going to make the right decision. So many men still think women don’t belong in sports, especially male-dominated sports, and she has been told one too many times that her job is to be a pretty piece of ass in a tight skirt.

What if they don’t want her doing anything other than that?

What if they don’t even let her go back to that?

“Go back to bed.”

“What?”

Killian rolls over and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back to him and pressing his nose into the back of her neck. He’s so damn warm. Maybe that’s just the way her heart is pounding with her thoughts.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian murmurs. His lips flicker across her skin, and she shivers. “You’ve got an early morning, and you need to go to sleep.”

“You’re a pot calling a kettle black.”

“That’s an old-fashioned saying.”

“I’m an old-fashioned girl.”

Killian snorts into her neck and spreads his hand out over her stomach. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Shut up.”

“I would if you would go back to bed. I know you’re nervous, but you can’t be tossing like that. You’ll be dead in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You can,” he whispers. “I promise. In eight hours, it’ll be over, and then we can celebrate.”

“I’m not going to know if I get it right after the interview.”

“We’ll celebrate the possibility. I think a pie is calling your name.”

“Oh, so you’re going to be stress baking while I interview?”

“Absolutely.”

“At least pie will come out of it.”“And your dream job, Swan. That too.”

-/-

She nails the interview.

Or, at least, she thinks she does.

She’s honestly got no idea, and if she replays it in her head enough, she’s going to convince herself that she completely and totally screwed it up.

She didn’t she couldn’t have.

Hell, at least Killian made pie.

And at least it’s the off-season after the shittiest season in the world, and they can sit on the couch and catch up on all the TV they missed and mope together. That’s all that really matters anyway.

“This is really good,” Emma murmurs as she scoops some of the pie out of the pan. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“Well, now you’re free to eat and sit on the couch as much as you want.”

Emma leans over and presses her lips to his cheek.

“Good.”

-/-

She gets the job.

She gets the freaking job.

And words and emotions and everything else in the world can’t really describe how excited or emotional she is. This is her dream. This is what she’s always wanted. Well, not always. Bit for the past decade? This is what she’s wanted.

And she got it.

She got it, she got it, she got it.

-/-

“Oh, come on, come on,” David laughs as he stands from his chair and whistles. “Everybody take a moment and listen to me.”“What if we don’t want to?” Will shouts out.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma sees Belle playfully shove Will and Liam do the same thing.

“I guess you’re out of luck then,” David continues. Killian wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, and she rests her head there. David really shouldn’t be giving some ridiculous speech when everyone has been here for approximately two seconds. He also really shouldn’t be giving one because she specifically said no to that. “Emma is probably dying inside because she told me I wasn’t allowed to do this, but I am her brother and love to embarrass her. But I will keep it short, though. Emma has worked hard for this, has had crazy situations thrown at her from every direction, and I could not possibly be more proud of her and the life she’s created for herself. So, here’s to Emma.”

That was a hell of a lot shorter than she thought it was going to be. Thank goodness.

“To Emma,” everyone echoes.

“To you,” Killian whispers into her hairline.

“Alright,” Elsa claps, “who wants to eat?”

“I do,” Addy screeches as she climbs up onto the counters. “I want pizza.”

“You act like you haven’t eaten in weeks, Addy.”

“You made me wait for Emma to get here, and now she’s here. I want pizza.”

“Come on, Els,” Emma laughs. “Give the girl some pizza. More importantly, give me some pizza.”

“It’s your night. You can have all of the pizza you want.”

“Really?” Addy squeals.

“No. You get two pieces, kid. Emma gets all the pizza she wants because she’s a grown-up and we’re celebrating her getting a new job.”

“Is she still going to be on TV?”

“I am, kid,” Emma sighs. “You get to hear my voice even more when you watch the games on TV now, and I’ll be home more even when Killian is away.”

“Good,” Addy says as she gets her plate of pizza. “You do better braids than him.”

“Oi, that’s harsh right there, mate,” Will mutters.

“It’s the truth,” Liam agrees as Emma snickers. “Emma does do better braids than Killian, but I obviously do the best.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” Killian mutters as he slides around Emma and starts filling his plate. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t taught how to braid here. I will have to endeavor to learn so I’m no longer bad-mouthed at celebrations that are obviously about braiding skills.”

Everyone starts getting into the pizza and chips, the vegetable platter staying unsurprisingly full, before spreading out across the main floor of Liam and Elsa’s house. If Anna were here, she’d be appalled by the fact that they’re having pizza instead of a homecooked meal to celebrate, but she doesn’t know how damn good this pizza is.

Or how good the conversation is.

Or how good it feels just to know that this year, with all of its ups and downs, has turned out to be a lot better than she ever could have expected three weeks ago. And she gets to still think that with the horrible season they just finished and all of the other shitty stuff that happened this year. She gets to think that because she deserves this for all of the shit the baseball world has put her through.

She’s never thought that the world owes her anything, but maybe for just this once she deserves this.

She deserves it because she’s damn good at her job, and she earned this.

“Watch out on how much pizza you’re eating, little brother,” Liam starts, “wouldn’t want you to have to work off a bunch of weight when your off-season is over.”“Liam, be nice,” Elsa sighs.

“I think Killian’s good on the being fit situation,” Emma promises as she pats his stomach. “I could give you more details, but I feel like that would freak you out.”

Liam groans as Killian chokes on his food. “Swan.”“What?” Emma laughs. “I’m just saying. I think you can have all of the pizza and beer you want.”

“I’m driving tonight, so I’ll hold back on the beer. The pizza, though, I’m taking home with us.”

“So much pizza talk tonight,” Ruby groans. “I thought we were more interesting than that.”

“Oh, see,” Elsa starts, “I can quote all of Play Paws, so I’ve been boring for a long while. Liam, too. Actually, Liam more than me.”

“Hey.”

“What? It’s true.”

“You all need hobbies,” Ruby says. “Oh, oh, oh. We should go out. Like, to an actual bar. We can get babysitters for all of you guys who have procreated, and it’ll be great. Just imagine Mary Margaret dancing.”

“Rubes, stop. She’ll hear you, and you do not want her trying to prove otherwise.”

“Oh, no, I do. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”“You know,” Graham starts, “you’re not necessarily the best dancer either.”

Ruby holds her finger up. “If I get a few beers in you, you’d never know that.”

“This is going to be a thing, I can feel it.” Killian leans over and presses his lips to her temple. “They obviously don’t know about how you dance.”

“Oh my God, stop. I’m a horrible dancer.” Emma takes another bite of her pizza. This is probably her fourth slice, and she’s definitely going to regret it in the morning. Not right now though. “But I do think we can agree that the person we most need to see dance is Will because he talks a big game, but I have seen videos from spring training.”

“Oi,” Will shouts from across the room, “don’t judge me by your boyfriend’s Instagram stories. I am better than every person in this room.”

“Better at what?” Mary Margaret asks as she walks in the room with Ariel trailing behind her.

Emma groans and hides her face in Killian’s shoulder as Ruby starts laughing.

“Dancing, love,” Killian explains because he’s apparently a glutton for punishment.

“Oh, we should totally get babysitters and go out,” Ariel squeals. “I’d love a night away from Morgan.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Mary Margaret agrees.

Emma lifts her head from Killian’s shoulder and stares Ruby down. “See, I told you.”

“Oh, come on,” Killian laughs, “we should let them have their fun. Besides, we might have a little fun, too.”

“Let’s go next week,” Mary Margaret suggests.

“That sounds perfect, love.”

“Wait,” Emma laughs as she turns to face Killian, “we’re going to Spain next week.”

“Exactly,” Killian winks. “We’ll be safe and far away from the horrible dancing.”

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs as she falls back against the front door, “I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t have worn heels tonight. That was dumb just to hang out at your brother’s place.”

“I thought it was a great decision. Your ass looked fantastic.”

“You’re such a man.”

Killian chuckles and leans into her until his nose is pressing into her neck. “What can I say? I like the things I like.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, Jones?”

“I was going to give it a shot.”

Emma hums as he rubs his scruff across her skin. She used to hate that, but now she enjoys the pleasant burn. It often feels weird when he’s shaved it all off. He did that last week, and she was not a fan.

It felt weird running her hands over his cheek or kissing him.

“I’m too tired, but if you play your cards right, maybe in the morning.”

“Promises, promises.”

She pushes back on his chest, and she can see the smile on his face, tired but genuine just like hers. They both definitely ate too much pizza tonight, but not enough that she doesn’t want dessert.

“I do promise. Now, let me go change, and then I want to eat some leftover pie in bed.”

“Let me guess. I’m in charge of heating up the pie.”

“You’re so smart. I knew you were learning something in college.”

Killian chuckles before playfully slapping her ass and nudging her toward the bedroom. “Go change, Swan. It’s your night. You can have whatever you damn well please.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. Can I have nights celebrating me more often?”

“As long as you don’t let it all go to your head.”

“I would never.”

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it. Which pie do you want?”

“The peanut butter chocolate one you don’t like. On the bright side, though, you don’t have to heat that one up.”

Killian mockingly bows, and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The idiot.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, she heads back to the bedroom and to the closet, kicking her heels off before tugging down her jeans and pulling off her sweater and her bra. She really wants to leave all of her stuff on the floor, but Killian has done so much for her today. The least she can do is not make a mess, especially when she’s going to steal one of his t-shirts to sleep in.

God, why is hanging clothes up the absolute worst? Her side of the closet is a disaster while Killian’s is perfectly organized, and she’ll never understand how those parts of their personalities are compatible.

Seriously, he organizes his t-shirts by age, which is a lot when the man owns over one hundred Yankee-related shirts from an eight-year-career.

She wants one of the bigger ones, so she goes to the bottom drawer when he used to wear things that weren’t so form fitting to find an old, worn in shirt. She finds one, pulling it out, and then beneath it is a small black box.

Oh boy.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Emma knows what’s in that box. It could be earrings or another charm for her necklace or anything else, but somewhere deep in her gut, she knows that it’s none of those things.

Holy shit.

They’ve talked about this. They’ve had a million vague, slightly terrifying conversations, and then one or two serious, definitely terrifying conversations over whether or not they wanted to get married or if they were okay simply being together.

They both said they were fine with either.

They also both knew which one they preferred.

She just didn’t know that it was happening now.

But it makes sense. They’ve been together for a year and a half, which isn’t really that long, but it feels like it’s always been this way. It feels like it’s always been the two of them and a team of idiots traveling across the country to play baseball and talk about baseball and eat pizza at two in the morning in hotel rooms.

It feels like this is the way it’s always supposed to be, and at no point in her life did she ever think she would feel that way.

Emma was never the girl who got to have this many good things, and this part of her does still think that if she blinks, it’ll all go away.

Slowly, she closes her eyes.

One, two, three.

When she opens them, the ring box is still there, and because she knows there’s no way in hell she’ll be able to keep her mouth shut over finding it, Emma takes the box out of the drawer and carries it with her into the bedroom where Killian is already in bed and has a piece of pie waiting for her on her bedside table. She immediately walks over to him, crawls onto the mattress, and straddles his thighs.

“So, don’t be mad at me.”

His brow arches. “Oh, it’s always a good thing when you say that.”

Emma wrinkles her nose and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I mean it. You can’t get mad at me for what I’m about to do.”

“I feel like that is a promise I can’t keep, but for you, my love, I’ll try my best.”

Emma sighs before taking a deep breath. This is the right thing. This has to be the right thing.

She can’t not tell him she knows.

“So, I was getting a t-shirt to sleep in, and I found this.” She holds the box in front of her, and Killian’s shoulders immediately tense. That’s probably not the best sign. “And that’s why I don’t want you to get mad at me. I haven’t looked at it. I promise. I didn’t want to do that without you, but I knew that there’s no way I could see this and then not act like a total freak. So, just, if you were waiting because you were hesitant of my answer, you should know it would be yes.”

Killian’s hand moves from her thighs to her hand, and he takes the box from her. She can’t seem to look away from his eyes, though.

“I was going to wait, Swan,” he softly explains. “You were never supposed to find this, and you certainly weren’t supposed to find this when we’re in the middle of celebrating your career. This wasn’t supposed to be happening today.”

“Wait. How long have you had this?”

“A few weeks.”“And when were you going to use it?”

“The day you got the email for your interview. I had this whole big plan.”“Yeah?”“Mhm.” He reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she turns her hand to kiss his palm. “I was going to cook dinner, but I wasn’t going to make it obvious that something special was going to happen. It was simply going to be us in the living room, the lights turned down and a movie on, and I had a speech.”

“Did you?” Her heart is beating a ridiculous rhythm. “Can you say it now?”

Killian clicks his tongue. “See, if I say it now, I’m afraid it will sound forced, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Emma softly laughs and leans forward to rest her forehead against his and cup his cheeks.

“I think I would.”

“I already took so much of your spotlight away in big moments of your career. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“Killian Jones, you have never taken anything away from me. You’ve only added to those moments.”

“Careful now. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Count it as a good thing.”

His eyes flutter closed, but then his nose is burrowing into her cheek and she can feel his lips move as he speaks. “I remember the first day you walked into the locker room as a reporter. You were strong and confident and took no shit from any of the players. I think right then and there I knew you were a force to be reckoned with, even if I had never spoken to you.”

She had no idea he remembered that day. Absolutely none. There’s no reason he should, but he does somehow. It’s easy to forget how their lives have been so intertwined for years when neither of them put too much thought into it.

Ships passing in the night.

At least back then.

“Emma, every thought I had on that day has been proven time and time again. You are bloody brilliant in every way, and I’m a better man because I have you by my side. I don’t ever want that to change.”

“I don’t either,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you remember my first day. I didn’t even interview you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been known to have a good memory.”

“Much to my dismay sometimes,” Emma laughs. Her heart is still beating far too quickly to be healthy. “You make me better, too. I didn’t ever think – I – ”

“I know, love. I know.” Killian’s lips press into hers, slowly, softly, reverently. “Will you marry me, darling? Will you marry me so that nothing in our life will change except for the fact that I can walk around obnoxiously calling you my wife all the time?”

Emma barks out a laugh, and her heart finally settles because this right here is everything it was every supposed to be and she feels calm about it.

“Yeah, I think I’ll marry you, twenty-nine.”

“You think?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again. You knew my answer was always going to be yes.”

“It’s nice to hear it, though.”

“Then yes, Killian,” she whispers before kissing him. “Yes.”

-/-

-/-

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[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 2: 

Dick raised a suspicious eyebrow at the two women in front of him.

“So,” he started slowly, “you want to kill this man,” he pointed to the man chained to a pole, squirming with fear, “because he slapped someone? Like slapped in the face?” Barbara rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Boy Wonder. Do keep up.” Dick’s eye twitched imperceptibly. Despite her being one of the only people who could sass a Wayne and get away with it, that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off sometimes.

“Okay, fine. Why don’t I ask a better question. Why is my bastard of an ex here?” Three pairs of eyes slid over to where Deathstroke, in full uniform, lounged on a lone wooden crate. The man’s white eyebrow raised, his eyes full of amusement.

“That hurts, little bird. Here I thought we would be able to let by gones be by gones.” Dick grit his teeth.

“Keep that up, Slade and I’ll send Damian after you,” the dark haired man snarled, a sneer twisting his handsome features, “he’d be happy to get rid of you after last time.” This only made Slade laugh.

“The baby Wayne can try all he wants. He won’t be able to do anything.”

“He’s not so much of a baby anymore. He’s almost as tall as you with much more on his body count than you’ve ever had.” Dick looked up at the larger male’s 6’5 form, knowing that Damian was only, at most, an inch shorter. Of the many traits he had taken after his father, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu’ffasch, at the age of 19, far surpassed Bruce in height, now towering over his father at his full height of 6 '4, and matched him in the bulk department. Slade scoffed at the man.

“That doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to take me away from this.” At this, Dick glanced at the man with renewed interest and back at Slade with suspicion.

“Why the hell are you so interested in this, Slade? Working with people isn’t exactly your style and Barbara tells me you’re even doing this pro bono,” a bloodthirsty grin overtook Dick’s face, “whoever this is must be real special.” A threat resided in Dick’s voice, something that stiffened the other three people in the room. Before Slade could speak, Barbara cut in.

“Dick,” she started, and while he didn’t turn towards her, she knew he was listening. “It’s not just him. It’s us too.” She gestured to Stephanie and herself, Stephanie nodding to convince Dick it was really what they all wanted. Because, it genuinely was what they had wanted. The fact that both his unofficial sisters wanted this too made him falter a bit. Dick stared at the blonde and the redhead before turning back to glare at the man chained to the pole. He visibly paled and scrambled backwards, despite his back resting against the cool metal. A slight smile at the man’s obvious fear slipped over Dick’s face before it disappeared and he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, and his eyes darkened. Everyone else in the room straightened.

While he would deny it fervently, Slade felt a small shiver make its way down his back as he eyed his ex in arousal. He particularly loved it when he used to do that. Dick grinned again, teeth showing; a pretty smile. Dangerous. “But only if I get to watch.”

-----

“I wonder what’s happened to Mr. Stanley.” Peter didn’t have to see Stephanie stiffen. He heard her. Pretending as if he didn’t, he continued, “I hope he’s okay.” Stephanie coughed into her sleeve and he looked over at her in concern. How much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine worry, he didn’t know. Peter handed the blonde a napkin, who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Why would you want to know if he’s okay? He slapped you just last week!” Peter shrugged, uncaring of the odd look his now friend was sending him. Barbara apparently had some business to take care of so Stephanie came in alone. Harley was busy as well, running after her boyfriend. Peter’s lips twitched into a frown at the thought of Harley being hurt. Again.

Stephanie, who noticed his slight frown, concluded the wrong thing.

“Pete, you’re too good for this world.” Peter averted his eyes away from her, a sad look crossing his face. He remembers all the people he couldn’t save in his own world. The people he killed because he wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, prepared enough, good enough. Of all the things he was, good was not one of them.

“I’m really not, Steph. I’m really not.” Ignoring the imploring look his blonde friend sent his way, he said nothing and looked away. There was nothing to say anyway.

Steph left not long after that, saying that she had somewhere she needed to be. It had been a week and he had still not seen Mr. Stanley since he had slapped him. There wasn’t any doubt in Peter’s brain that Slade, Steph and possibly Barbara had been responsible for his disappearance. They must’ve been meticulous too, since no news report of a missing man has shown up at all. A shiver of both fear and warmth crept up Peter’s back at length they went to. He oddly felt scared yet safe at the same time, even though he still had his powers.

‘And the suit,’ his mind supplied. Peter glanced down at his wrist where the watch Mr. Stark had gifted him lay, wrapped around his wrist. He had come up with the idea not long after his nanobot suit came to fruition.

While it looked like a regular touch screen watch, it held all the nanobots needed to pull together his suit inside, even becoming a set of web slingers itself once the suit was deployed. There were two buttons side by side on the side of the watch, one being to turn the watch on and off and the other to activate the suit. Mr. Stark had instructed him to pull the second button out, listen for the clicking sound and watch for the screen of the watch to pop upwards before pushing down on the screen, which would deploy the suit. Peter had not taken out the suit since his arrival into this world. It was nice to know he had it in case of emergencies, however.

Barely two hours later, Peter was exhausted and just wanting to get back to the shelter so he could sleep. After three fights (which was three fights too many to break up) and demanding customers, even in broad daylight, he only wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as he could get. He threw the towel over his shoulder down onto the wood of the bar and stretching his arms upwards, his back cracking deliciously as he moaned in relief.

‘Thank God, my back was killing me,’ he thought as he continued to stretch his stiff muscles. Quiet footsteps lumbered towards his side of the bar, their heaviness and sound familiar enough to Peter for him to not open his eyes and realize who it was. Another little crack came from his spine and Peter moaned quietly. A huff of laughter sounded in front of him.

“Careful, sweetheart. People might get the wrong idea.” Peter cracked one eye open at Slade, letting his arms fall back down to his sides and levelling the mercenary with a deadpan stare, silently noting the quick and quiet steps that were approaching the two.

“The wrong idea about what, Slade? Stretching?” Slade’s one eye roved over Peter’s small frame hungrily, and while Peter did feel a bit endangered, he also felt fond. After a few days of conversation with Deathstroke, his Spidey Sense had calmed down significantly and Peter knew that Slade would never do whatever Peter didn’t want him to do. Slade shrugged.

“You never know, sweetheart.” A voice spoke behind Slade, lilting and teasing.

“Aww Slade. You’ve replaced me already?” Both men looked at the intruder, a very handsome man with tanner skin than Peter’s (though that’s not saying much. Peter was pretty pale), striking blue eyes and a wide, pretty smile. Peter supposes he should be falling for him or at least be flustered, but he can’t bring himself to be with his Spidey Sense starting to sound like a banging drum at the arrival of this man.

The smile seems to melt the people around them, mostly women and even some men, but Peter’s seen it a hundred times before. It was similar to Mr. Stark’s fake smiles at press events. The first he had been to was his inauguration into the Avengers and while he was convinced at first, Peter started seeing the smile’s ingenuousness more and more as he attended other press conferences and parties. Looking at this man’s smile was like a mirror image, leaving Peter more than convinced of some sort of ulterior motive.

“Little bird,” Slade murmured, eyes suspiciously downcast. Peter watched as the man’s smile became sharp for a fraction of a second before it was gone. If Peter hadn’t seen it with his senses, he would’ve thought it to be a trick of the light or something. The man’s striking eyes swiveled over to Peter and the curly brown haired boy had to stop himself from tensing up at the intensity of the gaze. He couldn’t help but feel like he was now a sort of lab rat to this man. His gaze held interest but it was the same kind of interest that one would give an ant on the street.

“Hello,” he greeted politely, “can I get you started with something?” The sharpness was there again and gone again before Peter could even blink.

“Why, yes you can,” he purred, dark hair falling into his face attractively as he sat down next to Slade. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed that Slade tensed the tiniest bit. The man spoke again, getting Peter to focus on him again, “you can start by telling me your name, gorgeous.” Peter was a bit flustered at the nickname, though he tried not to give any outward indication that he was affected.

‘Seriously, what is up with people and giving me nicknames!’ Peter pointed at the name tag pinned to his shirt and watched as the man raised an eyebrow. “I meant tell me, gorgeous. Verbally.” Peter stared at him.

“Sir, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but you can read right?” A quiet snort came from Slade but both Peter and the man ignored him.

“Of course I can read, but I want you to tell me your name.” Peter searched this man’s face, his intentions unclear. It was obvious he had ulterior motives but what were they? Finally, he answered.

“Peter. Peter Parker.” He grinned like the cat who got the cream. He held his hand out which Peter took hesitantly, letting the man’s much larger hand engulf his own, noticing that despite the strength he obviously carried, he kept his grip surprisingly gentle.

‘Manipulative,’ his mind whispered, ‘careful.’

“Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.” Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise and a light giggle left his lips, shocking not only himself but Slade as well. It was interesting but he latched onto the name.

“Okay, Dick,” he put emphasis on the name, watching for any reaction that would accompany his subtle insult. There was none. “What can I get you?”

“Virgin mojito with ice. Thanks.” As Peter worked on making the drink for Dick, he kept a super sense ear towards their conversation.

“What are you doing here, little bird?” He heard Slade whisper.

“Seeing what all the fuss was about.” When he was done, Peter gave the glass to Dick who turned his attention towards the superhero-turned-bartender.

“So,” Dick started as Peter wiped down some wet glasses, “where do you live?” Peter glanced up and saw that Dick was leaning closer towards him, eyes sparking in interest.

“Why?”

“So I can take you on a date.” Peter barely stopped himself from scoffing.

“I just met you.” Dick nodded, his face portraying the question, ‘so?’ “So, I’m not going to tell you where I live.” The dark haired man shifted to one side, Peter’s eyes following him.

“You’re saying you don’t trust me?” The sharp grin was back, only this time it was on full display. ‘People obviously can’t tell the difference between pretty and danger,’ Peter thought as he watched more and more people start paying attention to the ridiculously attractive man sitting at the bar.

“Of course not,” he answered simply, his eyes straying to Slade for a quick moment. Dick’s eyes were analyzing and somehow, Peter felt like he knew more about Peter than Peter did himself. Even then, Peter refused to be daunted. ‘It’s not how Mr. Stark would be.’ Dick, noticing that Peter looked at Slade, suddenly looked like Christmas had come early.

“You know,” he purred, “Slade here isn’t exactly someone you should trust either.”

“How do you know I trust him?”

“You call him by his first name. Although common, he doesn’t enjoy just anyone calling him that.” Peter recalled the moment when Dick had slid into their conversation unannounced.

“If that’s the case, then you must be close to him too.” Surprisingly, Dick was startled for a quick second before he started rolling with the punches. It made Peter proud in a way. He gets the vibe that this man doesn’t get surprised easily.

“Maybe once upon a time. But still.” Peter sighed.

“Why shouldn't I trust him?” Dick leaned forward, his hand beckoning Peter to as well, which he did reluctantly. Slade tensed a bit more next to Dick.

“He’s a mercenary for hire.” It was whispered as if it was a great secret. Peter didn’t react. At all.

“Yeah, I know.” A moment passed as Slade’s shoulders slumped and Dick tilted his head in curiosity. “Besides, he’s never been anything but transparent about his job, even if he didn’t tell me. If there’s anyone I shouldn’t trust, Mr. Grayson,” Dick’s eyebrows raised to his hairline at the formality, “it would be you. You may be able to charm everyone else here but I’m not fooled. Your pretty smile and flowery words are fake enough for me to see through.” Dick was about to reply but a sharp rap on the door to the interior of the bar caught their attention.

“You’re off, Parker,” his manager rasped, clearly still hungover. He turned back to the two men sitting in front of him.

“Well, I’ll see you later Slade.” The older man nodded.

“See you, sweetheart.” Peter flashed a blinding smile towards him, making sure to leave Dick out of it. Said man was aware and huffed a laugh at Peter’s antics.

“What about me?” He pointed to himself. Peter shot him a deadpan look.

“I hope to never see you again.” With that, he walked off and out of the bar, hearing quiet chuckling but not quite noticing the interested looks from the man that would soon become one of the many thorns in his side. Fucking Parker Luck.

-----

Peter’s eye twitched as Dick sat down beside him, for once not alone. Babs followed behind him. It seemed that today it was Steph who was missing. It was barely even a week after their first meeting at the bar and he already couldn’t stand the sight of the other man. The fact that he kept appearing at all ofPeter’s shifts didn’t help. Dick smiled that pretty smile that Peter was sure tricked so many other people into selling their soul.

“Peter! What a coincidence!” A discreet glance at the red head behind Dick told Peter that this meeting was anything but a coincidence. The brown eyed boy didn’t answer, causing the darker haired man to pout. Instead, Peter met Barbara’s eyes and waved.

“How’re you, Babs?” Barbara’s soft smile lessened his irritation slightly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m good, Peter. Thanks for asking.” Peter nodded and went back to checking his phone, his break almost over. He’d be damned if he let Dick Grayson take up all his time. Ignoring the heat that dominated the side of his face, he sent a text to Harley.

To Harley: Are you going to be meeting me at the club today?

It wasn’t even a minute later that Harley texted back.

To Puppy: I can’t today, puppy. Mr. J has a job and wants me to help! Wish me luck! <3

Peter sighed, causing Dick to not-so-subtly turn to him in curiosity.

To Harley: Okay. Good luck. Stay safe.

Peter logged out of the app and checked his bank account, deflating at the meager number. ‘Only $329.53. How am I ever going to get out of the shelter?’ He needed so much food on a daily basis that he barely had much money left over. Momentarily distracted, Peter left his phone screen open for anyone to see, even the annoying man sitting next to him. Dick whistled.

“That’s a low number.” Peter shot him an irritated glance.

“Don’t you have anything else to do, other than stalking me?” Dick pretended to think about it for a moment, before shaking his head, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.” The brown haired boy clenched his hand, balling it into a fist. His eye twitched again. Taking a visible breath, Peter walked behind the bar, avoiding looking at the handsome man.

‘Just another hour, Parker,’ he thinks, though his rising annoyance made him want to flee, ‘just another hour, and you’ll be fine.’

-----

After an hour of Dick blatantly staring at him (and no one, not even the security guards, questioned it. He thought it was odd), Peter was finally free to go. Babs had left within the first fifteen minutes, saying she had some late night errands to run. He practically flew into the back room to change into the clothes he wore before getting into uniform, and made it outside the club in record time, avoiding Dick when he surged up from his seat as Peter briskly walked past.

The cool air hit him, causing him to shiver and clutched his hoodie. He scolded himself for not believing the forecast this morning. Gritting his teeth, he started walking in the direction of the shelter, purposefully starting on a light jog as he heard heavier set footsteps behind him.

“Hey! Peter!” Dick called, following closely behind. Too close in Peter’s personal opinion, but before he could speed up, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm, and insane strength (at least, by normal human standards, but Peter was far from normal) halted his path. Because he had been running, physics decided to be a bitch (like it always was), and he crashed into Dick’s chest, the side of his head bouncing off the other man’s sternum.

Using it to his advantage, Peter rammed his shoulder back into his chest, managing to hit Dick’s solar plexus. It should’ve been enough to get the taller man to let go, but instead, his grip tightened on Peter’s upper arm and before Peter knew it, he was being hoisted up, an arm cinching around his waist as he was bodily carried into a nearby alleyway.

Now, Peter knew he was short and incredibly skinny, even after his transformation, but to hear it from someone else was a bit embarrassing in his books. Especially someone who had at least five inches on him, if not more.

“Jesus, do you eat? You’re tiny.” Dick hissed as Peter’s free arm came down on his shoulder blades and arms, anywhere he could reach. Funnily enough, Peter was barely putting any of his real strength into the hits, but he knew it was enough to bruise Dick for the next couple weeks. “Hey- ow! Peter!” He yelled but Peter continued to hit him. “Peter! Stop!”

“Let me go, Dick!” It seemed that Dick had had enough because next thing he knew, he was being pushed against a brick wall, the expanse of his chest pushed uncomfortably against the bricks by one if Dick’s long forearms and his upper arm had been let go in favor of capturing both of his wrists in one hand. Peter was about to stomp his foot onto Dick’s, probably breaking it, but Dick’s shout stopped him before he could.

“Peter! Wait! I just wanted to take you home!” That caused Peter to pause, looking up at Dick. None of his senses told him that Dick was lying, so instead of attacking him, Peter asked through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Peter glared up at Dick, and while he knew that his expression was about as threatening as a kitten and that he probably faced worse faces than Peter’s, he still watched in satisfaction as the taller actually seemed nervous now. His heartbeat also conveyed his anxiety.

“Gotham’s dangerous at night. And I think I’ve known you long enough to be at least a little worried,” Dick’s demeanor suddenly shifted, a smirk lighting up his face, “Besides, I don’t want my new favorite friend to get killed. Then who will glare at me with such a cute face?”

Now that Peter was closer to him, he could see why people seemed to fall for him wherever he went. Dick was very handsome, with a cheerful, if not cocky attitude. But Peter refused to be one of those people.

“I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.”

“You look like a breeze could knock you over.” Peter bristled.

“Are you saying that I need your help? ‘Cause I really don’t.”

“You couldn’t get me to let you go. Do you think that anyone else on the street, who are mostly larger than you and me, wouldn’t be able to take you down?” Peter scoffed, and using some more of his super strength, he shoved Dick back, the other man stumbling all the way to the other side of the alleyway. Dick braced himself on the wall, looking at Peter with wide eyes.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, Dick, but I can take care of myself. Whether or not you see it.” With that, he walked out of the alleyway and back towards the shelter. He heard no footsteps following him this time.

-----

Dick massaged his chest, still leaning against the wall that Peter had shoved him against. It was almost out of nowhere that his strength came and managed to successfully get Dick to let him go. He didn’t run after Peter, but he was resolved to escort Peter home safely. Afterall, if Steph and Babs liked him so much, Dick would probably like him too.

‘Yeah, he did not disappoint.’

His first time meeting Peter was rather weird for Dick. His first impression was ‘cute.’ The guy had one of the largest sets of honey brown eyes he’d ever seen. His hair was curly and fluffy, and Dick was tempted to card a hand through the light brown locks to prove their softness. He was small, too, with a short stature and skinny arms. Basically, he looked defenseless and naive, if not adorably so.

However, nearly everyone he met that wasn’t an assassin, mafioso, terrorist, whathaveyou, had fallen for his charms. Sometimes, even the assassin, mafioso, terrorist (etc.) had fallen for him. But Peter was different. The instant Peter spotted him next to Slade, his guard was put up quickly and he wasn’t fooled by charming smiles and pretty words. If that wasn’t enough to prove his oddity, the fact that he had said it straight to Dick’s face, even when Slade was right next to him, just made him more interesting to Dick.

So sue him if he was slightly concerned about someone so defenseless looking roaming around at night. He was a son of the Wayne Mafioso branch, largest crime family on the East Coast, and Gotham and her inhabitants were his to help, protect, and punish if he so pleased.

Pushing off the wall, Dick decided that this particular inhabitant was also his to help and protect, even if it was against his will.

Dick suddenly realized that Peter must’ve been new to Gotham, seeing as he didn’t recognize him as Bruce Wayne’s first, adopted son, which only served to make Dick want to protect him from the streets even more.

“Okay, it’s only been a couple minutes since he left. He can’t be that fast,” Dick muttered as he started on the path that Peter took to go home. A couple blocks up, Dick could see the heel of Peter’s shoe as he turned the street. Following quickly, he ran the couple blocks and turned the corner, as well, seeing Peter crossing a crosswalk to the other side of the street. He followed as well and all the way to a place that looked unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t an apartment building. Peter entered through the doors.

‘A homeless shelter?’

-----

A couple days passed since the little scuffle with Dick and Peter was thankful that the man had at least some common sense to know when he wasn’t welcome. Peter hasn’t seen him at all the past few days and he couldn’t be happier. Harley noticed.

“Whatcha so happy about, Pup?” She asked when they were hanging out at her apartment. Peter smiled beamingly at Harley who covered her eyes like she was looking into the sun. Both of them giggled.

“Just happy. Hey, Harley?”

“Hmm?” Harley played with the stick of the lollipop in her mouth, absently listening.

“Do you know Slade personally?” The platinum blonde shook her head.

“Nope. Why? You finally admitting yer’ feelin’s for him?” Peter huffed, giving his friend a knowing look.

“No, I’m not into him. Like I said, too old. Not exactly my type.” Harley hummed but looked skeptical. “Anyway, even if you don’t know him personally, do you know who he works with?” His friend thought about it for a minute, swinging her legs back and forth in her seat at her kitchen table.

“Some. Why?”

“Just wondering if you knew someone named Dick Grayson?” Harley froze, a terrified look dawning on her face. Peter frowned and was about to ask her if she was alright but Harley suddenly surged forward and grabbed Peter by the arms, her grip tight.

“Where did you hear that name?!” Peter, now more concerned, drew his eyebrows tight.

“I met him the other day, when you weren’t at the bar. He came in alone and talked with Slade. He came in another day too, with Babs.” Harley’s eyes searched his own wildly, as if trying to see whether or not he was telling the truth.

Her blue eyes widened when she saw that he was completely serious. Slowly, she let go of Peter’s arms and sat back down in her seat. She put her head into her hands, leaning over the counter for a minute, so silent that Peter started to become even more worried. Silence was uncharacteristic of Harley Quinn.

“Okay,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “I want you to promise me something, okay, Peter?” Honey brown eyes widened a bit. She used his real name. This was serious.

“Anything, Harls.”

“I want you to stay away from Dick Grayson and anyone he associates with.” Peter blinked.

“What about Slade?”

“Yup.”

“And Babs? And Steph?” If Barbara Gordon knew Dick Grayson, then it was likely that Stephanie Brown knew him too.

“Them too. We’re going to move. Mista J won’t mind. We’ll move closer to the border, nearer Canada and-” she continued muttering, more to herself than Peter, but Peter had enough.

“Harley, we can’t move. I can’t move. I have two jobs and other commitments. I can’t just drop everything and move.” Harley gave him a desperate look.

“But-” He cut her off.

“But nothing, Harls. I know you’re worried. I knew he was dangerous the minute I met him. I can take care of myself. I’m much stronger than you think I am.” His friend didn’t move for a few moments, staring into his completely serious face and then deflated.

“I just worry,” she murmured, apology evident in her tone. Peter walked around the kitchen counter to hug his friend, who embraced him just as tightly.

“I know you do.” The hug lasted for a few more minutes, both basking in the comfort of the other before it was time for Peter to leave. He grabbed his coat off one of the small chairs at a round dinner table and said his goodbyes.

“Be safe!” Harley called after him as he left her apartment. He waved back with assurances he would be careful. He chose to walk, despite the cold and damp weather, seeing as his bank account couldn’t suffer anymore in terms of small spendings. ‘Besides,’ he reasoned with himself, ‘I need some more exercise.’

It was about 30 minutes later that he finally reached the shelter, his coat somewhat damp. Entering the door, and feeling some warmth descend upon him made him want to groan in relief. However, after that feeling had passed, another, colder feeling lay itself upon him like a blanket. Something was wrong. Peter looked around, trying to see any potential dangers but there were none he could see or hear.

Walking swiftly, Peter reached his cot, still eyeing his environment in suspicion. When he still found nothing out of the ordinary, he finally looked down on his cot to see a single white rose and an envelope sitting across his now neatly made cot. Someone had been there and messed with it. The thought made him shiver and with shaking hands he picked up the rose in one hand and the envelope in the other. He peeled the flap and opened it to see the contents. Two small, folded slips of paper sat inside.

‘Sort of anticlimactic,’ Peter thought, his face filled with confusion. He pulled out the larger of the two slips of paper, and unfolded it. And then proceeded to drop everything in his hands. The rose, the envelope and the check for $100,000 fell quietly onto his cot. His wide eyes stared down at the pale piece of paper.

‘What the fuck,’ he thought with shock. Then he remembered that there was another piece of paper in the envelope. Taking the envelope in hand, he tucked the check inside and pulled out the other slip. Unfolding it, he saw that it was a note.

‘The first of many. -D.G.’

The envelope once again fell from his hands, and Peter felt another wave of emotion crash over him. However, this time, it wasn’t shock or fear. No, it was rage.

‘Motherfucker.’

Previous: Part 1 

Next: Part 3 

[unholyplumpprincess]

Change of Heart

Here’s the WidowAna commission! Commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.

(Older content)

Summary: In which Amelie feels her ice melting away after familiarity strikes her heart and she feels the need to return to Overwatch. Seeing Ana reminds her of what they used to have- and boy can that woman make a girl see stars.

Reblogs > Likes

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Widowmaker/Ana Amari (FWB), mentioned romantic interest of Sombra/Widowmaker

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Widowmaker is a trans woman with facial feminization and top surgery but no bottom surgery: Words used to describe her bits are cock/dick, FWB relationship, bondage.

Words: 2.5k

_________________

Overwatch had banded back together in another stand against the cruelty of the world, a war that would never be won. Of course, it needed to be done secretly- that went without saying. The government wasn’t fond of people with super powers causing a mess of things again. Every former agent that held the recon communicator got the message from Winston.

Even if they were playing for the same team.

Amelie could remember portions of being a member of Overwatch, the entire experimentation on her caused a big jerk in her memories. Yet, the communicator had jostled some more, a little tug in her memories that made her cold heart ache until she was absentmindedly stroking over the shape of it with her thumb, a frown to her plump lips. It would take her months to make her decision after this moment.

For once, in years, she had felt lost and confused. FELT something other than nothing. She once had had a purpose of being one of the greatest marksmen around, never missing, always taking down her prey without a shed of a doubt of anything that came after.

~Rest under the cut~

And yet...In her own mind, she found herself yearning for the smiles she once shared with the ones she used to call her ‘family’.

To Angela’s soft smiles as she checked over for injuries, to Winston acting as the father of the group and making sure everyone was fed, to their newest recruit- Lena- excited to try all the new things and do well. Ana’s kind eyes as she pinched Amelie’s cheek and told her that her aim was getting better by the day. A prideful look that always made Amelie laugh.

A shock had sent her forward in her sleep, eyes snapping awake as if something was calling out to her. Leave, run, go away- her first instincts in years that hadn’t been killer ones. She wasn’t following programming, or orders from men in Talon, something was melting her outer shell away.  Something calling out to her, leave, run, go away, a mantra-

There had been one person in this entire organization she had gotten close to. Or, as close as she could have possibly gotten. Someone who saw past the cold exterior to the woman she used to be- the woman she COULD be.

Sombra.

Sombra had found a way to get Amelie to open up as best as she could, somehow wiggling her way into the spider’s heart until she found herself almost aching to see the hacker smiling up at her. Such a little thing with a hidden story, Amelie just knew she was hiding it.

However, ones who hide together stuck together.

She found herself going to Sombra’s room in the middle of the night that very same night, quietly starting to pack her things for her until the hacker stirred from her position in bed, “Ugh-- Amelie? It’s too early-” She starts to groan, sitting up in bed with her hair a mess and rubbing at her eyes, but she’s startled when Amelie rests a perfectly manicured hand on her arm.

There’s a look they share. Amelie’s eyes don’t look lost and solemn, she looks determined.

A tired, yet mischief filled smile spreads across Sombra’s face with a bit of a laugh escaping her, “Oh we’re being naughty this early? Why didn’t you say so.”

It takes an hour, maybe less to gather what is needed and for Sombra to turn off both the lights and cameras. They’re gone by morning, no sign, no note. And an even bigger surprise for everyone when the one missing with Sombra, is none other than their perfect little doll, their perfect killing machine.

--

The switch back to Overwatch is a culture shock, not to mention the welcome party isn’t very welcome. Not when they see Sombra, at the very least, and the person who nearly killed Lena. Something Amelie only had a flicker of memory about, as if she could recognize her face to a T, but the whole scenario had been a blur. As if she had been a puppet to a ventriloquist.

Once finally accepted after keeping them both in almost interrogation rooms to ensure there was no bugs on them or any nefarious ideas, they were allowed to be apart of the group-. With surveillance, of course.

Lena took Olivia under her wing.

And Ana had Amelie, someone Amelie hadn’t seen in years and could admire the woman even more now.

Her hair was now grayed completely over, not a shock of black in it. Her eyes were just as kind as Amelie remembered them, honeyed and warm with wrinkles delicately framing the outer edges in crow’s feet. Her smile was just as warm, if a bit sad as she reaches to set her hand on Amelie’s cheek, as if checking her over. She’s even shorter than Amelie remembered.

“You haven’t aged a day.” Ana murmurs softly, sounding sad for her and Amelie can’t blame her. Her body was practically frozen at this age, looking just like the young 28 year old Ana remembered. Amelie can’t help it as she turns her head softly into her warm palm, feeding off her heat with a soft sigh. Another small smile makes its way to Ana’s lips, “And still just like a kitten.”

The word makes Amelie scoff, reaching up to hold Ana’s hand firmly to her cheek, “It has been ages since I have been shown...affection. Understand that this does not mean I will kneel to you again.” It’s almost a challenge the way she says it.

They had previously had a thing together, under the table sort of thing. Friends with benefits where the benefit was both women were comfortable in each other’s presence, and of course the ways Ana could make her melt. Before Gerard had captured her attention, that is.

Ana had been her source of affection, pleasure, and familiarity. Her touch could be soft or rough, entirely talented as they’d work Amelie over until she’d be drenched in sweat and sobbing. A dance they both had been familiar in.

Ana showed her the skill of an older woman, Amelie showed her the flexibility of a ballerina.

A soft laugh filters through Ana’s lips, using her thumb to stroke the cold flesh of Amelie’s cheek. “I would never ask you to- not after what you have been through, my dear.”

It strikes a chord in Amelie, something soft, something...familiar.

--

Of course, that familiar warmth, that soft feeling had blossomed. Old habits died hard, after all.

It’s how Amelie ends up in Ana’s room, again, and again, in the familiar darkness of the night. It’s how her plum lipstick gets smeared from Ana’s own mouth or her skin as Amelie indulges in the sweetness of her scent. Of how Ana feels and sounds when her lips wrap around a soft, small breast and Amelie shamelessly ruts into the offered thigh beneath her.

It’s also how Ana finds her own heart pounding harder than it had in years, at least for a scenario like this. How her fingers twirl in Amelie’s long hair, dragging her up to press kisses to her cold face and indulging in whatever she wanted to hear. How she feels younger by the day the more often she keeps thinking of Amelie and getting aroused, having to fight down a blush at the memories of the night prior.

Insatiable, as Amelie had always been.

And now? Now Amelie is in Ana’s room again, but a little differently this time.

She’s completely stripped naked, shuddering as little tremors wrack her frame from both desire and anticipation. She feels absolutely alive in these moments, head tipped to the side and her long hair free as it dips across her pale lavender flesh. Her curves are beautiful, smooth of scars that her body repaired. Her breasts are smaller, surgery she’d had ages ago during her Overwatch days, same with the way her face is gently sloped and molded perfectly for her own comfort.

Between her legs, her cock rests half hard, heavy against her thigh that flexes with tension. Her cock isn’t too big, perhaps about five or so inches with a beautiful curve upwards with a lovely thickness. It’s smooth and lavender like the rest of her flesh, a deeper shade at the head where white pre-cum beads. She’d never gotten bottom surgery, that much she had been comfortable with.

She’s smooth all over, blemish free and hair free. Something Ana found herself learning to like as she ran her hands over her flesh- but not yet, not now.

Amelie has her arms bound behind her back, wrists together and the rope coming to the ceiling to tie around a hook to keep her standing and still. Across her chest and over her abdomen is the rope binding her wrists firmly to her own body, looking much like a beautiful spiderweb. Ana had yet to lose her touch in the art of perfect knot tying.

Amelie’s legs are open, spread with her feet flat to the ground. Her chest is rising and falling evenly, trying to settle her nerves as her golden eyes, heavily lidded with thick lashes, watch Ana like a predator. Yet, in these moments, Ana should most certainly be taking that title.

Ana is stepped a bit back to admire her work, fully dressed in a white blouse unbuttoned at the top with flared sleeves and tight black pants it’s tucked into. It looked rather old fashioned, beautiful on her. Her gray hair is pulled into an over the shoulder braid, curling to between her freckled cleavage that makes Amelie sigh at the sight. A few stray hairs curl over the eyepatch resting over her eye and Amelie would dare say she looked stunning.

If she wasn’t being cruel, that is.

Warm fingers trace up her inner thighs as Ana rests in front of her, petting up and along her curves with her other hand. “Still as obedient as ever.” She remarks with a pleased hum, silencing any protest from Amelie when her fingers wrap around a dusty purple nipple and giving it soft attention. When she inhales sharply, arching into the touch, Ana’s lips form a tale telling smirk. “Just as sensitive.”

Deft and skilled fingers wrap around her cock, giving Amelie slow, languid pumps with just enough pressure. Ana’s thumb traces the sensitive glans under the head, tracing up to her slit and letting pre-cum spill out a bit so she can use it to slick up her movements. Amelie whimpers, rolling her head to the side and letting out a huff of pleasure when Ana’s warm mouth is replaced on her breast.  

A clever tongue flicks over her nipple and makes Amelie’s head swim with pleasure. She keeps her eyes closed, but she can picture Ana as perfect as ever touching her. With one hand working her over with languid strokes and gentle squeezes, her other holding Amelie’s side at where her curve meets the junction of her hip, stroking with her thumb softly in the circle of the ropes resting there.

“Ana-” Amelie breathes out, practically on her tiptoes when Ana pulls from her breast, kissing down her torso between each shape the ropes make. She only hums in response back up at Amelie, a pillow already waiting on the ground for Ana to rest on as she sinks to her knees. A hand gently rests over Amelie’s thigh, petting her outer thigh soothingly as Ana peppers kisses along the underside of her cock.

Amelie’s toes curl, turning her head to the other side before her head bows to watch her with a shaky exhale. Watching Ana’s eye flutter before peeking up at Amelie, letting her lips rub over her sensitive flesh, her hand keeping Amelie’s cock steady as she swallows the first few inches into her warm mouth.

Too much heat, too much warmth, the pleasure of it all- it's too much!

Amelie lets out a beautiful moan, hips jerking to no avail and only managing to tense her bonds tighter around her torso. She murmurs her name again, biting onto her plump lower lip as Ana takes her down with ease.

Practice, she could practically hear Ana chide in the back of her head, makes perfect.

Tension builds in her lower abdomen as Amelie nearly keels over on her bonds. She’s normally quiet in moments like this, nothing but sighs regularly passing her lips, but it seemed a scene like this brought out more of her. A soft swear under her breath, her mother tongue passing across her very lips as Ana keeps taking her into her warm mouth, nosing at her mound as she swallows around her cock-

“Shit-” She whines out in a higher voice, thighs tensing and her wrists jerking to try and maybe bury her fingers in Ana’s hair. To no avail, as her fingers flex and the jerk of her wrists only makes the rope tighten once more around her pleasantly. “Ana,” She tries again, voice high and warning.

It only results in said woman humming, swallowing her back down in a fluid motion as Amelie begins to cum. Vaguely aware of how Ana swallows it down, her hands stroking Amelie’s shaking thighs as if to soothe her.

When Amelie’s eyes flutter open blearily to look down at Ana, she watches as she slowly pulls off her soft cock. Sparing kitten licks and peppered kisses just to make Amelie shake a little bit more before she pulls back and wipes her mouth off on the back of her hand.

“How are you feeling?” Ana asks as she moves to stand up, stroking over Amelie’s curves and reaching behind her in an embrace as well as to pluck the knot from the ropes. “Do you want water? Tea?”

Amelie hums softly in a negative, letting her bonds be free as Ana begins rounding her to help with the bonds, rubbing over the marks left on her skin. “I feel...alive- better than I did earlier.” Spoken calmly, despite the waver in her voice from the tremors in her body. Once the ropes are all removed, she nearly falls on her first step, but Ana gently leads her to the bed instead.

“Come, lie down, you squirmed too much and caused a burn.” Sounding chiding as always, Amelie can’t help but smile at Ana’s fussing. Letting herself rest back on the bed and turn her head to bury herself in the familiar scent of teas and cinnamon.

Ana returns only moments later, a spicy smelling salve being applied to the rope burns across Amelie’s rib cage, wrists, and hips. Massaging into tense muscles as the prior Talon marksman sighs with pleasure and comfort. The entire time, Ana murmurs praise as she works her over, telling her how good she was, how beautiful, just as she starts to doze off. Safe, at last.

Now, Amelie just needed to find a way to get a certain feisty hacker’s romantic attention.

[freddysbunny]

Predator Fluff

For the anon! Disclaimer, I wrote this as the reader being a member of the Tribe from AvP.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step out into the evening, the cool air lapping at your skin beneath your caribou-skin coat. Snow crunched beneath your boots, moonlight glistening off the white landscape. You love this time of night. Excitement prickles at your skin as you look across the village, your soft eyes landing on the large ship resting in the center.

The Gods had arrived today. You and many other members of the Yautja tribe - named for your Gods - had been gathered to line up and meet them. Gender never mattered, as long as you were without children. The Gods descended as your people lined up on either side of the Path to your Chief's hut. You were nervous, your legs trembling.

The Gods walked down the line, their green and black skin glimmering in the sun. Some wore helmets, others showed their bizarre and beautifully grotesque faces. You bit your lip as they drew closer. As they passed, each person was examined, and some were touched lightly on the arm. These were the ones chosen for The Ritual Hunt.

You knew it was an honor to be chosen. It was a blessing of the Gods, for it meant you would join them in the Heavens after their hunt.

You had dressed your best, in rabbit fur and ptarmagin feather alike. You wore jewels of bone and stone. You thought yourself lovely.

The Gods passed on, and you swiftly second guessed yourself.

One paused, his helmet turned toward you. He was far taller than you, his skin a mixture of bronz, green and yellow. His dreadlocks hung over his shoulders, also adorned in bone and beads. He had approached you, his hands going out. Clawed fingers traced your outline. You were heavier in weight, something you often felt guilty over. It always seemed the slimmer ones were blessed by the Gods. This confirmed it.

You weren't sure if the Yautja was mocking you, or simply confused by your size. A few clicks echoed from his helmet, and then he was gone.

Those chosen were taken away and those not were left to wonder why they weren't permitted the blessings.

You had wandered home, expecting disgrace from your family. They treated you as one might treat a heartbroken child, tender but cautious and unsure what to say. It would not be until the sun set that you would be summoned by the Chief, and now you stood outside, confused but trying to look on the bright side. Maybe you could earn a blessing helping to set up for The Ritual Hunt.

You make your way to the Chief's hut, spotting a few others from the tribe going the same way. Men and women that were all heavier, or tall than most, or shorter than others. All from the same line up - none of them blessed. You frown, your optimism waning. You reach the hut as they do, and the Chief urges you all toward the great Pyramids. There were two, built in honor of the Gods. The largest was used for The Ritual Hunt, but the smaller was a Temple for the Gods.

You shuffle for the Temple, chewing your lip again. Inside was luxurious, adorned with fur and jewels as far as your eyes can see. The Gods lounge on cushioned thrones and watch as each person enters. Once you all file in, the door id sealed behind you.

Instantly, the Gods stand. You fall to your knees, bowing to them. Clicks and purrs echo as they move around, and your heart is in your throat. You stare at the feet of your Gods as they pass you by, until a pair of boots stops in front of you. Your arm is touched. You stand, shaking, and look into the helmet of the same God from before.

He extends his hand, and you do not risk angering him. You take it. His fingers curl over yours, sending goosebumps down your arm. You follow as he leads you off to a room on the side. Your heart is in your throat when you see the bed, the cloth door swinging shut behind you.

You had heard rumor of this, that the Gods took human mates before The Ritual Hunt, but always assumed it was the blessed. You glance at your God and find his helmet is gone. His eyes are startlingly sharp, examining you closely. His hand finds yours again, drawing you in. Nervous, you start to ramble.

"I think you've made a mistake", you try to explain, wanting to point out your faults. The God lifts his finger and presses it to your lips, his other hand sliding around you. He presses you against him, your head leaning on his chest. His fingers stroke your hair gently.

You let yourself calm beneath his gentle touch, his clicks reassuring despite you not knowing what he says. His hands fall to your body, tracing your curves under the clothing. Not mocking - admiring. His tender fascination of your body grows the longer he holds you, and you close your eyes as he strokes you softly.

"Do you have a name, my God?", you whisper, hoping it doesn't upset him to be asked. A shrill clicking melts into a very human laugh as the God lays you on the bed. "Nukilik", he speaks, his voice so deep that it touches your soul. Your heart burns the name into your memory.

"Nukilik", you repeat affectionately. Nukilik crawls on top of you, his mouth fangs flexing. He strokes your cheek, your neck, your chest and stomach. You smile, reaching up to return the touch. You shouldn't. You're but a human, not even blessed, but you can't help it.

You lean up and kiss him.

Nukilik's fangs grasp your cheeks, digging in slightly, his tongue sliding across your lips. You whimper softly as he breaks away, rolling behind you. He pulls you close, clicking rapidly in his speech in your ear as he continues to pet your curves.

You may not be in blessed, but in this moment, you know what Heaven feels like.

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 17

Cuddling had shifted to dancing back home once a tiny determined cloud grew to drizzle across your lands causing you to blow out the candles and gather up the blankets and such to carry home again. A shift the following day however had you all grumbling your ways off to bed though. Half lazy kisses melted into dozing nuzzling closer with James half asleep across your chest with legs tangled in yours at your head drooping into your pillow with an adorable grin still lingering at your feeling his own heart shaped ring on his ring finger.

In his own impatience to share the link he had added to the knotted wedding band he had chosen with a ring his father had purchased for his own use. Black strips of golden bands woven with white gold diamond coated bands around a purple heart shaped stone. His father’s take on a claddagh ring seated facing out to mark you were engaged. For some the ring was a bit premature and odd but up in this secluded town most men once their dames had said yes that wedding band went on and didn’t come off unless work called for it. None too afraid to add colored stones or something sentimental to their partners worn shamelessly with great pride at being marked same as their partners. Where your heart stone was larger than his the band decorations evened them out, yours sleeker to be less bulky for you while his was perfect for him to always feel the weight of it like a mini hug from you until he could return to your side for a real one.

Sunrise stirred you and across James’ shoulder blade your fingers grazed until a reminding tilt of the heavy stone had your left hand raised slightly to admire the ring in the light causing it to shine. So much more than you had ever expected while growing up, most women sticking to simple golden bands or the odd diamond for the more wealthy of the men they were claimed by. The brothers certainly had more than enough to grant you this stunning heirloom ring you couldn’t have dreamed of. But then again it did seem fitting, being paired in such a public relationship you hoped didn’t mean your wedding would be publicized as well, not to mention the fact the brothers had been dubbed ‘old money’ and well off allowing great comfort to your future.

A low chuckle from the man in your arms had your hand lowering again to his bare back, a move making him hum out, “No early morning doubts?”

Angling your head to catch his slightly dazed grin in the tilt of his head, “Just never thought I’d get a ring like this.”

Closing the distance his lips met yours and he said, “Call me old fashioned, if it isn’t huge the other dames won’t be jealous. And you deserve to have some envy skewed your way, My Love.”

“You won’t get flac for yours?”

His brows inched up playfully in a smirking reply, “You haven’t noticed most of the men in town wear two rings? We flaunt our engagement too. Rightfully so. If you mean the color or cut no doubt if any would dare insult it they would meet the business end of my claws.”

“You would-,”

“Oh I would. No one insults you or my displays of affection for you.” After a moment he shifted to lay on his side curling you back to his chest cradling your hand to weave his fingers with yours allowing you both to admire the ring again. “You do like the ring?”

“I love it. It’ll take some getting used to. Certainly an eye grabber back in New York no doubt.”

“If you like I’ll have one of us with you always to make sure no one tries to snatch it.”

The seriousness of his tone wavered at your smirk, “I can tear tanks in half, I pity the man trying to take it from me. It’s never coming off my finger unless I’m baking or building something. Even then I’m magnetizing it to something heavy.”

Lowly he chuckled, “Their panic would be amusing, all the same, I love you, and I want you to feel comfortable wearing it.”

“I am. It does have a nice weight to it. Used to have this penny mood ring, had to be tin, didn’t feel right.”

“It means a lot, can’t tell you how many times I imagined how you might take to the old thing. Just feels right, us being the ones to wear them.”

“Yes it does.” The alarm sounded and another kiss was stolen on your way to readying for your shifts once breakfast was through.

Bashful grins lingered and timid glances stolen in the time and drive you had to the diner where the brothers would leave you and Eddie. Another warm kiss was stolen and out he slid to help you down wishing you a good day watching you head inside.

Though halfway down the street James was exhaling to calm down before the guys would no doubt spot the ring he would be adding to the chain with his dog tags around his neck to keep it safe joining the group ritual. Smirking to himself once they had parked knowing the grins he would get in picking you up. Your reaction was a startling scream from one of the girls across the room luring the rest to pool in around you and your giggling slightly bashful self sharing how he had proposed leaving the girls dreamy eyed until huffs sounded and the sharing had to be paused for now at the entrance of a duo of trucks pulling up.

.

“Now,” Dot smirked easing your hand closer to her with a loop of her fingers around your wrist, “You have to tell me, did you pick the ring, or did he?”

Softly you giggled brushing your bangs behind your ears, “It’s been in their family since the early 1800’s, same as the ring he’s wearing. Apparently thought to be absurd by the woman meant to have worn it, just been sitting around and he had it resized for me. Might have been absurd for her, but it’s more than I could have dreamed of for how we grew up.”

Dot’s cousin came over, “It certainly is a stunner. No doubt it will go phenomenally with your dress and those girls in Barnard won’t be able to close their jaws. Put them and their city money to shame with that.”

Dot asked with a plotting grin, “Did you hear about the new films Marie got her hubby to order for this month?”

You shook your head and the excited gasp they had expected escaped you in hearing it was That Hamilton Woman with a lesser known to you film called Fantasia. Your favorite black and white film, a topic also brought up by the men in the mill who all knew through the ladies that Marie had been trying to get it in town before you were leaving. For how long he had avoided romances just hearing that you loved the film, that Eddie had snuck you into the film back before the war, James grew more excited to see it with you. Between bouts of their studying up on building codes and manuals they had ordered date nights and monthly film nights when new films were brought to town.

.

A bout of storms pushed your packing ahead of schedule and loaded up the truck was aimed for a much shorter trip to Brooklyn than the last time. Post prepping trip to Brooklyn for paperwork and ensuring things were in order from the brothers for a two day trip you were all eager to be back again. Once again the same apartment sat waiting for you and Eddie was off with relatives to help out in the pool hall. While you, in your t shirt under a mostly buttoned work shirt complete with trousers and boots, wound up your braided bun with a bandana to keep your bangs from your face guiding the guys to the town hardware shop. The pair of them in matching boots, trousers, mostly open work shirts and tank tops showing underneath they would strip to once inside the apartment.

Most of the tools had been brought with you, however a few were still needed and to their surprise the pair saw just how your community stuck together. From upholstery, paint, even the little knickknack shop by the drug store were all eager to help a fellow Irish Catholic from the town to fix up their home while other buildings had been scooped up by outsiders. Each community kept to their own and even with the guys as the technically legal owners it was made clear you were to live there, and child of two Irish immigrants and a war hero to boot were to be protected by your own.

Outside the building a giant metal dumpster sat with a chute settled inside a window feeding into it and in the garage on the side the truck was parked. Lowly Victor hummed out, “And here I was expecting some fight in this.”

Smirking at him while grabbing as many tools as you could you replied, “We keep to our own. Irish immigrants have to stick together, can’t let anyone boot us out of our homes or businesses.” Victor up front unlocked the door leading the way inside to unload everything and turn again to grab another load.

James said, “Good thing about the block being in construction the neighbors won’t complain about our noise.”

“As long as we are at Mass Wednesdays and Sundays they won’t care.”

Victor, “Every week? You up for that?”

“Steve missed one Mass when we were kids and Mrs Cahn was out for blood. Wasn’t till everyone found out he was having his appendix removed and we were in the hospital that she calmed and got the whole congregation to pool what they could to help.”

James smirked, “Why does that not sound like the end of that?”

In a giggle you replied, “He couldn’t so much as sneeze without her glaring at him from then on. He was given a stern warning from her.” Making the pair chuckle, “You don’t have-,”

The pair said, “We’re going.”

James stole a kiss on your cheek eyeing the ring on the chain with your dog tags around your neck poking out under your shirt, “As long as you are happy with it we will all keep up with Mass.”

Victor nodded, “Don’t let our lapsing tarnish your own wishes for your beliefs. Hold tight to that as long as you can. We know how dark things can get when you break with that.”

The final things were brought in and up to the top floor with mallets and hammers in hand you were on your way up to the top floor as James said, “Best to start from the top down.”

Inside the first apartment there Victor said, “Jimmy will handle the doors, shelving and cabinets first, I will mark off where the studs are and you can get started on punching out the spots between them.”

You nodded and in the first corner he tapped the wall and using a pencil marked a three foot space that James showed you how hard to hit to punch a hole through the drywall. Chunks for how high you could reach were pulled out and added to a tarp on the floor the guys would take to be dumped through the chute into the dumpster with the final sections higher out of your reach to be taken down by them. The shoddy job on wiring and pipes sorely in need of replacing became all the clearer with dust clearing with help from all the open windows. Using ladders a few spots in the ceiling were broken open as well to check what the condition of the beams and oddly colored patches had been hiding.

Floor by floor you spread their smirks at your determined status on wanting to help with the demo and as much of the build as possible even if it just meant clearing up after the crews. A job they greatly supported hoping that this would not be another of their homes you would be moving into, it was very much in fact yours, outside of the legal aspect of course that with you under 21 with no male to back your ownership claims past your fiancé of course. Legally you were short handed and they had to wait before your name could be added to the deed, after your birthday and the wedding to have it be in all three of your names. Eddie was clear it was yours and he was glad to just be welcome to stay with you all and refused to claim a piece of it as legally he could always claim a patch of his own somewhere whenever he wished, quite unfairly in their eyes at the continued barriers you had to face.

Added chutes for trash and laundry were among the tiny touches that you were a bit excited to have and show off to others that the rich kids in town had bragged about. This whole building was to be yours and any touch you wanted to try and fluff it up they would try to ensure that they could get them included in the group home. A nearly to be demolished patch of door frame was noticed and pointed out to James by Victor to be saved for later, markings of your heights growing up that was set safely away from the rest of the scrap piles of wood to be sorted through later for possible reuse. Anything possibly able to keep a piece of your mother and a glimmer of happiness from your childhood was added to the pile.

Nearly to lunch you had reached the end of the second floor when loud knocks sounded on the front door. Victor said, “Good, should be the inspector.”

That had your stomach clenching knowing who would be sent for this district, who most certainly would be aiming to hinder the process and gouge whoever he was sent to inspect. “I thought you wouldn’t need an inspector until after the repairs were through.”

Victor turned for the door as James said, “One before you get started with crews too.”

A chuckle came from Victor as you muttered, “This won’t be good.”

Leaning in James kissed your cheek murmuring, “I love you.”

Peering up at him you gave him a curious grin, “I love you.”

Quickly his lips met yours in a sweet kiss and he said, “We have prepped. Leave it to us.”

Though with a nudge he guided you to finish up the last section of the floor while Victor reached the door greeting the dressed up Italian inspector you could hear from upstairs and upon completing the last section of wall you went down to meet him. “Hi, Vinny Tortelli, Mr-,”

“Victor Creed.” Down the steps you came and the man looked you both over, “My brother Jimmy and his fiancé Bunny.”

Vinny looked you over, “I know you. That nurse’s kid.”

You flashed him a quick grin, “Yes.”

“Heard you were dead.”

“Not yet.”

He looked you over again then said, “Best start from the top.” Walking to head up the stairs to search each room. Every little thing he made sure to shake his head and make it known that he was going to fail the building until he got to the main floor again saying, “Clearly, it’s almost a teardown. As soon as you get a certified architect to sign off on the design plans and hire a contractor to head the rebuild I’ll sign off on the permit.”

Victor proudly finally having his chance to speak up for you all said, “They have been signed off. We have a notarized letter to validate that and I am a certified contractor. We’ve already filed the permits and the crew arrives tomorrow.” Displeased after checking out their papers to be legit he signed his name to the sheet he tore from his book and handed it over to Victor.

His eyes switched to you and he asked, “I would have thought it to be cleaner with you here.” At that your brow arched and he said, “Usually dames don’t get involved with builds.”

James said, “We are managing the build while Bunny is the owner, ensuring we stay on time and budget.”

Vinny’s tongue clicked in looking at you again and smirked saying, “No doubt you’ll be running over both then. You’ll need all the luck in the world.” Turning for the door that on the other side of started to cackle making you roll your eyes.

Victor rumbled, “Where’s squishy when you need him?”

Shaking your head you sighed only to feel James kissing your cheek again, “Now that we have the sign off to start work we can head off to lunch then get back to check the back yard. Tomorrow the work is mainly rough and detailed for specialists so if you wouldn’t mind working in the yard while we just shell the place-,”

You shook your head, “No I’m good with that. I wouldn’t want to slow things down.”

James said, “When we start to get back into moving walls and re-plastering we’ll show how to do it. We aren’t bumping you out, Love.”

.

Down the street you all dropped into the diner there for a meal and shared news of what you had accomplished so far. Back again the overgrown green knot of a patch of land you sat on the back steps with a notepad to sketch out possible ideas you could get managed the following day after trying to mark up what it did look like and what might be buried there. Hard and rough the overgrown plants were torn free by the pair while you used a copper pipe you sharpened the side of to slice through more and more. Cut down decently the courtyard sat with in an approved barrel by the fire department you watched the largest of bushes and branches burning down to ashes for the hour they allowed before dumping a bucket of water on top of it.

Yawning widely you drove back to the apartment after locking up to shower, change and have the dinner Eddie had fixed up for you three. Tired and sore you stretched out in bed with eyes drooping through James’ easing out behind you wrapping you in his arms in a press of his lips to your cheek. “Love you,”

You sighed out and were gone making him chuckle bringing you closer to his chest to hum back, “I love you more, Darling.” Closing his eyes to get some rest before the early morning to meet the first crew coming to help them.

The hefty breakfast nearly didn’t last you to lunch, and under the gazes of the curious crew members wondering what you were up to alone in the yard digging out the pathways and courtyard you used a broom and buckets of water to uncover the haphazard stones forming the seating area. Across from that the raised yard that would need some new stairs, the grass was cut more with the help of a couple kids the Brocks sent over once they heard what you were up to with push mowers aiding the task. Bushes were revealed and a line of hedges badly needing to be trimmed. Taking a break once you’d done all you thought you could achieve the men tried to pretend they hadn’t been watching and got back to work as you browsed through the house seeing the plumbing being checked and each ruined piece being switched out while the wiring was being removed altogether.

A second team along with James was checking the floors while Victor showed another the beams and supports needing to be swapped out. For the inspector’s hopes to hinder the supply chain and delay further with connections in Canada to keep from being ripped off and confirming a limitless supply out of the hands of the people here to restrict how easily you were able to complete the job. Catching you wandering James called you over to show you how they had tested the wood and the marked patches they would have to tear up before showing you into the kitchen of the first apartment to start hammering up the tile. What was assumed to be cheap laminate was even cheaper tile you chiseled away with a screwdriver and hammer creating a growing pile of rubble you used a dustpan to pour onto the tarp laid out for it.

Sheer determination had the full floor’s tile was torn up and dropped into the chute before the crew and you broke for a meal. With the tile torn back more plumbing was available for the guys to check and jumping in to help James and Victor helped to clear the other floors quicker, though oddly enough the main floor had the laminate on badly bowing wood. Beams would be coming in the following day and by the end of the week the boiler was swapped out along with most of the pipes. The fuse box was moved to a safe location away from the boiler and you were tasked to help with the crew replacing bad chunks of the floor. Mainly fetching and helping to steady certain planks while tools were being traded before Victor called you over to aid in moving some walls after support beams were settled in place to be removed once the new walls were secured.

The focus for weeks was the foundations of the house and with wood, pipes and wiring checked you were cleared to add the insulation after your day of helping installs some new windows and metal bars for the outside of them that gave you a good idea. With the old pipes just laying around and nails discarded with metal odds and ends on a late night with the blessing of the brothers you began to lace a thick layer of metal on the inside of the bricks in the small gaps left in construction. After his shifts Eddie would drop by and it was Venom to catch onto the addition and race off into the night to fetch more suitable metal to help finish fortifying the home. But much to the irritation of the inspector his job was complete as it was mainly cosmetic now.

New tiles and carpets came with the fixtures for the bathrooms and kitchens. Laundry room was the last to be customized before you got to help in hanging the new drywall helping the crews get to aiding James in installing new shelves and cabinets. Victor however broke James’ fifth stolen moments of lovingly staring at you in a gleefully proud mood in helping on the build to show you the now functioning laundry and garbage chutes earning a tight hug from you and a chuckle from him.

Paint and wallpaper was the next step once everything was built and mounted into place sending the crews back home again. Heavily you dropped into bed and seeing how hard you had been pushing yourself to help the men so used to these jobs. At the foot of the bed James knelt grinning at you in the cradling of one of your aching feet, “Thank you,”

“You know I love giving you massages.” He hummed.

“I meant for not teasing me about my smashing my thumb and nearly crying at splitting my nail.”

Holding back a smirk he replied, “We have all been there. It is excruciating.”

“I didn’t cry when I got shot.”

Lowly he chuckled folding both hands around your foot to deepen the massage, “Thumbs toes and elbows, breed all their own on scales for pain.” After a pause he hummed out, “You have been magnificent, you know that. More than half the teens to help on our old jobs didn’t pick things up half as fast as you. All the crews saw that, and were very impressed.”

Ghosting a smirk across your lips you asked, “Are you trying to bolster my ego?”

“Perhaps, first though, I know you are sore, full rub down then snuggles and breakfast in bed.”

Shaking your head you said, “If only you from five years ago could see you now.”

James’ grin split wider, “He would have had proof there was something to keep pushing for past helping the world through another war. Some magic ball of impossible to have pulled our broken selves back together again.”

“I was talking about your lost scowl.” Making him chuckle again, “So serious, determined to scowl your way through the days.”

“Easier to keep from grinning at you like an idiot that way.”

“Nazi’s would have been terrified.”

“Oh yes they would, you tearing their planes from the sky and me smiling chasing after you.” Over every inch of you he massaged your aching muscles until he had eased under the covers he had pulled up over you in the drooping of your eyes. One more lingering kiss in the cupping of your cheek and he nestled closer holding you to his chest allowing you to drape across it clinging to the warm body easing more around you.

Clamping his eyes shut every moment he allowed to seep into his memory, taking up yet another chance to just hold you in belonging to one another. Traded rings on one another’s fingers, so close to being publicly official. But none of that mattered, because he’d been there staring at a pine box holding his family, one by one buried except for Victor. Every injury, every bullet you had taken, even today in hitting your now silver thumb so hard on a slipped board you split your nail squeaking out in pain and on the edge of tears he prayed so hard. Harder than he ever had, that it meant like them you would be here, his, because he would be yours always. Even if it ended in another pine box he wouldn’t waste a moment with not loving you.

.

“Jaqi,” Victor practically growled out lowly so only you could hear when you reached the kitchen for breakfast as James was finding a shirt that wasn’t torn or coated in dust. “Mr Tortelli is in the sitting room saying we need a permit to have the phone line mended, but he won’t approve the permit until the out of date mounting system is replaced and we have a certified installer come to approve that they can install the system, which they won’t do until we have the permit.”

“O-, okay, i,”

“I need you to do the mind thingy to make him think it’s mended, because the installer is coming in an hour and it’s easily a hundred bucks to get him out here in the first place to put in our phone lines.”

“Okay,” You said turning for the sitting room.

Quickly he leaned in to give you a quick hug saying, “Soon as he goes you three can go to the diner and eat.”

With a nod you left the room and entered the sitting room picking up the keys for the building eyeing the Italian turning from his inspection of a painting on the wall he pointed to, “My niece painted something like that in kindergarten.”

“Well the Brocks do like to use local artists to decorate their rentals, maybe later we can drop by and have her sign it.”

You smiled as he gave you a smirk and pointed at you, “You got jokes.”

You showed him the keys, “Makes up for my whole female debacle I’ve got going on. I’ll lead you over and we can get this started.”

He joined you to the door saying, “Well I was just telling Victor-,”

Again you grinned at him, “Yes he informed me, you need the installer to come and sign off before the permit can be given for the work to start.” In your looking forward you could hear Victor muttering curses in a momentary plop onto the couch to calm down confusing Eddie when he came down. “Installer’s on his way, should be there in a bit.”

Purposefully he glanced at his expensive watch saying, “Well I can’t wait too long, busy schedule and all-,”

“Oh I don’t doubt that. Whole block is on cinder blocks and tarped bet you’re making a killing.”

To himself he chuckled and adjusted his tie, “Well, business is business. Doesn’t look like you’ll make much when it’s through with three, maybe four apartments.”

“We’re not renting,” he glanced at you, “I got accepted to an Ivy League school and we need a place to stay while I attend.”

“How’d you get into Ivy League? Didn’t think they let in dames.”

“Few do.”

“So you’re telling me you’re keeping all that space to yourselves?”

“I also have a cousin and aunt up in Canada right now that might move to New York in a couple years. They’ll be visiting too, and the guys have friends from Canada who would be coming down to visit most likely.”

At the stoop you eyed a few of Vinny’s friends, including a cousin of Bucky’s who said, “Looky here, Brock let out his little piece on her own. Huge splash you made running off with him. Not hard for some to think the worst on how you paid off your guards to get  through the war safe. Rumors you know how they can flood through a small town like ours.”

Grinning at the man you asked, “Have you visited your cousin Bucky’s grave yet?”

“Of course, every month.”

“You know there were some who had a hunch him and Steve would be buried in lovers plots.”

He pointed at you and Vinny smirked at the nerve you were aiming for, “Some whispers of light loafers and such,”

“Don’t you dare!”

“But then you know, see, I’m the only Rogers left in Brooklyn, and well, there’s just so many Barnes around. Like you said rumors are like floods, and, no telling who drowns in it once it’s out there. Especially when it’s laced with hellfire.”

Vinny chuckled saying, “I underestimated you.”

Glancing at him as you unlocked the door in Victor’s trot up to catch you, you replied, “Who hasn’t?”

You led the way through the door and Vinny gestured for him to drop it while he passed through to join you to the main mount for the phone system for guests on the main floor that would feed out to the upper floor connections. With brows furrowing Vinny looked from the clearly needing to be repaired and replaced mount to his notes, “Huh, could have sworn it needed a full gutting.” Shaking his head he muttered, “Must have switched notes with Murphy’s down the block.” Scribbling our the final details to the permit he passed to Victor who stood holding back his smirk until the trio left passing Eddie and James in their way in. “Come on fellas, let’s go wake up Murphy.”

“Thank you!” Victor whispered once the door was shut behind them. Rolling his head back in a flex of his fingers and nails extending them shrinking back again. His eyes fell to you again and he asked, “What’s what he was saying about floods?”

“Oh he was saying he was apparently keeping people from saying that I ran off to be Eddie’s whore.” That dropped Eddie’s jaw and you said, “And I reminded him if he wants to play with rumors then Steve and Bucky fueled more than a few.”

James growled out, “I hope that shut him up.”

“Oh it did, and Vinny said he underestimated me. Made him shut up.”

Victor asked, “Is that a good thing? Impressing Vinny?”

“Depends. Barneses are close to the Tortelli’s, by marriage, who hate the Brocks’ and I was taken in by the Brocks. They weren’t really sure on Steve, cuz he was still Irish and they were Italian, only Bucky was around to keep the other guys in line. I was a girl so worst I got was some scorn or verbal jabs, then again I kept to myself mainly so I was mainly ignored. They mainly keep to their end of Brooklyn and I’m not really part of anyone’s business, so, no, not really.”

Eddie smirked saying, “Just means it goes towards her reputation as more than just Steve’s sister. Not a bad thing but not overly needed for anything past if we had to cross to their side of town.”

Victor looked you over then leaned in to kiss your forehead in a sideways hug, “Alright, now, off to eat, I’ll wait for the phone guy to show up.” In your nip at your lip he asked, “Whats that look for?”

“You know how you said no more edits to the design yesterday to Vinny?”

His hand waved, “Don’t mind that, that’s for him, what did you want to change?”

“I was just thinking, you know how Dot’s dad’s barn has those rolling doors, could we do something like that for my office and the library? Could save room with the doors.”

“Absolutely,” he and James said.

James added, “Won’t be a hassle at all, and the doors you picked would be great for that. Just slip metal grooves on the beam above and along the walls on either side, just tuck the carpeting right up to it won’t notice it at all from far off.”

Victor, “We could do that for your closet too if you like? It is an oversized door could keep it from reaching the window if you swing it open too hard.”

“If it would be easier sure.”

Victor nodded saying, “Sliding doors it is, I will see how many of our other communal doors can be sliding as well to save on space and keep our future puppy from being closed off too much.” You giggled and he added pounding at James, “Jimmy promised a puppy and we are getting one.”

Again you giggled and James looped his arm around your back saying, “Let’s feed you.”

Pt 18

@changelingkhat, @alishlieb​

[carlosjillgivemelife]

Shark week.

If menstruation grosses you out, or the natural cycle of reproductive organs... then I don’t know what to tell you? I guess trigger warning? This is something that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about with many characters that have a uterus being more present as lead roles in games. How would they have dealt with their periods? Even on a normal basis. I couldn’t help but to think about Jill, and god that’d suck if she was getting chased by Nemesis around the city, all while dealing with cramps. Anyways... 

(I am strangely proud that I get to use this gif for correct context for once in my life)

Jill on her period: 

Normally Jill is pretty self-sufficient. She’s always been super independant, even as a teen. So when she has her period, she doesn’t make a big deal about it. She knows though when it’s coming due to body aches, boobs hurting, and her patience is drastically shorter. 

She’s a moderate bleeder. 

She is however one prone to some gnarly cramps! I mean ones that would leave you doubled over, and sobbing. When that happens, she’s out for a few hours. Hot water bottle on her belly, a couple of pain pills popped, and something on the television to keep her distracted. 

Her cramps will get so bad that they also spread through her back, and make laying anywhere but on her sides absolutely painful! 

She isn’t one to binge on chips and chocolate when she’s on her period. She does enjoy some intense dark chocolate, and a hard candy that she can roll around in her mouth and clench onto with her molars when she feels a cramp coming on! 

It is a little odd to Jill how easily Carlos deals with the idea that she is on her period. 

A lot of men she worked with in the RPD, and even in the military were juvenile when they heard a person was on their period! She thought it was stupid to be squirrely, and weird about. After all, it’s a body’s natural reaction monthly, what is there to be grossed out about it?

Salty snacks she does enjoy during is cheesy popcorn! White cheddar, aged cheddar- whatever. So long as it’s a bag of popcorn she can munch on that has cheese on it be it melted, or that dusting of it then she’s happy! 

First three days are the worse pain wise for her. There have been a couple times she has to call out of work, simply for the fact she’s in a shit ton of pain!

Jill is still taken aback at Carlos acceptance over the fact she has periods. Again, she’s worked around normal men, and has seen how weirdly squeamish they are about the IDEA someone would have a period. 

She’s told Carlos number of times he doesn’t need to do anything for her. She’s a tough independent woman that has dealt with having a period since she was 12. 

The dogs are subjected to her making them snuggle her when Carlos isn’t around during the times she needs someone to hold her, or to hold onto something. 

Carlos dealing with Jill when she’s on her period:

I’d really like to believe that with Carlos’s women respecting energy he has, that someone being on their period isn’t going to gross him out. In fact he’s pretty good at figuring out and sensing when Jill is about to start her’s. One he figures out when her menstrual cycle usually starts. Then he watches how her moods change throughout the month leading to her period, and does listen to her when she says something is starting to hurt. 

He realized quick in their dating that Jill does not want to be overly fussed over! He made that mistake the first time she was on her period when they were dating, and she bled through her pants. It wasn’t so much he freaked out. It was the fact he jumped into action so quickly, and was trying to do everything he could to make her feel comfortable. Which led to her feeling more awkward than what was needed.

They were still learning about each other then, and he realize that Jill is very independent, and she doesn’t want to feel smothered. Granted his heart was in the right place, but buying her unneeded things and being busy and fussing over her led to them being in an argument. 

Carlos grew up with a bunch of sisters, he’s the middle child. So, when his sisters’ all started that dreaded week, he learned fast to get over the idea of hearing about blood coming out of a vagina. 

Carlos now just quietly goes about doing certain things for Jill. When she wakes up at night, or is groaning from a cramp he’ll get up and get her some water and the bottle of ibuprofen. He now asks her if she needs a hot water bottle, or for him to rub her back instead of assuming. She appreciates it more when he does ask, and allows her the chance to say yes or no. Again, she doesn’t want to feel she depends on someone to do the things for her that she can normally do for herself, but it’s nice when someone asks. 

Carlos has, and will go to the store for Jill if she’s out of what she needs for that week. While we love our boy Carlos for being the amazing soul he is, he still calls Jill to ask what brand, size, type etc. of menstrual product she needs. 

CARLOS ISN’T AFRAID TO BUY THOSE PRODUCTS, AND DOESN’T NEED TO BUY SOMETHING MASCULINE TO COMPENSATE FOR HIS MASCULINITY! 

Carlos is the one to convince Jill to talk to a doctor, or specialist in regards to her cramps. He literally is the one that brings it up that the pain she has isn’t normal, and she shouldn’t be left in crippling pain for the first few days of her period. This leads to an argument, one which Carlos wins by stating he’s been reading up on what it means when someone has such painful cramps during a period. Possible disorders, or complications that can occur due to said cramps, and pain. Who to talk to. Questions to ask, etc. etc. Jill is reluctant, but finally gives in and agrees to talk to a doctor about the pain she’s experiencing when she’s on her period. 

When Jill does go to that appointment, Carlos offers to go with her. Jill rather receptive to it, and says she was going to ask if he’d go with her. She is strangely nervous. Since Raccoon City, she’s worried that she’s forever fucked up in every way possible. Carlos reassures her that she’s not, and that he has sisters’ and he’s seen how they used to react from certain pains during their period. 

During that whole appointment with her gynecologist, she holds Carlos’s hand. Carlos knows how nervous she is, not by how she speaks, but by how tightly she holds his hand. 

So there we have it. I don’t know why I felt this was needed to be listed out, but I had the overwhelming sensation come over me to do it. I wanted to leave it realistic, and be respectful to Jill’s stubborn, and independant nature. While at the same being respectful for Carlos’s compassionate soul. 

[i-know-like-four-things]

Panic and Confessions

This is a fic I wrote for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover ‘s and @specialagentrin ‘s @representation-week

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2338

Summary:

Sam has a nightmare and a resulting panic attack, meaning that he was up in the early hours of the morning. Someone else is up. Confessions and honest conversations ensue.

Or

The faces our boys wear when no one but each other is looking

Warnings: Canon typical violence, minor self harm. My thought process when writing it is that it wasn't really intentional, it was more of just a tic that the character has. It was written to be like a maladaptive coping mechanism, but It could be triggering for some folks. Stay safe lovelies!

Read on AO3

Sam woke feeling like his head was underwater. He looked down and saw unfamiliar sheets, and he simply assumed he must have been in another nameless motel in middle America. He rested his eyes for a moment longer, not wanting to become a part of the real world just yet. Surely, Dean was still asleep so he could afford a few extra minutes of denial and peace.

He finally decided to open his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling above him. And there was Jess, trapped to the ceiling, surrounded by flames. She was screaming for help. Sam tried to get up and help her, to yell back at the very least, but he was parrylized. He could do little more than watch.

Suddenly, the heat intensified and Jess was gone. In her place was his mom, Mary. Mary’s skin was blistering, and her hair was almost all gone. More and more of her flesh disappeared in front of Sam’s eyes, and her screams intensified. All of her skin burned off, and then her muscles and bones started melting, dripping like hot oil onto Sam’s exposed flesh. Again, he tried to scream, but nothing came out.

When Mary had completely melted, the fire went out and the room was suddenly freezing. Sam could feel the cold seeping into his bones and drying Mary’s remains on his skin.

“Hey, Sammy. Long time no see,” said a voice, slickly sweet, from across the room. In the corner, by the door of the room, stood a man. The man was slightly shorter than Sam, with sandy blond hair and stubble.

Sam still could not speak, but he felt like screaming as soon as he realized who it was. Lucifer. Lucifer smiled sickeningly before throwing his hand out to the side. A flash of light came out of his hand and struck a sleeping Dean right in the chest. At the contact, Dean screamed an ear-shattering scream. He screamed for what felt like an eternity, sounding like he was rupturing his own vocal chords, until he collapsed, limp into his bed, smoke rising from his chest.

“Thank Chuck we finally got him out of the way,” Lucifer laughed and walked confidently over to Sam. Sam felt his eyes heat and moisten, and his chest clenched as the fallen angel drew closer, but he could still do nothing except lay there and wait.

Lucifer loomed over Sam, looking down at him. He snapped his fingers and suddenly Sam was naked, his arms chained above his head, with Mary’s remains still stuck to him. He could feel the sharp metal of the cuffs cutting into the skin of his wrists, and the damp floor freezing his soul through his feet. Sam heard dripping water somewhere, and he took a moment to think how chiche that was. Dripping water in a dungeon? How original.

Lucifer walked up to Sam, carrying a knife. Sam pulled on the metal collar around his neck, again feeling it biting into his flesh, but to no avail. “Well, Sam,” Lucifer sneered, “this is going to be fun.”

Sam woke, for real this time, in his bed in the bunker. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat even though he was freezing. He sat up in his bed, tapping at his sternum. He had picked up that habit the first time that he had a panic attack and was trying to tell Dean even though he couldn’t speak. Now, any time his heart started to race and his breathing became unnatural, he would tap at his sternum until it became painful.

Sam hunched over and clutched at his hair, focusing on his breathing. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the type of panic attack that he could stop, and that he would just have to wait it out. He hunched over, letting the tears flow freely from his eyes. He let himself hyperventilate, digging his fingers into his skin. Sometimes he wasn’t breathing. He would breathe in, hold it, unable to force himself to exhale, until he was dizzy. Then all the air would come rushing out at one. Then a labored, slow, and painful inhale.

It went on for ten minutes, where Sam was grasping for breath, his vision blacking out and him digging at his skin. Claw marks on his thighs. Crescent moons on his palms. Blood under his nails and on the rough patches on his face. Salt in his mouth.

When it finally subsided, Sam was exhausted, but even so he did not want to go back to sleep. It was more of a physical exhaustion, the one he felt in his bones, but his brain was running like a hyperactive labrador. So Sam decided to go wash his face off with cold water and then make some coffee. He’d have a lazy day if he had to, but he was not risking more of those dreams.

Sam slowly made his way to the bunker’s main bathrooms. They were set up like a college dorm. Some of the rooms had individual bathrooms, but sometimes Sam liked to go to the main ones; they reminded him of Stanford. So Sam slowly made his way to the stalls, running his hands over the walls of the bunker, letting the rough texture ground him.

He rounded the corner to the bathroom, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. He walked into the bathroom and was confronted with a very interesting sight. Cas was standing over the sink, in front of the mirrors. In front of him, he had various multi-colored things in front of him. And Sam had seen this scene before; he had lived with enough women to know what doing makeup looked like.

Cas was applying eyeshadow with the most delicate touches. He was going back and forth now, making sure that his eyes were symmetrical. When Cas decided that the eye shadow was good enough, he picked up his eyeliner to start applying that. Sam realized he was staring.

“Cas?” Sam asked, startling the angel. Cas dropped his eyeliner and it clattered loudly in the sink. He stared at Sam, a deer in headlights, but said nothing. Both men stared at each other in silence, neither one knowing what to say.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” Cas finally said.

“I’m all ears,” Sam held his hands open expectantly.

Cas sighed. “Would it be okay if we wait for Dean to get up? I’ve been meaning to talk to both of you, and I’m not really sure I want to have this conversation twice.” Cas looked down at his feet.

Sam felt for the guy, he really did. “Sure, Cas. Whatever you want,” Cas let out a breath of relief and turned to the sink to wash his makeup off. Sam felt his chest clench a little at the sight, but he brushed it off.

So Sam went to the kitchen and started making coffee. He looked at the clock and saw that it read 4:30. He went about his morning routine, getting ready to make eggs and bacon when he thought Fuck it. Dean doesn’t need to sleep any longer. Let's have a chat with Cas. Sam scampered off to Dean’s room, having decided to put all of his energy into being the most annoying little brother he could be.

Sam slammed open the door to Dean’s room letting it knock into the wall. Dean jumped up and swung his gun at Sam, but Sam didn’t flinch. He just flicked on the light and went over to Dean’s bed and ripped the covers off.

“What the fuck, man?” Dean demanded, putting the gun away and rubbing his eyes, “It's way too goddamn early for you to have this much energy.”

Sam leveled him with a bitch face, “I can’t sleep, Cas doesn’t sleep, and he wants to have a conversation with us. I didn’t want to wait for your lazy ass.”

Dean grumbled and rolled out of bed, “It’s not my fault that I live with a bunch of insomniacs.”

The brothers walked to the kitchen. At this point, the coffee was done brewing, and Sam made a b-line for it, before Dean shoved him out of the way. Dean grabbed the biggest coffee mug they had and filled it to the brim before he let Sam at it. Dean sat at the counter and wallowed in how terrible it was to be awake at such an early hour, and Sam went to find Cas.

Dean only dozed off twice while Sam was gone, and he thought that was pretty good. When Sam and Cas walked in the kitchen, Dean sent the angel a dopey smile as he took the seat across from Dean. Sam sat next to his brother.

Cas fidgeted and looked very uncomfortable with the prospect of telling the boys what had been weighing on him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, looked up at Dean, then down at the table, then up at Sam, then down at the table. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“When I became human, and when I was not in the bunker, there was a lot that I learned by observing and speaking with the people. The longer I was with them, the more I learned about myself. I began to feel that I did not belong, and not simply because I had been an angel. Part of this feeling of not belonging, I discovered, had to do with my not feeling as though I were a man. As I have explained in the past, angels do not have gender. At least, we do not experience gender in the same way that most humans do. From my understanding, angels experience similar genders to those of humans, but with a lesser intensity.

“One day I met a very interesting person who helped me realize who I was. This person said that they did not feel as though they fit into the ‘default’ categories of gender. They felt that their gender was something else, and was both masculine and feminine. They said the name for this gender was ‘nonbinary.’ I explained how I was feeling to this person in regards to my own gender, and they said that I might be described as nonbinary.

“Soon after that, I met up with the two of you, I met April, and you know how the rest goes. When I was working at the gas n’ sip, I did some of my own research about my gender. I came to the conclusion that I was, in fact, nonbinary. After this realization, it took me some time to come to terms with it myself. The more I read about non cisgender people, the more I realized how hard human life was for them -- for us. I was unsure how the two of you felt about gender, and how you would react to mine.” Cas pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows, indicating that he didn’t know quite where to go from there.

Cas ran his fingers over each other, waiting for one of the brothers to respond. To him, Sam looked very taken aback and confused; Cas couldn’t really nail down his reaction. Dean, on the other hand, just looked tired. Not tired like he does when he’s hopeless and beat down, but tired like he had just woken up, which he had, so Cas assumed that he was unfazed by this development. The coil in Cas’ stomach wound itself tighter around his internal organs as he waited for the boys to react.

Sam looked all over the kitchen, sometimes beginning to ask a question and then shutting his mouth. Sam had that deep furrow in his brow that he got when he was trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle. Dean just took another sip of his coffee.

Dean broke the silence first. “So,” Cas finally made eye contact, “what’re your pronouns?”

Cas blinked stupidly for a few moments before he responded. “Uh, they/them.”

“And is Cas still good or do you want to change that?” Cas’ lips turned up in the corners a little at that.

“No, Dean. ‘Cas’ is still good.”

Dean nodded and went back to his coffee acting completely unbothered by everything. Cas’ nerves settled a little, but Sam still looked confused. His eyes flicked between Cas and Dean for a few moments.

“Uh, thanks for sharing, Cas. I appreciate your honesty.” Cas nodded his head, and Sam just looked at Dean, even more confused. “I’m honestly more taken aback by how you’re reacting to this, Dean.”

Dean choked down his sip of coffee before answering angrily, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Sammy?”

“Well,” Sam looked away, “you have always been around hunters and hunters are not known to be overly accepting.”

“Well screw you. I’m accepting. I know all about the gay community. So this gender thing isn’t new to me. I’m cool with it.”

“How the hell do you ‘know all about the gay community’?”

“I may or may not have done some research a while back and I learned a lot.”

“And?” Cas finally spoke up, raising their left eyebrow and smiling a bit. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up a little as he looked at Cas.

Dean held Cas’ gaze as he said, “Turns out I’m bi.” They were both full-on grinning now.

“Well, I’m pan.”

“So, cool!” Sam said, a little loudly and very uncomfortably. “I’m just a straight man and this was a much more open conversation than I was expecting. Thank you both for your honesty.” Sam slapped his legs and got up to get coffee, deciding that he had been up for too long and that this was too much to process without some help. Cas moved their hand to the center of the table, and Dean placed his over it gently, continuing to sip his coffee in peace