#my mother still has the paper she cut the from out of but she neither has the picture nor the book anymore

[dummerjan]

Illustration zu Die Sterntaler von Heinrich Vogeler, 1907 aus Brüder Grimm: Kinder- und Hausmärchen. Max Hesses Verlag, Leipzig, 1907

[mrspasser]

I'll lay my head down here

Sterek fanfiction Stiles needs a place to sleep. He chooses Derek.

Also available on A03.

image source

“I’m not sleeping on the floor again, you assholes!” Stiles throws a balled up burger wrapper at the infuriating werewolves who took over his intended sleeping space. 

Isaac bats the greasy paper ball away with a quick flick of his hand, hardly having to look at it. “You snooze, you lose, Stilinski,” he says meanly, as he snuggles deeper inside the couch pillows to drive his point home. “Besides, I gave up my bed, I shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor.”

Stiles perks up when an idea crosses his mind. Upstairs, in Isaac’s room, are Lydia and Cora. Maybe he could -

“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski!” Jackson cuts his unspoken thought off with one sharp remark. He glares at him from his spot on the couch he’s sharing with Isaac: one asshole werewolf on each side. The guy is extra touchy because Lydia picked Cora as a sleeping partner over him - which is more than fair, if you ask Stiles, both Lydia picking Cora over Jackson and Jackson being sour over getting the cold shoulder from his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t think you’ll fit,” Allison offers apologetically from his right. She’s squeezed in the large armchair with Scott, who’s already fast asleep and snoring softly. 

He waves her offer away. If he’d try to squish himself in the chair with them, neither one of them would sleep a wink all night. Same goes for the couple in the other available chair, although Stiles is more sure to survive the night with Scott and Allison than with Boyd and Erica. That only leaves - 

“You could try Derek?” Allison blinks innocently at him. 

Stiles huffs a laugh, letting the sarcasm bleed through in generous helpings. “Yeah, right.” He leaves it at that, too tired to hope to put up the proper facade of pretending to dislike the Alpha werewolf. Hey, we all deal with our crushes in our own way! Stiles has to do what he can when literally living with a pack of wolves, who can smell pheromones and who knows what else.

Eventually, he settles for stretching out on the rug that Lydia made Derek buy a while back. It’s not overly cushiony, but it’ll do the job. It’ll have to. Besides, he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in four or maybe even five days, staying up researching and worrying most of the night. The Big Bad is dead, the worrying is over and his research paid off: he should be able to sleep now, right?!

At first, Stiles uses his hoodie for a pillow, yet after about twenty minutes he gives up and pulls it back on because he won’t be able to sleep if he’s cold. Derek patched up most of the holes in his loft and it’s actually resembling a nice apartment these days, but it’s still the middle of the night in February and Stiles is lying on the floor without a blanket or a pillow. He misses his own bed. His comforter. His pillow. His other pillow, the one that’s older than him and oddly lumpy, but it was the one that was in his mother’s bed until the day she died. It hasn’t smelled like her in a long, long time. Stiles has also washed it a couple of times during the years, he’s not that much of a pig, despite popular opinion. But it’s familiar and comforting and he still takes it with him for sleepovers with Scott. 

He considers whether or not he would’ve brought his pillow if this impromptu sleepover had been planned in any way. He’s known Scott since kindergarten, he’s his best friend. He wouldn’t say or even think anything bad about Stiles still needing a special pillow to sleep even when he’s almost twenty one years old. And while he knows most of the people in this room for five years or even longer and trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a bunch of dickheads who will tease him every chance they get.

It’s a pointless thought exercise, because nothing about this sleepover was planned. They were supposed to kill that wyvern during the day, when it slept in his creepy little cave. That's what all Stiles’ research was for! He even found a way to kill the beast without having to hack it to pieces, which was nice because in the end he was against animal cruelty, you know? But then there were witches, two of them. They weren’t planned, neither was the ensuing fight in the woods. The unexpectedness of it all had left everybody antsy, especially the werewolves. And even though they recouped with a movie night and a nice pack pile, nobody wanted to be very far away from the others. Hence the impromptu sleepover that had Stiles sleeping on a rug, between the coffee table and the couch. Which wasn’t fair, because he totally knocked a witch out with his bat! He did his fair share and pulled his weight and what not. The least he deserves is a nice night of sleep.

Another hour later, Stiles is sore all over and chilled to the bone. There’s no way he can sleep like this. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he whispers to the leg of the coffee table that he knows has Isaac’s claw marks on it. 

As quietly as he can he makes his way upstairs on the rounding stairs. On the landing there’s three doors to choose from: the one on his left leads to Isaac’s bedroom, where Lydia and Cora are sleeping. The one in the middle is the bathroom - with a bath, for heaven’s sake, Derek has a tub! - and that leaves the master bedroom on his right. The Alpha’s den. Stiles has never been inside it. He even doubts if Isaac has set foot in the room very often, besides for cleaning purposes.

Stiles never really intended to go into Derek’s room, because despite what the others seem to think, he actually values his life. And his dignity. He thought it better to take a chance with the girls, take on the risk of Jackson wanting to kill him the next morning when he discovered Stiles had slept in the same bed as his girlfriend.

But…

The door to Derek’s bedroom is cracked.

Stiles can see inside. 

He can’t see that much, with it being the middle of the night and the only light coming from a gap between the curtains in front of Derek’s window. But the moonlight is just right, illuminating the sleeping form of the Alpha in the bed. A bed that is more than large enough for two people and Derek is neatly sleeping on one side of the bed. If Stiles is quiet enough he might even be able to slip into the bed without waking Derek. The werewolf got hurt pretty badly today and healing always takes a lot out of him. There’s a pretty good chance the guy is sleeping like a log.

Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s gonna risk it.

***

He didn’t think he’d actually do it, but after a few minutes of indecisiveness on the landing, Stiles quietly tiptoes into Derek’s bedroom. He rounds the bed to the unoccupied side of the mattress and gingerly lifts the tip of the blanket.

“You’re not getting in with your jeans on,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.

Stiles yelps and he’s already stammering halfway through an apology when he suddenly shuts his mouth. His back teeth actually click together. There’s a few seconds of silence and then: “You’d let me into your bed?”

“Not with your jeans on,” Derek repeats. Usually he wouldn’t do this, but he’s been listening to Stiles toss and turn downstairs for a while now and with all of his pack members sleeping peacefully, he’d like the last one to get some rest too. Besides, Stiles would continue to keep him up with his restless behaviour otherwise; Derek just can’t seem to tune him out. It’s been that way for years already, maybe even from the beginning.

“O-kay.” He can feel Stiles staring at him in the dark and he patiently waits for the decision he knows the boy is gonna make. No, not a boy. Stiles will be 21 this Spring. Derek has seen him grow up, literally and figuratively, along with the rest of his ragtag pack of teenagers. Stiles still wears jeans and plaid most of the time, but the garments don’t hang as loose on him as they did when he was 16. He’s grown into a handsome young man, with a good head on his broad shoulders. Derek counts himself lucky to have Stiles as part of his pack, to have him close. Not as close as he sometimes might wish, yet Derek is always conscious of not playing favourites. So he usually keeps Stiles at an arm length and takes care to treat him just like everyone else. It helps that the two of them elevated snark and banter to an effective communication style. Despite all the sarcasm and barbs, Derek is pretty sure there is no-one in his pack who sees through him like Stiles does. It was scary at first and it made him lash out, but Stiles stood firm. Derek is immensely grateful that he did.

There’s the rustling of clothing hitting the floor, jeans and a shirt, then the blanket lifts and Stiles scoots underneath. Derek feels him settle in behind his back, a foot or so away. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers in the dark.

“Go to sleep,” Derek grunts, eager to go to sleep and not think about the young man who is sharing his bed.

***

Derek’s bed is pretty comfortable, Stiles thinks to himself as he digs himself in. Oh, who is he kidding?! Derek’s bed is amazing. The mattress is just the right combination of firm and soft, the pillow hugs his head and shoulders just right and the comforter is warm but still light to the touch. It’s a million times better than his bed at home, even when he’s not counting the fact that he’s sharing the bed with a hot werewolf.

Yet Stiles can’t sleep. 

Yes, the pillow is heavenly. Yes, the mattress allows his tired body to finally relax. Yes, the comforter hugs him nicely. But there’s something missing and Stiles knows exactly what it is. His pillow.

He needs to hold something. He needs to be able to curl around something. Or someone, his traitorous brain suggests as he feels Derek move across from him.

“Why aren’t you asleep, Stiles?” Derek asks in that long-suffering tone he uses when Stiles is doing something to annoy him. Which is pretty often, although Stiles knows the annoyance is mostly for show these days. He has turned onto his back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight where they are looking over at Stiles.

“Can’t,” Stiles laments, trying to catch the comforter between his arms in lieu of his dearly missed pillow. It doesn’t really work, because the comforter also has to cover Derek’s bulk and there’s little left to use. Little to none, especially when Derek snatches the comforter back from where it was probably leaving a cold gap on Derek’s other side. The sudden move has Stiles sort of falling over from where he was laying on his side. He’s more on his front now, filling up the space that was between them at first. He can feel the warmth of Derek’s body from just a few inches away. It’s actually kind of comforting.

“Try harder,” Derek commands and he closes his eyes again.

Stiles thinks of answering ‘Yes, Alpha’, but thinks better of it. It might make Derek move again, to push Stiles out of bed instead of pulling him in to have a cuddle. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, focussing his mind on the almost tangible presence of Derek’s bare shoulder mere inches away. Derek is warm and smells nice and if Stiles was a werewolf, he’s sure he’d feel even better about having his Alpha so close. Yet even though he’s not a werewolf, he still enjoys it. A lot.

He falls asleep.

He knows that, because he wakes up at some point, at an unknown hour of the night. He’s warm, so warm. And comfortable, even though his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being. It also moves a little, because his pillow is Derek and the Alpha werewolf gently moves his arm in what Stiles suspects is a more comfortable position. He would panic about sleeping half on top of Derek if he were not so damn comfortable. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Surely if Derek wouldn’t want him sleeping on him, he’d push Stiles off. Instead, Stiles feels Derek’s arm wrap around his back, accompanied by a soft sigh from the Alpha.

Stiles sleeps.

***

Derek is not the first to wake up, although he is certainly not the last. He becomes aware of the world with Stiles wrapped around his torso, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest. He’s only a little surprised by how good it feels to wake up like this and it takes a while before he brings himself to carefully move out of Stiles’ embrace. The boy mumbles a little, but doesn’t wake up. Derek watches him for a moment, standing beside his bed. He’s not sure how to feel about this, except for some embarrassment about wanting to crawl back into bed and slot himself back into Stiles’ arms.

Downstairs, most of the pack is still asleep. Isaac has his arms wrapped around Jackson’s lower legs, as if he’s cuddling a particularly bony teddy bear. Jackson is still asleep, even snoring softly. Scott snores too, curled around his girlfriend in the large armchair. In the other armchair, Boyd is watching him carefully, his arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend. 

“Morning,” the dark man rumbles quietly, not to wake Erica.

“Morning,” Derek answers, keeping his voice down as well. “Coffee?”

Boyd inclines his head in thanks and Derek ambles on to the kitchen, where he finds Lydia, immersed in a science journal. She has a cappuccino sitting in front of her, the cup half empty. “Good morning, Derek,” she says, briefly glancing up from her reading material.

“Morning,” he repeats, busying himself with the coffee maker. He brings a cup to Boyd when he’s done and returns to join Lydia at the table. He sits back in his chair, his coffee in front of him, to catch the rays of pale sunlight that slant through the high windows. It’s quiet in the loft, with most of the people still sleeping and the ones that are awake quietly starting up their day.

He sips from his coffee, listening to the sounds of Cora waking up and going into the bathroom. She comes downstairs not long after, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt - same as her brother, her bare feet hardly making a sound. He points to the mostly full pot of coffee on the counter when she enters the kitchen and he gets a hair ruffle as thanks from his little sister. She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, enjoying the sunlight on her face just like he is. 

It’s Stiles who comes down next, although Derek can hear from the way he drags his feet that he’s barely awake. Why he’s not sleeping in like he should be, is anyone’s guess. He expects Stiles to stop in the living room, to wake up Scott or maybe even Jackson if he’s feeling particularly cheeky, but he doesn’t. The footsteps pretty much make a beeline from the stairs towards the kitchen. Derek opens one eye from where he closed them against the sunrays to see Stiles shuffling towards him in his boxers and T-shirt, rubbing a hand over his face and yawning soundlessly. His hair is standing up on one side. He’s wearing socks, navy blue ones with a red line near the toes.

The werewolf opens his mouth to point his packmate towards the coffee maker, but before he can say anything, Stiles has reached his chair and slings a hairy leg over his lap. He plonks down unceremoniously and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. 

“You were gone,” Stiles mumbles disapprovingly, his mouth moving against Derek’s collarbone. And just like that his heartbeat evens out and he’s fast asleep again.

Derek sits frozen in his chair, his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage. If Stiles were awake he could probably feel it pound against his own chest. His hands hover uselessly on either side, not knowing whether to wrap around Stiles or pick him up and toss him to the floor. 

Stiles is oblivious, his sleeping body moulding easily against Derek’s. He’s warm and pliant, just like he was when they were sleeping together in Derek’s bed. 

When he chances a look at Lydia across the table, she’s already watching him steadily with a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips. “Glad to see you two finally got your heads out of your asses,” she comments eventually, before primly taking a sip from her cappuccino and going back to her reading.

Behind him, Cora snorts quietly in amusement. She comes up at his back and puts a hand in his hair again, running her fingers through the short strands. It’s grounding and Derek only notices how much he needs that when she lightly scratches her nails across his scalp. 

“He’s cute like this,” his sister remarks and even though he can hear the humour in her voice, he can also hear the truth in her heartbeat. “Best not wake him up, big bro.” She runs her hand through his hair one last time and then she wanders off, leaving him to carefully wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back.

Slowly, Derek feels himself relax. The loft is quiet and peaceful and Derek is in his own little bubble, with the sunlight on his face and Stiles in his lap. Almost automatically, he starts to rub his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back. Aside from some sleepy snuffling, there’s no real response. Derek picks his coffee back up and slowly drinks it, tilting his face towards the sun. It’s a nice morning.

[helluvapoison]

4. Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them, "5. Where does it hurt the most?" with Lucifer and reader

Injured Prompt

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Did you know when you roll your ankle you’re not supposed to walk on it? You might’ve known that if the Pride Ring’s hospital ever answered the fucking phone!

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

If your boyfriend Lucifer wasn’t out and about today, making up for some odd months of meetings, he could’ve teleported you there in no time. Then again, if he was here he might summon Belphegor themself. Not wanting to bother anyone, you told yourself it would be fine. Besides with Hell’s “no checking out early” healing abilities, it would right itself on its own by tomorrow! That continued to be your mantra but as the day got away from you it became harder to ignore that stabbing pain in your foot.

It certainly didn’t help that you’d overexerted yourself by helping Charlie move things up and down the hall because Nifty had clogged the pipes (again) which resulted in minor flooding damage. The whole time it felt like Vaggie’s suspicious stare saw right through your poorly worn mask. Charlie asked no less than 22 times if you were ok to which you waved off her concerns. It took a few hours but the furniture was moved out of the room, leaving only a mushy carpet to deal with. Neither Kiki nor Alastor could be found and since Lucifer wasn’t there to snap the problem away, the princess attempted herself. However her powers were still a bit… undisciplined. The best she could do to try and evaporate the water had actually set the carpet on fire.

Vaggie rested her hand on Charlie’s shoulder with a soft smile, “It might be time for a break, babe. Don’t want you to overdo it.” She pointedly shot that part at you.

With a sigh the blonde conceded and allowed Vaggie to usher her out.

Simultaneously grateful but cursing the downtime, you waited a minute before leaving yourself. Now that you've slowed to a stop your ankle throbbed with vengeance. Peeling your sock back to take a peek, you gasped. Your foot was definitely not purple this morning! Shit shit shit, it was definitely time for a break!

You limped to the elevator, using the wall for support when Lucifer rounded the corner. Like the wall had tried to bite you, you yanked your hand from it and forced both feet flat on the ground. You grimaced, poorly trying to conceal it with a smile.

“Duckie!” You greeted through a wheeze. Has breathing been this hard all day?

With much more enthusiasm in his voice, he sang your name and rushed over. Lucifer lifted you off the ground to spin with you in his arms, unknowingly providing momentary relief. His laugh and smile were infectious. Just a second with him had swept you into the world you shared and washed away your troubles. Unfortunately they returned once he set you down and despite how gently he did, you hissed when you touched the floor again.

“What was that?” He asked with a tilted head, holding onto your waist.

“Oh, uh, I’m practicing my Sir Pentious impression!”

You’re unsure why you lied. Maybe a part of you wanted to pretend for a little longer. You think back to the time you got a paper cut and he forced you into bed rest for three days. Once he found out about your ankle nearly snapping in half, you would, inadvertently, send him spiraling into his mother duck state of mind! And the poor man never seemed to catch a break! You didn’t want to stress him out over something that would heal.

He seemed to believe your fib.

At least someone did because it was getting harder to convince yourself.

“It’s good, it’s good!” Lucifer nodded thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. You instantly knew he was trying to recall just who the serpent fellow was. “Anywho, I ran into Charlie just now. Heard this place almost fell apart without me, huh?”

He nudged your arm with his elbow, prompting you to laugh instead of focusing on the pain. You forced the sound out a bit too much to try and make leaning against the wall look natural. It didn’t. You almost collapsed against the surface, sliding down as your leg began to give. Lucifer slipped his hands under your arms, doing the majority work of holding you up. Your head began nodding off and you realized you were face to face with him. Not a good sign considering your height difference. He was wearing his nervous grin that you knew all too well he only put on before he started panicking internally.

“Darling, is this part of the Sir Pina Colada impression? Starting to, uh, worry over here.”

“Nothing, nothing. I think… I just… nee..”

The last thing you see is Lucifer’s smile dropping entirely, pupils shrinking to worry-filled slits.

Then black.

~

There’s a moment while waking up where it’s pure bliss. You’re not you; you’re not anyone. You barely exist— and then you do. The worries, memories, pain; it all comes rushing up on you like a train and hits you just as hard. You scrunch your nose and pull your eyebrows together as you attempt to sit up. Silk under your palms have you acutely aware that you’re not in your bed, but Lucifer’s. And you know what they say about speaking of the devil.

“Oh no! Nonononono, I don’t think so,” He sings, gently pushing your shoulders back until you’re flat against the plushy pillows, “You’ve got some explaining to do. ”

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” You groan, “I thought I had it under control! I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Au contraire, darling, I want to worry about you! Just maybe not that much next time, alright? I think I had a heart attack! If that’s what those feel like… Ech.” Lucifer was wracked by a shiver, shaking off the final wave with his head.

You let out a breathy laugh.

The man smiled at the sound and honed his full attention on you, forcing a serious, but soft, tone, “Now! Doctor Morningstar is here to help, so tell me, where does it hurt most? ”

“My ankle.”

You recoiled when he attempted to peel away your sock. He muttered an apology, studying your foot rather unfazed. As interesting as it was to watch him get truly somber about something, you couldn’t appreciate it right now. The fire spreading from your ankle stole all your senses and he wasn’t even touching it anymore.

“It wasn’t all purple-y yesterday right? We might have to amputate.”

“Lucifer.” You growled through grit teeth.

He chuckled. “Sorry. That one killed when Charlie was younger. Ok, ok! Pain management first, jokes later.”

There was a heavy knock on the door that made both of you turn your heads. Your eyes narrowed while a bright grin spread across his porcelain face.

“Are you expecting someone?” You asked suspiciously.

“Belphegor, of course!”

Of course.

[skelavender]

“Still, my mom is going to imply…” “I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.” Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases. “At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” OR After a year of platonic marriage, things start to change.

read chapter one of you are in love on ao3, or below the cut!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

***

November 1996

There are flowers on Mulder’s desk. 

A bouquet of… well, Mulder’s not great with flowers, but they’re all purple. There’s lavender, he knows that, and what he’s guessing are violets and irises. The last he can’t recognize, but it looks like a purple daisy. Maybe it is just a purple daisy? He didn’t know they made those. 

As he steps further into the office, he notices Scully behind the desk. She had been gone when he woke up, which was unusual for them, but had left a note on the coffee maker saying she had some errands to run before work and she would meet him there. It was folded and in his pocket. 

“Good morning,” she greets.

“Hey. Who sent you flowers?”

Scully raises one eyebrow and a small smirk graces her face, a challenge. “Check the card.”

He looks at her with curiosity and approaches the desk. He plucks the card out of the little fork, and when he unfolds it, he blinks dumbly a couple times.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. 

Oh.

It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten. Of course not, not in a million years. Her gift is waiting at home, on top of the bookshelf in their home office where she could neither see nor reach. That was part of why he’d been disappointed when he woke up to a cold bed. He had wanted to give it to her before work, but she left before he got the chance. He had ordered personalized stationery for her, paper being the traditional gift for a first wedding anniversary, from a store down in Rosslyn. They have Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D. letterpressed across the top in green, with a notepad to match. 

“I don’t think anybody has ever gotten me flowers before.” He notes with a dreamy tone to his voice. Scully has impressed him.

Her satisfied expression softens. “I’m glad I could be the first.”

“Thank you, Scully. I love them.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God,” he laughs and ducks his head. “I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s flown by.”

“It has, hasn’t it.”

“It seems like just last month we were averaging a hospital visit every two weeks.”

Scully snorts, “Not that we’re that far off.” 

Mulder chuckles, and rounds the desk to peck her cheek. “I didn’t forget, by the way. Your gift is at home. I’ll give it to you this evening.”

“I didn’t think you had.” She mirrors the small kiss and Mudler retreats to the chair Scully usually sits in. If she wants the desk today, she can sure as hell have it. 

***

Scully pulls up outside her mother’s house and parks the car. She’s unbuckling her seatbelt when his hand shoots out and stops her. Her eyes shoot up to meet his, one brow raised.

He’s been thinking about it since Maggie called him to extend the invitation to the dinner. When they were first discussing getting married, Scully was concerned about her mother finding out. She had mentioned to him that she didn’t think her mother would keep the secret, but he suspected that she was afraid she wouldn’t approve of what was essentially a sham union. 

But Mulder wears his ring, and people tend to be curious.

Most of the time he can get away with vague answers that aren’t really lies, but he knows Mrs. Scully would grill him about it. He can only answer so many questions by talking about Scully without really talking about Scully before her mother notices. 

“Your mom still doesn’t know, right?”

Scully knows what he’s talking about immediately. “No. Only that we’re living together.”

He slips his ring off his finger and holds it out to her, “Will you hold onto this for me?” Her mouth forms a little O. “She’ll have questions. There are only so many ways I can skirt them.”

“Of course,” she says. Her hands trace the neckline of her cardigan. He’s about to ask what she’s doing as he’s still holding the ring out to her in a flat palm, until the gold chain pops out and she undoes the clasp.

It would be so easy to forget about it. That she also wears the ring. That their union isn’t one-sided. That she’s as intertwined with him as he is with her. She wears it openly at home, sometimes, but the necklace remains hidden when they’re out and about. Despite that, Mulder, with a possessive streak that he tries to damp down, remembers. The image of her ring laid against her chest, or the fleeting vision of it on her finger for a couple days in the hospital, is settled into its own corner of his mind. He thinks of it more often than he’d like to admit. 

Scully plucks the ring from Mulder’s hand and slides it onto the chain. It clinks into place next to hers. Two hearts, strung together. 

“Thank you for mentioning that, I hadn’t considered it,“ The thought of hiding you hadn’t crossed my mind, she doesn’t say. She tucks the necklace back into her shirt and goes to unbuckle her seatbelt again. “You ready?” 

Mulder nods, and they approach the Scully residence. 

“She does think that we’re dating, you know.” Scully says as they walk up the pathway side by side.

“Really?”

“I tried to explain we’re living together because of the convenience, but she was not convinced.”

Mulder’s hand goes to the small of Scully’s back as she does up the couple steps onto the porch. “I’m not surprised. She always seemed to think we were…”

“I know. But now she’s pretty damn sure of it.”

“You did your best.”

Scully wonders how different things would be if they were… romantically entangled. Would he have fought her mother’s Thanksgiving invitation so hard? Would his hand be in hers, or around her shoulders, instead of on her back? Would he drop a kiss onto her lips on her mother’s front porch before facing the crowd inside?

She steps back and her eyes crawl up and down Mulder’s form. One of the buttons on his shirt doesn’t match, she notices. The cleaner would have attached a closer match, so he must have done it himself. 

Who had taught him to sew a button? It’s not a skill she would expect him to have. She can’t exactly picture his mother sitting him down to teach him. Every time Scully thinks she finally knows Mulder, finally understands him, something new surfaces that makes her rethink him. 

Scully sucks in a breath and refocuses. “Still, she’s going to imply…”

“I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.”

Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases.

“At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” She rings the bell.

“Dana! Fox! Oh, it’s so good to see you both.” Maggie swings the door open and greets them with her usual warm, excited smile. She takes each of them in for a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs Scully.”

Maggie slaps his arm playfully. “You call me Maggie, Fox, how many times do I have to tell you.”

“Alright Maggie.” Mulder smiles at his shoes. Mulder fucking loves Maggie Scully. She offers affection so freely, in a way Mulder isn’t used to experiencing, especially not in a familial manner. He wasn’t raised with this, with hugs hello and being allowed to call friends’ parents by their first names. It’s foreign to him. She’s been trying to get him to call her Maggie since she started feeding him while Scully was gone, but it had never stuck. 

“Bill and Charlie are in the living room, why don’t you two go sit with them while I check on the bird?“ Maggie offers.

“Tara and Marcel couldn’t make it?”

“No, Tara decided to go to her parents last minute, and Marcel is, well, Polish, so he didn’t want to come back over with Charlie for an American holiday.” Maggie winks at her daughter. “You’re the only one who brought a partner this year, Dana.”

“Mom, that’s not—“ Scully sighs and runs a hand over her forehead in exasperation before deciding to just drop it. “I’m surprised Charlie was able to get the time off, he usually isn’t.”

“I’m not teaching this semester,” a new voice explains, Mulder turns around to face a burly looking redhead. “I’m focusing on research and writing. Makes it a bit easier to get away for American holidays.” He turns to Mulder and offers a hand, which the agent takes. “You must be the Agent Mulder I keep hearing about in Dana’s emails. Charlie Scully.”

“That would be me. It’s good to meet you.”

“Dana says you just go by Mulder?”

“With a first name like mine, you’d go by anything else.”

Charlie laughs, “So tell me, Mulder, has Dana ever told you about what happened at her senior prom?”

“No, she has not.” Mulder replies, tone keen and interested. He turns to his partner, “Scully, am I about to unlock embarrassing childhood stories?”

“Charlie, you promised you would never tell anyone!”

Charlie taps his fingers together conspiratorially, and begins regaling Mulder with the story as they enter the living room. 

Upon introduction to Bill, Mulder understands why Scully had laughed so hard at a joke he once made about the two of them having an affair. Bill hides his contempt for Mulder poorly, with a pinched smile as they shake hands and the occasional glare. When Maggie calls them into the dining room to gather for the meal, Mulder sticks to his Scully’s side and Bill settles himself on the other end of the table, at the head. 

“Mom, that was delicious,” Scully says as she pushes her chair back. She then turns to Mulder, “Should we get on the dishes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Dana.” Maggie protests, rising from her seat.

“You cooked us an amazing meal, Mrs. Scully, please let us clean up.” Mulder places a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to stay in her seat and converse with her sons, and he and Scully retreat to the kitchen with piles of dishes in hand.

“You wash, I dry and put away?” Scully offers, and Mulder nods. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” he says after a few moments of quiet washing. “I was afraid it would be awkward. I mean, Bill doesn’t seem to like me very much, but Charlie seems nice.”

“I can’t believe he told you about Marcus.” Scully laughs, “That story is so embarrassing.”

“I’m just glad to have finally earned your embarrassing childhood stories. It’s like I’ve reached the next level of friendship.”

Scully snorts. “Right, Mulder. Step one is they bail you out of jail, step two is they shoot you, three is get married, four is buy a home together, and five is learn about their senior prom. That’s the natural order of things.”

Maggie watches from the other room as Mulder tilts his head back to let out a full belly laugh. Dana elbows him, and he deposits a smear of suds onto her nose in response. As she observes the ensuing playful water fight, Maggie can’t help but hope they soon see what she does, what she’s sure Charlie has picked up on as well, what Bill might still be unaccepting of. There’s so much affection between the two of them. Dana looks up at Fox with a look that she’s never seen on her daughter’s face before, one filled with raw affection. Maggie can tell that whatever they have, it’s coming to a head. Something is there. Everything is there, glowing between them.

Plus, Fox has a thin strip of paler skin on his fourth finger of his left hand, right where a wedding ring would lie. 

next chapter ->

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter: 4.12

Your hair fell over your shoulders as you pulled clumps of blood out of 10K’s hair with your fingers. It would make cutting his dark locks, which had grown to just under his ears, that much easier without pieces of Z still in them. You were both drenched in blood and in need of bathing in the nearby river, but it was safer to wait until all the thick smoke from the explosion had cleared.

“It meant what I said.”

“I know; that’s why I agreed to marry you.”

10k tilts his head around, looking up from over his shoulder; his eyes almost have a pleading look in them. Just over half a year had passed since your group had all gone their separate ways, but it never became any easier to accept; out of everyone, 10k had taken it the hardest. Growing up, he only had his mother, so gaining a family he never had just to lose it was difficult to adjust to, especially with how it ended. 5K was dead, Murphy had gone AWOL, which was concerning considering he tried to build his own army last time, you and Addy weren’t on speaking terms, Warren was untraceable, and Doc decided he needed to do more and left to join a Z hunting party. He promised he’d be back, but I still hurt when he left. You were grateful that Red chose to stay with you and 10K, but all the new memories you were making didn’t ease the pain of the old ones.

All of this, combined with 10k’s body trying to function as normal after being bitten, had made him paranoid; he was scared anything that was too good would suddenly disappear.

“I love you, Tommy.” You kiss him on the only blood-free part of his face, which was his left cheek.

“I love you too,” he smiles. “When the time is right, we will get married, and hopefully our old gang will be there.”

“How will we know when the time is right?”

He shrugs and says, “I don’t know; I guess we just will.”

“You seem lost in thought; what are you thinking about?” 10k asks as you walk through a plot of land that was mainly rumbling from collapsed buildings and abandoned vehicles.

“One day in the future, when we have our own home again, I'll have the note you’d written me framed and hung up on a wall.”

10k raises his brows, smiling, and says, “That's a very hopeful thought to have, although I’m surprised that note has lasted so long.”

“You’re kidding, right? I treat it as if the paper were made from gold.”

“You know,” Murphy says loudly for Warren, who was charging in front, to hear. “If you just told us what you were looking for, it would be a lot easier to help you find it.”

Warren takes a moment to reply as her eyes scan the area, “I’ll know when I see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. You’d been relentlessly flogging Warren for days, and she had shared nothing useful about the location or any other information that would help you help her. It was growing increasingly frustrating, especially with Murphy dragging the zombified president behind him. After a while of walking, Warren zones out again, but then comes to and orders Murphy to stand in one spot while holding his hands in the air.

“How long do I need to do this for?” He moans, “I haven’t showered in three weeks, and my arms are tired.”

“It’s definitely longer than three weeks,” you snort.

After making Murphy change his arm position and holding up a sign post, Warren spots something no one else can see and somehow finds a hatch that had been hidden beneath the dirt and rubble leading to your next location.

—

Your mouth twists in irritation as you struggle to lower the dead president, who was surprisingly heavy, into the room the hatch led to, which was part of an underground army base. 10K, Warren, Murphy, and Doc had already gone in first to make sure it was clear, leaving you and Sarge alone for the first time in days. Neither of you had attempted to utter a single word to one another before this, but now you were forced to.

“Easy, steady,” she says, looking down. “Take it slow, nice and slow.”

“Easy for you to say.” You grit your teeth as you feel the rope burning the palms of your hands. You feel yourself startling to lose your grip. “I’m going to drop him!”

Sarge quickly grabs the rope that’s slipping and says, “Holy shit, he’s heavy!”

Even with the two of you trying to keep him steady, the president's weight became too much when he began wriggling about in the makeshift harness, causing the rope to slip from both of your hands. Hearing the thud below, you share a shocked look before both moving to stare down the hatch. Luckily, he was still moving, which meant you hadn’t re-killed him.

You let out a soft chuckle while getting to your feet. Sarge looks at you nervously; she motions for you to climb down the ladder first, “after you.”

“Thanks.”

10k takes your hand as he helps you jump off the end of the ladder, giving you a knowing look that says, “My bad.” You clear your throat. “So where to next?”

“That way,” Warren says before exiting the room.

As you go down different hallways, you come across a handful of Z’s that have gone blind due to the lack of sunlight, which meant it was easy for you to show mercy to time. Not wanting to create any noise, you shot them in the head with arrows. Your group remains silent until you reach a staircase and try to figure out the best way to get the zombie down it quickly.

“Maybe we could make a stretcher?” Doc suggests.

“That’s a good—” you stop talking when you hear a loud thud, and you glance over your shoulder to see Murphy standing suspiciously alone. “Murphy, did you just push the zombified president down the stairs?”

“Ex-president,” he points out. “And it saved us time, and besides, he’s already dead.”

Warren shakes her head. “We better go get him before he wanders off.”

—

You finally find the president after going down thirty flights of stairs to find two Zs eating the organs from his stomach. “I got it,” 10k says before using a slingshot to fire a sharp blade that goes through the two Z’s heads. He clicks his tongue and says, “Eight thousand, four hundred fifty-two.”

While Doc and Murphy tried their best to fix the president up as best they could so the zombie could walk again, your eyes remained glued to Sarge, who was staring at 10k so lovingly. You felt as if something was finally clicking into place as an uneasy feeling set in your gut.

“Let’s go,” Warren says, interrupting your thoughts.

You go into a control room and look around until Warren spots a red sign with a black message saying fourth strike and declares that’s the way to go.

You manage to fight your way through a small herd of Z’s without anyone getting bitten or hurt. While you all catch your breath, another Z appears suddenly behind you. Quickly, you stab it in the head and ask, “Where did that come from?”

10k points to the floor above, “up there.”

“I don’t think God has anything to do with this,” Murphy says sarcastically.

“No, I mean someone is pushing bodies over the edge.”

You look up as more Zs are pushed over and spot an older man with glasses about to push another Z over. “Hey!” You are behind him, firing arrows at him while Warren begins firing shots; however, the man is able to duck behind the wall. “Son of a bitch! Who the hell is that?”

“Possibly the same zona bastard who hacked the northern lights, then he had the launch codes,” Warren says, sounding panicked. “We can’t let him get to the drone before us.”

“Looks like it’s a race to the finish, then.”

—

A few things became more obvious to you while looking for the drone, including that Warren had apparently picked up a number of skills she had no memory of, including speaking Latin and hacking computers; the missions were growing increasingly dangerous as the minutes passed as more Z’s appeared; and Sarge most definitely had feelings for 10k. Seeing her stare at him with puppy-dog eyes made anger swirl inside you, but you had no right to be angry when she hadn’t acted on her feelings or had any control over them.

“Anyone else seeing this countdown?” Doc asks as a beep fills the room.

Warren remains silent as she clicks away at the computer, which now shows multiple CCTV footage of a small aircraft as gunfire fills the room. You join 10k and Sarge as they try to hold off Z’s from entering the room.

“Warren, we need the door code to close it!”

She doesn’t answer and sits, talking to herself instead.

“The code! Now, before the Z’s kill us!”

When she doesn’t answer, Doc tries his best to push the door closed, but he only manages to push it so far.

Suddenly Warren snaps out of her trance and back to reality, “It was Teller.”

“Dr. Teller?”

She explains that she remembers that Dr. Teller from Mercy Labs was the one who woke her from her coma to tell her about the black rainbow and how to stop it. She passes on instructions to both Doc and Murphy before saying she needs to go alone for the next part of the mission.

“We go where you go, boss.”

“Doc’s right, we can’t split up now. It isn’t safe.”

“You guys need to stay here and turn the keys in the computer,” she says, glancing down at the ground. “Where I’m going, no one can follow.”

Your jaw drops as the feeling of sorrow spreads through the room; it felt as if Warren was saying goodbye.

Warren pulls 10K in for her hug. She holds onto him tightly and says, “When you get to Newsmerica and find Addy, Sun Mei, and Red, tell them I love you from me.”

This was wrong. It felt as if Warren had already accepted that she needed to die in order to save the world.

With tears in her eyes, Warren steps back from her hug with 10k, turning to Doc and hugging him before embracing you tightly. “You’ve done good, kid,” she whispers. “I want you to go on and have the best life possible, with lots of little babies and at least one named after me.”

You let out a broken chuckle as you held back from crying. Throughout the years, Warren had been a massive part of your lives and was the reason all of you had survived so long. Losing her was going to be devastating.

“I’ll see you soon,” you sniff.

10k rests his forehead against the back of your shoulder as she leaves. The only thing you could do now was watch the screen on the computer.

—

“What is she doing?”

“Changing a cylinder on the aircraft,” Doc answers. “Apparently one saves the world and the other destroys it.”

“Okay, but once she’s done that, she can leave, right?” Deep down, you knew the answer but desperately wanted someone to tell you you were wrong.

“Uh guys!” 10k says, “we aren’t alone!”

When a Z forces itself through the crack in the door you fight to kill it as the others turn the keys and press the alarms as Warren had instructed causing red lights to start flashing and another countdown.

When Murphy spots the man from before who’d thrown the Z’s down on the screen he rushes from the room, despite Doc trying to stop him.

Your eyes flicker between screens as you watch Warren climb back into the drone and try to watch for Murphy on the other. The countdown reaches the final ten seconds causing you to panic, “what do we do? The drone is going to take off with Warren inside.”

“We can’t stay here,” 10k says, opening the door.

The four of you race down to the landing strip just as the drone dissolves into little pieces in the air, leaving behind what looks like a black rainbow in the sky.

—

She’s gone. Warren was really gone.

“What the hell?” Doc asks from beside you.

You glance to the side to see Murphy, who looked quite sunburned. You look at him in disbelief before looking back to the sky and saying, “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

“Looks like it,” 10k answers.

You stare up at the black rainbow above, finding it hard to believe you’d just lost Warren, your leader, your friend. Behind you, Sarge, let’s out a small gasp, but you don’t pay attention to why. You only look away from the darkness above when you feel something brush against the back of your leg. You glance over your shoulder and see 10k looking as if he’s going to sit on the ground. “What are you—”

10k falls to one knee and pulls out a ring box, “Astra…”

You momentarily freeze, unable to think as you process the unanswered question his shaky voice wasn’t able to get out. 10k opens the ring box, revealing multiple rings, each of them looking a different size. The thought of him saving them all for you causes tears to swell up. You look over to Doc and say, “can you marry us?”

He laughs a little before lifting his head to address Sarge and Murphy, waving them to stand at the side. The sun was setting, the air smelled of smoke, and everyone was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, but weirdly, it seemed fitting for the type of life you lived. Doc clears his throat: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between these two crazy kids. Now in the world before wedding ceremonies were drawn out, but since there’s a chance the dead could gate crash, I'm going to keep it short and cut to the vows.”

You all laugh at his words as 10k, who’s now standing, takes your hand in his. “I have spent my entire life feeling like something was missing, and I didn’t know what it was until I spotted a group of strangers fighting off the undead. That’s when I first saw you and finally found what was missing.”

You wipe away the tears trickling down your cheek while you let out a shaky breath. This was a moment you’d been looking forward to for so long, but it felt surreal finally living it, and it also broke your heart thinking of everyone who should have been there. Addy, Mack, Cassandra, Garnett, Vazquez, Red, and Warren 10k squeezes your hand when he sees you become emotional and gives you a moment before he continues. You wipe at your nose and nod for him to go on, “Sorry.”

He smiles brightly. “I knew from the moment I saw you pull the blade from your belt and take out a bunch of Z’s so fearlessly that you’d be important to me.” He chokes up and takes a deep breath. “My biggest fear is losing you. When you were kidnapped, I realized how much I loved you and that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to find you. I love you and promise to always protect you and stand by your side.”

Your heart melts when you hear those sweet words fall from his mouth. “When the apocalypse began, I lost all faith that anything good could last, but from the day you saved me, I knew our fates were intertwined, but I had no idea how madly I’d fall for you. You’re my best friend, Tommy, and there’s not a line I wouldn’t cross to keep you safe.”

By the end of saying your improvised vows, you are both crying, along with everyone else, including Murphy, who is now holding the ring box. He looks between the rings and your hand before pulling one out and handing it to 10k, saying, “I think this one will fit.”

It was a plain silver band that surprisingly fit as 10K placed it on your finger. You notice Doc's eyes have now gone bloodshot from crying; he claps his hands together and cheers, “You now may kiss the bride!” Your lips collide, and you smile into the kiss as 10k wraps his arms around your waist. When you pull back, Doc announces, “I now pronounce you man and wife!”

You kiss 10k again and mumble into his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[miracles-and-butterflies]

What are the jobs/occupations in your mafia au?

Are the teens in training or are strictly not allowed to touch any weapons until their eighteen?

How protective are the adults over their children? Are they like regular parents/abuela/Tio or are they like "You bully my child? Do you want you AND your parents six feet deep? I/we can make it happen and no one would even look for you"

Are they rich per say? Do they have gifts?

How did the mafia start? Was Alma or Pedro already born in one or did it develop after Pedro's death?

How protective are the grandkids over each other? I honestly feel like everybody would be mad protective of Antonio since he's the youngest, and he's the most spoiled out of all of them. (But are the grandkids on some level spoiled as well?)

Do Mirabel and Camilo have some sort of a good relationship in this au?

How does everyone feel about blood shed? Do they feel queasy or will they not even bat an eye at it?

Sorry for all the questions, I just love Mafia au's.

Don’t apologise! I love getting questions for any of my AUs!

This will be a long one, so apologies if this isn’t out quickly.

Not too sure what you mean by jobs/occupations. Looking at other AUs there is no specific things and the only thing I could find on the internet was the hierarchy or roles in the party game. If you have anything to help with this, I’d greatly appreciate it!

As soon a Madrigal reached thirteen, they were allowed to begin training. Nobody is actually allowed to do anything in reality until they are eighteen though.

Depends on which of the adults you speak to. Alma was very protective when the triplets were little, once they were old enough to handle themselves, she stepped back a bit. That doesn’t mean she won’t defend them though. Pepa is definitely the most likely to bite your head off (metaphorically) if you even so much as look at her kids the wrong way. Julieta, Félix and Agustín are a lot more normal.

They weren’t rich initially. When Pedro died, Alma gained all of his family’s (who are also dead) inheritance and then became wealthy. She managed to keep a steady inflow of money, so they have remained quite comfortable over the years. Though they aren’t as rich as before, naturally having such a large family has its expenses and the economy is shit.

They do not have gifts. I felt it would make them too-overpowered; it would be too similar to every other Madrigal mafia AU; and I just made an AU where the gifted Madrigals become a crime family, I’m not repeating the same idea.

Pedro and Alma were both from crime families - granted, Alma’s was much more minor and they had practically stopped crime by the time she was an adult. However, growing up in that environment still influenced her and allowed her to meet Pedro. She brought a lot of influence and new ideals to Pedro, making her quite high-ranking in the order of command. Which is why, at his death, all his wealth and power fell to her over anyone else.

Influenced by their mother, Dolores and Camilo (especially Camilo) are very protective over Antonio. Luisa, as usual, is overprotective of Mirabel. The others are more normal.

Yes, Antonio is very spoiled as the youngest and one of two boys. Isabela, Dolores and Camilo were also very spoiled - though are a bit ignorant to the fact. Luisa and Mirabel, neither the eldest or male/only female in their side of the family, definitely fell under the radar a bit more in childhood; neither of them were spoiled.

Camilo and Mirabel have their usual rivalry. (It’s in their characters, I’m not changing it). They spend more time together here, if that’s what you’re asking.

Mirabel and Pepa are both squeamish. Pepa, who has adapted a little, usually carries a paper bag with her now. Mirabel, hasn’t really seen anything yet, but faints over a pinprick or paper cut. Needless to say, the family have doubts about how well she’s going to do in the future. The rest either don’t care about bloodshed or actually enjoy it.

If you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to ask!

[theshippirate22]

remember this? I’m having thoughts about it again.

Steve is standing at the counter chopping onions when it happens.

It’s been raining on and off all day, but at that moment it’s firmly decided to be on and it’s a loud, howling wind that pelts the water against the kitchen window.

It’s a strange sound, really, compared to the warmth of the oven and the soft, yellow glow of the light above the table and the candles on the counter. It doesn’t match what’s happening inside the house.

Steve throws a dishtowel over his shoulder and scrapes the diced onions off the cutting board with the edge of the knife into the pot on the stove. They sizzle exaggeratedly as they hit the bottom,

Andrea is sitting at the counter, perched on a barstool with her legs crossed. As soon as she’d gotten home from school, she had changed into a huge sweater that had probably belonged to Steve at some point, that hung down to her knees and now she was leaned forward over the counter with a double-handed grip on her book.

“Juh… Jump… up… bah… bahb… bahby… baby! Jump up, baby.” She murmurs, brow furrowed in concentration the way Nancy does when she’s thinking hard. “Juh… jump up. Up, up, up. Juh-Jump up.”

Steve turns for a minute to finish browning the ground beef in the pot, which is why he doesn’t see her set the book down and look up.

There’s a lapse of quiet. Steve can hear the radio in the family room, which he couldn’t over the sound of her reading and the crackling pot.

“Are you stuck on a word? Wanna spell it for me?” He turns back to the island to open the litany of cans waiting for him- diced tomatoes, white corn, kidney beans.

“Y…” She starts, staring intently at the book.

The cans are emptied into the pot with everything else. He’s still waiting for the next letter to form a coherent word, so he’s not prepared for her response.

“Why don’t I have a dad?”

Steve drops his spatula.

It splatters on the floor and he stoops down to wipe it up with a paper towel, depositing the offending utensil in the sink and pulling a clean one from the drawer.

Andrea is watching him carefully, he can feel it burning into him, but he’s still thinking of something to say. He never expected he’d be the one to have this conversation; that was up to her mother. Nancy would be so much better with words than he ever could be.

Finally, he settles on, “Lots of kids don’t have dads.”

“Not any of the kids I know.”

“Dustin doesn’t have a dad,” Steve says instantly, before realizing that Dustin is not a kid to her, but a full grown man. He tries to think of someone else, closer to her age but comes up empty-handed. “Uh… Jonathan and Will didn’t have a dad for a while. Neither did Max or Eddie.” Not helping. Still adults.

She nods nonetheless. Her eyebrows tighten again as she thinks.

His movements are measured, tentative. He has a lot of questions, so many.

“Can I get one?”

“A dad?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a nervous breath. “Why do you ask, kiddo?”

She chews on her fingernail and doesn’t say anything. Eventually, she closes the book, places it face down, re-opens the back cover, and takes out a little pink quarter-sheet flyer tucked inside. She slides it across the counter.

Steve picks it up. She still won’t meet his eye.

Stewart Elementary First Grade Daddy/Daughter Tea Party! reads the top in thick black letters.

“Oh,” Steve says.

He looks over the other little details listed on the flyer next to a line-art teapot in the bottom corner.

“Hmm.”

He puts the lid over the soup and moves to the other side of the island. Pulls out the stool next to her and climbs onto it.

“Was somebody at school giving you a hard time?”

She shrugs. “No, not really. But I need to get a dad so I can go. I don’t think Miss Gracie knows I don’t have one, or she wouldn’t have invited me.”

“No!” Steve cries. His chest throbs painfully. “No, no, I’m sure you can go, even without a dad. Like I said, lots of kids don’t have ‘em.”

”None of my friends don’t.” She looks away, twisting a loose thread from the sleeve of her sweater around her finger.

“Andy, listen,” He murmurs gently. “Families… are kind of complicated. Sometimes, we start to think they only look one certain way and then we feel like ours isn’t good enough. That’s how I felt when I was your age, and that’s how I felt when I was much, much older than you.”

“How old?”

“Seventeen or eighteen.”

She grimaces.

He laughs. “Yeah, I know. But here’s the best part, kiddo. No one told me for a long time, but actually, families look all sorts of ways. And it’s okay. Even when they’re different. Especially when they’re different. And our family is different. But that’s not a bad thing.”

”But I still can’t go to the tea party.”

“Hold your horses! I’m getting there! Sheesh.” He reaches out to tickle her and she squirms away, but he does manage to make her giggle.

“Sometimes, dads aren’t really dads at all. They just feel like dads to us. Like how Hopper became Will, and El, and Jonathan’s dad. Or Uncle Wayne became Eddie’s dad. A dad is just someone who…” He sighs. “Someone who picks you up from school or takes care of you when you’re sick or cuddles you after a bad dream. Stuff like that. They love you unconditionally-“

“What’s that?”

“Like, no matter what. And as long as they do that, and take care of you when you need it, anybody can be your dad. Whether it’s Eddie, or Dustin, or-“

“Or you?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He feels like he’s on fire, combusting with sheer admiration, and he forgets what he’s saying instantly.

“You do all of those things,” Andrea continues. “And the fun stuff too, like when I couldn’t see at the fair and you put me on your shoulders, or when you let me eat ice cream really late when mom’s not home. That counts, right?”

He chokes, “Do you want it to?”

She thinks about it for barely a second. “I think so.”

“Then yeah, that counts. For sure.”

“Hmm.” She looks at him, tipping her head to the side and furrowing her brow like she’s never seen him before. “Do you want to be my dad?”

Oh God, he’s going to cry isn’t he. He can’t cry. That would be horrible. How will he explain that to her, or to Nancy, who should be home in the next few minutes…

“I can’t think of anything I want more, lovebug,” he whispers solemnly instead.

She grins, lighting up like the sun and jumping up to throw herself into his chest, arms around his neck. He coughs with the impact but pulls her close and kisses her cheek, where she’s got a single freckle, just like he does.

“I love you, Andy.”

“I love you too.”

Oh God, yep, he’s crying. Whatever. He can’t help it.

In the next ten minutes, she’ll run upstairs to pick an outfit for the tea party, and he’ll finish the soup and set the table, and Nancy will come in from the storm and find him washing dishes and bawling his eyes out, and shortly after Eddie and Robin will get home too and they’ll all laugh at him and he’ll laugh too, because, it really is funny, and their awkward little family of five will eat dinner together and it will be loud and warm and perfect.

But for now, Steve thinks he’ll just hold onto Andrea.

******************************************************

Okay I know part one was like. fivever ago but i’m having brainrot about it again so here is a very very low stakes tag list based on who asked from that post but i know it’s been a million years and this is kinda different so don’t even stress: @estrellami-1 @alohastitch0626 @analyticalfrog3

[steve0discusses]

Ep 44 Pt 1: It Took 3 Damn Seasons For These Two to Meet

I’m not dead! (though my schedule and my long covid fatigue would imply otherwise) So lets procrastinate my other responsibilities and talk about Yugioh.

Seto is still stalled out like my car in the winter.

And the show decided just out of the blue that Seto has right to the throne although he’s the cousin to the Pharaoh...he’s not Yami’s older brother. That’s not really how the birthright of Kings work, last I checked. Now if Seto had married Yami’s Mother? That I know is a clear birthright steal. But uh, last I checked BEWD was not Yami’s Mom, although I would accept that headcanon.

Blue Eyes White Dragon is often shortened to BEWD and it sounds very funny to me so I apologize if I use BEWD too much. But I mean...

(read more under the cut)

But like, Seto has a girlfriend, so he’s allowed to sit at the adult table at Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, Yami’s gonna have to be stuck babysitting because it’s not like he’s gonna be official with either of the two powerful women that he’s inferred to be dating. Like either the Dark Magician girl, or Tea, make your pic, both are godlike.

Or Rebecca, we can count her, too, she’s like a PHD graduate at like 12 and weirdly powerful for no reason. Also, knowing this show, she may have dated several of these people without them knowing so she’d be down.

Anyway, point is, neither Seto or Yami are the Blue Eyes White Dragon so who cares if they are connected to her? If Kissara needs to inherit the throne, she’s right over there, don’t even bother going through Seto. And youknow that’s just the show making a poor analogy for playing cards. Did they intend for it to come out that way? Probably not, but also Kissara isn’t a paper card here, she’s like a real ass woman, despite the zero personality they gave her so far this season.

So Aknadin shakes his head and was like “This isn’t how you treat your not-a-girlfriend, guys” and in one motion decided pull a Mokuba. But, instead of stealing those little star chips from season one in the middle of a card game, he just straight up stole Seto and it was very funny.

Like look at seto’s little feet in that image there haha. Seto’s just been tossed around this season place to place like a ping pong ball.

And then Bakura was like “I’m not done yet, I can do THIS!” and they watched this thing mozy down a hole at like a snail’s pace.

They just watched it slowly descend and were like “... huh. Why didn’t I think of that?”

So Yami whips off his VR headset (well, metaphorically) in order to share his grievances back at the game table. Mostly to dump on Bakura that this game isn’t any fun.

Which is shockingly low standards, we are talking about Yami.

And before I ever had to update the Death count, turns out Seto Kaiba is just fine.

I have no idea why he’s back in the city, don’t think about it, I don’t think it will ever be explained. So he wanders around lost, like he does about 80% of the time on a normal day. Just kinda wanders hoping Roland picks him up at some point.

And when a kid runs directly through his own body he starts to connect the dots about the ancient Egyptian clothing, housing, and general lack of electricity and wheels.

Which is when we finally have them meet.

That’s right, it’s been a while.

Seasons, so many seasons ago, Seto had a dream about the perfect woman, who was also coincidentally dead in his arms, and for so many years we assumed (ok I was the only one who assumed this) that Yugioh’s creators knew that they could in no way ever put these two people in the same exact room.

And then they did. Because Yugioh will never let you write fanfiction, they already do it for you. That’s right, modern Seto Kaiba ran into past Kissara in an alleyway and so lets get a gist of their true love conversation.

And no, that isn’t just me making a joke in the cap, Seto immediately says to this stranger “Girl, I saw you die. In my arms.” and she was like “lol”

And uh that was it. Again, a HUGE leap of romance for Seto Kaiba. This is truly the most romantic he’s been on this show so I can’t dock it too much. But I will dock it somewhat because it’s been so many seasons of leadup, hahaha!

I’ll have you know my bro was like “wow you stan Kissara so much” and I was like “mmm pretty sure I don’t” and he was like “uh you gave her so much more dialogue than in the actual show” and he’s not wrong. Maybe I do stan Kissara. If anything, I stan her being the true Pharaoh of Egypt.

So she’s gonna run off to find the correct Seto. But yes, she did look future Seto Kaiba directly in the eyes when he said “why should I believe you?” and say “I don’t care.”

so that’s about it for this half of this episode that took me........what 7 years to write? I’ve been having fatigue problems, long covid’s a beast, so updates will be whenever they are, but as always, thanks for y’alls patience about it.

And uh, have a little teaser for the next half:

Ohhh yeah that’s right, we gonna do a maze!

And as always here’s a link to read these in chrono order from the beginning if you just got here, and want to see exactly how many posts are in between when Seto hallucinated Kissara and actually met Kissara.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[aladaylessecondblog]

How to Get Off Skooma (420 day chapter)

Author's Note: This most likely WILL be in Severed Destiny. Martin works for Vivec as a servant, he took the job to avoid getting put in prison for defacing the temple (thanks Sanguine)

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

Never did Haj-deek regret her room being so close to her father's (and Nerevar's, which had had to be added next to her mother's), as she did right now. Several nights in a row she'd wake up, and hear, well...rocking. And moaning.

A pillow over the head did nothing to muffle the noise. And they said SHE had to be supervised. How FUNNY when THEY were the ones acting like this on a nightly basis. And that wasn't even mentioning the racket from Vivec and Uncle Odros - really, they didn't HAVE to stay the night after Vivec and she finished the yearly renewal of their power from the Heart. (Even more puzzling was how her father hadn't realized yet.)

After a few moments she decided to sit up and head outside...she was beginning to feel the need for another dose of skooma anyway.

Haj-deek hastily dressed and headed on outside.

She lit a light spell and headed towards the spot she'd hidden. A little alcove of stone she'd cover up with ash and pebbles and rotted bits of scathecraw leaves. Outside. Her father and Dagoth Ulen were still doing weekly sweeps of her room, and so inside was no longer a safe place to hide it.

There was a hole there and she felt a surge of panic. Had a cliffracer gotten in, knocked it around and out while looking for something to eat? Where was it?

She turned this way and that, looking everywhere--until she heard a couple footsteps behind her.

"Oh, Martin, it's you. I..." and trying to sound more normal, lest he catch on why she was there, she took a deep breath and pasted on a smile to match her tone. "I guess you couldn't sleep either."

"Yes, as it turns out...Lord Vivec invited your uncle to his room for, uh...important discussions. And given I am one door away..."

"That happened to me too. Just...it wasn't Lord Vivec making all the noise. I'd rather not talk about it."

"And neither would I. Perhaps we could discuss something else. Like the walk we both seem to be taking. Though you do look rather upset...I hope you aren't looking for anything."

Haj-deek groaned slightly. "Well, not exactly, but I...I...YOU!"

The need was stronger, and it wasn't a trivial effort to stop herself hitting the man before her. He wasn't smirking or anything, just watching her placidly. But it was still infuriating.

"Yes, my lady, me. Don't look so surprised that I figured it out. When Lord Vivec and I walked up the path yesterday, and encountered you--do you think I didn't notice your eyes? The twitchiness? I was a champion of Sanguine. You can't be showing obvious signs of addiction and tell me you're not on the stuff."

"That stuff was expensive, Martin. And if you think I'm not going to tell--"

"Yes, I'm sure your father would just love to hear that you're taking skooma. Lord Vivec may not have noticed or cared if he did, but I'm sure any decent father would be happy his daughter's supply was cut off. Honestly - Balmora Blue? Do you know what a bad idea it is to get onto such a pure strain?"

Haj-deek gave a slight and frustrated shout. "You don't understand, you can't just--I NEED a dose of it."

"So it's gotten to that point, has it? Well, let me introduce you to what helped ME kick the habit. Healing potions for the pain, and a little thing I managed to get growing here in Morrowind."

From the pocket of his robe Martin produced a couple wads of paper--or what she'd assumed was a wad of paper. They looked like cigars or something. After a bit of smoothing out Martin handed her one.

"Light the blunt and breathe in. Hold it in for a few seconds, then breathe out. And let the plant do all the work."

Grumbling, Haj-deek obeyed. She comforted herself with the fact that even if he had taken the skooma for himself, Vivec would just toss it out.

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

*Thirty Minutes Later* ---------------------------

A hazy cloud surrounded them.

"So Lord Vivec sends me out with the spear, and...the rest is history. Ha, like I didn't know he was just doing that to keep me busy. Get Muatra polished, he says, like I wouldn't know what that means and the joke he was trying to..."

A laugh burst from Haj-deek's lips when she exhaled the next bit of smoke.

"That...ha...that sounds like him." Another giggle. "Sorry, I...I didn't mean to laugh at you like that."

Martin took another drag on his own blunt and gave an easy-toned reply, "No it's fine, this stuff makes you do that."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's...very good for relaxing...mellowing you out. Can result in a bit of laughter." There was a pause. "You know, I just realized something. I haven't seen anything growing around here...what in Oblivion do you eat?"

"Well, we've started growing SOME things, but...but I...I'll just take you to our food storage. We've got some REALLY good sweetrolls..."

[camels-pen]

Snaked

Summary:

/snaked/ 1) To get stabbed in the back or be generally screwed over by someone 2) Stole or stolen. 1. That fucker just snaked me. / I thought he could be trusted but he snaked me. 2. I just snaked that dude's wallet.

Danny and Sam learn Tucker has a fear of snakes. He also happens to steal Danny's hard earned prize. Oh, and Danny turns into a dragon.

based on @bellsandmischief's prompt "Danny and friends are yeeted via portal into a medieval/mythical universe, and now have to defeat a Hydra (or other mythical beast) to get the "key" to get home."

Ao3 Link

“Hark! Wake the girlies from their sleep, there’s a beast afoot!”

“That’s not how it goes,” Sam said. “And get off of there before you make it notice us.”

“So sue me, I haven’t read the book,” Danny grumbled, floating to the ground. “And I was just trying to lighten things up.”

“And while I appreciate that, how about we lighten things up after we get Tucker back from the massive hydra?”

“Seconded!” yelled a tiny voice in Danny’s ear. He winced and turned down the volume of the Fenton Phones. 

“Well, it’s not like he’s in any real danger at the moment, and you were starting to get a permanent scowl on your face.”

“I’ll put a permanent scowl on your face.”

“Guys, can we please do this later?! I think the hydra’s trying to ask me out and I don’t know how to say no without getting eaten!”

Danny hummed, leaning back against the massive stone wall. “Try—” He made the sound of a train whistle, followed by shredded paper.

“Ow! Did you have to say that so loud?” 

“Wasn’t any louder than your yelling earlier.”

“Hey, Danny,”—Sam squinted at him—“what exactly did you say?”

“Why?”

“Because it sounded like ‘you have faces only a mother snake could love’.”

Danny clicked his tongue. Damn Sam and her growing knowledge of Ghost Speak.

“I’m not saying that!” Tucker screeched. “That’s like a guaranteed ticket to its stomach!”

Danny put a hand to his chin. “I think it’d be ‘stomachs’, plural. Since it’s got a bunch of heads it probably has—”

“Not helping!” Tucker yelled.

“Ugh, fine, fine. I’ll drop it.” He craned his neck up to watch the massive green hydra above them, Tucker sat atop one of its yellow scaled heads while the others dote over him. “How’d you even get this thing to want you so bad? Did your stinky cologne finally work on someone?”

“Okay, A) it’s not stinky it’s funky fresh, and, B) I. Don’t. Know!” he wailed.

“Have you found the gem, at least?” Sam asked.

“Well, I would have if I wasn’t preoccupied with NOT GETTING EATEN!” Danny put a hand over his eyes, squinting through the sunlight. It looked like one of the heads licked Tucker. He heard him shudder. “Eww, gross.”

“You’ve been up there that long and you still haven’t found it? Amateur.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you ever been held hostage by a hydra before? Hmm?” Sam looked like she was about to answer, but Tucker barely gave pause. “I didn’t think so. So how about we trust the current expert on hydra kidnappings and believe him when he says THIS IS TERRIFYING!”

“I still don’t think it exists,” Danny said with a shrug. “I mean it’s way too good to be true.”

“Well, you can go back to the castle and ask the stuck up king again, but I think he’d just start yelling about cutting off your head for coming back empty handed.” 

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. Especially not when my powers are still messed up from that portal.” Danny held open his palm imagining a fiery blast of ectoplasm appearing. There was a little puff of smoke followed by a fart sound. “But neither of you find it weird that when we asked if they knew any ghosts or magic that could get us home, they said ‘hey, the hydra’s got this shiny green rock, maybe that could help’ and shoved us at it?” 

“Obviously it’s suspicious, but we don’t exactly have any other leads here!” 

“Oh, c’mon Tuck, I thought you were into monsters and stuff,” Danny said, trying for his ice next, but ending up with a single snowflake. It quickly melted in his palm.

“I am a strict werewolf lover, thank you very much!”

“I don’t know if ‘lover’ is the right term—”

“I’m never letting you download MCR songs on my PDA ever again.”

“Hey now, no need to be unreasonable. We’ve got a plan to get you down and everything,” she said. She turned off her Fenton Phone then turned to say, “I can’t afford to lose my battle music. We need to think of a plan.”

“I can still hear you through Danny’s mic!”

Danny sighed. “I’ve been trying to think of stuff, but without my powers working—and since those cheapskates from the castle wouldn’t give us any weapons—I don’t really have any ideas.”

“Damn, none of your powers work?” 

“I’ve been cycling through them, but yeah. Nothing except flight.” Danny picked up a hefty rock, examining it before holding it up. “You think I could just fly up and dump a bunch of stuff on it and hope to kill it? Maybe use a sharp stick to cut off its heads?”

Sam made a face of disgust. “We’re not killing it. We’re better than that.” She shook her head. “Besides, hydras in Greek mythology grow two new heads for every head cut off. Or something like that.”

He gasped. “You? Not sure about creepy monster mythology??”

Sam smacked his arm. “It’s been a while since I read my big book on myths, okay? Shut up.”

“Still about to be eaten here!”

They both looked up. Saw a few of the heads rubbing their cheeks against him. Looked down.

“You think his fear of snakes is new?”

“Maybe. Though it could just be a fear of giant snakes.” Danny hummed. “Probably new either way though. Also, we should probably get him down before he faints or something.”

Sam sighed. “It’s a shame we can’t just ask it to give us Tucker back.” She paused. “And the gem.”

Something pulsed in Danny’s chest. He rubbed at it. “Huh. That’s new.” 

“What? Are your powers working again?”

“Something like that, I think.” He opened and closed his hands a few times, feeling the bones shift at his command. He smirked. “Oh yeah, this’ll work.”

Danny closed his eyes, imagining the massive creature in his head. Thought of changing, shifting, becoming.

“Holy FUCK! Sam, what is he doing?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe he’s allergic to something here?!” 

“Quiet,” he growled, voice much deeper than before. “Need to. Concentrate.”

Danny felt himself grow taller, longer, stronger. He felt something tough and scratchy sprout from his skin, felt his nails growing longer and sharper, felt two little sharp things poke out of his forehead. His bones restructured themselves until he was forced forwards onto his hands and feet. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he was grateful it wasn’t painful either.

Or, at least, it wasn’t until he felt something explode outward from his back. He yelled—roared, [That fucking hurt!]

He blinked his eyes open and found himself face-to-face—er, faces—with the hydra. A trembling Tucker was sitting atop one of the heads, hands desperately gripping onto one of the thick horns protruding out from the back of the head. 

“If he’s allergic to something then why did he turn into a dragon?!”

[Because I didn’t want the headaches that would come with having 7 extra brains, obviously,] he said. Sam and Tucker continued to bicker as if he hadn’t said a word. [And now they’re not listening to me, great.]

[It’s a simple hivemind,] a higher pitched voice said, scoffing. [And of course humans can’t hear our mother tongue.] Danny looked around for the source of the voice. But there was no one here other than the three of them.

[Hello? I’m over here.] He followed the voice to—[Honestly, youth these days are so melodramatic.]

The hydra. The very cuddly hydra that liked Tucker for some reason. Could talk this whole time?

[Why didn’t you say anything before?]

[I believe I just explained humans can’t hear our mother tongue.] Each of the heads sniffed in unison. [I’ve been speaking the whole time.]

[Well, then how can I understand you now?]

It rolled all 8 pairs of eyes. [Look for yourself.]

Danny looked down. His eyes widened. [Holy shit.]

From head to toe—head to paw? Whatever—Danny was covered in dark black scales, with a small patch of white ones on his chest. His hands and—he craned his neck back—yup, his feet too, were turned into huge scaly paws with large white claws. He turned in place and curved his neck around to look over his shoulder. There were big leathery wings too, the joints covered in scales, but the inner parts a bright green colour. 

He tried to imagine flapping them, and they actually moved. Though it was more of an awkward flailing that hit his face.

Now that he’d paused to notice all the changes in his body though, he could feel two identical weights on his head. When he reached a paw upwards, he felt large horns attached to his forehead.

Something felt… off though.

[Shouldn’t I have a tail or something? I thought all dragons had tails. Or, at least, all the cool ones anyway.]

The hydra snickered. [Oh, you’ve got a tail alright.]

Danny turned further to try and catch sight of it. [Where? I can’t see anything.]

[It’s a little cottontail. The ones you would see on a small prey animal.] Like a rabbit? Ugh. Of course a new ghost power wouldn’t work right on the first try. He should’ve figured.

“Hey, Danny! If you can hear me, I think you need to grab Tucker, he doesn’t sound too hot!” Sam’s tiny voice yelled up at him. He couldn’t completely make out what she was saying, but he did hear something about Tucker and the guy was looking a lot wobblier on his perch on the hydra. He better hurry up.

[Uh, hey, listen hydra guy, we’re just trying to get home. So do you think we could borrow your rock for a little while?]

[Rock?] The hydra tilted all of its heads to the right. Well, 7 of its heads. It thankfully didn’t move the head holding Tucker.

[The magic glowing gem.]

[That? Pah, you can take it.] The hydra started to make a gagging noise from one of its mouths and spat out a saliva coated glowing gem on the ground. 

[Cool cool,] He lifted a paw to point at Tucker. [I’m also gonna need my friend back.]

The hydra pressed closer to Tucker, the unoccupied 7 heads falling into a circle around him. [Why? I’d take good care of him. You can leave him with me.] 

Danny didn’t like the way it talked about Tucker like a pet. He changed tactics. [Why are you so hung up on Tucker anyway? Is it his smell, or…?]

[Oh heavens, no,] it said. [This human’s red top and yellow scales remind me of my sister. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her.] It bumped one of its heads into Tucker’s chest, sticking a forked tongue out to lick the air. Tucker froze the moment its jaw opened and when the tongue appeared he was out like a light. He started to fall backwards, Danny jolting up to catch him, but the hydra beat him to it, quickly wrapping around Tucker’s torso to hold him up. 

[See?] it said. [I’m great at this.] Its head tightened around him. [Now leave us alone.]

[Nah, I think it’s time you took a little trip.] Danny lunged forward, turning just as he ran past and flaring his wings. He meant to sweep the hydra’s legs out from under it, but instead ended up falling over his new and unfamiliar limbs, his wings getting terribly bent and, at one point, stepped on. It still got the job done, but—[God FUCK that hurt, jesus CHRIST.]

“Tucker!” Sam yelled. Danny jerked his head around, watching Tucker fall and start to get dangerously close to the ground. He couldn’t stretch out his wings in time and his paws were tipped with claws! How was he supposed to—?!

An idea hit him. 

Swiftly, he scrambled backwards and stuck his ass straight into the air, hoping he was right.

He felt a small weight land on his backside, on fur instead of scales. Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

Carefully, he lowered himself to the ground, waiting until Sam was close enough to grab Tucker before sitting down completely.

[That was a little too close for comfort,] he said with a laugh. [We should probably grab the gem and get out of here.]

[You will regret doing that, little dragon.]

The hydra stood once more, all of its eyes thinned to slits and their yellow scales fluttering up as if it was a cat with raised hackles.

[I’m so rattled,] Danny said as he moved to stand above his friends. [Ha! Snake pun!] He looked down to watch for Sam’s reaction before remembering his current state of being. Damn. [Why is it that when I’m finally able to come up with good puns in this dimension, you guys can’t hear them?] he grumbled. Sam, of course, had no response for him.

[I am no simple snake,] the hydra hissed. [At worst I am most similar to a Greater Lizard!]

[Either way, Tucker’s more of a wolf guy.] Danny growled, [So how about you beat it before I get serious.]

[You really expect me to believe you can beat me? When you fell over your own front paws while taking the human back from me?] The hydra laughed, one head laughing a single time, followed by another and another. [I’d like to see you try.] Each of its mouths opened in unison, eight balls of crackling electricity growing bigger and bigger in their jaws.

Danny sighed. It was always electricity. 

It did give him an idea though. 

He opened his own mouth and concentrated on the feeling of his ice powers. As soon as he felt it crawl up his throat, he blasted them outwards. Small uneven balls of ice pelted the hydra, hitting noses, eyes, horns, and, eventually, one of those glowing balls of electric energy. 

It exploded in the mouth of one of the heads and it roared, out of sync with the other heads that were still charging. It knocked into the two other heads on either side of it and the head on the right accidentally let off its charge, setting the ground at its feet on fire.

The hydra heads kept knocking into other heads and setting off their electric charges too. Also, the bottom half of the hydra was jumping around, trying to avoid the fire. It was quite a sight.

Eventually, the hydra ended up within arm’s reach of Danny. He grinned.

[You know, you’re a pretty fun guy. Hissssterical, even.] He stood up on his hind legs. [But it’s time for my fist to give you a little goodnight hiss.] He pulled back his hand and punched one of the middle heads, the one that had been constricting around Tucker earlier. 

The Hydra went down with a cry of pain. It twitched a little, but after a while it thankfully didn’t get up again.

Danny looked down at his friends.

Now how to change back. Hmm—

As if responding to his thoughts, his body started to shed its scales and shrink down. He felt the wings on his back start to disappear, followed closely by his other draconic traits.

By the time he’d turned by into his regular halfa self, Tucker was awake and sitting on the grass looking drained. Sam was standing right behind him, practically holding him up with her legs as she examined the gem.

When he looked up at her, she tossed the gem to him. “I think it works on ectoplasm. Give it some juice.” 

Danny nodded. “Sure thing.” He tried again to create a ball of ectoplasm in his palms, smiling when he found his powers working like normal. “Huh, guess the dragification shook whatever was blocking my powers loose.”

“So, what the hell was that all about anyway?” Sam asked. “The becoming a dragon thing.”

Danny shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but I needed to get big enough to grab Tucker and probably beat the thing up, then I felt my bones shifting—no, no I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds—anyway I just ‘thought big’ and then something funky in my chest just started making me change.”

“We’re gonna circle back to that bone thing.” Sam glared at him. “But, I mean, it was a pretty good first try for turning into a dragon.”

“A good try for a dragon, yeah, but I was just trying to make myself bigger. I didn’t mean to do the whole shapeshifting into a huge mythological creature thing.” He grinned. “It was pretty cool though.”

“Very cool,” Tucker said. “Very big fan of the tail. That thing was a real lifesaver. Great for saving someone a hare’s breadth from death.”

“Wow, beating Danny to making the first pun in a new dimension? I’m impressed, Tuck,” Sam said.

“What the—he did not. I made a pun earlier! Several!”

“You mean when we couldn’t understand a thing you were saying and were otherwise preoccupied with the hydra?” Sam asked. “And you just happened to remember this now?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad, but it’s true!” he insisted. “I made a snake pun!”

“Sssssure you did, Danny.” If he wasn’t concentrating on the gem, he would so punch Tucker right now.

Sam leaned down to give Tucker a fist bump. “Nice.”

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here until Danny hurries his ass up and makes a portal home.”

“I hate you guys,” Danny grumbled.

[lambicpentametre]

life imitates art

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40103772

T | 1/1 | 1k

Relative newcomer Alina Starkov is cast in The Last Five Years opposite the famed Aleksander Morozova. It hits a little too close to home. 

Nobody knew the can of worms they were opening when they called her up. They were too preoccupied with the chemistry she shared with Aleksander during the first and only project they worked on together almost four years ago now.

Author’s note: This was written as a fill for darklinaprompts on Twitter, and as is usually the case, quickly became long enough to be a fic. I did not edit before posting; all mistakes are my own.

Nobody knew the can of worms they were opening when they called her up. They were too preoccupied with the chemistry she shared with Aleksander during the first and only project they worked on together almost four years ago now. 

It’s a crime we haven’t seen them take the stage together again, all the blogs wrote in the year after the play closed. Starkov and Morozova build each other up and break each other down in ways that cut to the very heart of what it means to love someone.

She laughed through her tears reading that one. Her therapist says she should stop seeking those kinds of puff pieces out, but when she’s feeling particularly down about herself, she switches to an incognito tab and gorges herself on tabloid gossip about the man who broke her heart and crushed it into fine dust.

It’s stupid. 

They’re both very private people: him, from a lifetime spent in the spotlight and a need to draw a line between personal and professional; her, from the nerves of a young woman coming up in the industry alone, with no family and a sparse social circle to fall back on once the wolves descend.

Neither of them told anyone when he slid a ring onto her finger, delicate and golden and just unnoticeable enough that no one would ever think of it. She liked the secrecy then, the stolen looks, the far-off vacations to tiny towns and secluded beaches where they were free to kiss in the open, no worries about what paparazzo might see them, what fans would accost them.

But likewise, there was no one to tell when it all fell apart, ending with his screams and her tears and the beautiful bracelet he bought her for their second anniversary, mere months ago, tossed at his face with the speed and accuracy her high school softball coach drilled into her.

(She saw a picture of him taken three days later, and reveled in the way it bruised.)

So no one knew. Not her closest friends, not his mother, not their agents, no one. 

A secret marriage (non-binding, because they both agreed the piece of paper was unnecessary to show their love, and in the end wasn’t it good she didn’t need to file for a legal divorce?) dissolved as quickly as it formed. His things moved out of their apartment almost overnight. Hers moved out the next week, subleased to a friend of an old castmate; too painful to stay in the place where she could put her legs in his lap and kiss him slowly in the morning, tea brewed sweet and strong on his lips.

She went to London for a while, took a six month contract in Wicked. Something to pay the bills, something that didn’t require her whole essence when she was still in pieces. Comfortable. Familiar.

Except then her agent calls her back to New York and insists that she read for the new revival of The Last Five Years, because Aleksander Morozova has already attached himself to the project and it would be great exposure for both of them to work together again. 

From a career standpoint, she would be stupid not to take it. She loves the music, loves the humanity, and her agent is right: working with Aleksander again would increase her popularity and name recognition. It’s what everyone, fans and critics alike, has been clamoring for since that first play. 

She hangs up the phone and laughs-cries-sobs at the dramatic irony of it all. What was it Jason Robert Brown said? That level of ambition and that level of fear, that jump into commitment, that jump into an emotional commitment made before they’re ready, made before it’s the right time… 

Well, fuck, she knows a thing or two about that. It would be easy to do that opposite Aleksander, an actor who understands her in a way that no one else does, because she has done it.

She gets blind drunk at a piano bar and says yes to her agent in the morning, hangover pounding in her head. 

But maybe she didn’t think it through, because now she must confront all of those old hurts and heartaches, and all the love she used to feel. Instead of tamping it down and hiding it from the world, she has to let it show, and she knows it’s showing on her face. She curses him after rehearsals every day because she still can’t read a goddamn thing off of him, never mind that she was his wife except for her signature on the dotted line for eighteen glorious months.

The saving grace of it is that she only has one scene with him, and it’s so easy to pretend to be in love with him, because she’s never really sure she fell out of love with him. It’s so easy to want a big white wedding with him standing at the altar waiting for her, because even though they agreed, in the quiet rooms of her heart, she dreamed of kissing him before the justice of the peace with flowers in her hair. 

Life imitates art imitates life.

She finishes her blocking for the morning, takes lunch, and comes back to Aleksander working with the musical director. His eyes catch the movement of the door closing behind her, and he stares at her, damn him.

“I grip, and she grips, and faster we’re sliding. Sliding and spilling, and what can I do?

“Come back to bed, kid, take me inside you. I promise I won’t lie to you.”

She has to look away. She forces herself to look away, even as she knows his eyes are still burning a hot path toward her, daring her to glance up.

Alina sits down in a chair in the corner, hiding behind whatever conversation the props master and set designer are having. She shrinks into herself, small as she can be, to secret herself away.

It will be the five year anniversary of their first meeting tomorrow. 

The song Aleksander sings is Nobody Needs to Know.

[praublem-child]

I know this isn't my fandom blog, but it is my main blog and I've been talking about Bubble for a paper I'm writing in my abnormal psych class, so I'm just gonna post this here.

Normally I don't like to hype Netflix movies because I think Netflix is a fairly predatory streaming service (they all are really, but still), and their movies and shows often get cut off before they can really get going, but holy shit this one was good.

I don't normally watch movies and stuff because I like to stick with my current hyperfixations, but because I'm writing this paper I ended up picking it after finding myself in a reddit hole after searching for "animated autism movies". I'm not entire convinced that the characters are autistic, but I certainly related to them more than I do most characters.

Hibiki has confirmed sound hypersensitivity. He was taken to a lot of doctors as a child to figure out why, we even got an MRI scene where he was visibly flinching from the noises. He got overwhelmed easily by the sounds of the city, and we have a few scenes where we see his mother progressively lose hope and eventually she drops him in what looks to be a special education class. Throughout the movie we see him being very protective over his headphones and wincing at multiple sounds, showing an obvious disinterest in socialization, and he has a grand total of two interests that we see, both of which he seems incredibly good at. Hibiki is also awkward around socialization, hyperaware of his surroundings, and I noticed a general lack of emotions and empathy compared to his teammates. It wasn't completely gone, but it was noticeable if you were looking (I was looking bc of this paper).

The other main character is named Uta, who isn't actually a human at all. I never actually figured out what she is? She's like,, literally a bubble. But also not? Anyway, aside from the movie's main problem not making almost any sense, Uta is nonspeaking for the first part of the film, and only speaks in simple words and references to the little mermaid which she read early on. Both her and Hibiki seem to connect in ways that neither could with any of the other members on the team. I'm not gonna give spoilers that I don't think are relevant to this autism thing, but there's probably several reasons outside of that. Regardless, it made sense to me that if they were both autistic they'd be closer to each other despite barely knowing each other. I know I've always found it easier to connect and communicate with other autistic individuals in my life.

Uta also has some fairly weird mannerisms and very clearly doesn't understand social cues. This makes sense given the fact that she's literally not human, but I couldn't help but draw parallels between her behaviors and how I acted as a kid (re: like a feral cat).

Now I know I didn't talk about everything in the movie, I'm like three hours past when I should have gone to bed and I need to save some of this brain power for the actual paper, but if anyone actually reads this post please go watch Bubble on Netflix. It makes no sense, I still barely understand what was going on in the movie, but it was so pretty to look at and the main characters are autistic coded at the very least. The music is also going to be stuck in my head for weeks.

Anyway. (not so) Mini rant over, time to sleep and try not to hyperfixate for the next week on this movie. It's already like two years old and had barely anything about it online, so I seriously doubt I'd be able to find a solid amount of fanfiction to fuel me if that happened. /hj

Trailer (the english dub is rlly good btw): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pbWblLkHHk

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[rubysunnday]

it’s a love story

a/n: this is a looonnnggg one, but i enjoyed writing it a lot. Thank you to @gryffindors-weasley who’s stories have inspired this one - if you want more sweet Colin please go read their stories!

words: 3,703

summary: Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Unrequited love hurt.

It was easy to lose yourself in night-time fantasies of a life with the one person you loved - dreaming of your wedding, your house and the day they confessed their feelings to you.

Y/N had loved Colin ever since she’d been a child. It’d started off as nothing more than platonic love - they’d been best friends since childhood, and they’d stayed close over the years as they both grew up and turned into something that vaguely resembled adults.

She’d never revealed how she felt to him. Y/N didn’t want to tell him and run the risk of ruining their friendship. She simply stood aside and watched him flirt with and at almost every woman in London. It never bothered her - it was how Colin was. He flirted and played around but never settled.

Until Marina.

Y/N hadn’t thought twice about how he flirted at Marina. Admittedly, it had hurt to see how close they’d been at Daphne’s wedding party and how besotted Colin seemed to be with her. But Y/N had just thought Marina was another passing fancy who would be married and vanished after the season ended.

But the garden party changed that.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Ever since Daphne’s wedding she’d been keeping her distance from Colin and the Bridgerton House in general, not wanting to set herself up for anymore heart ache and pain then what she was mentally prepared for.

As her carriage pulled up to the gardens, Y/N felt her hands begin to shake. It was ridiculous how nervous she was - nothing had even happened yet! She was just nervous to see Colin and have to disguise her feelings from him and Marina.

Before the wheels of her carriage had even stopped rolling, Eloise ran over and flung open the door, looking up at Y/N expectantly. Benedict reluctantly chased after his sister after his mother shoved him in Eloise’s vague, general direction.

Eloise squinted up at her, attempting to read Y/N’s mind. “Nope, you’re not running away,” she said, reaching up and grabbing her friends’ hand and practically pulling her out the carriage, sensing Y/N’s desire to be anywhere other than there.

“Oh, Eloise, don’t start,” Y/N complained, barely catching herself on Benedict’s outstretched arm as she missed the step entirely and lost her footing.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” Eloise replied, almost pouting.

Y/N sighed, still clutching Benedict’s arm as she regained her sense. “Eloise, I don’t want to be here. I can’t cope with... well, that,” she waved a hand in the vague general direction of where Colin was.

“And I can’t cope with my mother doing what she does best,” Eloise shot back, snatching Y/N’s hand and pulling her into the gardens. “Now, come along, dear Y/N.”

Not trusting her friend, Y/N grabbed Benedict’s hand and dragged the man along with her, ignoring his muttered complaints as he reluctantly followed after his sister.

Everything seemed to be going fine. Y/N hovered around Benedict and Anthony, making small talk with the two and strategically avoiding looking at or being in the vicinity of Colin and having to talk to him.

Every time she looked over at him, he was with Marina, smiling dumbly at something she’d said and looking stupidly doe-eyed at her.

Marina hadn’t done anything to Y/N and was probably a lovely person, but she still infuriated Y/N beyond belief for no reason at all. Her mere existence irritated her.

Benedict looked up, having asked Y/N a question that had been met with silence. He noticed her staring at Colin and nudged Y/N’s arm. “Stop staring.”

Y/N blinked and turned her head away from Colin, plucking an invisible thread off the cuff of her dress. “Thanks,” she muttered quietly. She hadn’t realised she’d been noticeably staring.

Despite never saying anything, both Eloise and Benedict - and presumably the rest of the Bridgerton household since neither sibling could keep their mouths shut - knew about Y/N’s unrequited love for Colin.

When they’d been children, Colin and Y/N had gotten ‘married’ in the back garden of Bridgerton House. It’d been a big event involving all the family and the staff and had ultimately ended in the two getting a ‘divorce’ that evening when Colin threw a carrot at Y/N. But it’d been obvious even then how perfect they were for the other.

Y/N looked up as someone gently knocked their knife against their glass. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it was Colin and that Marina was standing next to him looking very pleased.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Colin asked as silence fell over the gathered party.

Y/N was trying not to think the worse. She could see the confusion on Anthony’s face at what his brother was about to do but Y/N knew, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I would like to make a small but important announcement,” Colin continued, practically beaming. “I have happy news to impart.”

Y/N could hear her heart beating. She knew what was coming. There was nothing else that Colin could say that would make sense and that would make Marina smile so much. She unconsciously reached out her hand and grabbed Anthony’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

Everyone around them gasped in delight. Benedict was smiling, Lady Featherington was beaming, and Anthony looked like he was about to throttle someone.

Y/N felt as if her entire life was falling apart in front of her. She’d lost the one thing that meant everything to her to someone else. Her grip on Anthony’s arm increased and he looked over at her.

“Smile,” Anthony whispered, despite his own surprise and anger. “And go congratulate them.”

It took a moment for Y/N’s mind to realise that Anthony had even spoken. But a moment later she nodded, plastered a smile to her face and approached Colin and Marina with false joy and gratitude despite the fact her heart was breaking apart inside her.

For the rest of the week, Y/N stayed at home. Despite the invitation being extended to her to join the Featherington’s and a few of the Bridgerton’s for dinner, she declined it, unable to bear the pain of seeing Colin and Marina stare lovingly at one another.

The seventh day of hiding dawned annoyingly early and Y/N, who felt as if she hadn’t slept in months, found herself pottering around her house with no purpose in mind.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N turned around to face her butler. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton is here to see you, ma’am. She’s refusing to leave.”

Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “Of course, she is,” she muttered. “Where is she?”

Simmons gestured to the lounge and Y/N headed down the corridor towards the room.

“Eloise, I swear -” Y/N cut herself off abruptly at the pained yet excited look on Eloise’s face as the woman ran up to her and all but crashed into her.

“The engagement is off,” Eloise said all at once, her excitement overtaking her need to speak.

Y/N blinked. “I - what is off?”

“Colin and Marina Thompson’s engagement,” Eloise said again, elaborating a little more. Y/N blinked again. “What?”

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her into the living room, thrusting the latest Lady Whistledown into her hands.

Y/N hadn't read it in the past week - every page being focused on Colin and Marina and how happy Daphne and the duke had seemed. Every description of anything related to love added insult to injury.

She scanned it quickly and stared at the words with wide eyes. The paper fell from her hands as she looked up at Eloise.

“She... she’s pregnant?” Y/N whispered, almost not daring to say it. “What, when, how - I mean, I know how but...”

“I didn’t know how,” Eloise admittedly sheepishly.

Y/N’s head shot up, Colin and Marina forgotten. “How did you not know? You grew up with three older brothers!”

Eloise shrugged. “It just... never came up. Anyway,” she fluttered the piece of paper in font of Y/N’s face, “Colin’s free.”

“Eloise -”

“What? Y/N, there is nothing standing between you and Colin.”

Y/N sighed and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Eloise, your family’s reputation is... in a treacherous position. If I’m seen flinging myself at Colin to try and benefit from this... I’m not that sort of person. Maybe in a few weeks when its all calmed down...”

Eloise looked her friend up and down. She sat down next to her and took her hand. “Okay. I don’t agree with it but, okay.”

Over the next few days, Y/N began spending more time around the Bridgerton’s, visiting their house like she had before Colin’s proposal.

All of the Bridgerton’s, bar Colin, knew why Y/N had vanished for a few days but said nothing of her sudden re-appearance. Y/N put it down to feeling ill - she tried not to fall apart when Colin asked after her with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine now,” Y/N told him, smiling. “Just a blip.”

“Good,” Colin replied, matching her smile.

Y/N sipped on her tea, casting her eyes down as she felt her stomach flutter at the sight of his smile - even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you attending the Queen’s garden party tomorrow?” Y/N asked, setting her cup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

Colin nodded. “Daphne and the duke are back in town... so, yes, we’re all going to be attending. Are you...”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Y/N replied, trying not to smile at the palpable relief that appeared on Colin’s face at her answer.

Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Colin and Y/N’s relationship hadn’t changed. Yes, Y/N was still longing after someone she would likely never have but she’d missed her best friend too much to sulk in her own misery for much longer.

The day of the Queen’s Garden Party, Y/N joined the Bridgerton’s, walking in with the family, her arm in Colin’s.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Violet asked, smiling as she put her arm around Hyacinth. “All of us together again. And Y/N.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Yes, it’s lovely indeed. We should tempt scandal more often,” Colin muttered. He grunted lightly as Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Hush,” Y/N replied. She was highly aware of everyone staring at them - a given considering the scandal that Marina had brought down upon the Bridgerton’s.

After a few minutes, and after the Queen had accosted Daphne and the duke, Y/N wandered off from the Bridgerton’s, mingling with the other guests and indulging herself in a glass of lemonade and a biscuit.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes at the shrill, grating voice of Cressida Cowper. She was the last person she’d wanted to see let along speak to. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and turned to face Cressida.

“Miss Cowper, how are you?” Y/N asked.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. I just wanted to know what you think you’re doing,” Cressida replied, her tone cheerful but the words sounded and felt forced.

Y/N frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Cressida.”

“Mr Bridgerton - Colin, I mean. You’ve been fawning all over him since the news about Miss Thompson broke -”

“I haven’t been fawning, I’ve been trying to be a good friend,” Y/N replied slowly, her frown deepening.

Cressida waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but we all know that your ‘friendship’ is a disguise for your unrequited love for Mr Bridgerton.”

The empty glass in Y/N’s hand all most fell to the floor, but she kept a tight grip on it as she looked at Cressida. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s well known that you are in love with Colin and that he doesn’t know. And if he did, well, that would be your friendship over, wouldn’t! Perhaps you are even Lady Whistledown and wrote that article on Miss Thompson to have Colin all to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying here, Cressida -”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, Y/N,” Cressida replied, smiling slyly. “We both know the truth about your relationship with Colin. I just can’t imagine how hurt he would be if Lady Whistledown turned out to be you. Besides, it’s not like you actually think he could possibly love you? You don’t deserve him.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Colin asked, stepping into the conversation and putting a hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

Y/N turned her head away and, despite the tightness in her throat, swallowed and smiled. “Yes, Miss Cowper was just leaving,” she said firmly.

Cressida all but stamped her foot as she turned and flounced off. Colin watched her go and then turned back to Y/N, frowning in concern. He was no stranger to the stings Cressida and her mother often gave out to the Ton.

“What was that about?” Colin asked. “I didn’t really hear much -”

“Nothing,” Y/N cut in. Colin’s hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the light pink silk of her dress. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just be friends and pretend her feelings didn’t exist when they did.  She took a shaky breath in, clenching her lace gloved hands tightly as they shook. “Excuse me.”

Ignoring Colin’s worried and hurt expression, Y/N stepped away from him and walked off towards the back of the gardens in search for some peace and quiet.

Y/N found a small side garden amongst the hedges and darted into it, kicking the small white picket fence gate shut behind her - forming a very pathetic barrier that Colin could probably climb over.

Cressida had always had the ability to get under her skin. Normally she would simply forget and move on with her day but everything Cressida had said - minus the Lady Whistledown accusation - was true.

She didn’t deserve Colin. That was partly why she’d been so content to let him marry Marina - because she didn’t deserve him. And why would he love her? Compared to Marina and every other women Colin had flirted at or with, she wasn’t much of anything.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes at the sound of Colin’s voice, mentally wishing him away. She refused to turn around and face him - she could feel the emotions beginning to win over her and could feel her eyes burning.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Cressida say?” Colin asked, walking up to her and putting a hand on her back where the fabric was nothing more than a sheer covering.

Y/N could feel the heat of his skin and the soft skin of his hand and suddenly wanted him to just go away and never speak to her again because it would make things so much easier.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Y/N said softly, a stray tear escaping her eye and dripping on to her cheek. She felt Colin still and knew he’d heard at least some of what Cressida had said. “You heard, didn’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Colin didn’t answer for a moment. “I... I heard the last few sentences.”

Y/N laughed humourlessly. “Of course, you did,” she said, her laugh mixing with sobs. She turned around to face her best friend with tears in her eyes.

Colin looked at her, stunned by the broken expression on her face. In the years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her that broken had been when her mother had passed away and she’d sobbed into his arms all night. “Y/N/N...”

“No,” Y/N stepped to the side, away from Colin’s outstretched hand. “No, I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t... I can’t do this. I know - I can’t.”

Colin lunged forward and grabbed Y/N’s wrist as she turned to go, yanking her to a halt and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, wait.”

“What, Colin? So, you can make fun of the fact that I’ve been on love with my best friend since I was sixteen?”

“No, I just... I need an explanation - I need someone to explain because my head is spinning,” Colin replied. “I don’t understand.”

Y/N sniffed, looking down at the grass. “You own my heart, Colin,” she said simply. She looked up. “When I dream of my future it's with you. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with - the one I see myself loving until I die.”

Y/N paused, swallowing down the tears that wanted to fall. She had to say this now, to get it over with and make it clear. Even though it was physically hurting her. “And I know you don’t feel the same way so, we can just leave this here. Nothing else has to be said about it. I’ll leave and we don’t have to speak of this again - or even see each other if that’s what you want.”

Colin said nothing. He was too stunned and surprised by the sudden confession and the events of the past few days to form a sentence. Y/N nodded sadly, taking his silence as her answer, and left the gardens.

She tried to hide her tear-stained face and broken heart as she emerged back into the main party. She’d arrived with the Bridgerton’s and had no way of getting home without them. Y/N spotted Anthony near the entrance and quickly made her way over to him, desperate to leave before anyone cornered her or spoke to her.

“Anthony,” Y/N said softly, nudging his arm.

Anthony turned around as the people he had been talking to walked off. It took him all of thirty seconds to take in her teary eyes, her shaking hands and the broken look on her face. “Y/N...”

“I’d like to go home, please,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last few words.

Anthony, to his credit, didn’t ask why. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the garden. He caught Benedict as they passed, the two sharing a quick and quiet conversation. She caught the pitying stare Benedict gave her, the simple action making her tears free fall once again.

The carriage they had arrived in wasn’t waiting out front for them. Anthony looked around for it but saw no sign.

“I’ll be back, are you alright to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, nodding.

Anthony squeezed her shoulder and walked off with a determined stride to find their carriage.

“Y/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned around. “Colin, don’t -”

Colin skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, scattering the pebbles of the driveway with his sudden stop. He was panting, as if he’d ran from the garden to the driveway without stopping.

“Just, listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I... I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know, you don’t like me, it’s fine -”

“Will you,” Colin walked forward until he was inches away from her, “just listen?” He took her gloved hand and held it in his. “I didn’t say anything because you caught me entirely off guard. The past few days have been chaos and I need a moment to think. Because the last thing I expected was you to declare your love to me in a garden on a random Thursday. The truth is, Y/N, is that I have loved you ever since we had our wedding in the gardens of my house.”

Y/N let out a snort of laughter despite her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why would you? I don’t deserve you -”

“That,” Colin said, putting a hand on Y/N’s cheek and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb, “sounds suspiciously like the words of a Cowper. Y/N, I love you. I thought you didn’t want me!”

Y/N laughed tearfully and leant into Colin’s hand, still resting on her cheek. “We’re idiots.”

“That we are,” Colin agreed, nodding. “Y/N... the way I feel when I’m with you... there is nothing on this earth that is comparable. I’ve been waiting my entire life for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought Marina would be the one to make me forget you but every time I looked at her... I thought of you. I thought about how much I want to kiss you -”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “And make it a good one, Colin.”

And suddenly his lips were on hers and there was a hunger and a need as he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Y/N’s hand went to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his curls. She could feel his heart pounding and could feel the warmth from his skin as his hand moved up her back.

It was years of waiting and pining and wanting the other. Y/N needed Colin like she needed to breathe, and Colin needed Y/N like he needed water to live.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Colin, her hand still in his hair. She rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Colin rested his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, staring at her. His hand was on her waist and the other one was on the back of her neck, stroking the skin gently. “I love you too.”

“So... are we organising another wedding?”

Y/N dropped her head on to Colin’s shoulder at the sound of Anthony’s voice and groaned loudly.  “Seriously, Anthony?!”

“You two kissed in the driveway,” Anthony pointed out, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating despite the stupid grin on his face. “Now, are we going or staying, because I’ve still yet to find our carriage.”

“We can stay,” Y/N replied, her hand entwined with Colin’s. “And when we walk back in there, we’re going to break the Ton.”

[dollslayer]

Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

[calpalirwin]

I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

__

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine. 

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute. 

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation. 

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

__

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