#only in the third day where she has a better grasp of the situation and the other’s characters that she starts to play up her persona

[swordmaid]

act 1 shri’iia/astarion dynamic where she just walks away every time he tries to hit on her makes me cackle. love pressing the leave option anytime it’s available with her bc I imagine the moment she senses someone is abt to beg for her help (for free????) or someone is gonna clown on her she just straight up leaves 😭😭

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWO: SPIDEY LUCK (GOOD OR BAD? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW)

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SUMMARY ↳ You're adjusting well, comfortable with your new life. Too bad your spidey luck came with you to this universe. He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him. He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?” “Not that cute!” You remind him. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: cursing, mentions of discrimination based on financial situation, a vague-ish sex joke wc: 2.7k

Setting up an identity for yourself is remarkably easy. Natasha taught you just about everything you need to know. To the world, you are now [Name] Stark. Tony Stark is an eccentric recluse from Queens, with a mysterious inheritance allowing for travel around the world. And you, his curious child are now old enough to find her own way in the world, starting in Gotham. It’s messy, but hopefully it can keep people off your ass for a while.

Hacking into the wealth of Gotham’s elite is easy enough, stealing little by little every day so that they don’t notice (they probably wouldn’t, anyway). You steer clear of anything and everything Wayne related. For now, at least, it wouldn’t hurt to get ahold of some of his tech down the line.

Walking down the streets of Gotham is something your sense may never get used to. It’s easy to hide feeling threatened by everything, but it’s not easy to stop feeling threatened by everything. While you are certain you can handle a few common thugs or muggers, you are not excited to face your first round of fear gas. If it comes down to it, you’ll rely on your suit to protect you from it… hopefully it can.

Getting to East End is easy enough despite all the leers you get. Selina Kyle’s territory is riddled with crime and misdemeanor as much as the rest of the city, but it’s one of the cheaper areas. You’re legally old enough to get your own place, and with the money you take and a job you can hopefully find, you’ll be able to get by alright. As a hero, you should probably feel bad about stealing, but it’s not like millionaire’s and billionaire’s need a couple hundred dollars.

You walk into the rundown building, surveying the interior. It’s certainly seen better days, if the ripped up wallpaper and stains in the carpet are anything to go by. There’s no one at the front desk, so you ring the little bell and wait. Tapping your foot, your thoughts wonder.

You’ve been thinking about enrolling into Gotham Academy. It’s risky, since Robin goes there (you looked it up earlier, he’s around the same age as you), but you know that school has damn good funding, and good funding means a good lab. A lab or workshop is essential to you as a Spider.

A hobbling old lady stumbles out towards the front desk, her smile is sweet. “How can I help you, dear?”

You put on your best unassuming smile. “I’d like to sign a lease to rent out an apartment here.”

“Sure, hun. Just give me the deposit and it’s yours.”

You’re taken aback. “Surely it’s not that easy, miss…?” You prompt.

“May. Listen kid,” she leans in. “We don’t ask too many questions ‘round here. I can spot a troubled kid from a mile away.”

Of course her name is May. You smile, awkward. “I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen is nothing on my years, girl.”

You inhale and grasp your hands together. “Well, I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. When can I move in?”

May grabs your arm and leads you up the stairs. “First door on the right, third floor.”

The apartment is in one piece, only some cracks in the walls. There’s a distinct smell in the air, but you’ll make yourself used to it. There’s some furniture left behind by the previous owner (a bed too, but you’re definitely replacing the mattress). It’s quaint, for Gotham.

“I should warn you, a lot of stray cats come and go. Don’t be afraid to feed ‘em, they’re already coming back anyway,” May huffs.

You smile discreetly. “I got it.

“I would’ve thought you’d lose interest in those things by now.”

Growing up you dabbled in one thing to the next. Gymnastics, volleyball, cheerleading. At one point you wanted to go to space camp, but didn’t want to be away from your aunt and uncle. Your interests come and go, never staying long, but your love for comics has always been constant.

“I’ve been fighting for my freedom since day one,” you jest.

Aunt May sits down next to you. “You know how rich I’d probably be if I got all the money back from buying you those things over the years?” She leans in, whispering, “richer than Tony Stark.”

You snort. “No one’s richer than him.” You pause, thinking. “Actually, Bruce Wayne might be.”

“Is that the Manbat guy you’re reading about?”

“ Batman , May.”

She kisses your head, grabbing the comic out of your hands. “Well, you know what they say. Bad kids who don’t go to sleep at bedtime get snatched up by Batman and his bird sidekick.”

You lean back against your pillows, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. “No one says that.”

“I do. Goodnight, tiger.”

The past week you’ve been making moves. You land a job as a waitress in a nice little cafe around the corner, and you’ve settled in nicely into your apartment. You find out May likes her coffee 2 cream no sugar and she religiously watches telenovelas. On top of that, you’ve made friends with a black cat you’ve affectionately named Nari.

“Alright K, show me past entrance exams for Gotham Academy.”

Uploading Karen into the laptop you bought allowed for you to multitask much more efficiently. You’re trying to emulate an environment you’re familiar with, like FRIDAY back at the Tower, but you have nowhere near the same budget as Tony does. You sigh. The entrance exams for GA are in a week, but you’re not too stressed. You started taking online classes when you moved into the Tower, and breezed past them like it was nothing. You graduated high school 2 years earlier than normal (you could’ve done it in one, but Tony insisted on human interaction (even if you only got it at dances and other school events)).

Looking over the options pulled up, you scoff. “This is shockingly easy for such a prestigious school,” you murmur.

“Perhaps you are just more gifted than them, [Name].”

You coo, “always my biggest fan, K.” You close the laptop, not before transferring Karen into an earbud formed from your suits nanites. “I think I got this in the bag.”

The bells on the cafe’s door ring as you enter. “Hey, cutie,” you flirt at your manager, a woman with 3 kids and a husband (but damn if she isn’t fine).

[Name],” they greet dryly. They put the spoon they’re cleaning down. “Sam’s gonna be late, some lunatic died on the tracks and their ride’s been delayed.”

You hum, having gotten used to Gothamites and their disregard for the weird shit that happens in their city. “What an asshole.”

The morning passes slowly. You spot some stressed folks hunched over their laptops and an old red-head guy reading through the morning paper. The door chimes, signaling somebody’s entrance.

“Welcome to Carrie’s, what can I get you?” You drone, not looking up from the game of Crossy Road you’re definitely not supposed to be playing while on shift.

“Just a small vanilla latte, please.”

You hum, typing it up. “And a name for that?” you question, grabbing the small cup. The young man has wind-swept black hair. He’s got big ole blue eyes, the type that remind you of childhood innocence. His stature is casual and unassuming, but you can see the strength he hides under that big sweater he wears. He almost reminds you of–

“Jon,” he smiles kindly.

Jonathan motherfucking Kent goddammit.

You muster every ounce of will you have to prevent your heart from speeding up, lest he hear it. You scribble his name with tactically careful hands. “It’ll be right out, sir.”

Jon huffs goodnaturedly, waving his hand. “Please, you don’t gotta call me sir. Jon is fine, if you’re comfortable.”

You smile, “sure thing, Jon,” and let your eyes widen when you turn around to pass the order to Sam. They look at you odd when you hand them the cup, but make it without a fuss. They’re weirdly good at seeing through people. “Is he real cute or something?” They ask.

You’re not sure if Jon always uses his super hearing. You imagine he doesn’t out of respect and not wanting to intrude, but you know he’s probably always got an ear out for trouble. Even so, you’ll be caught dead before he has the chance to hear you geek over him.

“Mid,” you scoff, like a liar.

Stupid spidey luck, you swear. Maybe this universe is sentient and is out to get you for real. Jon Kent is, by all means, a cute nerd, but he’s also Superboy . With super strength and laser eyes. Maybe you should, like, break into LexCorp or something. Having kryptonite on hand doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

But maybe you’re just getting ahead of yourself. You take a deep breath, relax , you. You’ve got training from the goddamn Avengers . You got this in the bag! No need to jump the gun. 

Sam takes the order to the front and calls out, “Small vanilla latte for Jon?” Said Jon walks up to the counter, taking the cup and his eyebrows slightly quirk up. Your super hearing picks up his mutter of, “spelled it right…” as he walks off.

“Nervous for the exam?” Sam hums, messing with your earlobe.

“Nah,” you scoff. “It looks like real easy stuff.” You’re more worried about the kind of kids that go there. You’re not foolish enough to think that everybody will be welcoming to a scholarship kid. You’re just thankful you can afford to not look like you’re living on the streets, ‘cause you’re sure at that point you’ll get bullied relentlessly. Nevertheless, your feelings aren’t so easily hurt.

Sam points a finger at you. “Don’t let nobody bully you, those good-for-nothing rich kids wouldn’t last a day out there in the real world. They probably wouldn’t have gotten in without their parents' money anyway.” They grab your shoulders, looking you in the eye. You raise your brows. “I’ll never forget that you did my college level algebra work for me. Seriously, I’ll start paying you to do my work.”

You take their hands. “It’s not a good idea to cheat through college when you’re trying to be a Vet. Probably.”

“I’m saying that you’re way smarter than those losers. They got nothing on you, babes.”

You smile, winking. “I know.” Their smile is sharp. “What’s your beef with the rich anyway? Besides the fact that they’re cheating at life.” You ignore the fact that you technically were rich, in this life and the last.

“Until Bruce Wayne pays my tuition, rich people are useless. All of ‘em.”

Carrie lets you off early to take your exam, and you’re sent off with encouragement all around. Karen guides you along the way, speaking into your ear. Humming a song under your breath, you almost miss the hand reaching out to grab you. You grip the offender’s wrist and whirl around to face them.

It’s Jon. He’s looking at you with wide-eyes.

You furrow your brows. “The fuck, man? Don’t go grabbing people in Gotham.”

His eyes widen even further, hastily removing his grip around your arm. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I just heard you talking about the entrance exams. For GA right? I know the way, I can show you.”

You look him up and down. “You were listening to my conversation? How? You were, like, across the cafe.”

He sputters. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I just thought I could…” he hesitates, now realizing how weird this is, “...help. And I have really good hearing. Normally good, anyway.”

You stare at him. How is this absolute loser (loving) Superboy? You chuckle. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, are you?”

He relaxes at your smile. “No, is it obvious?”

“Very.” You hook your arm around his. “Lead the way, hero.”

His face flushes, but ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t shove you off. He actually seems to lean into your touch. “So,” you tut as the two of you begin walking, “where are you from, then?”

“Metropolis. I grew up in Smallville for a while though, know it?”

“Kansas, right?” He nods.

“So, was it my dashing good looks that called your name or a biological need to mate?”

He chokes on nothing. “I mean, normal people don’t approach like you did. I know you’ve never seen a beauty like me, but seriously, this whole thing is kinda creepy,” you hum.

He kind of just stares at you. You stare back, and he breaks and chuckles breathily. “I mean, you are pretty cute,” he flirts. Your brows raise in surprise, smiling pleasantly in surprise. “I don’t know, I just like helping people. I’ve always felt the need to do so.” He trails off in thought. “It’s just… who I am.”

It’s fascinating to see the very essence of Superboy in the flesh. You cough and turn your head away. “Pretty corny, if you ask me. But…” you turn back and look at him. “I get it. I like helping the little guys myself.”

“Little guys?”

“Little guys.”

You stop upon the gates of the school, looming above you dauntingly. You turn to face Jon. “How do I look?” He gives you a scrutinizing look before motioning for you to do a spin. You’re wearing a simple hoodie and sweats with slightly beat-up sneakers. Your clothes don’t have to impress anyone, just your score. He thinks seriously, before nodding.

“Looks good to me.”

You chuckle, walking towards the entrance. “See you around, hero.”

“Your heart is racing, [Name].”

“How about we stop talking for a while.”

He watches you walk off. His eyes watch the sway of your hips before he shakes himself out of it. Then, he groans.

“I forgot to get their name.”

The room is cold and only filled with a few students. Their faces are nervous, and if they aren’t, their demeanor is. They’re obviously middle or lower-class kids. You root for them in your head. They’re also in nicer clothes than you are, whoops.

Like you thought, the test is super easy. You finish it far before anyone else, and sit in silence as the clock ticks. You flick the pencil in your hand around, twirling it. Sooner or later, you’ll have to start finding a way back home. You regret not paying attention when Miguel explained things to you. There’s also that whole particle accelerator thing. You sincerely doubt you’ll be able to build something like that yourself. You don’t have access to that kind of money or material, so you’ll find a way to build a watch. Hobie did it, why can’t you?

“Time’s up.”

You blink. The test proctor makes her way around the room, picking up tests as she goes. She gives you a subtle stink-eye when she makes her way to you, and you look her head on. She huffs and makes her way to the front of the room when she’s done.

“You’ll receive a letter of acceptance or denial in a week’s time.” She emphasizes denial and looks straight at you when she does. What a hater.

You walk out the school feeling light. The sky is still cloudy, as it always is. Then, you’re eyes spot a figure waving at you from outside the gate. It’s Jon. What the fu–

You pause in your tracks as he walks up to you.

“So? How’d it go?”

He meets your incredulous stare. “...what?”

“Were you waiting here the whole time?” The test was 2 hours long!

His eyes widened. “No! I went and did some errands. I just came back like five minutes ago.”

You huff in disbelief. “How’d you know when it would be over?”

“My friend has taken it before.” He probably means Damian.

He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him.

He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?”

“Not that cute!” You remind him.

He chuckles in disbelief. He’ll find it out.

notes: i didn't plan for jon to kinda be whipped with reader but i couldnt stop my hands. apologies if he's ooc bc i have not read a single dc comic and all my characterization of him comes through fanfics ive read LOL. i imagine he'd be a little flirty once he get's comfortable with his Superboy mantle.

also he's not like immediately in love with reader or anything, he's just being a teenage boy. he'll get a grip eventually. probably.

karen: why does superboy call you babygirl

reader: how about we stop talking for a little while - jon: how did you know who to spell my name without the h? most people spell it 'john'.

reader: *nervous sweating*

[pinkthrone445]

-Let the wedding bells play One More Time-

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Gary x Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:love, hurt, love

Warnings:Mention of cheating , insults

Summary:I don't wanna spoil it because I think it's good the surprise reading this fic like this.

You were there once again, nervously arranging your coral dress, a simple but beautiful dress. The chapel was beautifully decorated, a different officiant but the same church as years ago when Mel got married to Gary, only it was a completely different situation. Your eyes scanned the crowd from the altar and fell into her, the redhead sitting in the front row of guests instead of by your side, Melissa gave you a litte smile of encouragement, and then looked at her hands, especially the lack of the ring that engaged her to Gary.

The piano began to play and made you stop looking at the redhead to focus your gaze on the entrance of the church, waiting with a big smile for them to open the doors to see the beautiful bride.

-Three years before-

You had just moved out of your old apartment, your temporary exchange was accepted, and you ended up momentarily moving to a new place so you could be closer to your new work. A new home, a new school, new students and a new job, a new beginning that would help you be better, or so you thought.

But so far nothing had made you feel better, it just made you think more about whether it was the right decision or not. You missed everything and everyone so much and it just made you feel worse .

Sitting on your couch looking at your phone, looking at the messages you used to send to the redhead, which you had now blocked, looking at the photos you had together, especially one from her wedding day where it was just you and her, you in your suit and her in her dress, it looked like you had married her. Why did it hurt more to be away from her than to be around and let her hurt you? Why did you think that walking away would be the solution? Everything was still just as painful or worse, you not only moved away from her, but from everyone you knew, you not only felt sad, but also lonely, you missed your co-workers from school and Barbara's good advice, or the game nights with Janine, you missed everything and everyone.

Instead of continuing to drown in your own misery, you decided to drown in alcohol, taking advantage of the fact that in the next day you would work latter than usual.

You knew drinking wasn't the answer, but staying home wouldn't make you feel any better either, so you grabbed your jacket and headed to the nearest bar. The place was full of beautiful women but you just wanted to drink, you didn't even want to start up a simple conversation with someone you had just met and probably wouldn't remember again. The bartender poured you your first drink and by the third you were already a little dizzy watching the others dance, a reddish hair caught your attention, a woman dancing with a tall man with a mustache, made you think of her again. What would she be doing now? Would she be in bed with him? Your eyes went to the hands of the unknown men, as he decisively grasped the waist of the woman who danced with him and as the woman laughed. Will Melissa be happy with him? Calmer now that you're gone? Has your absence hurt her? Had she even noticed your absence? Why, even though you were already half drunk, you couldn't get her out of your head? How many gallons of alcohol and feelings of self-loathing did it take to forget her?

Someone tapping your shoulder made you look away from the couple and out of your thoughts. The bartender came to you smiling and gave you a glass of water when she saw the disgust you carried in your expressions, the beautiful woman had a worried face about you

-"I think if you keep drinking, whatever it is that's torturing you is going to crush in the morning you when you wake up the next day hungover. Drink some water..."-The woman brought the glass closer to you and you smiled and took a little sip

-"Thank you..."-You muttered and the woman stayed next to you on the other side of the bar

-"Want something else? Peanut? Someone to listen to you? A shoulder to cry on?" - The woman joked and you barely laughed

-"I'm fine, it will pass... I hope"-You whispered and she smiled

-"If it doesn't happen, call me and I'll help you forget" - The bartender flirted with you and you smiled more, you'd be lying if you said the beautiful woman didn't catch your attention, but you didn't know if you were ready to go looking for someone else with a broken heart like you had

-"I'm flattered but I don't know if I can be good company right now" - You answered sincerely and she leaned over the bar to be close to you, giving you a good view of her breasts

-"No one is looking for a wedding darling, I'm just saying I'm here if you need a distraction..."-Her voice was more seductive than before as she looked into your eyes biting her lip. Honestly you were about to accept, until a draught of air made her perfume reach your nose, you quickly pulled away and smiled apologetically, it was the same perfume that Melissa used and that made you feel dizzy, you couldn't be with someone who had things that reminded you of the redhead, especially when it had been a short time since you had seen her for the last time. With a bit of embarrassment you turned away from the woman and decided to walk back home as it was nearby.

When you got home, your cell phone lit up with a message from Barbara

-📚Barbs📚:"Hi sweetheart, how it's your new life going?"-

-You: "Hi Barbs... Normal I guess... I miss you guys so much..."

-📚Barbs📚:"we miss you more, the school it's not the same without you..."

-You: "my life it's not the same without you... I don't know if this was worth it, I still feal like shit even if she it's not around me anymore..."-

-📚Barbs📚:"You knew this wouldn't be the solution... Haven't you heard anything from Melissa since you left?"-

-You:"no, I blocked her... Why? Is she okay?"-

-📚Barbs📚:"She seems lost and sad since you left... "-

-You:"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse..."-

-📚Barbs📚:"Can we call you tomorrow? Everyone here wants to see you..."-

-You:"yeah sure"-

After that, Barbara said goodbye and you went to sleep.

The next day, at recess, you called your colleagues at Abbott, they were all there except Melissa, which made you feel a little pain even though you didn't say anything. Everyone greeted you with great emotion, most of then didn't know the truth, the reason why you left, everyone thought you went because you did an exchange to a place they need it. You talked to them for a while, you found out that Janine and Gregory were officially dating, that Ava had taken a course to know more about being a principal and that Barbara had gotten more inclusive desks for children in wheelchairs. When your hour off was over, you said goodbye to everyone and went to finish your workday.

When you left school you felt sad, seeing them only made you miss them more and question if this was worth it, your coworkers at the new school treated you well, but it was very different from being with your fellows at Abbott. You felt lonely and sad, much more so than when you were near the redhead. This was a new level of pathetic.

A few meters before arriving at your home, that familiar perfume filled your senses again, at first you thought that maybe it was the girl from the bar, but no, at the entrance of your home Melissa was sitting on the stairs. You wanted to turn around and hide until she left, but your surprise prevented you from moving fast and the redhead had already spotted you. The older one got up and almost ran to your side, but you dodged her with a frown trying to open the door to your apartment

-"Hon..."-The redhead's voice felt broken and tired, she looked like that too. Listening to her made you more sad than you were after seeing your friends-"Please...don't run away from me again..."-How was she demanding things after what happened? Why did your hands shake so much you couldn't open the door? What was she doing there? How did she find you? How did she get there?

The redhead's hands rested on yours trying to stop the trembling you were having and also stopping your mind from spiraling. Her hands were warm and soft, how you missed them, how you missed her...

-"Please... I need to talk to you..."-She whispered, and you avoided looking into her eyes, even though you didn't have the strength to take your hands away from hers

-"What are you doing here?"-It was the only thing that could come out of your lips

-"I promised that if you left, I'd come for you"-The red-haired woman replied, squeezing your hands more intensely, and you sighed

-"You promised so many things that I'm surprised you finally delivered on one"-You answered, your words came out like poisoned arrows from your mouth piercing the redhead's heart. Melissa sighed letting go of your hands to reach for something in her purse, pulling out a stack of papers that was inside a plastic sheet and handing it to you carefully

-"I promised you a lot of things and I plan to keep them all, that's why I'm here..."Mel looked at you smiling delicately and you looked at the papers, the word 'divorce' standing out on the pages.

-"What do you want me to do with this?"-You asked and handed back the stack of papers without paying much attention to it

-"It's done... I've already divorced him, we can be together..." - The redhead commented very excitedly as if it wasn't obvious

-"I don't care anymore... It's too late for that, I gave you enough time before, now it's too late... I'm no longer interested in what you do with your life, if you want you can remarry him or whoever you want, just leave me alone"-You responded by grabbing your keys again and finally opening your door, slamming it in her face before she could say anything else.

That night you couldn't sleep, you just cried from the anger and rage of the situation. You even talked to Barbara and she confessed that she had given your address to the redhead so she could see you, which also made you angry at the eldest. Now it made sense because no one mentioned Mel in the call or why she wasn't there, it was because she had already left to come and see you. Why didn't she stay in Philly? Why did she have to come after you like a dog you petted in the rain? Why did it make you happy to see her? Why was this happening? Why did she have to show up with that stupid piece of paper on your door? Thousands of such questions went through your head, making you cranky and not letting you sleep at all.

The next morning you got up to go to work, when you opened the door, sitting on the carpet in the hallway of the building, was Melissa with her head resting on her suitcase. Hearing you open the door, she woke up and quickly got up from the floor offering you a coffee, just as you always drink it and liked. You just looked at her not knowing what to do

-"Did you spend the whole night sitting in the hallway of the apartments?"-You looked at her in disbelief and she nodded

-"I slept here and I just went to get you coffee and came back..."-Her voice sounded hoarse, as if her mouth was dry

-"You shouldn't have done it, remember your back problems"-You replied and she smiled, still angry you were still taking care of her-"You drink the coffee, you seem to need it more than I do" - You responded and circled her, dodging her to continue on your way to work

-"I'm sorry... I'm sorry it took me so long to act"-Her comment made you stop, but you continued with your back turned to on her-"It wasn't because I was afraid of him, or loved him or because I didn't want to be with you. Believe me, being with you is one of the things I want most in this life... It's just that I didn't want to look like a failure... I've already had a failed marriage once and I was afraid to end this one that had barely started because I was ashamed of what people would say about me...But I realized that because of my stupid fear and pride I lost the most important thing in my life, you... I know I fucked up, but can't lose you again, I can't let you go again without trying to fix this... I'd travel the whole world behind you if I had just one more chance...- The redhead looked weak, opening her heart and telling you her biggest fears. You turned to look at her but continued with your distance, she looked so small and scared-"I'm so sorry, I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't want you to think leaving was the only option you had left, I never wanted to be the person who caused you pain and made you cry... I just want to have you by my side, make you happy, I want to be one of the reasons you have to smile. I want to be your safe place to go to when you don't know where else to run. I don't want to be someone you have to run away from, I want to be someone you feel like running to when the world falls apart. I want to hold you and never let you go, I want to hold you and adore you with every part of me, I want to... I want to be with you... I want you... I love you"-Melissa said crying and avoiding your gaze, she didn't know what else to do, she was surrendered to your being, your next words could make her the happiest woman in the world or completely destroy her. After a few seconds in which you didn't say anything, the redhead looked up to find you in front of her, instead of saying something, you just hugged her tightly under her arms and hid in her neck, she hugged you back, squeezing your waist so hard that almost leaves you gasping for air, Melissa was afraid that if she let you go you'd disappear. The two of you were hugging each other so tightly and with so much feeling that you felt like your heart and hers had left their predetermined places just so you could be closer to each other, as if they were giving each other their own hug. Her perfume filled your senses, her soft hands hugging you with so much feeling, her breathing against your neck, her salty tears wetting your shoulder, everything around you was about her and that made you feel good, happy, she made you feel peace and tranquility like you hadn't felt for a long time.

-"I missed you"-You whispered in her neck and she smiled hugging you more

-"I missed you more..."-The redhead kissed the crown of your head and you sighed, trying not to cry-"I'm sorry I didn't act sooner, I was a fool to let you go...I was so stupid caring about what everyone would say about another divorce..."-she whispered against the crown of your head

-"And I was so stupid to run away, I don't even like this place..."-You confessed and she laughed softly

-"Are we both stupid?"-Mel joked and you nodded

-"Look how long it took us to finally get together, we're so stupid" - You responded by pulling away from her neck to look into her eyes, still hugging her -"Don't ever let me go again..."-You begged and she kissed your lips softly and briefly

-"Never again..." - She smiled and you kissed her again

-Present-

The piano began to play and made you stop looking at the redhead to focus your gaze on the entrance of the church, waiting with a big smile for them to open the doors to see the beautiful bride.

The big doors opened to hear a squeak, two little girls who were Janine's students came down the hallway, one with flowers and the other carrying the rings, behind them was the bride-to-be, Janine was standing on the other side clutching her best friend's arm, her white dress made her look like a princess and her cheeks couldn't contain her big smile of happiness. Your eyes then fell on the man who was at the altar next to you, Gregory was waiting for his future wife very excited with tears of happiness at the sight of Janine walking towards him. They made a beautiful couple and you were happy to be a part of their story as Janine's maid of honor.

When the wedding was over and the party started, the beautiful couple waltzed in front of everyone, you were staring at them gawking at seeing them so happy and in love. A pair of hands hugged your waist, it was your girlfriend Melissa, you knew it by her perfume; the redhead hugged you against her body and rested her chin on your shoulder watching the couple dance. Her warmth and closeness made you feel peace.

After the beautiful dance, Janine went to throw the bouquet, but instead of dropping it randomly, she came to you smiling and left it in your hands, you looked at her in confusion, but the tiny woman took your shoulders and made you turn to find Mel behind you with a red box in her hands, inside was a ring decorated with your favorite stone

-"Mel?"-It was the only thing that managed to escape your mouth in the face of such a surprise

-"(Y/N)... As almost everyone here knows, I've already been married twice, the first time he cheated on me, the second time it wasn't the right person and hopefully the third time is the charm" - The redhead joked and you barely laughed because of the nerves-"We've known each other for years, I think you know me better than I know myself, you know what I like and what I don't, you know how to take care of me, you know how to make me happy and you know how to love me and I'd be too stupid if I didn't make sure you never left me again. I'll be a heaven-blessed woman if you say yes and stay by my side for the rest of our lives. I have a lot more to say but I won't because today is the special day of Janine and Gregory, who helped me plan this and I'm so grateful for that, so I'll summarize this. I love you with all my being and I want to have you by my side every day of my life, what do you say, will you marry me?"-The redhead asked smiling excitedly and you nodded jumping into her arms, the redhead catch you but almost tripped back, stabilizing in the last second, hugging you tightly

-"Of course! I've dreamed of this for years!" - You responded by making her laugh and kissed her lovingly-"I love you Melissa..."

-"I love you more my beautiful girl" - The redhead responded and kissed you again as everyone else screamed with excitement, happy that, after years of back and forth, you were finally together.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: For Profit Healthcare and Me

So remember how Peacehealth drove all the independent offices in four specialties out of business, thus forcing everyone to use their clinic, then closed those clinics to force everyone to go to their central clinic two counties to the south? And remember how both the Doctors who were running that clinic made a deal to operate out of a clinic a regional medical conglomerate was opening near the hospital? so instead of me spending all day on a sixty mile each way trek for my treatment I was using the last three months of skeleton crew treatment at old clinic which ended the last Thursday in September? Remember how they said we could all follow our doctors there?

Yeah, about that.

I've been dutifully calling ever two weeks to see if they were letting people schedule appointments yet. They sent out a letter saying they were open. I stayed up Tuesday to get in sorted. it was a whole drama because the automated maze to get to the scheduler was as much of a hassle as Peacehealth's and prone to dropping calls, forcing one to start from scratch each time. so that was frustrating and tine consuming.

Apparently they have no access to our health records, so it was a start from scratch situation. Me, mentally: Shit! This is going to be HOURS. Only it wasn't for all the wrong reasons. They take Medicare, but not Medicare Advantage. So if I want it covered I have to lose most of my benefits including having Medicaid pay my big Medicare copay. O.o. Or I can pay for expensive treatments myself as uninsured.

I was upset, but I remembered superstar medical social worker lady personally calling around town to talk dentists into taking medicare dental coverage for me thus opening up my small city so that medicare patients can now get root canals and crowns instead of learning to live without chewing.

So I still thought it was salvageable. Problem is she's gone and the woman replacing her is a busy supervisor who likes to call me two hours into my sleep cycle without warning and then gets angry at me for not being charming. Previous lady asked when was best to call and would schedule calls in advance for a time when I was able to be awake and functional. it is a lot easier for me to be charming when I wasn't just ripped out of REM sleep and am now being interrogated about something.

New lady is a supervisor and super busy with supervisor things and is made of no and is snippy. I can not make her understand that not only is a 120 mile round trip over mountain passes dealing with the traffic mess along the highway in the major metropolitan area where I once got caught in a four hour traffic jam and couldn't get off to pee, is an entire exhausting day for me and that plus a treatment would not only mean i could do anything useful that day, but the next day to. She can't grasp how much pain is involved in long car trips or how much treatments take out of me. She keeps hard selling me on this and then calling me resistant and recalcitrant like I'm the one being unreasonable for considering this basically insurmountable at my level of disability.

She did not fight the in town clinic for me. She did not try to argue them around.

Her, repeating a suggestion she has made over and over since the closing announcement: You should just get your GP to do it.

Me, explaining for at least the third time because we have this conversation every time we talk: I asked my GP last spring like you asked. They can't do it. It can't be administered by a GP. They'd need to hire a specialist and build new facilities for compounding and for special storage of medication.

Her: Well just ask you GP to give you a different treatment.

Me: There are no other treatments. I have medications to manage symptoms. These treatments are the cure. There is only one cure.

Her: You are being recalcitrant!

Me: There is literally only one cure. No new ones have been invented since last February. The cure is working. I'm getting better. i will get worse again with only symptom management.

But she kept arguing with me because I was being stubborn about facts being facts. My GP can't pull an entire brand new treatment regimen out of her ass. She would not let it go or let me go and I was exhausted because it was hours past when I would normally be asleep at this point and also what was the point of her hard selling me on demanding the imaginary alternative treatment or the 120 mile trip. I ended up giving and and saying something like, "I have to go now," which I know is rude, but we spent this entire conversation with her neither listing not understanding and basically acting like I was the asshole here.

So I'm fucked and I'm frustrated and angry. I was literally at the point where I was going to get better really quickly if I kept doing treatments, but if we stop now I'll be back to square one with it all to do again if another clinic opens.

And it's all like this because Obama and Biden didn't have the balls to stick to their universal free healthy care guns and decided to adopt the capitalist give away Republican health plan in pursuit of bipartisan buy in they did not get, which anyone paying attention told them they could not get, which Mitch McConnell vowed they'd never get as part of the project to make Obama a one term president at all costs. They burned all their political capital on a bullshit give away to insurance companies when they could have taken the same or less of a hit just giving up a developed country level health care system. No fucked up website needed for sign ups. No red tape or copays or catch 22 shit like I'm dealing with now.

[george228732]

Fylass Through the Looking Glass - Chapter Seven EX - Auto-Da-Fé

Wonderland’s surroundings have never felt so… stagnant; even after what Dero had just seen, it was the dreadful silence that followed after the Jabberwocky left towards what seemed to be Underland, and at this point, they wanted anything but to cause yet another tragedy related to it.

It really works like a curse, one that seemingly seeps its way to cause chaos; it was always an open secret what is the source of it, yet no one could find it, due to being sealed away along with something far more sinister, and it’s not like the Wonderlanders came down with a better solution to get rid of those cursed creatures. At first, after the second or third reign, royalty came up with the idea of burning them on the stake, and even then, that only came down to become a temporary solution, as a new Jabberwocky would suddenly appear years or even months later. 

That solution, among others, only ended up making things worse as the hearts of those kings and queens got corrupted with greed as they realized how much power they actually had; although, maybe this corruption was always part of them; power just reveals, after all, and day after day, more corrupt rulers started to rise this kingdom; it got to a point where those people ended up being executed by the same twisted means than those beasts, and only Somnia was saved from that fate due to the sheer necessity for someone to be the ruler, thanks to the other Suits being absent or unwilling to take the role.

The Jabberwocky’s problems came to a close, however, when the current Jabberwocky was able to be domesticated and reincorporated into society, this one being the now deceased Tenebra Knight, last holder of the Spade Symbol; even then, though, there was no other solution than to apply that method, since those circumstances made it less than convenient to just kill it once more, and let that curse get another future Jabberwocky.

The problems in Wonderland seemingly ended for a while, becoming again the joyful kingdom it was, or well, the kingdom that always was supposed to be, but alas, despair will apparently reign in the hearts of every citizen, whether they acknowledge it or not, and whether that despair has the size of a puddle, or one of a sea, especially now that Tenebra was suspiciously killed after a certain incident regarding the Tea Table Curse, and someone else took the role of the Jabberwocky.

This time, there wouldn’t be a way to do the same to this new host of this fellow curse and sadly, Dero knew that perfectly as it escaped from everyone’s grasp.

"...No, no no no no no! How did this even happen?! Not only that thing woke up from its slumber, now that incident will be repeated again?! This will just kill any hopes we had to reconnect with Underland!" 

Dero’s mind was focusing on far too many things at the same time; this, Giselle, and Wonderland as a whole are taking up many of his thoughts, and it wouldn’t take long for the knight, jailer, or whatever he is now to collapse; however, before he could reach the cold floor of the Card Castle, was held by some warm hands, being ones of none other than Giselle’s; it was a feeling that Dero always wanted to grasp, yet was never able to.

Ades, Dolly and Twilight came closer to check on their friend, and after providing him with some things like water and treatment, they now needed time to think about the current situation quickly.

"Well… uh… we’re in trouble, aren’t we?" Ades tried to joke with the situation just to alleviate the massive disaster that just happened, and will happen in the next few minutes by all possibilities, but deep down, he was just as terrified as the rest of the group.

"Mr. Dero! What just happened?!" Dolly asked with fear about the creature she just saw, not knowing what to do about it, for it seemed dangerous, and indeed it was. Giselle on the other hand, seemed too shocked to even say a thing, but Dero couldn’t help but think that there was something else in her mind. 

Not that they have much time to not do something.

"We need to get to the Looking Glass, we can’t let the Underlanders get destroyed by it once again!" And so, they all sprinted towards the cabin that contained the portal between the two lands; every Wonderlander was already inside their houses just for safety, since apparently, everyone saw that creature, and were taking shelter.

Everyone got to the cabin, and were about to cross the portal; or atleast, Ades, Dero and Twilight would do so, since there was no way that they would let Dolly and Giselle be endangered by that creature. Although… there’s no need for that, now that they noticed the Looking Glass was now a regular mirror, unable to be crossed through.

"...What?! It got sealed again?! Did the Jabberwocky attack that quickly?!" That was an answer, although it was impossible that something like that could’ve happened in a span of minutes, maybe it was sealed beforehand? By who?

They tried to cross it a couple of times when they noticed it wasn’t able to be used as a portal, just in hopes that they would be able to see Underland just like the rest, but it was to no avail.

Until they heard a wet thud right outside the cabin.

Dero checked to see if it was the Jabberwocky; not that he’d like to see it, but it was his duty; maybe he’d die at it, but who knows. 

What he found was… not the Jabberwocky, but rather that fellow group of people that went to Underland to bring Lucid to his homeplace; it’s assumed that the hole that they fell in transported them there, although at this point, it’s unknown what transported them there… Well, it’s maybe not that unknown for some people. Dero realized some familiar faces, such as the current King and Queen from Underland, as well as Time, who had suddenly passed out, apparently due to isolation and bad treatment. Poor thing.

"...What…? White King?!"

The White King, Buddy, was trying to collect his thoughts around him, what just happened was something that could only happen once in a lifetime, although it wasn’t really convenient, per se.

"...Eurgh…" He tried to take some reason on what just happened, and tried to get up, trying to do the less amount of damage towards the rest of the group while doing so, and he now just realized that the rest were probably in worse conditions than him, specially Lucid, for one of his arms slightly cracked when he touched the ground.

Buddy was, surprisingly, quite concerned about it, at the point where he sounded like a completely different person regarding him.

"...Are you okay?"

"Yeah, don’t worry that much-" His arm cracking was the equivalent of it breaking, although it surely wasn’t going to last for a while, maybe a couple of days later and it would be healed; for now, though, he couldn’t help but to be in pain about it.

Buddy tried to heal his arm, although the fall left him hurt enough that he couldn’t use those powers properly; when you are crowned as King of the White Kingdom, you suddenly get lots of powers, and healing, of course, was one of them. 

"Oh, of course…"

Lucid was quite weirded out by seeing this, yet, everything felt so quick that there wasn’t much he could think of besides the fact that Buddy was maybe just doing this for the sake of having the entire group healed.

Speaking of which…

The rest of the group started to get up and process what just happened, now taking into account that this was too convenient for it to be true, they can only think that something sent them here, and they weren’t that sure if that was a good thing or not.

"...Wha…?" Banshee noticed Time right next to him and Unicorn, and couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic about his situation… Although, he wasn’t going to admit that.

"...Soooo, are we gonna help clock tower man right here, or not?"

Everyone looked at Time, or well, most did, since Chaos was pretty conflicted about his mere presence, seemingly not knowing why, but it surely left him quite silent, to the point that even Lucid was concerned about that.

"...Are you okay, Hatter?"

"...I am not sure."

Everyone silently agreed to bring Time to rest and safety at the Card Castle, meanwhile the Wonderlanders tried to explain to the people at the White Kingdom that the Jabberwocky was probably causing havoc; being able to make the words seem easier to process regarding a natural disaster at their home again, and besides, they weren’t able to do something about it now that the Looking Glass was, somehow, inaccessible.

Buddy was… uncomfortable at best, seeing Wonderland yet again, but he needed some time to recollect his thoughts just as much as the rest; he wasn’t going to admit that, deep down, he missed Wonderland’s joyous aesthetic.

They came back to the Card Castle, placing Time in one of the guest rooms; the poor thing looked tired, and now that they were at this, many took the many beds to rest for a little, not that they couldn’t do anything else.

"...Well… Can you explain what happened? You all look exhausted…" Ades said as he held Dolly, along with Dero and Giselle, since they didn’t want Dolly to accidentally reveal the fact that Jabberwocky was at the kingdom until they came up with the proper words.

"Er… who starts with their side of the story?" Genesis said.

"..." Maforanti seemed lost in thought, and maybe the reason for that was because Dero was looking at him with an expression of annoyance. Dero visited the White Kingdom before both Kingdoms stopped with the communications, and just to say, Maforanti didn’t give off the best first impression, nor the second one, nor the third one. Eventually, he spoke up.

"I’ll start my side…"

Everyone looked at Maforanti as he started to tell his side of the story back at the Red Castle.

"The Red Queen tried to poison me, and it was clear that the poison was one of the most lethal..." He looked at Buddy, which seemed hateful of that one statement Mafo just made, just as if he had gone through something quite similar… Nonetheless, Maforanti kept on going.

"I quickly noticed, and, well, she wasn’t too happy about that, and she sent some… I am not even sure if the things she sent to me were guards at all, for they didn’t even look alive."

"...Those things she sent you weren’t armors by any chance?" Unicorn asked.

"Actually, yes? How did you know?"

"Welp, guess we weren’t the only ones that got on their way. Those things were surrounding us across those dark dungeons in which we found clock man right there… not having the best time of his life; probably an understatement. I wonder how someone can afford that much armor, especially with a "Castle" that, honestly, looks like your average 17th century household." Banshee said.

"...Don’t you mean, 19th century?" 

"Yeah, that."

"...Well, as I said, we were kinda in trouble, especially with… the "interesting" weapons we had at the moment, but we managed! Seriously, who knew that some Gardening Shears would be able to cut through metal like a knife cutting through butter!"

"...I still wonder how Time managed to be locked up in the depths of that Castle. I doubt that he’d be defeated in battle or something along those lines…"

Everyone looked at the group, who was, at the very least, puzzled by all of this, until…

"...I… I may have a clue." Celeernyx confessed, as she pulled out a book from her dress, being none other than what seemed to be the diary the group found at, apparently, the Red Queen’s bedroom.

"Oh, yeah… I forgot we had that book with us…" Lucid confessed as well. "It’s quite rude, but at the same time, she almost killed us down there, it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek at her thoughts."

And so, everyone came closer to read it. Many of its entries were scratched out, but this time, it was easier to follow the trail, unlike Cosmounse’s diary.

Day 2

This is nothing but fair. Why is someone like me forgotten from the start? I did nothing wrong! Why did I have to be the youngest of us two? I could’ve gotten a chance to take hold of that kingdom for sure in the future… 

Day 5

I couldn’t bear being her shadow for any longer; it’s always people like me who catch dust in the sidelines, as the rest get everything they could’ve desired. I ran away from my house, just hiding in any inn that goes down this way. Not even the people attending it recognize me. Why?

Day 11 

Something majestic happened. 

I don’t know how it happened exactly, but someone heard my pleas; my desire to be better than her, to be recognized, to have the life I truly deserve and desire! They were so sympathetic, to the point that they offered me magic to make a kingdom of my own! Who needs to be part of her Kingdom when you can create your own?

Day 13

I didn’t know exactly who that person was, but thanks to him, I now have my own kingdom! The lands are crimson red now, instead of that white grass that characterized hers; if I am correct, half of the entirety of Underland is mine, and only mine. I can finally be called Queen! Queen Majaway, Ruler of the… Red Kingdom.

Day 30

I met someone delightful yesterday; he’s called Hunter, or well, that’s the name he wants me to refer to himself as. I don’t have much to say about that, other than the fact that it made me feel less alone in this kingdom! It truly takes time for people to gain your trust and make you stay, but at least, that time will be more bearable with him at my side. 

Day 43

I sometimes look at the White Kingdom in the distance; they haven’t even dared to touch my land, probably just accepting that this place is mine and mine alone. She now has friends and she’s famous! One of her friends is called Magolor, or, well, Buddy, current prince of the White Kingdom. I constantly saw them together on those festivities they have with the Wonderlanders from time to time, along with an odd Bishop that seems even closer to him than my sister. 

Day 68

This is ridiculous. No one is willing to stay and live in my kingdom! All of those people prefer to go to the White one… I don’t get why! I am doing my best to make this Kingdom better! I even get to be Queen sooner than her! Why can’t I have at least a part of her glory? At least Hunter is right here with me…

Day 75

It has been several days ever since me and Hunter got married, and he’s now the Red King, King of the Red Kingdom. Yet, not even his presence here can make this land more alive and bright! It’s just not fair… I’ll get some tea.

Day 100

He was there. We’ve reunited again, me and the person who gave me everything I could’ve ever wanted! His name is Cosmounse, and he’s a rather strange man, but I could say the same thing about myself at this point. He has come to see me to talk about how my kingdom was going. I wasted his time for sure… He wasn’t disappointed though; in fact, he told me that he’d help me make this place prosper! 

I only need to do exactly anything he tells me to do. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Day 102

He told me about a certain, frustrated general in the White Kingdom. His name is Maforanti, or so he told me. He said that both had some… unfinished business between them, but he said I shouldn’t worry about that for now. He said that the general was trying to overthrow my sister’s friend, in order to become King. I am not sure how’d that work exactly, but he also told me that he was planning to do something else regarding one certain creature in Wonderland…

I am going to give him some advice on my part, and see how things play out.

Day 134

Well… He’s done it. He brought that creature to the most recent festivity, the first one they would’ve had after my escape; it was ruthless, killing and eating everyone who goes into their way, including the Bishop, or so I thought at once. Apparently, he was lucky enough to escape its jaws, but right now, he’s missing somewhere in Wonderland.

Moreover, it was supposed to be Magolor’s Coronation Day; everything was just so smooth until the incident happened, and well… he’s not taking it very well; hell, he even requested Wonderland and Underland to never reunite again… I guess a Bishop won’t reunite with his king, at least until Buddy stops with that tantrum of his.

…I don’t know why, but the current situation feels like a pit in my stomach…

Day 171

I am worried. Cosmounse hasn’t returned ever since the incident happened. Last time I saw him was when he opened a hole to go to Wonderland; I just noticed that was a power of his, but after that, I haven’t seen him since. Before he left, however, he gave me a list of the things I should do while he was absent.

I don’t want to do them, but if that makes me have the glory I thoroughly deserve, I’ll do anything, even if it costs me blood.

Day XXXX

I’ve always known my sister and Magolor to be really good friends, but nothing beyond that; apparently, she is trying to marry him, not for any selfish intent, but to maybe lighten the mood or just to unite the White Kingdom in those hard times. That’s foolish, for sure. Not that her Kingdom is going to last forever.

Day XXXX

Oddly enough, Magolor kept on and on delaying the wedding, to the point that it had transcurred an insane amount of decades. It’s ridiculous at this point, but deep down that she and Magolor never wanted to marry each other; they were just good friends after all, nothing more than that, but alas, she thought that was a good idea, somehow…

Day XXXX

Maforanti came to my castle one day; he told me he was finally going to overthrow Magolor, and become King of the White Kingdom; I support him on that idea for now, if Cosmounse comes back, I’ll have to do something about that, but for now, I’ll let him have fun.

Ah, I can only expect the news that he died. Not that he deserved it, but…

Day XXXX

So, apparently, Maforanti failed on that mission to kill Magolor; he only got humiliated and only one eye left. He needs some place to stay, so I’ll let him stay at the Castle for a couple of days. If we are lucky, Magolor will let him back into the Castle, maybe as a general.

Day XXXX

I have no idea how, but suddenly I wake up seeing that Maforanti has been selected as Mayor of Origami Town. How? I was sure that the King wasn’t going to include him in anything regarding the Kingdom, but here we are… Not even my sister would do something like that… It’s as if reality was reshaped for this to happen… Could it be that…?

I lost count of the years that transpired after Cosmounse’s disappearance… But maybe… Just maybe…

Day XXXX

My suspicions were confirmed. Right after killing Hunter, he appeared. That was the last thing from the list he gave me all those years ago… I regret it so much, but I need this to work, I need to. Now with him here, I’ll get what I want. Apparently, Wonderland shattered and remade itself like glass a couple of months ago… That explained why there were cracks around Underland, but at least those disappeared before something could happen. 

Now, I’ll get my way.

Next objective, I need to get the Chronosphere. I heard that Time is very lonely, so… This might work for me.

Day XXXX

I lost everything. At least I have him now.

I forgot why I did this in the first place… Ah, now I remember. Just to be better than her. Is it worth it anymore? Every step I take now feels vapid… worthless… undeserving of the payoff I might get from this… But it is the only thing I have…

I’ll be better than you, sis. 

I’ll be better than you, Celeernyx.

The diary ended there.

Everyone was left speechless… Not only the Red Queen is confirmed to be the one guilty, but Cosmounse is also involved in this; was this happening from the very start of their lives? For how long has Cosmounse been planning this? For what purpose? 

"...I have so many questions." Banshee said. "But at this point, I prefer those to be left unanswered."

Buddy looked behind to see everyone’s reaction to the words revealed by this book, only to realize Lucid was absent all of a sudden, and like if it was clockwork, a yell from him echoed through the Castle’s walls. 

"FYLASS?! WHERE ARE YOU?! KID?!"

They only just realized Fylass was missing; they didn’t come with them to Wonderland, and worse off, they might be still in Underland with that Queen. Lucid went to the room they were in.

"GUYS, HAVE YOU SEEN THE KID?!"

"...Uh oh…"

"We need to go to Underland NOW!"

"Are you kidding?! We still need recovery from what we just endured!"

"And you would prefer to leave that kid on their own after everything they have done for us?!"

"What other choice do we have?!"

Dero was looking at this with concern, not knowing what to do, looking at Giselle for some advice; in times like this, Dero would be known as the wise warrior that would help everyone with ease, but for some reason, he has never felt so vulnerable since… that incident. Giselle, on the other hand, seemed extremely worried about something else, and Dero knew that; or at the very least, he knew something was up with her.

"...Do you need help…?"

"...Not yours… I am sorry."

The warrior felt oddly hurt by that; he was her loyal knight ever since he became one, and seeing how she rejected his help has never felt so hopeless… 

"You can tell me… everything, if you want."

"That’s the thing. I don’t want to." Giselle said that with a cold look on her eyes, before looking away. Those eyes of hers surely didn’t want to be directed at Dero, and he didn’t even know why. Dolly has also found her mother strangely cold, as well as Ades and Twilight.

"Mother…? Is something wrong?"

"...Don’t worry, Queen Dolly, she’s just… thinking." Twilight said. "What if we get something from the kitchen?"

Dolly reluctantly went along with Ades and Twilight Knight, leaving the uneasy room, as Dero tried to wonder what was up with the one he loved dearly.

Until someone woke up.

"...Errrgh…" The man from the clock tower did.

Chaos immediately backed down on seeing that; seeing how the Mad Hatter himself seemed afraid of him was something eerie, but that quickly shifted from fear to downright confusion, as Time said his next words looking at Chaos.

"...Oh, come on… What else do you want from me…? Do you want more time to spare? I don’t even think I have the Chronosphere right now… Thanks to me you’re walking and talking, and you’re not satisfied…"

"...What?"

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

@lostsoulau-ask

@monsterhatdoodles

@galakianexplosion

@kachikirby

@kirby-universe-4162

@loaflovesdoodling

@ilikesillythingswooo

@den-of-the-blue-dragon

@that-fanperson-meg

@moon-mage

@heiressofdoodles

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Waking Through Time

A little late but please have this piece for the Wolcred week for the Good Morning/Sweet Dreams prompt. Minor spoilers for Shadowbringers (pretty vague though). word count: 1.7k

The light of the sun has yet to even touch the sky when Thancred wakes to the shifting of his latest partner for the night. Siberite’s arms reach for him, a small smile he’s seen before in these moments appearing when fingers brush against his skin, making him dizzier than the drink that led him to this situation. This was the third time this week that he found himself waking in her bed, odd behavior for him. Scary behavior, if he was being honest with himself. Scarier still was the pull to wrap his arms around her and stay the rest of the morning, letting her wake to his kisses and finally know the way it felt to have her arms wrap around him. 

He exhaled slowly, shaking the thoughts away, slipping from the sheets with practiced ease. Clothes were quickly found and a glance back to the bed showing her smile gone as her sleeping self found the space he once occupied empty and growing cold. Maybe in another lifetime, sweetheart, He thinks, fists forming to prevent the draw to kiss her once more before he slips out with only a small click of the door that he knows won’t wake her. This could never be anything more. He knew who she was and he knew who he was, it was only supposed to be fun between a man that only knew relationships ended in the morning and a sheltered lady that finally had the freedom to have whomever she wanted in an attempt to rebel against her parents. Perfect match. The only narrative he needed to keep whatever it was that wanted more at bay. 

It was the cold sheets that first got Siberite’s mind working and the soft click of the door that woke her from the dream where he stayed the whole night. It had only happened once, the first time they found themselves leaving that party and he left sparks on her skin that never dimmed since then. She used to tell herself that it was only that first time because he was scared of his attraction to her like any other bad boy in the stories, now she was left to reevaluate if that’s what was really happening, as every time since then he was gone before she woke and never returned until he proposed another night spent together. One day, She thought hugging the pillow he had slept on, One day we’ll figure this out. Together.

—-----------------------------------------

The sound of the metal armor hitting stone makes Siberite’s eyes snap open with a racing heart as she sees that rooftop for a second before the cursing that follows from voices she doesn’t know bring the canvas wall into focus. She takes five deep breaths to slow the racing thoughts and unease she feels from the arm wrapped around her waist. Unease not for the man it's attached to, but unease from the feelings it brings. Ones she’s declared no longer exist, ones he’s claimed to be lies from the tongue of an Ascian to placate a stupid young woman that didn’t know better, feelings they both kept coming back too when the nights filled with loneliness. 

She swallows back the tears that always always want to break free, slipping free of his grasp with a practiced ease. Pillow left in her place to keep him sleeping as she slips on the shirt and skirt that whisper their judgements worse that it's not just anyone she ended up with, but Thancred. Worse, they had an argument in front of the camp just the day before and no drinks involved to lead them to what happened last night, A bad sign. Terrible sign. We have to be over one another, love. She quickly leaves the tent to return to her own seeing as the night has yet to leave, hoping against hope that whatever sleep she gets will erase the feelings overtaking her. 

He felt her flinch, his arm instinctively wrapping around her tighter to protect her from whatever was coming. It was the cursing and clanging of more metal that has him relax ever so slightly to settle back into a state to sleep. Not her though. No, she slips free and he can’t call out to her, not when she believes him to be asleep and caring enough to move the pillow into his arms. She can’t see his open eyes watching as she readies herself to leave the tent, how they silently plead with her to stay. Call out to her! Ask her to stay the whole night. Don’t let her leave this tent, He chastises while his body remains still seeing the way she leaves into the night with hardly a sound. He lets out a heavy sigh, pulling the pillow closer, hating the way he can feel the space grow cold, hates how his chest aches knowing how easy it would be to fix things yet feeling as if she deserves more than him. He wants her to stay. Hells he wanted to stay back then too, but he didn’t….Gods, if this is how it felt all that time ago, Siberite….

—----------------------------------------------

It’s the shifting of light that stirs Thancred with a small groan, five years without a sunrise makes his already light sleep lighter. He blinks a few times, clearing his vision that still feels a tad blurry on the edges, but not enough to blur the view of purple and pink hair framing Siberite’s calm face. The one he knows means she’s dreaming of good things, and further confirmed by the way his hand is pressed to her chest and encased in hers. The way her legs are tangled in his and how she’s made his free arm her pillow, a sign she trusts him, wants him close and never will let him go. 

His smile dims when she feels lighter than the night before, the scales he traces have lost their definition, and her heartbeat against his palm is fainter. Too long….they’ve spent too long here without real bodies and he could feel himself begin to fade. Fading after they just got close once again. Beginning to fade when it looked as if she wouldn’t make it through having the light within her was bad enough, but now they were able to enjoy some calm together and it’s faded to a point where he’s relying on memory to know how she feels against him. Memories that are faint, I should never have taken what we had for granted, love, but she can never know about his fading in this way.

His feather light touch on her arm makes her eyes flutter and smile brighten when she sees him looking back with a small smile. Her eyes flick down to his imprisoned hand, letting it free to feel his touch against her cheek. Feel the slow moving warmth throughout her body that comes when he traces her lips. She pushes some of the ash blonde hair from his eyes before bringing her lips to his. Soft and gentle, as if they could live in this small span of minutes forever, but they can’t. She tries not to let on that for a moment he felt like a ghost, intangible, gone until he once again has warmth and pulls away. Their time here is running out, she knows that and it terrifies her, But we’ll figure it out my love. We will. Together.

———-———————————————-

The fragrant chai wakes Siberite as she finds the bed occupied only by her, but a glance out the window shows a bright midday sun. She’s slept too long again, though no one would blame her having only just been cleared for recovery just a few days earlier, but it meant her companion had awoken already for the day. The door opens for her to see Thancred walk in with two ceramic mugs and a smile when his eyes land on her. 

“Good morning,” he says as she sits up, taking the cup he holds out for her, “Seems I timed this just right.”

She laughs taking a sip of the warm liquid, inhaling the scent as it moves down her throat. “Did either of my parents give you much trouble?”

He shakes his head, “Not anything out of the norm for your mother. She was curious if you being cleared for recovery meant you would be leaving.”

“Did you assure her I have no plans just yet?”

“Of course,” he sets his mug on the nightstand, turning to face her, teasing smile on his lips. “Though I was thinking,” he says in a low voice, “maybe we get some little inn room,” he moves closer, placing a kiss just below her jaw with a pleased hum in response from her, “let it just be you and me?” The spaces between words are filled with kisses that lead down her neck and chest. “Now that you’re feeling a bit better we can try engaging in other activities.”

She laughs lightly, putting her arms around his neck, “As if my injuries stopped us before.” Siberite kisses him as he grabs her waist to sit her in his lap, “Maybe just for a little while we enjoy this time as it's probably the first time I’ve not woken up feeling like I was too stiff to move.”

Thancred smiles, “That is an improvement I must admit. In which case,” he declares, lifting her to make his way to her balcony, “we should start with breakfast outdoors like you enjoy.”

“And then you and I get out of this stuffy house and experience Radz-at-Han together. I’m sure you’ll be able to find new secrets.” He sets her on the railing letting her lips envelope his and sparks running free, “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect.” He kisses her deeply, smiling when he rests his forehead against hers to steady the dizzying, “Is this how you felt all those years ago, love?”

“Are you asking if this is how it felt to love you?” He nods. Her smile answers before the words leave her lips, “Yes, very much so.” Siberite pulls back, lifting his chin to see how his eyes glimmer in the sunlight, “But this….is much better. Better than any dream.”

[inkofamethyst]

November 20, 2023

Weekend thoughts.

So I've had an album to help deal with anxiety for the past couple of years, and I think I now have an album to promote self-confidence and hype myself up before an event. Beyonce's Renaissance has been played regularly this semester (almost) straight through. It's great for a power walk to campus.

UGH okay so six months to the day after my last day of undergrad my school-supplied free HBO Max subscription was cruelly ripped from my grasp without warning. I knew it was coming eventually, and I've been working on clearing my watchlist for months. Unfortunately, their bet was totally on point. I immediately resubscribed. And best believe imma watch every CENT's worth (I watch a minimum of 1-2 Batman episodes a day these days, and when you consider the convenience, the cost isn't bad). So it seems that my streaming service hopping has begun, as it's neither necessary nor responsible to pay for several services that all have the same role. (I might let Max go over break to focus on reading and watching shows on my parents' accounts at home.)

My... ceramics-friend (a cohort member) invited me to a friendsgiving she was hosting (she knows a lot of people who live in the area), and it was not a bad time at all. I get nervous in situations (lol there could be a full stop right here) where I only know the host, but a couple of people I knew/was acquainted with showed up and that made things a bit better. I employed my usual strategy of "find a place to sit and then stay there" and that was good. I didn't stay to the end, but pretty close. I did meet some really cool people!! (Side note: I don't really drink bc I don't care for the taste, but we're now at the age where a goldenish drink is more likely to be gin with other flavors than apple juice and now I know that it is absolutely necessary to ask what something is before filling a glass (but best believe I finished my whole (tiny) glass like a big girl). I tell people that I'm a bit stunted due to covid but truthfully it's just because I'm pathetic boring uh uhh.. intensely introverted (still gotta mind how I talk about myself these days, even an unchecked joke could set my progress back)).

This summer I'd bought two pairs of Docs (one on a whim and then another that I'd wanted for years and years) because they were both ridiculously discounted. I'd broken in the impulse pair over the last several months (1461 patents, they're going to be my ~conference docs~ I think) then a week or so ago decided to start breaking in the other pair (1460 Nappa). Ngl, I thought they were a huge mistake at first. Tight, inflexible, tough to put on. My feet HURT. But. After a couple of days out (only a few hours at a time), they feel quite a bit better. Still months to go, I know, but I feel relieved.

Last thing: after having my third eye opened to the idea of building equity through a house and feeling intense rage against the idea of renting for the rest of my life (specifically if I choose to settle in one place), I've come to realize that this foreverrent thing touches more than just housing. I want to own my favorite albums now, my favorite movies, shows. I don't want my ability to consume my favorite media to be at the mercy of a streaming service. The most difficult part of that though (after figuring out the list of what I want to own and also paying for it over time) is figuring out where to store the hard copies. This might be a problem I spend more time working out this summer when there's less going on, but now that I'm ~radicalized~ I just wanted to state that it's on my radar. It's probably not reasonable to chip away at this while I'm in this apartment since it won't be my final place in grad school and I don't want to move more boxes than needed.

Today I'm thankful for.. uhm uhh OH I'm thankful that the clicking noises don't wake me up at night anymore.

I wonder how much of that half circle skirt I'll be able to complete at home over break [edit, four days later: none]. May have to hem during winter break.

Also the M9 reunion post-apogee was SO FUN k bye

[dwellordream]

“...A lone woman could, if she spun in almost every spare minute of her day, on her own keep a small family clothed in minimum comfort (and we know they did that). Adding a second spinner – even if they were less efficient (like a young girl just learning the craft or an older woman who has lost some dexterity in her hands) could push the household further into the ‘comfort’ margin, and we have to imagine that most of that added textile production would be consumed by the family (because people like having nice clothes!).

At the same time, that rate of production is high enough that a household which found itself bereft of (male) farmers (for instance due to a draft or military mortality) might well be able to patch the temporary hole in the family finances by dropping its textile consumption down to that minimum and selling or trading away the excess, for which there seems to have always been demand. ...Consequently, the line between women spinning for their own household and women spinning for the market often must have been merely a function of the financial situation of the family and the balance of clothing requirements to spinners in the household unit (much the same way agricultural surplus functioned).

Moreover, spinning absolutely dominates production time (again, around 85% of all of the labor-time, a ratio that the spinning wheel and the horizontal loom together don’t really change). This is actually quite handy, in a way, as we’ll see, because spinning (at least with a distaff) could be a mobile activity; a spinner could carry their spindle and distaff with them and set up almost anywhere, making use of small scraps of time here or there.

On the flip side, the labor demands here are high enough prior to the advent of better spinning and weaving technology in the Late Middle Ages (read: the spinning wheel, which is the truly revolutionary labor-saving device here) that most women would be spinning functionally all of the time, a constant background activity begun and carried out whenever they weren’t required to be actively moving around in order to fulfill a very real subsistence need for clothing in climates that humans are not particularly well adapted to naturally. The work of the spinner was every bit as important for maintaining the household as the work of the farmer and frankly students of history ought to see the two jobs as necessary and equal mirrors of each other.

At the same time, just as all farmers were not free, so all spinners were not free. It is abundantly clear that among the many tasks assigned to enslaved women within ancient households. Xenophon lists training the enslaved women of the household in wool-working as one of the duties of a good wife (Xen. Oik. 7.41). ...Columella also emphasizes that the vilica ought to be continually rotating between the spinners, weavers, cooks, cowsheds, pens and sickrooms, making use of the mobility that the distaff offered while her enslaved husband was out in the fields supervising the agricultural labor (of course, as with the bit of Xenophon above, the same sort of behavior would have been expected of the free wife as mistress of her own household).

...Consequently spinning and weaving were tasks that might be shared between both relatively elite women and far poorer and even enslaved women, though we should be sure not to take this too far. Doubtless it was a rather more pleasant experience to be the wealthy woman supervising enslaved or hired hands working wool in a large household than it was to be one of those enslaved women, or the wife of a very poor farmer desperately spinning to keep the farm afloat and the family fed. The poor woman spinner – who spins because she lacks a male wage-earner to support her – is a fixture of late medieval and early modern European society and (as J.S. Lee’s wage data makes clear; spinners were not paid well) must have also had quite a rough time of things.

It is difficult to overstate the importance of household textile production in the shaping of pre-modern gender roles. It infiltrates our language even today; a matrilineal line in a family is sometimes called a ‘distaff line,’ the female half of a male-female gendered pair is sometimes the ‘distaff counterpart’ for the same reason. Women who do not marry are sometimes still called ‘spinsters’ on the assumption that an unmarried woman would have to support herself by spinning and selling yarn (I’m not endorsing these usages, merely noting they exist).

E.W. Barber (Women’s Work, 29-41) suggests that this division of labor, which holds across a wide variety of societies was a product of the demands of the one necessarily gendered task in pre-modern societies: child-rearing. Barber notes that tasks compatible with the demands of keeping track of small children are those which do not require total attention (at least when full proficiency is reached; spinning is not exactly an easy task, but a skilled spinner can very easily spin while watching someone else and talking to a third person), can easily be interrupted, is not dangerous, can be easily moved, but do not require travel far from home; as Barber is quick to note, producing textiles (and spinning in particular) fill all of these requirements perfectly and that “the only other occupation that fits the criteria even half so well is that of preparing the daily food” which of course was also a female-gendered activity in most ancient societies. Barber thus essentially argues that it was the close coincidence of the demands of textile-production and child-rearing which led to the dominant paradigm where this work was ‘women’s work’ as per her title.

(There is some irony that while the men of patriarchal societies of antiquity – which is to say effectively all of the societies of antiquity – tended to see the gendered division of labor as a consequence of male superiority, it is in fact male incapability, particularly the male inability to nurse an infant, which structured the gendered division of labor in pre-modern societies, until the steady march of technology rendered the division itself obsolete. Also, and Barber points this out, citing Judith Brown, we should see this is a question about ability rather than reliance, just as some men did spin, weave and sew (again, often in a commercial capacity), so too did some women farm, gather or hunt. It is only the very rare and quite stupid person who will starve or freeze merely to adhere to gender roles and even then gender roles were often much more plastic in practice than stereotypes make them seem.)

Spinning became a central motif in many societies for ideal womanhood. Of course one foot of the fundament of Greek literature stands on the Odyssey, where Penelope’s defining act of arete is the clever weaving and unweaving of a burial shroud to deceive the suitors, but examples do not stop there. Lucretia, one of the key figures in the Roman legends concerning the foundation of the Republic, is marked out as outstanding among women because, when a group of aristocrats sneak home to try to settle a bet over who has the best wife, she is patiently spinning late into the night (with the enslaved women of her house working around her; often they get translated as ‘maids’ in a bit of bowdlerization. Any time you see ‘maids’ in the translation of a Greek or Roman text referring to household workers, it is usually quite safe to assume they are enslaved women) while the other women are out drinking (Liv. 1.57). This display of virtue causes the prince Sextus Tarquinius to form designs on Lucretia (which, being virtuous, she refuses), setting in motion the chain of crime and vengeance which will overthrow Rome’s monarchy. The purpose of Lucretia’s wool-working in the story is to establish her supreme virtue as the perfect aristocratic wife.

...For myself, I find that students can fairly readily understand the centrality of farming in everyday life in the pre-modern world, but are slower to grasp spinning and weaving (often tacitly assuming that women were effectively idle, or generically ‘homemaking’ in ways that precluded production). And students cannot be faulted for this – they generally aren’t confronted with this reality in classes or in popular culture. ...Even more than farming or blacksmithing, this is an economic and household activity that is rendered invisible in the popular imagination of the past, even as (as you can see from the artwork in this post) it was a dominant visual motif for representing the work of women for centuries.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Clothing, How Did They Make It? Part III: Spin Me Right Round…”

[bucky-in-paradise]

How Bad It Hurts - 3

Here is the third installment of my Druig x Reader series! Enjoy, there’s some spice in this one...

Summary: Reader, nicknamed Shutterbug by Druig, has heard rumors and stories her entire career as a photographer for The Smithsonian Magazine about a forgotten commune in the Amazon jungle. After piecing together enough information to make her way there, she finds a lot more than a forgotten commune and embarks on the adventure of a lifetime with a man far too captivating to just photograph. 

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings: mild smut, intense anxiousness

It takes no more than five minutes to prepare yourself for the rest of the day and before you know it, the two of you are taking a slow stroll around the village. “Druig, why don’t these people ever leave? I mean it seems like they’ve just never evolved or been exposed to the outside world at all since you brought them here,” you peak up at him as you ask, afraid of offending him.

He hesitates for a while, not meeting your gaze and continuing his path around the village, occasionally watching his people continue their own daily tasks. You almost try to remedy the situation before he cuts you off and says, “I can’t explain it to you fully, only because there are so many moving pieces. But just know that these people are better off where they are than out there,” he leaves it at that, nudging your arm with his own. “Come, I want to show you something.” You’re sure his answer has more to do with the fact that he is incredibly attached to them given that he led their ancestors here generations ago, but the fact that none of them had ever left or really evolved all that much is mind boggling. 

Grasping that that’s the end of that conversation, you follow alongside him as you leave the village behind once again and move back into the thick jungle surrounding it. You wind up walking quite a distance, positive you’d be lost if you tried to make this venture on your own. It’s hard not to stare at his toned back as he marches on in front of you leading the way to your destination, but every so often you peel your eyes away and take in your surroundings. Birds call out to one another in the treetops above and greenery completely surrounds you on all sides. 

As the two of you continue your walk, Druig turns around and begins to walk backwards as he stares at you with a confident look on his face. “Don’t fall on your ass walking like that or I’ll be forced to help lug your heavy ass all the way back,” you shout at him with a bright smile on your face.

“Don’t worry, Shutterbug. Got eyes in the back of me head,” he throws back at you before stopping completely and letting you catch up to him. “Not much further now, promise,” he claims, swinging a sweaty arm over your shoulder and continuing on. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire with his arm wrapped around you and you remind yourself to pull in deep, steady breaths. Before too long, he stops suddenly in front of a tall, yellow fruit tree. What kind of fruit it is, you have no idea, but he doesn’t hesitate to pluck one from a branch and offer it to you with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me,” he says as you take it into your hand and watch his thin shirt ride up enough for you to see his belly button and small trail of hair leading into his pants as he grabs his own piece of fruit. Blushing, you move your gaze away from his stomach and back onto the fruit resting in your palm, wondering if you should just bite into it or wait for instructions. 

Druig, however, doesn’t dawdle and dives into the fruit in his hand, smirking at you as juices from inside the bright yellow fruit fall from his lips. Your breathing shudders for a single moment, long enough for him to notice the shift in your stature as you continue to stare at his mouth. “You gonna eat that?” 

His question startles you out of your stupor and prompts you to take your own bite of fruit, feeling its own juices escape your lips. He pulls his hand away from his mouth, chewing slowly while making direct eye contact with you, the moment becoming extremely heavy. You could almost feel a charge between your two bodies as you swallow the bite in your mouth. The fruit is sweet and you close your eyes as it slides down your throat. A soft moan escapes the back of your throat, forcing your eyes open to see his own widened gaze stuck on your lips. Neither of you say a word as he finally moves, taking a small, almost imperceptible, step closer to your body. You freeze completely, waiting to see what his next move will be, secretly hoping he’ll place his lips upon yours. 

He drops the fruit in his hand, letting it thud to the ground and places a single, sticky hand on your cheek. Normally, you’d be entirely grossed out, but you were much too invested in the sensation of his hand on your face and his breath on your lips to care. Before he can do anything, a distant yell forces you apart, both of your heads turning in confusion in the direction of the commune. “Fuck,” Druig shouts before breaking into a sprint back to the village with you struggling to keep up a few paces behind him. 

“What’s going on? Can you tell from here?” You question him as you both maintain your sprint  back to his people. You truly have no real idea how far his abilities can extend, let alone a full understanding of what he’s capable of. 

“Just hurry,” he shouts at you without turning to see how far behind you have fallen. At this point, he is much farther ahead than you and only gets further and further as you go. Your lungs scream at you for the intense burst of energy you’ve just released all at once and you have to stop for just a moment and rest your hands on your knees, head between your legs as you try to catch your breath. You don’t notice it at the time, but Druig had far surpassed you and was just breaching through the treeline of the commune while you remained immmobile, chest heaving with full intakes of air. 

When you do finally lift your head up, sweat creeping down your hairline, you notice he’s nowhere to be found. “Druig,” you call into the open air, secretly hoping you made it close enough to the village for you to make your way back on your own. As you take stock of your surroundings, you vaguely remember making a right turn somewhere around here when you both began your walk to the now forgotten fruit tree. “Shit,” you breathe out, forcing your feet forward and then to the right, hoping you’re going the right direction. If you had brought your gps with you or managed to keep up with Druig’s lightening quick form, you’d make your way back just fine, but on your own? It hits you like a semi-truck, you’re lost. 

You turn in a full circle as you walk, attempting to find any sort of familiar piece of landscape around you that just might clue you in on how to get back. Without a jacket or any supplies, if you’re still out here when night falls, you’re absolutely fucked. Taking a deep breath, you push forward and continue on, secretly hoping it’s the right way. You walk for only a few minutes before pausing again, sure you’re going the wrong way. “Oh god,” you shudder out as you turn to your left and start walking in the opposite direction thinking if you can at least make your way back to the fruit tree, Druig would probably come back in search of your missing presence. When you look up to the sky and notice the sun has shifted drastically to the West, you know you’ve already been wandering around lost for far too long. 

You also realize, in this moment, that whatever yell that caused you both to leave so quickly from your almost kiss, probably has Druig occupied and not even aware of the fact that you’re lost. Seeing a turned over tree not too far ahead of you, you decide to take a seat and try to come up with some semblance of a plan within your panicked state. It occurs to you that ever since you got here, there seems to be one stress inducing situation after another and convinces you that this jungle is a death trap. As much as you like Druig thus far, you’re convinced this place is cursed, but does that mean you’ll actually leave early once you find your way back? ‘Of course not,’ you think. 

All around you are identical trees and bushes, different little pathways woven in between them, leaving you zero clues as to which one to take in order to get back. The sun is just now fading below the tree line and you force yourself to stand up and choose a path. Which way did you even come from? “Druig!” You scream it into the void of trees and as you walk along them, you continue to yell out his name, hoping that somehow he will be able to hear you. Maybe whatever he had to deal with back in the commune has already been taken care of and he’s out here looking for you? 

That thought forces you to scream his name out as loudly as you possibly can, not worried about what else might be lingering in the vast jungle surrounding you. ‘It would be incredibly easy to lose your mind in this place,’ you think as you muddle on forward, still shouting Druig’s name into the distance. Your feet ache beyond belief from the amount of strain they’ve been under the last few days and beg you to rest for just another moment, but now the sun is setting and you know if you stop, you’ll never get out of here before nightfall. You pause for a moment and catch your breath, once again turning in circles as if that will give you any clue on how to get back. 

Just as you're about to take another step forward, you hear your name being shouted in the distance in that lovely Irish accent you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing. You cup your hands to your mouth and yell towards his own frightened voice, “Druig!” Breaking out into a run again, you hurry as fast as your legs will take you and catch a glimpse of him sprinting towards you as well further ahead in the thick blanket of trees. “Oh god, Druig!” you cry out as he reaches you and wraps you into his embrace, feet lifting off the ground as he does a half turn. 

“Where did you go?! I got to the village and looked back to find you gone!” 

“You were too fast and I needed to catch my breath. I couldn’t keep up with you. When I looked back up, you had disappeared,” you pant out into his neck, face pressed tightly into him as he whispers your name into your hair. “Thank you, Druig. Thank you for finding me, I was so worried I’d get stuck out here and the sun was setting and-”

He cuts you off before you can continue to speak, “Shh, you’re safe now. It’s alright.” He pulls back from you and cradles your face between his hands. He rests his forehead on top of your own and closes his eyes, just breathing you in. You go cross eyed staring at his concerned face, but you don’t mind a bit, too happy to be in his presence again. “Come now, let’s get you home,” he whispers as he disconnects your head and takes your hand in his. As you begin the journey back to the village, you think about the last word he just spoke and toss it around in your mind. Home. You’ve known him for all of a little over 24-hours and he is already starting to resemble the word. God, you’re fucked.

You tighten your grip on his hand and run your thumb along the back of his own, trying to convey how glad you are he found you, not just now in this moment, but when he first caught you stumbling your way towards his home. Well, he did also manage to frighten you beyond belief at first, but you push that thought away now that you have really gotten to know him. “So, uh, what happened back at the commune,” you question as you meander through the jungle.

“One of my men fell off the roof he was repairing, broke his leg. I had to help him get through the pain at first, but he’s sleeping now and all taken care of. I’m sorry I didn’t think to look back and check to see if you were still behind me. I feel like a fucking idiot,” he shakes his head as he says it and you gently tug the arm of the hand you’re holding.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Relieved, definitely, but not upset. I’m glad you were able to help that man, but don’t beat yourself up about this, Druig. You have enough on your plate already,” you say as you both meander into the dining commons, your stomach rumbling from the day’s strenuous activities. 

“Least I can do is get some food in ya. Why don’t you go sit down and let me fix you a plate. What sounds good? I can grab you some dried fruits and meat if that sounds good,” he says as he guides you towards a table with a hand on your back. You slide into a chair and look up at him, finding that he’s already looking at you.

“Sounds great, thanks,” you say and with that, he walks over to the rest of his people all spread around a selection of different foods to eat. You watch his back while he loads up two plates, taking in every interaction he has with these people and how they respond to his presence. There are no tense or anxious feelings in the air and they all look genuinely happy to be around him and you can’t seem to figure out how deep those feelings of gratitude go towards him. Do they even realize what their being here means? It’s safe to assume that none of them have ever considered a world beyond this commune or dared to leave. You wonder if they even know that there is more to life than this out there or if this is all they think the world is, just them forever stuck in the constraints Druig has created for them. 

Despite these thoughts, you maintain the belief that he isn’t such a bad guy, but maybe it’s because you’re budding feelings for the man continue to flourish within you the more time you spend around him. Shaking these thoughts from your mind, you watch him saunter back over to you and instead of sitting across from you like he normally does, he pulls out the chair to your left and plops down ungracefully. “Eat up. You gotta be starved,” he says, taking a large bite out of his own chicken leg as he goes. 

You pull up your own piece of chicken and begin to eat, savoring the flavor and smokiness it fills your mouth with. You turn your head and send him a closed mouth smile, chewing your food and watching him do the same. After swallowing your bite, you shovel a forkful of yellow rice into your mouth, attempting to display some basic manners, but also starving beyond belief. “Don’t choke eatin’ like that. I’d hate to have to save you twice in one day,” he huffs out a laugh at that and you roll your eyes at him.

“Haha, very funny. Technically, it’s not completely my fault I got lost. My stamina’s just not as high as yours,” you smirk at him.

“Well, we’ll just have to work on that, won’t we,” he winks at you before going back to his plate of food. You stare at him blankly, coughing to try and cover the fact you may have choked a little bit at his sudden innuendo. Trying not to take what he said to heart, you shrug your shoulders and take another bite.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to eat from your plate. You can feel his gaze on your face, but you keep your eyes locked on your food, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your stare. 

“Aren’t you a cheeky one tonight?” He laughs, going back to his own food after the brief pause in conversation your last comment made. You blush, attempting to hide your face by looking over at the table next to you and taking in a heartwarming scene. A family of four sits at a table near yours, both parents watching their children talk animatedly about something you can’t quite decipher, but bringing a smile to your face nonetheless. It makes you happy to think that there are moments of normality here similar to one’s you’d see in the outside world. You can’t pinpoint why you feel this way, but there is a battle that’s built inside you since Druig revealed aspects of these people’s lives, their heritage, to you. On one hand, you know it’s wrong to have kept them here all these years, but on another, you can see why he did it, that he truly desires to protect them at all costs. 

But, their livelihoods are not yours to ponder, nor should you get yourself tangled up in the mess of it all. You go back to your food, realizing it’s gone cold due to your time spacing out. You glance at Druig from the corner of your eye to see if he picked up on your thoughts. Just because he said he’d no longer look inside your head didn’t always mean he would or that he couldn’t accidentally hear your thoughts when they became all encompassing. Deciding to test your theory, you tear off a piece of chicken and begin to eat again, trying to display total calmness and relaxation. You face forward and shout his name in your mind to see if he’d give you any kind of reaction. Of course, he keeps on eating as if you hadn’t yelled his name in your head. Maybe he wasn’t listening after all? 

Electing to take it up a notch, you begin to paint an indecently vivid picture in your mind of you and Druig in his room back at the house. You're both standing in front of the shower stall, curtain open but hot, steamy water pouring from the head, creating a mist that covers the two of your fully clothed bodies. In your mind, Druig reaches an eager hand down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving your braless chest exposed to the open room. He moves for your pants next, unbuttoning them and kneeling to the ground to tug them towards your ankles and off your body. You remain in a lacy, black thong, staring down at him while he kisses back up your bare legs. You throw your head back when his lips find the edge of your underwear and pull it towards him then letting it go, hearing the snap as it meets with your pelvis once more.

You breathe out his name in a soft moan and slip your hands through his thick hair. He glances up at you then, blue eyes focused on the blissed out look you have on your face. Druig glides his hands up and down your legs as he continues to lay kisses on the inside of your thighs, brown locks tickling where you so desperately want him to touch you. “Fuck,” you breath out when he finally peels your undies off your body and stands back up to take off his on shirt. You help him undo all the buttons that lead to his trousers, then move onto those too. Stepping out of his pants, you look down to see his straining erection through the material of his boxers. 

Gently, you palm him through his boxers and watch his face carefully to ensure you’re bringing him as much pleasure as he’s brought you. You repeat your actions for half a minute before taking off his last remaining item of clothing and pulling him into the shower. He’s quick to apply open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck and run his hands along your waist, pulling staggered moans from your throat. You wrap your arms around his neck and before you know it, he’s grabbed your thigh and lifted your leg around his waist, earnestly rubbing his erection along your folds. Removing his face from your neck, he meets your lips and you both exchange heavy puffs of air into one another. 

He moans your name into your open mouth as he finally slips inside you, his tip brushing against a spot so sweet you can’t help but moan out-

Druig stands abruptly from his chair, excusing himself and walking away from you and his still half full plate of food. You turn in your chair to watch him walk out of the building and turn towards his house, walking away purposefully. 

That answers your question, you suppose. His sudden exit has you debating whether or not you should follow him back or give him some privacy. Ultimately, the latter wins out and you slowly finish your meal, trying to delay the inevitable. After you finish, you offer to help clean up other tables with some of the residents and organize the leftovers. 

It’s only been a half hour of helping out here before everything is finished and you’re forced to go back to Druigs. Sighing with nervous energy, you muster up all your courage and confidence and march down to his house. As you walk, you find yourself losing all of that built up energy and come to a stop below the steps to his front door, talking yourself into entering the building. “Come on, just go inside. Don’t make this into a thing,” you whisper to yourself as motivation and push your legs up the steps and through his front door. 

The front of his house is dark, almost pitch black if it weren’t for the light emanating from his bedroom through the open archway. He is nowhere to be found in the entrance to his home, but you can hear the shower running from the room next door and pause again, wondering if you should wait for him at his dining table or carry on into his bedroom. Your palms begin to sweat and you wring your fingers together as you enter the room. Looking at the closed curtain shower rod, you instantly figure out he did not hear your arrival through the front door or that you remain standing in the middle of his room, able to hear each and every noise that escapes his lips. It’s impossible to miss the thick groans coming from the shower and the distinct sound of wet motions behind the closed rod. 

Your face feels like it is on fire and your entire being is filled with sudden embarrassment and remorse for walking in on him in this, clearly, private moment. You swiftly turn around and exit the way you came, your body feeling warm and jittery. With long, brisk strides, you circle the compound with no clear destination in mind, just trying to blow off this sudden burst of energy his pleasured moans filled you with. A wetness has pooled between your legs and you try not to let your ego inflate just the slightest bit at the fact that you caused that reaction from him. Screw the fact he was still able to hear what goes on inside your head. You put him in that situation and you feel no shame in the excitement that thought gives you. 

Night has already fallen upon the commune and you hope enough time has passed since your hasty exit from his room. You’d really rather not get caught hearing him in such a compromising position. Ever so slowly, you return to your intended destination and enter cautiously, letting the front door slam against its frame to alert him to your presence. Right as you turn your back to the door, you find Druig standing in the doorway between the two rooms of his home, towel wrapped around his frame and hair a dripping mess. “Hey,” he says awkwardly, an unusual tone to hear from the typically confident man. 

“Hey,” you reply weakly, standing in the darkness of his entryway. You still don’t know where you stand yet after your encounter in the dining hall. Continuing on just so that there isn’t an overbearing silence in the room you say, “you feeling okay? Sure rushed out of there in a hurry. Didn’t even finish your food,” you trail off with a laugh. 

“Yeah, uh, I got a really bad migraine. I just needed to get some air and see about taking a shower to try and alleviate the pain,” he replies, remaining as still as ever in the doorway. 

You shuffle forward the slightest bit, not getting too close, but also attempting to decrease the large amount of space between the two of you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you feel better now?” He hums and nods his head, not able to give you a verbal answer. “Good. Well, okay then, I suppose I should be getting ready for bed,” you move towards the doorway he watches you from and he turns his body to the side, allowing you to slide through next to him and into the bedroom. 

Right as you are about to walk over to your pack at the foot of your bed, Druig encloses his hand around your wrist, halting you in place. You look at him with curious eyes, waiting with bated breath for him to say something, anything. The two of you stand there for a few seconds before he utters out one single word before crashing his lips against yours, “Shit.”

[cantalouupe]

curiosity

nsfw!!! kaeya x f!reader

prequel to this drabble

hand & finger kink, semi public sex except you don’t have sex with him he just makes you suck on his fingers

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The knights of Favonius weren’t a group of people you mingled with. While you had no quarrels with any of them and had even spoken to some before, they just weren’t people that you considered friends.

There was nothing you held against them, no vendetta you had. Your feelings of them were just neutral. Pleasant conversations are easy to have with the ones stationed around town, where they’re willing to help you with really anything you need.

That’s probably why you’ve never really had to interact much with them. You’ve never been in danger and so help from them wasn’t something you had to seek out.

The higher ups, though, were a different story. You’ve also not interacted with any of them, but heard of them incredibly often, seen the outrider around town.

But that was all.

You had understood they were busy with all their work and obviously didn’t expect them to come out just so they can talk to you, a random citizen - still, you were curious. With all the big talk of them they were bound to be quite an interesting few people.

Sara, who worked at The Good Hunter - a little restaurant near the center fountain in town that served amazing food - had told you about them. The interesting honorary knight that travels with a little fairy in search for his sister, the outrider that you’ve seen before, the librarian who apparently was incredibly intimidating when you don’t return books, and even Jean, the acting grand master. You’ve heard about all of them, your curiosity causing you ask around for stories.

The first time you met any of them was on a sunny day, not unlike any other. You were out on the trail, foraging mushrooms as per Sara’s request, when you ran into a suspicious looking group of hilichurls. The odd creatures were entranced by an odd looking sigil on the ground that glowed a faint purple.

You had chosen to mentally mark where you were and turn back to go to town and report it. Hilichurls close to town was already a safety hazard, but them acting the way they were felt off and made a pit of worry grow in your stomach.

The guards at the doors of the Knights of Favonios Headquarters had questioned what you needed when you ran up, and you explained the situation, requesting to speak to Jean if possible.

Guilt ate at you when you pushed despite them telling you she was busy with work already. “I really would like to speak to her directly,” you told them.

They were going to shut you down again, but from behind them the door opened and out came an infamous face.

Of the many people you’d been told about, the Cavalry Captain was among them. Kaeya was very popular in town, apparently appeared at the tavern on most nights to chat with the townspeople. There was a lot of mystery shrouding him and his backstory but despite that he was a favorite of many people.

He looked as he’s been described to you, with dark hair and tanned skin, one eye covered with a black eye patch. His bare eye, beautiful and piercing blue met yours and you looked away immediately, feeling as though you were seeing a myth in the flesh.

“Like I said,” your eyes, probably a little wide from seeing the captain, fell back to the two guards you’d been talking to. “I think it’s a good idea if I talked to Jean directly.”

You hadn’t meant to alert Kaeya as he was leaving the Knights Headquarters but he seemed to hear, voicing out an “is everything okay?” as he approached the three of you.

“I’m not trying to be any trouble,” you tell him once the situation was explained.

He watched you shrink slightly under his gaze, pretty eyes staring up at him - and shook his head. “It’s understandable to want to report something like that immediately. I can take you to her.”

Obviously he had some sort of authority over the guarding knights because they had nothing to say about that, stepping back to their spots on either side of the stone stairs leading to the building.

You mentally let out a breath and nodded up at the blue haired male, thanking him quietly and apologizing again for making a fuss.

“Come on now,” he smiled down at you, calming your nerves a bit. “Stop apologizing for trying to keep Mondstadt safe. If anything we should be apologizing to you for not catching it before you did.”

The short walk inside the Knights Headquarters was quiet, and you took the few silent moments as a chance to get a better look at Kaeya. It was weird seeing him in front of you after only hearing about him for so long.

His clothes were much different from the other knights, from the fur on the shoulder to the color of the clothing. A small blue glowing charm hung from the side of his hip - that’s right, he had a vision.

When he opened the door to Jean’s office, you caught sight of his fingers that peaked out of dark gloves. Fingerless gloves?

“Are you going to come inside?”

Oh no, you weren’t standing here gawking at his hands, were you? You blinked at him like a deer in headlights and you wanted to melt into the floor at the amusement written on his face.

You ducked your head in embarrassment, slipping passed him silently.

Your shame was short lived, however, when you stepped into the room and saw Jean. Now you knew for a fact awe was visible on your face. It’s not every day that you get to see the grand acting master herself.

She was kind and genuinely concerned about you after you ran through the scene you saw for a third time in that day. The abyss order have been causing some trouble for the knights and they had been trying to track down more about them and their plans. What you saw didn’t give away much but Jean reiterated that it was an important bit of information and she thanked you for coming to her for it.

You preened at that, glad you could be of help to her.

Before you left, she thanked you again and assured you that you didn’t need to worry, the knights would take care of it.

And that was the end of it. Nothing else regarding that situation happened and life returned to normal.

The next time you ran into one of them it was at The Good Hunter. You were chatting with Sara while waiting for your food to finish cooking when a very familiar pair on hands came to lean against the counter you ordered at, with a very familiar voice accompanying them.

“I’ve been wondering about you,” Kaeya muses.

Wondering about you? You had to take a moment to process that, forcing out a small “Why?” to which he didn’t respond.

“Eat with me,” he responds instead, smiling at you and he is nice and a knight so who are you to decline.

So, you two eat together. He’s just as charming as people have mentioned, voice smooth and easy to listen to. By your wonder, he tells you in more detail about the Knights of Favonius, and you soak up his words like a sponge.

He is able to describe specific stories that you didn’t otherwise know about, along with other people that you hadn’t heard much about.

You find it fascinating and ask more specific questions - about visions. He answers every inquiry thats thrown at him, about his own cryo power and that of others in Mondstadt.

“Does the fingerless gloves have something to do with your element?” You ask him, and he laughs lightly at you.

“You like them, huh?”

Does he remember your lingering gaze on his hands at your last meeting? God, that’s mortifying. You hadn’t meant it to be a weird question.

When you gape at him, sputtering and trying to grasp a suitable response, he reaches out and taps a finger on the underside of your chin. “Cute,” he murmurs, before taking his leave, claiming he has work he should go attend to.

You stare at him while he leaves, reeling from his actions.

Things move more quickly after that.

You don’t know who really started it, but Kaeya’s hands become somewhat of a teasing point. It wasn’t a serious attraction at first but now his hands are the first thing your gaze catches on.

In turn, he’ll tease you for it, brushing the back of his knuckles against you or tapping a fingertip on you like he did that first time.

It boiled over one day in the Knights Library, you alongside him, curiously looking at all the different titles that were offered. Kaeya reaches out to grab a book and your eyes zero in on his hands.

Bare hands.

He wasn’t wearing those gloves today, skin fully on display and that shouldn’t be as important as it is but there you are, staring at them.

“You’re not-“

He has to know. Theres no way he accidentally forgot to wear them on a day he would be with you. Another tease, definitely.

“My gloves? Didn’t think you’d notice something like that.” Oh, he knows.

Cocky as ever, he taps his finger into your bottom lip - as he has before - and your mouth parts in response. An invitation.

The taste of clean skin bursts on your tastebuds, two of his fingers sliding inside.

“Ah, I knew it,” he murmurs, moving so you were situated in the corner of the wall and bookshelf, his body shadowing yours to shield you from any possible onlookers.

Your knees buckle from under you when he presses down onto your tongue, a whimper sounding from your throat.

“Look at you,” he coos, head leaning in so his lips brush against your ear. “How was I supposed to hold myself back when you want this so bad?”

Your hands find purchase on his biceps, gripping them to ground yourself while he rubs the pads of his fingers against your tongue. Saliva pools and threatens to spill over your lip, and Kaeya knows it, fingers moving so that it drips down out of your mouth and onto your chin.

“You know,” he starts again, fingers sinking deeper into your mouth as his other spare hand wraps loosely around your waist. “If you’re so good like this I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when I fuck you.”

Another noise leaves you, fingers digging into his arms. Your head knocks back into the wall right behind you and your eyes flutter.

You feel lucky that you cant speak because you know you wouldn’t be able to trust yourself to not beg him to fuck you right here in the library.

It feels filthy, the drool on your chin and his breath against the side of your face while he tells you these things. You felt hot and if your eyes were opened your pupils would be blown out.

“You’ll have to come see me some time, so I can really take you apart with my fingers.”

[yuyuuns]

Hi, there! Can I request a fluff/angst imagine in which Leona suddenly becomes blind trying to protect his fem! s/o from a horrible monster and she takes good care of him until he gets his sight back? Thanks a bunch!

Leona Kingscholar | Nursing Him Back to Health

Summary: After a terrible lab accident in Alchemy Class, you nearly get your eye scratched out by a messed up science experiment, only for a shining armor to come in through the form of the lion prince of the Afterglow... Sadly he gets injured in your stead, losing his precious eyesight for limited time, it's not like you can just ignore him after he went out of his way and saved you, isn't it only fair that you take care of him after he protected you? Better be prepared, herbivore...

Warnings: Injury Mentions

( Eye-Related, specifically. )

Author’s Note:

One day I want to pull his donkey-shaped tail, so he screams like the cat from Tom and Jerry.

Excuse the rambling I know that authors put their thoughts on the characters, so I thought I do the same!

But this is my first ever request on this blog, so here’s hoping you enjoy it!

Shoot far, astronaut! ★

Leona Kingscholar

Everything went so wrong.

Cradling your boyfriend’s head that rests in your lap so comfortable as he sleeps without a care in the world, he holds onto you like you’re nothing more than a pillow between his grasp, casually adjusting his head every now and again in between your thighs searching for the squishiest spot to use?

That isn’t anything new.

( What IS new is trying to ignore the bandages you wrapped delicately around his head that still haven’t healed, that even took his ears to account. )

This has been your life for the last couple of weeks.

Ever since the accident.

Just another mishap in alchemy class as mundane as much issues at this school usually begin, a stupid joint experiment between the third-years having quite literally blown up in your face as someone ( Grim ) accidentally added too much mandrake root to the cauldron, so when your “creation” finally came out it...

It ended up going on a bloodlust filled rampage, trying to kill everything in it’s path in a blind rage.

Because of course it did.

You call it that like it’s the worst thing that’s happened since you’ve lived down here in Twisted Wonderland, but it’s difficult to say that, when I’m the end that of all people only your boyfriend got seriously injured.

Because of course he did.

The issue lies in how long it’s going to take him to recover, since healing magic as advanced as it is in this world... isn’t a cure-all to everything.

It’s a miracle they managed to salvage his eyesight at all through magic, that all you have to do is take care of him until it finally recovers, and soon enough you’ll be back with the same stupid Leona.

( It’s your fault he’s in this situation, because as much as he denies it he was absolutely shielding you from it’s first blow where he got his eyes scratched out when the gigantic mandrake came out of it’s cauldron, so you had to do something. )

It’s been a few days since you’ve started coming to Savannaclaw in order to check up on your boyfriend’s condition, after promising to help him in a guilt-filled frenzy, which worked out quite well for the both of you since not even Ruggie could be by his side 24/7 helping out all of his basic needs...

Not without paying him extra, anyway.

You’ve left Grim with Ace and Deuce, so it’s only been you these past couple of days coming every so often acting like a good little girlfriend and checking up on him and all of his needs while he can’t see...

Ace said you were acting more like his mom, which you couldn’t really argue against... 

Although maybe he’s gotten a little too comfortable, considering his most recent request to you was asking rather bluntly if he could use a lap pillow.

Now it’s been an hour since you’ve been downgraded from “my girlfriend” to “breathing human pillow”.

But your legs are starting to hurt.

It’s always so odd to see the big bad scary lion resting in your lap, purring like nothing more like a kitten instead of the great king he makes himself to be, putty to your touch whenever you find enough confidence to reach your hand out and stroke his hair it’s gotten rather tiring after sitting still for so long.

“Leona-senpai,” your voice is soft, it wouldn’t be good to wake him up. But it feels wrong to leave him without saying anything, so you whisper hoping he won’t hear you go. “My legs hurt, you’re already asleep, so you don’t mind me going do you?”

Of course, there isn’t any response, you’ve already done most of your duty as a caretaker today.

After getting notes from Ruggie about what he usually deals with and his “schedule” which makes you appreciate the hyena more than ever before, you remember that around this time he would usually go to get the deluxe sandwiches that Leona likes at the cafeteria, if you rush you can get it for him.

So you’re about to gently slip away, to pull yourself away for just a little while with that sandwich excuse, to pretend like you were never there at all but the plan changes rather quickly.

As you feel somebody pinching your thighs as soon as you try to leave, causing you to let out a half-hearted squeak that’s a little more high-pitched than you would prefer... followed by his chuckle, a familiar laugh, one which you prefer would at least try to pretend he didn’t found your plight funny. “Do you really think that I let my prey leave so easily?”

“Leona-senpai?!”

“Aren’t you the one who said they treat me like a king till I felt all better?” For a moment you wonder how long he’s really been awake, Leona sighs from underneath you. Although he’s trying to make himself sound sad, he’s far from disappointed by your insistence to leave. Finding far more amusement in your whining, he squeezes your waist just a little tighter so you can’t go. “Are you telling me that you lied to me, herbivore? Your king.”

“Eh?! I didn’t do anything like that...” You wonder if he knows you’re pouting, even though you know for a fact he can’t see it, clearly being temporarily blinded hasn’t actually done anything to stop him from changing him from the Leona you know. “Shouldn’t you be a little nicer? You’re biting the hand that’s currently feeding you, which I mean quite literally.”

“Then why didn’t you just say so? You’re nothing like the woman back at the pride, don’t you know that you’re meant to take what you want,” There isn’t any chance to respond, suddenly you feel yourself being pulled, straight down onto the bed. Arms latching around you, as you’re forced to lay down with him. “Come on. If you’re so tired, simply sleep with me for a while, that’s a command from your king.”

“Aren’t you getting a little too into the king act, Leona-senpai?” ... of course you don’t really fight against it, getting pulled down. Knowing that he’s already got you trapped in his embrace, there isn’t any way to run away now that you’ve been caught. So you simply try to make yourself more comfortable, laying your head against his chest.

“You promised you would treat me like one till I felt all better, hate to say it herbivore but you should’ve thought about the null condition.” he smirks back down at you, just another reminder to be careful with your future words otherwise he’ll use them against you. “Asides from that is it really so bad?”

“Being stuck with me.”

...

As if there’s any other place you rather be than his arms, you don’t respond merely easing into his touch as if that’ll be answer to him enough.

You’re a little glad he can’t see the stupid smile on your face, as you lean in closer by your king.

[nincompoopydoo]

Can I request a Fred Weasley oneshot with the promts "you don't love him", and "love is supposed to be good". Thanks 😊

GOOD, PURE, AND BEAUTIFUL

PAIRING: Fred Weasley x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k (about 1000 words my ass) SUMMARY: The Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. Possible part 2? A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had to rewrite the hold dang thing and I know I said I would write around 1000 words but looks like i can’t help but be long-winded. WARNINGS: Angst. Mentions of getting drunk. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

You find solace in the pint of butterbeer, sitting at a table for two, tucked by the corner and under the archways of the Leaky Cauldron. The passing wizards in sleek venerable trench coats and witches with an odd taste in hats only act as an activity of sightseeing in keeping yourself awake, hypothesizing strangers’ lives and whether they might have gnomes lurking in their gardens or have gardens in the first place.

You are drawn to the drifting scent of butterscotch—the tankard of butterbeer sits glumly in your grasp as it has lost all its foam. You take a sip, more of a gulp, feeling the gas building up in your abdomen, and the sweetness to it almost feels sickening at this point.

Belly full yet feeling extremely empty.

The days leading up to you, being here at the Leaky Cauldron, and playing the part of the drunken witch very well weren't exactly pleasant. Flourish and Blotts seem to lose its shine in fulfilling your love for books and organization with every passing day and your relationship with the boy you met and fell madly in love with during your sixth year don’t seem to hold the same spark as before. Walter was a Ravenclaw—handsome, diligent, and incredibly smart. You and him dating had been an on-and-off situation because the one thing you two share in common is the lack of decisiveness.

Today, tonight, you and Walter are finally resolute. The true end where second, third, or fourth chances will never cease to exist from now on. With the new offer for a job in America, you and he both know drifting apart seems to be the only reasonable solution to the whole mess of what you assumed was love.

He spoke the words in this very spot, sat in the chair across from you. You had been watching the way his thumb would caress the back of his other hand and you knew, the night was bound to end in a disastrous way. An unfortunate turn of events for the witch who doesn’t truly know if she ever loved another or was ever loved.

Yet, you sit here, eyes completely dry. Far from crestfallen, far from regret. Only filled with the dread of not feeling the sadness you’re supposed to be feeling. You ignore how your shoulders feel lighter and how the tightness in your chest seems to have miraculously disappeared as soon as you watched Walter walk out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Are the butterbeers celebratory or depressing? You’re not sure.

You rest your chin on your palm, feeling like you’re in a daze. Butterbeer isn’t necessarily the type of drink to get you intoxicated but noting the rate you’re consuming each mug, it’s no surprise that you’re just a little tipsy.

Then, you see a certain ginger twin emerge from the entrance of the pub like some divine intervention. He seems to spot you from afar, waving in your direction. You lift your hand weakly in the midst of trying to figure out which of the twins you are particularly waving at. It’s Fred Weasley as it turns out, you recognize the certain strides with every step taken towards you that differs him from George. As he nears you, there’s an assurance that it’s certainly Fred with the sight of a mark on the bridge of his nose—an indicator and a technique to tell the twins apart you used when you were younger.

Fred halts by the empty seat diagonally to your left, hands shoved in the pockets.

“I have never seen you here at this hour—are you okay?” Fred cuts himself short, brows turning into a frown when he notices the unusual mess in your hair. If he knows you any better, well-kept and neat hair was all you cared about after the number of times you have furiously whined about the frizz in your hair during the summertime.

It isn’t summer now, well into the end of November. The days are colder and he remembers how your hair would especially shine in the gloom of Autumn.

“Not really.” is all you manage to say before taking the hundredth swig from your nearly empty butterbeer. You inspect the mug with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “I swear this was full the last time I looked...”

Before you know it, he’s snatching the mug away from you, dragging it across the table as he settles into the empty chair. He stares at you with a beckoning brow, expression mixed with disappointment, disapproval, and worry.

“Hey! That’s my butterbeer, Weasley!” you whine, trying to reach for it but Fred pushes it further, hand securing around it. Without hesitation, you smack him in the arm. “Stop being a complete arse, Fred. What are you even doing here and where’s George anyway?”

Fred winces in pretense pain, dramatically rubbing the side of his arm as he tries to suppress his laughter from your sudden burst of violence. “George is back at the shop going over numbers and as far as I’m concerned, I can be anywhere I want to be. You clearly had too much to drink.”

“But it's butterbeer!”

“That is exactly my point.”

You let out a huff, leaning into your seat and running your fingers through your hair. After a moment’s silence with Fred still staring you down in the effort of getting you to talk, you finally give in. He knows you too well for you to hide anything from him.

“Walter and I broke it off.”

Fred blinks, trying to hide his wide-eyed gaze. “For good?”

You finally turn to him, nodding slowly. “For good.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is soft when in reality he’s trying to hide his relief in hearing that things between you and Walter have finally come to a resolution because falling in and out of a relationship was driving you mad. He cares for you and always has since the very beginning and a part of him wishes for those feelings of infatuation between two melancholic teenagers will emerge back from what he assumed was already dead.

He watches you lean your head back onto your palm, seemingly sinking deeper towards the table as you try to wrap your head around the situation to form proper words with your lips. “You know what’s the worst part of it all?” Fred shakes his head, eyes never breaking contact with your own. “I don’t even feel that sad about it. Like all those years were...nothing.” Your laugh comes out as a puff of air. It’s cynical rather than finding the humor in it. For the first time, he doesn’t laugh when you do.

Another beat of silence and Fred is contemplating whether his next words that beg to be freed from his mind are appropriate in a time like this. Although he knows how he tends to speak his mind without thinking of the consequences, he knows to tread lightly around you from the times when his words nearly tore your friendship apart.

Still, he knows to be honest with you.

Through the chatter of the crowd at the Leaky Cauldron whilst a few men by the other corner of the pub begin to break into singing a drinking song, Fred’s voice comes off as a whisper, barely audible. “You don’t love him, don’t you?”

Your gaze had initially drifted to the bunch of rowdy men, rendering verses about magical whisky and beer. Yet, they now return to hold a certain ginger’s gaze. You want to be offended by his question because of how it supposedly hurts the raw wound of feeling sorry for yourself. Your love life hasn’t been the best and your tendency to jump to your own defense about it is a clear note to everyone that it simply shouldn’t be questioned.

But it’s Fred. The one who has constantly looked out for you when other boys and men seem to take advantage of your hopeless romantic side. The one who would pull a prank on George just to see you smile. The one who ended up taking you to the Yule Ball as his date because Walter, at the time, rejected you like you were nothing. You should have known that it was never meant to be.

You know to be honest with Fred Weasley.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

He doesn’t say anything, wanting to listen as he waits for you to conceive the proper words to finally speak your mind. It is clear you want to let it out and let off of the burden that has trapped you under its knees, constantly looming over your shoulders and causing dread and fear of losing so much in such a short time. The band of merry men as the whole pub begins to join the group in singing about the joys of alcohol, life, and love in the tune of a traditional Scottish muggle song.

You wonder how can these people be so happy in a time of an impending war. Maybe, it's temporary, meant to drown the hurt and sorrows for tonight and when morning comes, they'll return to opening the stitches of their wounds. When morning comes, you will either wake up at this very table or in an empty bed. Either way, you’ll be alone.

Now, all you want to do is get all your worries and troubles off your chest, not wanting to feel so empty and suffocated. “Love,” you pause, inhaling deeply. ”Love is supposed to be good and pure and beautiful. Love was what I thought I had and right now, I don’t know what to make of it, Fred...I thought I was going to marry him someday.” You find yourself sighing once more, already feeling the lightness in your chest. Running your fingers along your cheek, you close your eyes to help yourself focus through your rapid thoughts and your dazed mind. “Everything is going wrong. I hate my job. I hate my bed. I’m drunk on butterbeer for Merlin’s sake. I feel so, so alone—”

“Ah, and that’s where you are wrong.”

Your eyes are open now, narrowed from adjusting to the sudden brightness of the candlelit place. They drift to Fred who seems very content. He then places his hand on yours and you realize you had been fiddling with your fingers for the last minute. His hand is warm on yours and the heat gradually travels to your chest, heartbeat now slightly picking up in speed. If you listen close enough, you would be able to hear it.

“You are never alone. Not when I’m around and you know I will always be around.”

His words tug at the side of your lips, now widening into a faint smile. It’s small but it’s the kind that reaches your eyes and raises your cheeks. “Thank you, Freddie.”

Then, you watch him abruptly come to a stand, chair screeching. He tugs on the lapels of his coat, adjusting it with the roll of his shoulders. He grabs the back of his chair, and leans forward, towards you. “George and I are visiting the Burrow for the weekend. I’m sure mum won’t mind you staying over.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape at his offer. “I don’t want to trouble anybody—”

“Don’t be silly. Mum loves you more than George and I combined. And she loves us a lot!”

You laugh and it’s genuine this time, knowing how Molly will be always whispering to you about what makes Fred a good husband in the kitchen when you’re washing up the plates and how she will never let you go to bed hungry.

The burrow is like your second home and right now, home is all you want and need.

“Alright, then.”

[ezgithechaotic]

pushing up the dasies . peter parker

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x female reader

summary: Someone has been stealing Y\N's flowers, and she is determined to find who it is.

warnings: she\ her pronouns (don't know if this one's a warning), mention of the death of a loved person, graveyard

author note: I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. But please let me know if you see anthing that doesn’t seem right. I really have no idea if this is good or trash. I’m getting mixed signs. So, please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

As a comic book nerd, I personally love both Andrew and Tom's Spiderman. Just thought this story fit Andrew's more, but feel free to imagine Peter as your favorite! 

masterlist 

The first time you realized a few flowers were picked from your garden, you didn't think much into it. The kids around the neighborhood liked to play hide and seek around your garden. You thought; it should be Thompson's girl, she likes flowers. It wasn't something that never happened before. You would simply plant new ones, it was no big deal, you could never get angry at children. But after some time, you started to realize the pattern. Every month on the same day, you found a handful of your daisies gone upon returning from your part-time job. Mrs. Thompson swore her daughter would never do such a thing without asking, and after the third time, you were sure somebody was stealing your flowers. Maybe it was that gruff man across the street that never got along with people. But you had a feeling if he had to do anything with your flowers, it would only be blowing them up. 

Peter always wondered whom the pretty flowers and house belong to. The post box just outside the garden said Y\L\N, and he had always imagined an old sweet woman lived in the white-painted house with a green door. And Peter hoped he didn't make the poor woman too sad with missing flowers. Boy, was he wrong. You weren't old, and you were furious and determined to find the person who stole your beautiful daisies. 

Your friends always wondered why you liked living in such an old neighborhood. The house was one of the few things your mother left you after she died, along with the considerable amount of money in your bank account. You could always sell the house, find an apartment downtown, so you can be closer to school that's what your friends told you every time you had them over. But you loved the house. You loved that the house held so many memories of your childhood, especially your garden. Even though your mother was a busy woman, she had always made time for you and her flowers. At the age of six, growing flowers with your mother quickly became one of your favorite pastimes. That week you did what everyone would do, changed your shift with Mary Jane to catch the flower thief. 

So, no, selling the house or letting strangers steal your lovely flowers was not one of the many choices. 

Now, Peter Parker was many things, but not a thief. Well, it depended on what you would call stealing. Surely picking a few flowers from a random garden couldn't count as stealing. And God knows he wouldn't do it if he weren't penniless. Trying to survive college and paying for an apartment didn't leave him much. The money The Daily Bugle paid was shit. He had been selling photos for the damn newspaper since high school, but it was no use, Peter had to find a job that paid more than The Daily Bugle. And there was no way he was going to ask Aunt May for money, even though she would be happy to give him some. But that was another day's concern, for now, the only thing he needed to do was be quick. Because he knew if you found out that it was him who was stealing, sorry picking, your flowers he sure wouldn't be able to swing away this time. 

Peter honestly felt guilty about your flowers, they were lovely. And he knew this was a safe neighborhood, so he had no way of paying you back with saving you. He had been visiting Gwen every month since her death. It was one of the few things he could keep up with after he graduated high school. Daisies were Gwen's favorite. Peter knew he could easily find another place to pick the flowers, but he believed that there was something magical about the garden. He felt so much love around the house. Maybe it was a silly thing, but Peter thought Gwen would have loved that garden. 

Y\N had been sitting on her porch, hiding behind the dark blue armchair, actually too anxious to face the flower thief. You felt childish after some time. It was just a few daisies, right? There was no need to act like a crazy woman. As you were getting ready to go back inside, you saw him. He had an average height, brown messy hair. He was wearing a black t-shirt and an unbuttoned baby blue shirt with a greenish-brown jacket. Y\N's anger turned back the minute she saw him touch the flowers. 

"You, flower thief!" 

A moment before, Peter felt like his whole body was on edge as if bells were ringing in his brain. But he was already late to realize she had been waiting for him and there was no way to run, he wasn't wearing his suit. Where were the damn spider-senses when he needed them the most? So, he just stood there, speechless, his hand hanged above the daisies. She was pretty, as pretty as the flowers before him. Guilt heating his face, Peter couldn't help but stare at you with his eyes wide open like a dumbstruck idiot. He felt like his lunch was climbing its way back up. 

You were now, standing few steps away from him. "You've been stealing my flowers for months!" 

Peter held his hands up in defense. "Look, I can explain." 

Y\N put her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. Your heart beating like crazy. Even though it was still bright and you were in the middle of a road, he was a man. A man taller and despite looking skinny, stronger than you. But you hold your face as still as you could.  

"Go on then." 

Peter couldn't find the words to explain. What was he going to say? Sorry, I thought my dead girlfriend would love your flowers so, I've been stealing them, I hope you don't try to kill me. No fucking way. His mouth opened and closed few times, making you sigh. You realized the boy wasn't going to give you any answer. He was probably taking them to his girlfriend or boyfriend. 

"Are they pretty?" you asked, dropping your hands. Peter, very confused, kept on staring at her. You rolled your eyes at how silly he was. "The person you're taking my flowers to." Something at the back of your mind hoped he would say they were for his mother. Now that you were closer you could see the sweet hazel color of his eyes. 

"Um-" His hand went up, scratching his neck. "She is." 

She was.

He shuffled through his pants pockets. "I have a photo-" 

"No." You stopped him. "I want to see if she is pretty enough for my daisies." 

"What?" Peter tried to grasp his head around the idea. 

"I want to see her and tell her that her boyfriend is a thief. C'mon." 

"I don't think-"  Peter was getting anxious, now. How was he supposed to tell you that her girlfriend was dead? 

"Of course you don't think." You started walking. "C'mon, now. Take the flowers." 

Peter didn't know what to do so he went with it. What could go wrong, right? 

"I'm sorry," Peter said after some time. "I have no excuse for what I did." 

His head hung low, watching his steps as he walked. He knew he would stutter if he looked at your face. Peter had a habit of getting tongue-tied around pretty girls. And, well, you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Mind you, he wasn't even thinking about Gwen anymore, which made him feel kinda guilty. 

"It's okay." You had your hands in the pockets of your jacket. "My life's been boring lately. You were the only exciting thing, I guess." 

"I'm sure you have more exciting things than me." Peter still didn't look at you but you could see him smiling.

"It's Y\N, by the way." You kept your eyes on him. "If you wanted to know the name of a woman you constantly robbed."

He laughed. "Peter, Peter Parker." His eyes finally met yours. It was ridiculous, how easy it was to just look at his face and feel safe even though he was a stranger. His smile grew even more. It was almost contagious, his smile. He had something about him that made you wanted to scream and purr like a cat at the same time. You felt yourself getting overwhelmed, he was making you weak at the knees. So, you pulled your eyes away from him. 

Pull yourself together, woman! He has a girlfriend.

You were too distracted to realize where was Peter taking you until you arrived. It was the same route you took whenever you felt like talking to your mother. Peter and you were standing just outside of the graveyard. Your head whipped around, turning to Peter. He had a soft smile on his face. 

"Peter, I-" 

"It's okay." 

"No, It's not okay." You took a deep breath, pressing your palms into your eyes. "I'm such a dick." 

"No, you were just mad at me." 

You slouched your shoulder, didn't know what to say. What would even one say in this situation?

"C'mon." Peter's warm hand was gently holding your arm, now. "Let's go see her." 

You didn't talk until you arrived at the tombstone. Peter put the flowers in front of it. 

"Daisies were her favorite." He had a sweet look on his face, he put his hands back into his pockets. 

"They were my mother's favorite, too." You murmured, but Peter could hear you perfectly. "I think that's why I overreacted you picking the flowers. I wasn't thinking." 

"Oh, It's not stealing anymore, then?" He teased. "It's okay, honestly. She would've liked you. You have that fire in you like you could make the world better just with a gesture of your hand. She liked that kind of people, that can light the room with their smile." 

"I think I would've liked her, too." You said, your eyes on the tombstone.

Gwen Stacy. 

Her name was familiar to you. You didn't know where, but you were sure you had heard before. Still, you didn't ask Peter anything, assumed he wouldn't be comfortable talking about it. You didn't say anything until you were out of the graveyard. You knew you would come back tomorrow to see your mother, but with Gwen on your mind. 

The more you looked at his face the more you could see him. Peter wore his heart on his sleeve, he was easy to read. "You blame yourself." You said, nodding your head slowly. You smiled after seeing the face he made. "It's okay, I know the feeling." 

"Your mother?"

"Yeah." 

Neither of you talked for a long time. Peter could tell you weren't ready to talk about it. He knew it wasn't easy to open up, especially to a stranger. It'd been years since he talked about Gwen, so, he knew the feeling, too. 

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was a message from Mary Jane.  "Just arrived home, you owe me." 

"That's it!" You exclaimed, remembering your talk with Mary Jane. "That's how I knew her name!" 

Peter, looking very confused, asked you. "What?" 

"Gwen, her name was very familiar." Pocketing your phone again. "I have a friend, Mary Jane, who went to the same high school with Gwen. I've seen her in the yearbook. That's where I recognized her name." 

"You know MJ?"

"Oh, yeah," you laughed. "We met in Brooklyn, probably four years ago. I think it was very late, some guy was trying to get her number even though she said no, like five times. And I hadn't had the best day of my life. So, I punched the guy and told him to leave her alone. We have been friends ever since."

Peter was amazed. He didn't know how much cooler you could get. 

"You know her, too?" 

"Yeah, We've been friends for a long time. My aunt kinda tried to set us up."  

You laughed. Peter and Mary Jane seemed like two opposite characters. You would never imagine them together. But again, maybe Peter's pretty face was affecting your judgment. You didn't know. He made your mind foggy. At last, you found yourselves at your front yard again. Your eyes wandered over the empty spots that daisies left. 

"Would you like to get a coffee sometime?" Peter was leaning against white fences that surrounded your garden. He had that sweet smile on his face again. "So I can pay you back for daisies."

You bit your lips to stop yourself from smiling so much. "Gwen was pretty enough for them. You can have some once a month when I'm not looking." Peter was feeling like you were about to turn him down. Both of you knew this wasn't really about the damn flowers. But again, Peter was every so often wrong about these kinds of things. "But you know, maybe not Saturdays. I'm usually free for a cup of coffee on Saturdays." Peter was ready to feed himself with only pasta for a week if it meant he would get to see you again. 

You could visibly see Peter's eyes liting up. "Just one cup?" 

You shrugged. "Tea is fine, too." 

"I didn't know MJ had friends like you." He said, intensely watching your every move. 

"Like me?" You were so sure something bad was coming, he was simply too good to be true.

"You know, this beautiful. If I had known, I would have visited her more."

"Wow, you are hiding a monster under that pretty face, don't you?"  

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

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After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

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[spxllcxstxr]

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

[hauntedelation]

Repeat

Description - The Hammer proves to utilize surprising ways to settle down after a rough assignment.

Pairing - Black Male Reader x August Walker

A/N - This is my first male reader insert and AW fic! I wasn't sure how I should write the man but I found my August to be a little unpredictable, maybe hard. (Maybe he has some feelings, but he won't tell you what kind.)

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - descriptions of blood, wound tending and cleaning, anxiety, surprise fluff and maybe pining? Just partners being partners.

(no real proofreading this time y'all sorry 😅)

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What he applied to your hand forced a pitiful sound from your body, something like a whimper subdued poorly by you.

By the sickly fluorescent light you can see it, the split that was the palm of your hand. Crimson upon crimson flooded the tissue, renewing again. 

Your insides overturned, and for the first time in your career you averted your eyes. You had to. For a reason you couldn't place your finger on, you knew you shouldn't stare. 

The way your pulse was working more warm liquid out of your hand, his fingers stained and slipping back and forth to tend, you felt unsteady. 

The spaces in your mind were gradually being occupied. So there was no shortage, no problem taking your mind off of it. 

You went back to that first mistake, back to where you foolishly under-packed. This assignment was far, but a swift turnaround. Accordingly, you thought it good to keep the amount of bags you carried to a minimum. 

A good number of things were left, a tool here and there that didn't stand out. You had done it before. One notch carved into the wood and you were null of any mistakes up until this point. 

What you couldn't grasp was that these absent devices were the key to this assignment. It hit like a ton of bricks the moment you were met with the complex screen of a security lock. 

You were deflated when your eyes met the empty space of what could have been the bypass key. There you spent upwards of an hour working through the perimeter of the place.

The next one could have happened regardless, but it didn't make you feel less inept. 

Where you went right when you should have gone left. The opponent you met was just as trained as you were: blank, unrelenting and practiced with a blade. You fell to a place where you were at a strident disadvantage. 

Would you have picked your jugular or your hand? There had to have been something better, a third choice? You should have been faster than that.

You could have.

Still, your hand caught the edge and it wasn't until much later, long after you were walking away that you could feel heat trickling down your fingers.

It's like the movies until it isn't. You've got yourself thrumming, high from the situation. You're locked in and can take anything to your vessel, then you're coming down slow. All the little details enter your mind, focusing and you notice. He noticed, actually.

With the most austere set of eyes you had ever seen, he did. 

Before you were given the chance to sit down he was standing over you, breath hot and charged from the brawl. On the top of your head you could feel it. The fabric of his suit was torn and twisted over his chest, rising and falling with his loosened tie.

He'd backed you to one of the steel tables, squinting through the dim and the dark. You had in mind that you were to be spit in the face, condemned for dragging the job to left-field. The glower had already been there.

You were bracing for it, balling both of your hands. The blunt object in your fingers collided with the brick floor. And it rang out, filling the empty spaces with a loud echo. Soon there was nothing. 

That's how it was seconds after.

A pair of boots brushed against yours before there was a hand capturing your right arm. He'd brought your dripping palm up and opened your curled fingers. Your wound was inspected with cautious eyes, the extent picked apart.

His calluses dragged around the edges of your sticky palm. You sucked in a breath when he had gone a little too close, but he ignored it. There was a drilling leer into your face before he spoke, "You were sloppy." 

The back of your throat had grown bone dry. You took a second, swallowing then pulling your eyes from his hardened face. 

That had been the first time that you'd been told that. Knowing in the very depths of you that this was the beginning to many months of second guessing, wishing you could have done better. 

You don't know why you had let this one go. Everything seemed feasible in the documents, from the time requirement to the objectives. You expected to have gone above and beyond.

That is close to what you told Sloane all those weeks ago,

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

"This one looks like it's going to be less of an issue."

She had her arms crossed in her crisp sleeves, her hip propped against the hardwood of her desk. You were called in to provide an updated report over your assignment, your feelings and projection.

It had gone to the point where you could no longer count on your fingers how many jobs you'd been on. The second anniversary from your first day recently passed, the bouquet still sitting on your dining room table.

You recall being introduced to your boss, the gratification in seeing someone like her in such an esteemed position.

(Someone who reminded you of your mother at times.)

Right then, the woman appeared to be getting ready to give a critical reply. Her brow was curled sharply but you could see the corners of her lips begin to upturn. 

"You have been assigned an associate with this task, agent."

This was of no particular issue. It was not every mission that you collaborated with another. Be that as it may, you've grown accustomed to this practice, it evolved into something that you improved with. This was your dream, and you intended to flourish.

You were sure there was no one you wouldn't be able to work with. 

When your superior uttered the name, 'Walker,' you had asked her to come again. 

"You're up and coming, still figuring things out in this line of work. I'm placing you with my best on this one," Sloane announced.

You withheld any signs of protest in front of her, flashing professional countenance and a nod. She dismissed you with a lingering gaze, most likely holding the same thing in her mind as you were. You kept up the front until you were situated at the chair by your desk. 

Upon your back touching the seat, a sigh was released, one that you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

You wanted to smile at how comical his name sounded. One would have thought you were speaking about an exotic dancer, The Hammer. You didn't think it fit at first. 

He's just a man, but he is the kind that exceeded the weight behind his title. He had discharged far more in his profession by the time you were approaching yours, taking the limits of what an agent could do to the stratosphere.

You could wax poetic about those stories, try to recount those details. But, truthfully there had been such a divide in your experience when compared to his. You could feel the pricks of uncertainty in your chest.

Perhaps you were only afraid.

He'd never once acknowledged your existence until you met on the tarmac the following Tuesday morning. The moon was leaving the twilight sky. Under an orange colored light, shining on the side of his face you could see him check his watch.

And then those eyes flicked over to you, sizing up your bags, your clothes. You think you may have even caught those blue slits drag along certain parts of you.

Your voice was weak, coughing low in your throat you tried to press out, "It's nice to finally meet, Mr. Walker."

(Ah, Mr Walker? You wanted to flinch, but you found no time.)

Then you provided him your name with a reluctant hand. It took far more composure on not showing the tremor in your limb but when the man peered down at you, securing your hand with a firm shake you knew. 

He'd felt how clammy your skin was. 

That mustache made a microscopic twitch, "Call me August, and, ditto."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

You allowed your hand to remain elevated, but your period of self-loathing was eventually disturbed. 

The sensation of his large hands appeared, firm and wrapping around your waist before hoisting you on the surface of the steel table. There was a soft thud from your good hand landing to bear your shift in weight.

It was then that you froze, ears pricking to that steady footfall departing from the table.

You listen and—what?

What crosses your mind is maybe you hit your head back there, sometime during taking that grunt to the floor. Yet, you don't feel anything, no pounding in your skull. The musing is washed away the moment the flicker of a pale-green light shines above.

The room is revealed to have been an abandoned kitchen of sorts. Pots and pans layered in a thin veil of dust with more grime to compliment. With your good hand you wipe at the sweat falling down your temple, you'd become a little hot. 

Glass crumbles underneath his boots, he rotates his back around to you with a small kit that strongly resembles the one you stored in your bag. 

The white plastic had your name scrawled on there in your handwriting. While you could sit there wondering how August retrieved that, you are still processing the way the man picked you up. How he brought you up like you were made of feathers. Why he…

He comes in real close, your vision floods with a view of his chest, his gloved hands shedding away the garment and laying them on the metal surface.

The soft click of the first aid box click echoes out, and under the hum of the lights above August murmurs down to you, 

"At least you had enough sense to pack this."

His tone is the same, puncturing only not quite as breathy. The rise and fall of his chest had slowed far more, the dark curls on his chest soaking in the sweat running down his skin. And you blink, not realizing how enthralling the sight is.

Your pulsing hand is taken again, gingerly, by a pair of rough hands. You brace yourself on the edge of the table upon seeing the clear liquid bottle.

He's cleaning your wound throughly and you're trying not to take it like a kicked puppy. Through grit teeth, "You think I could skip stitches this time?" They never were your favorite.

"No dice," he breaths out, placing the bottle of alcohol down next to your thigh.

"You about had your hand sliced in half, Agent. You're lucky anyway. But,"

The needle and thread is pulled out, more cleansing and draining. Rinse and repeat. Walker was moving quickly, probably sensing the adrenaline in you draining by the minute.

Your communication devices buzz in unison, you don't have time to check your screen for any updates before he reaches with one hand in his pocket to retrieve his.

He sets your hand down on your own thigh and you listen to his voice shift to a formal tone. The female voice on the other line, (Sloane most likely) sounds curt and questioning. 

Your stomach begins to roll in circles. Your fingers wrapped around the table's edge tighten around the metal, almost enough to leave marks.

Through those training sessions all those months, you learned to properly squash any threats of anxiety, distraction. You could feel yourself slipping, your body seizing up in front of the man. Walker seemed to have been approaching the height of his conversation with your boss, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and shoulder. 

In the meantime, you were breathing. That familiar rhythm, flowing in and out, counting. You fall into the headspace that you became acquainted with all too well. 

You lost yourself in it, not realizing that Walker was dissolving Sloane's interrogation. Every syllable. The way in which his voice formed the words was unknowingly steadying your brain, calming your heart rate down slowly. 

All the while taking your wounded hand was taken in his, he set about cleaning it one more time before starting to close it with the thread. 

"Yes ma'am. No, he had everything in his detail under control...Yes. That's correct. The only slip up had been breaching the security wall but we successfully infiltrated."

You could feel the sharp pricks in your skin, your arm tensing after each pull to the string when closing the wound. Eventually Walker drifted, and your eyes landed on the semi-clean criss cross stitching in the palm of your hand. 

The man's eyes were dead set on his handiwork, narrowing on the lines before clearing his throat to part ways with your boss. There was a, "We will report back upon leaving this location."

He hung up the phone, and slid the device next to your thigh. You didn't think anything of it, only Walker's hand didn't leave where his phone was sitting. And you were encircled, the fabric of his shirt practically enticing his body closer to yours.

It had been a number of seconds before you could bring yourself back. The same exercise was reaching its tail end, and maybe, just maybe you could believe Sloane would not chew you a new one when you return.

Those words, It's okay, you tried your best. Everyone has bad days. You said them once again, inaudible and only in your mind. The room at this point only held the echo of the cars outside, Walker's heavy boots shifting before—

His fingertips were cold against your jaw, you almost jumped away from him. You should have, what was he doing? His thigh brushed so light against your knee, and when he guided your eyes up, you saw him already peering at your damp face.

Everything about the man's face was blank. Thick brows, lips hidden under a bushy trail of hair, all set in a firm line. You made no attempt to divert, you weren't sure he would let you. You had been planted there, decided by him your next move would be included.

Then those words fell silent. 

His fingertips pushed up your jaw, against the grain of your facial hair growing there. Then you felt him cup your cheek, strong hands dragging along your skin. 

Walker used his thumb to brush against your temple, wiping away something sticky. Red tint coated the little grooves in his skin and he pulled away, wiping his digit on the material of your pants. His tone was far more entertained then,

"Looks like you hit your head back there."

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Taglist - @mansaaay @hope-to-hell @feralrunaway @thetaoofzoe @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed @brandycranby @emyearns

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