#she's actually being pretty good at expressing her urgency to check the time right now

[grison-in-space]

The face of a little dog very Concerned that I am missing bedtime and torn between accepting small "snooze" bribes to let me finish my episode and bullying me into going to bed and COMPLETING the ROUTINE

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

��What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[smallraindrops-blog]

Call It Calamity.

4.2k

Hypnos/Zagreus, unrequited Thanatos/Zagreus

Warnings:just some kissing and alcohol uses. No beta at all.

Hypnos just wanted to be a good brother.

A/N: This is an au but it will run pretty close along the game, just with some differences.been wanting to write for this pairing for a while but wasn't sure I could get it right. Still don't, to be honest. Oh well hope you enjoy it.

The rumor mill was alive and well, even the underworld.

But this was a new one. And not one that Hypnos really believed.

Hypnos wasn't sure what to say when he heard that Zagreus had politely but firmly rejected Thanatos.

No one had told him really what happened, every worker shade Hypnos asked, he got a different answer.

A mistake surely. Even if Zagreus had rejected Thanatos, maybe he meant as a 'Not right now' while he worked though some family issues. And darkness knows with Hades as a father, there were issues.

Hypnos tapped his quill on his ledger, trying to listen to the shade that was telling him it was a bull shark, not a tiger shark that ate him and it was a common mistake really.

"Okay, just let me cross this out." Hypnos said, not really remembering what the shade told him. He just wrote tiger with a question mark.

His eyes kept going to the pool of Styx, waiting for Zagreus to come out. It took an hour before Hypnos just gave up. He made excuses as he quickly floated to his mother.

"Mom, have you heard?" Hypnos said quietly. He went to touch one of her flowers to fidget with something but she batted his hand away. She had gotten very fond of her purple flowers, and even taken up to watering them.

Hypnos wasn't entirely unconvinced that she didn't talk to them when no one else was around.

"Have I heard of what, my child?" Nyx asked. Her eyes watched him carefully, never leaving his face.

"About Zagreus and Thanatos. I've overheard some stuff." Hypnos leaned forward to whisper, "I doubt it is true but I haven't seen either of them."

Nyx sighed, and gave him a very pointed look. "It would be best not to bother them. This is a very personal matter, my child."

Hypnos crossed his arms, not liking the look she gave him. "I just wanted to know if you knew if Thanatos was okay since he isn't talking to me right now. I mean everyone but Zagreus seemed to know how Thanatos feels about him."

"I haven't heard anything, but even if I did this would be a matter best left alone."

Hypnos pouted, "Boo, you're no fun."

She shooed him away, a slight smile on her face. "Now go back to your work, and I will see you later."

Hypnos waved goodbye, a new plan on his mind already.

💤

It wasn't often that Hypnos traveled the underworld itself. Only when he knew Charon could see him for a chat and maybe buy something.

Thankfully for him, Zagreus left a breadcrumb trail of ruin, upset shades and broken urns everywhere.

Elysium was just as beautiful as Hypnos remembered. The lushness of it made him think of his cave with the soft as a cloud grass and poppies everywhere.

Darkness, he missed his cave. And having Thanatos closer and actually being friends with his own twin.

There was a lot he missed.

However, he didn't missed the sound of Zagreus's screams of rage. He drifted into the field and he ducked when an arrow went sailing past his head.

Zagreus in battle reminded Hypnos of the storms of old, more powerful than gods yet desperate with how little time they had left. Beautiful yet terrible.

Zagreus' sword swung down on an unlucky shade and shattered it. Zagreus stumbled backward, panting and sweating. His mismatched eyes darted around, looking for the next fighter.

Zagreus didn't see the two shades behind him, with their spear at ready. Hypnos bit his cheek for a moment, he didn't want to take the spotlight from Zagreus but he already made the trip and it would be a shame if Hypnos didn't even get to talk to Zagreus.

With a snap of his fingers, Hypnos casted a sleep spell over the shades. Zagreus whirled around, surprise on his face at the sleeping shades. After a moment, they melted away without ever waking up.

"Wow." Hypnos dragged out the word and grinned when Zagreus saw him for the first time. His mismatched eyes blinked, not quite believing what he was seeing. "Just some advice, always check behind you."

For a moment, Hypnos thought he saw a flash of hurt before Zagreus' face hardened. This was new, Hypnos mused but so was his presence.

"Hypnos, has Father sent you?" Zagreus asked quietly, his fingers curled tightly on the helt of his sword.

"Oooh, no. I came on my own will, Zagreus." Hypnos waved his hand. Zagreus didn't relax, his eyes still on Hypnos.

Hypnos rolled his eyes, "I just wanted to talk, really."

Zagreus held his battle stance for another moment, his eyes studying Hypnos' face. Then he relaxed, his lips twitched into a small, tired smile and his sword rested against him. Hypnos sighed, while this wasn't the happy, polite Zagreus he knew; this was better than the battle one he just met

"Hypnos, what could be so important you need to come out here to talk to me?" Zagreus froze, "Is everything alright at the house?"

"Yes, yes everyone is fine." Hypnos held his hands up, "I would have been waiting at the house but lately you've been taking too long to die."

Zagreus scoffed, "Excuse me?"

Hypnos wagged a finger, "You used to come back so quickly, but not anymore! Now I've to go forever without seeing your pretty little face, it's so cruel Zagreus." Hypnos joked.

He didn't see the faint blush on Zagreus' cheeks. "Haha, very funny. Alright, Hypnos what can I do for you?"

Hypnos smiled nervously,"I heard a rumour. Of course, I doubt it's true. But just in case, I heard that Thanatos had… talked with you." Hypnos hoped that Zagreus would get the meaning without Hypnos saying that his twin had hit on Zagreus.

The guilty look on Zagreus' face told Hypnos everything.

"Oh. So it is true." Hypnos said. "I mean you don't mean like forever though right?"

Zagreus ran his hand through his hair, his eyes not willing to meet Hypnos' and for some reason, it made Hypnos think of a little boy who did something he was told not to do.

"Really, I thought-" Hypnos spoke but the sharp look from Zagreus cut him off.

"Yeah, so did everyone else. Everyone but me." Zagreus snapped.

"I didn't… I just…" Zagreus struggled to find the words. "I just can't, not for Thanatos, not like that."

Hypnos didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything. For once in his life he didn't have a smartass reply.

"I'm sorry." Hypnos said finally, "I didn't realize we put this pressure on you. You know you don't have anything to feel guilty about, right?"

Zagreus shrugged, "Is this the only reason you came out?" His toes curled in the grass, leaving burn marks there. Hypnos crocked a brow, he hadn't seen Zagreus do that since they were children.

"I think I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay. I mean I know Thanatos doesn't want to talk to me anymore but I wanted to make sure he and you, of course, were alright. I just happened to find you first."

"Oh." Zagreus said softly. Almost sadly.

Hypnos frowned, he hated when he knew there was something he was missing and he didn't know what to ask or do to get the missing piece.

"You're a good brother, Hypnos." Zagreus said, trying to sound like himself again. He glanced at the chamber's door, Charon's bag gleamed in the glass. "I have to get back to this but I will let Thanatos know you were looking for him if he even shows up..."

After a moment of just studying Zagreus, Hypnos spoke. "Alrighty, but just one more piece of advice."

Zagreus turned back to look at Hypnos, his brows raised.

"I would suggest trying not to die. Crazy, I know." Hypnos said, not able to stop his lips twitching in amusement.

Zagreus laughed,"Oh fantastic advice, like always." He smiled, a real smile and not the tired, sad one he seems to always have lately. "Even if it means you will have to suffer without seeing my pretty face?"

Hypnos places his chest on his chest in mock agony. "Anything for your happiness, Zagreus."

He grinned at Zagreus' laugh. It has been while he heard Zagreus express some else behide urgency or anger.

"Oh, and here." Hypnos tossed Zagreus a small bag who caught it easily with one hand. The obels rustled noisily and Zagreus stared down at the bag.

"Are you sure? Three hundred is a lot of obels." Zagreus blinked, his face unreadable to Hypnos.

Hypnos waved the question away, "Think of this as a bonus of dealing with me taking up your time."

He yawned loudly, "I've better get back before your father notices I am missing. Good luck!"

And with a wave that Zagreus returned, Hypnos vanished.

💤

Of course, Hades noticed the exact second Hypnos abandoned his job.

After much yelling and banging his fist on the desk, Hades freed Hypnos.

He made his own escape quickly. When Hades got like this, It was best to stay out of sight until he got angry with something else.

Hypnos realized that he had missed Zagreus' return amist Hades' raging. He felt a pang of disappointment but shrugged it off. It's not like Zagreus won't be doing another attempt soon after he had some time to lick his wounded pride.

With a sigh, Hypnos returned to his much hated duty and waved forward the next shade.

💤

It was during Hypnos' napping that Thanatos finally showed up.

Hypnos tugged his sleep mask up, "Thanatos! I haven't seen you in forever. Or weeks since the whole you know what." He beamed until he saw how cold Thanatos looked at Hypnos.

"Is everything alright? I mean I heard what happened. I think everyone did. Um, forget I said that. I tried to find you but couldn't and mom wouldn't tell me where you were-" Hypnos rambled nervously.

Thanatos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Like Hypnos was an annoyance that he wished he could be rid of. Which hurt but Hypnos would move past the hurt if it meant he could talk to his twin again.

"I need to talk to you. Alone." Thanatos said between gritted teeth.

"Are you going to kill me?" Hypnos eyed him. "Because even though you're our mother's favorite, she would be upset with you."

"Hypnos." Thanatos snapped. "Alone. Now."

"Fine! Fine. At the old hangout?" Hypnos asked.

When Thanatos vanished without another word, Hypnos rolled his eyes and murmured "Drama queen." And without even looking at the long line of shades, he followed his brother.

When Hypnos saw his old cave, he sighed happily. The bedchambers at the house were very luxurious and all but he missed this.

Thanatos stood in the middle of the field inside the cave, his arms crossed and his eyes on the river Lethe, the mist that covered the water drifted slowly, hiding the fast undercurrent under it.

Whenever someone tried to drink from the river, Hypnos had to warn them how easy it was for Lethe to pull someone under. And there were quite a few rescues he had to make. Not all of them were successful.

Hypnos floated next to his twin, he tried to decide what to say but settled on waiting for Thanatos to speak.

"Zagreus is getting closer to the surface." Thanatos said quietly, breaking the almost comfortable silence for the first time.

"So, he is." Hypnos agreed. "Once he gets a handle on the damn Satyrs, I don't think anything will be able to stop him."

Hypnos looked at Thanatos as he talked. "Hades had been leaving his desk more often."

Thanatos just nodded, the weight of the unspoken words, of their knowledge, of what hurt that Zagreus will have to face alone weighed on both brothers.

Hypnos stopped floating and stood, they were of equal height and for some reason, Hypnos felt this would be fair for both of them.

"Is this the only reason why you wanted to talk to me? Not anything else, you know like why don't we talk anymore?" Hypnos asked.

"I just don't understand." Thanatos said.

Hypnos tilted his head in confusion. "We all know why he really wants up there, Mom told us, remember? We would do the same in his place."

Thanatos shook his head, "Maybe not all of us. But that isn't what I'm talking about."

For the first time since coming into the cave, Thanatos looked at him. Hypnos was surprised by how sad he looked. There weren't tears but there didn't need to be.

"I don't understand what I don't have but you do." Thanatos said, his mouth twisted.

"Okay, now I don't understand." Hypnos said, "I don't have anything you don't. Unless you count our powers."

Thanatos rolled his eyes, like Hypnos was being dense on purpose. "Haven't Zagreus talked to you?"

"Sure, you mean about your feelings, right? He felt guilty, brother. He really did." Hypnos tapped his fingers against his belt, just to be able to touch something.

Thanatos didn't say anything for a few minutes then he sighed. "So he hasn't then."

"No we did, I found him in Elysium. We talked some." Hypnos watched Thanatos' face carefully, for any hints of what to say.

"Tell me brother, why did you, upon hearing Zagreus rejected me, seek him out?" Thanatos' eyes narrowed at him.

"I was worried! For the both of you. We all thought you guys were it, you know?" Hypnos pushed away the guilt he felt, he had no reasons for it. He never did anything to wreck Thanatos' chances. Not that he would be able to anyway.

"Oh, is that it? Do you really think I would buy that? I saw how your eyes followed him, you know."

Hypnos closed his mouth with a clink of his teeth, and both brothers stared each other down.

Hypnos crossed his arm to match Thanatos. "I have never said or done anything. I knew you cared for him, Thanatos. I wouldn't hurt you like that."

"Not even if Zagreus wanted you?" Thanatos asked.

"It is not really a problem since I can assure you that is not the case." Hypnos said dryly, not happy that Thanatos brought up the impossible.

Thanatos scoffed a laugh at him,"You're an idiot." And he stepped away, not even looking at Hypnos anymore. "I've been away from my job long enough and so have you. Goodbye, Hypnos."

"Hey-" Hypnos reached for his brother but was already gone.

Hypnos gave a shout of resentment, of hurt and kicked the grass. It didn't help the anger so he kicked again and again.

He sat down next to the river, crossed legged and head in his hands.

He loved his brother, really he did but blood and darkness he wanted to shake him sometimes.

💤

When he made it back, Hades wasn't at his desk. Hypnos' heart sank, and he just hoped Zagreus would be able to push through this escape.

Thankfully it wasn't that attempt or the one after that.

It was during Hypnos dealing with two shades, a pair of sisters, arguing over who was at fault for the cart tipping over when Zagreus' name appeared on his ledger. Next to his name, the word Redacted appeared.

Hades did it. The bastard really killed his own son. Hypnos' mouth twisted, anger burned hot in his chest. He would have to play dumb, the less Hades knew what Hypnos and his family knew, the better.

Hypnos looked over the still arguing sisters and noted down, 'killed by inability to communicate with their sibling.'

Hypnos totally wasn't projecting his own issues.

He saw Zagreus step out of the Styx. Even bloodied, Hypnos could see what his brother liked about Zagreus. Zagreus shook off the blood, and Hypnos' eyes unwillingly followed his movements.

Nope, Hypnos tore his eyes away. He didn't see anything, he told himself. Just his brother's crush, he reminded himself. Even if Zagreus didn't return Thanatos' feelings, Hypnos wouldn't do that to his brother.

"Hypnos." Zagreus greeted him and before Hypnos could respond, Zagreus shoved a bottle of nectar in his face. Hypnos grabbed it before he knew what it was and blinked at it.

"Oh for me? You shouldn't have!" Hypnos grinned. He shook the bottle gently, the liquid glittered in the candle light.

"It's my thanks for the gift you gave me before. It was a huge help." Zagreus said softly.

"Anything for you, Zagreus." Hypnos grinned. He could see a sadness that cling to Zagreus, and wondered if he should say something. His chest twisted with how helpless he felt. He wanted to take away the sadness and make sure he never felt it again.

"Do you want to go see my old hangout?" Hypnos said before he could stop himself. Zagreus perked up a little, "The cave, right?"

Hypnos grabbed Zagreus' shoulder and pulled him along for the ride. The sisters are still loudly arguing in front of the line.

💤

It was nice to return a second time. It was much calmer than the house. The house carried a heaviness to it that made it hard to call it home. And Hypnos had no plans for staying forever in that place.

Inside the cave, it was lit only by the numerous candles that floated about and the river Lethe's own light but it was enough to see most of the field inside.

Zagreus immediately began walking around, his eyes drifting from the river to candles to the little poppies dotted the land to the cottonwood that lined the cave's wall. Hypnos just watched him explore.

"This is much more calming than the house." Zagreus said as he turned back to Hypnos. "Why do you stay at the house? This seems much more like you."

Hypnos floated closer to Zagreus, "It was part of the whole deal, me and everyone else had to stay at the house. Or close to it, so Hades could 'keep an eye on us'. Charon is the only exception because he bonded too close to the Styx to stay long."

At his father's name, Zagreus sighed bitterly. "I swear, that old man causes everyone problems and for no good reasons."

"You telling me." Hypnos agreed. Normally he would try to be nicer but the word Redacted flashed into his mind. And an overwhelming sense of anger for Zagreus who just wanted to see his mother again.

"Come on, I know where the comfortable spots are." Hypnos floated toward the river, waving Zagreus along.

He and Zagreus sat close to the river, where the most plush grass grew. It took Zagreus a few minutes to settle, as if he had forgotten what it was like not to move all the time.

Zagreus's fingers dipped into the mist as Hypnos worked the cork out the bottle.

One loud pop later, and the sweet nectar was his. He took a sip from the bottle and hummed. "Thanks. Do you want some?" Hypnos wiggled the bottle, thinking Zagreus would say no like he normally did.

But Zagreus didn't this time. "Sure, thank you." He took the bottle from Hypnos and hummed at the taste.

Hypnos tried not to think about the fact Zagreus' mouth was where he was a moment ago.

Zagreus grimaced as he handed back the bottle, "I forgot how strong those are."

"Lightweight." Hypnos teased, his tone fond and Zagreus shoved at his shoulder with a laugh. He took a big sip and handed it back to Zagreus.

It's not weird if you don't make it weird, Hypnos told himself.

They passed the drink a few more times, until it was close to being empty. "Want the last bit?" Hypnos asked, feeling a slight buzz. Zagreus shook his head, his cheeks were more flushed than Hypnos.

Zagreus looked good like this, flushed and relaxed, and it took all of Hypnos' willpower to pull his eyes away.

Hydnos tossed the now empty bottle next to him and sighed. He bit his cheek, this was probably a mistake but Thanatos' words had been haunting him.

"Have Thanatos checked up on you?" Hypnos tugged at the grass, trying not to think about how close Zagreus was.

Zagreus shrugged, "Not really. He had been helping in some of the fights but he disappeared before I could talk to him."

"He had a weird conversation with me. First time in months that he talked to me and it was about you." Hypnos grumbled.

Zagreus' shoulders tensed up and he wouldn't look at Hypnos. "I have to apologize, Hypnos. I think I might have made it worse between you and Thanatos."

"Zagreus, whatever is going on with Thanatos and me has been going on for a long while. There was nothing you did to cause this rift." Hypnos leaned back on his hands. "I know he cares for you, always has. It was a weird conversation. He sounded like- like… I don't know. I can't explain it."

Zagreus said nothing to that. Hypnos noticed how Zagreus' toes curled into the grass. He almost said something about it but he didn't want Zagreus to get self conscious and stop so he kept his mouth shut.

Zagreus plucked a nearby poppy, full bloom and a vivid red. He spinned between his fingers before he turned to Hypnos who crooked a brow at him. Zagreus very carefully placed the flower on Hypnos' ear and smiled, "That is a good look for you."

Hypnos snorted, "Your highness, I do believe you're a little drunk right now." He grinned at the pout Zagreus gave him.

Zagreus simply plucked another poppy, and placed it in one of Hypnos' curls. His hand stopped and Zagreus lightly stroked his hair.

"Hypnos, would I upset you if I try something?" Zagreus asked softly.

"Probably not, you are already putting flowers in my hair." Hypnos said, alarm bells were going off in his head but he couldn't be bothered to listen.

Zagreus cupped the back of Hypnos' head, fingers buried in his curls and pulled him into a chaste kiss.

Hypnos' heart stopped for a moment and suddenly the talk he had with Thanatos came back in sharp clarity.

But all Hypnos knew at this second was how nectar tasted on Zagreus' lips and how warm the prince of the underworld felt.

Hypnos knew he was going to hate himself for this. But he did it anyway. May the fates and Thanatos forgive him, but Hypnos knew this would be the first and last time.

Hypnos pressed into the kiss, pleased at the soft gasp Zagreus gave and slowly they both deepened the kiss.

Hypnos wrapped an arm around Zagreus' waist and pulled him closer. They broke the kiss for a moment, for breath but Zagreus quickly returned.

Hypnos felt like he was drowning. Between the sweetness of Zagreus's kisses, the shared heat between them and his guilt of doing this, Hypnos was sure he might be going mad.

After somewhere between an eternity and a few minutes, Hypnos pulled away. He and Zagreus stared at each other, lips full and cheeks equally flushed.

Hypnos stared, trying to remember everything of this moment. His heart felt so full but he already could feel the cracks forming.

Zagreus was so beautiful, so unlike anything or anyone else he ever saw. Hypnos loved him for that reason alone.

"Zagreus-" Hypnos' voice cracked, "I can't, you have to understand. I really can't, not to my brother."

Zagreus shushed him, cupped Hypnos' face in his hands. "I know. You're a good brother."

And Zagreus kissed him again. Hypnos went along almost mindlessly.

"If I could, I would." Hypnos murmured against Zagreus' lips.

Zagreus pressed a quick kiss before pulling away. "You can, I'm willing to deal with whatever happens, are you?"

Hypnos hated how much he wanted to bend to Zagreus, to give in. "My brother will never forgive me.* He said weakly.

"He will, he is your brother and he loves you too. He just has a different way of showing it."

Hypnos mutely shook his head and Zagreus sighed.

"I will wait then. However long it will take." Zagreus said decidedly.

"What? Zagreus, no I can't do that to you." Hypnos looked into Zagreus' eyes as he pressed his forehead against Zagreus'. "Listen, I don't know if he and I will ever be friends again and I don't want you to lose out on something because you are waiting around for me to get my stuff together."

"I already decided. You're not the only with stuff left unfinished. I still need to find my mother and deal with my father. Will you wait for me?" Zagreus asked softly.

"Centuries-" Zagreus kissed him but Hypnos kept talking. "Millenniums. Zagreus, I didn't know this was a possibility. I thought you wouldn't even look at me twice."

"I thought you didn't notice me, Hypnos. I thought you just saw me as someone bothering you with how paperwork I must create."

"How could I not notice you, Zagreus? I just couldn't do anything about it." Hypnos said helplessly.

His and Zagreus' eyes meet, and Hypnos' heart shattered. He knew it was decided the moment they kissed, they would have to deal with the consequences of their actions. With his brother, with Zagreus' own family and everything else he couldn't think about right now.

But at least, it would be together.

This time Hypnos pulled Zagreus into a kiss.

All in due time. For now, Hypnos wanted to enjoy this time for as long as he could.

Fin

[unprofessional-bard]

Cat and... Wolf?

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Request: hey! could you do a bigby wolf x shy but criminal reader? thank you!

+ shy criminal reader req anon here! i was thinking that the reader could be snooping around the office, trynna steal some High Profile folders and bigby is all 👀 gotcha now Bitch

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really- this piece is for reader's of all genders!

Summary: It's a game of cat and mouse, but between you and Bigby? It's the same, only he's no mouse.

Word Count: 1.750

Author's Note: The reader is ought to be a fable, so what better fable could there be for this scenario, if not an actual cat? I made the reader into Puss in Boots, I know that the author is Straparola and not the Grimms, but bare with me! It fits so well 😖 I hope you like this, anon! and let's pretend Bigby's office has a window...

Enjoy!

"Oh look, a cat!" Snow White kneels beside your original form, completely unsuspecting and scratches the back of your head. You headbutt her palm and purr loudly, trying to appear as normal as any other cat. "How'd you end up here...?"

"I thought stray animals weren't allowed in," Bigby comments, sensing something in your scent, but then immediately realises the mistake he's made, before Snow gets up and smirks back.

"Really? Do pigs count? Wolves?" She smiles and Bigby sighs loudly. "It's okay, it probably got in because of the cold."

It's a snowy, cold December evening. They leave chatting, but Bigby gives you a final look over his shoulder -over the sleeve of his coat- before they exit the apartment. You stay there for another few minutes for good measure and once they're out of sight, you start making your way up the stairs, to the floor where his office is.

You were being paid very well, for doing this - stealing the criminal file of the man who hired you. It was extra risky, sneaking into the sheriff's office; you could possibly get ripped apart because of this, or thrown down the Witching Well, but he was planning on paying you so well...

You hear just one person walking around the floor as you quietly trot towards Bigby's office and that someone turns out to be Flycatcher. Tsk, too easy, you smirk to yourself; stretch, yawn and meow.

"Huh?" Flycatcher turns around and notices you clawing at Bigby's door. "Hey there, little fellow. You wanna go in there?" You almost nod, then remember you're not supposed to understand him, so you meow loudly instead, then rub against his legs. "Uh, I don't think I should let you in..."

You're practically screaming at him at this point, clawing more and more at the door and jumping up toward the knob; it takes him a while, but your cries finally work their magic as he groans: "Okay, okay! Just don't take your piss in there, the sheriff will kill me if he finds out I let you in..."

You purr loudly and headbutt the sides of his calf as he twists open the lock to Bigby's office. This is going pretty smoothly, you think to yourself and as soon as he opens the door, you run into the dark, cigarette-smelling room. Flycatcher's saying some stuff to you, but you're too busy figuring out where the sheriff keeps all the files of the fables with criminal records, that you don't listen to a single word he says.

Once you're curled up on top of his desk, closing your eyes to "sleep", Flycatcher feels less guilty because you're just a harmless cat who wants to sleep in Bigby's office, what could go wrong?

Tsk.

You hear him leave, but still wait like that for another minute... for good measure. Once he enters the elevator and the floor goes quiet, you transform into your human form. You quickly light Bigby's table lamp and move in front of the sets of drawers to your right, but then turn around and notice you hadn't found a way out yet. That proves easy too, fortunately, a window on the other side of the wall- a big one. Your grin grows wider as you slide open the window and check the height for your drop: It's a long one, but the large trees in the park should allow you to land smoothly. You walk back and immediately begin digging through the messy pile of documents.

"Ugh, typical," You sigh quietly, annoyed at how unorganised Bigby was. No alphabetical order, no proper placement: Just files on top of others.

You and him had a brief history. It's not exactly romantic per se, not on your aspect anyway, you'd like to think. You liked playing around with him, he seemed to have a soft spot for you and, maybe -just maybe- you had one for him, but not as obvious and strong as his. You two followed entirely different lifestyles: You everything you did was somehow always against the law and, well, Bigby is the law. It would never work anyway...

Your brows furrow, Focus!

After a few minutes, you finally find the file and raise it up in triumph after closing the drawer. You want to take a peek, see what the man had done- his file was very thin, what could've he possibly done, that made him ask such a risky thing of you?

Just as you're debating, you suddenly hear urgent steps walk out of the elevator and immediately recognize them.

Ah, fuck...

You quickly hide the file into your coat and turn around right before he opens the door. A vague smirk appears on your lips and Bigby crosses his arms: "Should'a known that was you."

"Hi, sheriff," Your expression is calm and somewhat shy, if not a little mischievous.

"What are you doing here?" He growls by the doorway, not moving an inch from his place while you slowly make your way to the window.

"I wanted to see you," You lie, voice quiet, then bite on your bottom lip. He made you feel a little too nervous for your liking, for many reasons... and he knew every single one of them.

"You always were good at lying," He sighs in defeat, going soft at the sight of your reddening cheeks. It takes him a while to separate your emotions, whether you're actually nervous or not - why you're nervous, because of lying or because of him? Both?

You can't help but feel a little offended at his words and he sees that, which in turn makes him feel a little guilty. "Well," You say, tone giving away how you were feeling, but also giving away your urgency to get out of there: "I was about to leave anyway."

"What's the hurry?" It's his turn to smirk as he slowly rounds the table. You both make your way to the window and it's a little unsettling, but you fight to not give it away.

"I said I was here to see you," You reply quietly. "I saw you, now I'm leaving."

"Hm?" He's toying with you and you realise he might've, with very low possibility, caught you this time. You still had tricks under your sleeve, though.

"You're clearly not happy to see me, no point on waiting around-" You sit yourself on the edge of the window, but he suddenly steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes and crossing his arms again.

"Oh, I don't think so," He grins. "I didn't say I wasn't happy to see you..."

"You sure looked like it," You pout a little. Exaggerating your mimics sometimes worked with him. Sometimes.

"I-" He huffs. "It's been a long day, (Y/N)."

The way he says your name like that, softly, almost makes you purr. You offer a small smile: "It's good to see you, Bigby."

"You too," He gives you a meaningful look. You almost wanted to give yourself up, return the file and somehow 'go back to the old days', but your prize and Bigby now working for Snow put too many things at risk. If only it were as simple as that...

You had to get out of there, fast.

You look up to him with your signature smile, the one that made his heart melt when you first met: It's vague, the message behind it is unclear, but it's a sweet little gesture: "I heard Snow took over, how are you handling that?"

He lights a cigarette and you impatiently wait for his reply, formulating your plan to get out of there- an exit: "Can't say I enjoy it to the core... Used to be easier when-"

"When you played by your own rules?" You grin at him and after putting his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, he walks back over to you.

"More or less," He scratches the back of his neck and stands to your left. "Look. Knowing you, there's always more to it than just I wanted to see you." His soft expression suddenly turns into one of worry: "Are you in trouble?"

"No, no," You reassure him. "Nothing of the sorts. Not yet, anyway..." You bite your lip again. "Well, I'm going to assume you were off to some place but I'm keeping you?"

He doesn't say anything, just sighs and you know you're right. He looks like he doesn't want you to leave, but he's also on alert. After your last encounter, he knows he can't give into you - he knows he shouldn't trust you and listen to Snow's warnings about how you're just a thief who's using him.

Most of it was true, but you still -after all your time with Bigby- cared about him. There were a lot of people who wanted to hurt the sheriff, even after he caught the Crooked Man and restored justice, somewhat; you made sure to stay away from those jobs - jobs that aimed to hurt Bigby, even in the slightest.

The disappearance of an unimportant, forgotten criminal record wasn't one of them, though.

"Call me sometime, sheriff," You get up to be on his level, boldly cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb. He seems enchanted- under your magic as he leans into your touch and slowly grabs your hand in his. After a moment of peace and quiet, when you hear the familiar footsteps of Snow White approaching, you lean in further and whisper: "Don't be a stranger."

You can't tell if it was him who leaned in or you, but you placed a shy, teasing kiss on his lips. You soon realise it doesn't matter who leaned in first, as he kisses you back with a little more yearning and urgency, his hands cupping the sides of your face.

Just then, you hear his door opening and you part immediately, his hands lingering in your hair. Snow probably- no, definitely saw you two share a kiss, but before she can say anything, you jump out of the window. Bigby's heart drops in panic, reaches to catch you, but soon realises you transformed to your normal form mid-air and sighs, a faint smile on his lips.

"Who was that? What's going on?" Snow inquires, hands on her hips, looking very displeased.

But Bigby's smile only grows as his fingertips trace his cheek, where you touched him seconds ago, then he finally replies: "An old friend."

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Analysis: Love Rival: Why Kagami works but is still hated and why Luka doesn’t but is loved

Now this will be my most controversial Hot take, a lot of you already saw the title and are already organizing your complaints. I don't care, you are free to do so. 

In a previous post, I discussed what makes a good love rival and if you want a good explanation of that, click the in bold link. 

This is a VERY LONG POST, so I am posting a read more. I would love to hear your thoughts on this analysis. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Did you want to include something? Let me know.

I think in order to organize this post I will be splitting it up as follows.

Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Why She is Hated for it

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Why He is Loved despite it

Final thoughts

So lets get to it

_______________________________________________________________________

Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Kagami Tsurugi was introduced in the episode Riposte, where she is established as a straightforward, no nonsense fencer that wants to be the best. 

Her introduction is solid, she establishes her base and what the audience is supposed to know about her from the getgo. We also get the impression that Kagami when introduced would be a rival to Adrien, as they are competing in Fencing, which makes for a nice twist when they end up getting along and Kagami begins the task of being a Love rival. She starts off as a foil for Adrien, but then the reveal is she is actually a character foil for Marinette.

What also helps Kagami is that the show is mainly from Marinette’s perspective, so we get to see Kagami as Marinette does, as someone that is competing for Adrien’s affections, cementing the Rival aspect of the Love rival. Kagami clashes with Marinette causing Marinette to in turn be more upfront with her feelings and push harder to try and win over Adrien. This is something a good rival does, pushing Marinette forward and making her have to try. This rival aspect of Kagami’s character give Marinette urgency, which is something that is needed in order to drive Marinette towards a conclusion, whether it is to pursue Adrien or move on. 

Now as a love interest, Kagami establishes her relationship with Adrien in a different way then Marinette. Kagami’s straightforward nature allowed her to tell Adrien how she felt much earlier on, she pushes and asserts herself. This contrasts Marionette’s approach to wooing Adrien, and also has an interesting parallel to how Chat Noir handles his feelings towards Ladybug. Acting as a mirror towards that relationship. While Kagami is not flirtatious like chat noir, she is upfront about her feelings. She puts it out there and is understanding when Adrien isn't ready to respond, much like how chat noir is with ladybug. But the difference being that ladybug and Chat noir’s dynamic has a bit more complexity to it. Regardless, Kagami checks the boxes needed to be a true love rival.

Now the last and most crucial part about Kagami is the character at the core. Cause in the end, we know her and Adrien’s relationship wont be endgame, and interestingly she will be better off afterwards. Ikari Gozen does an excellent job filling in more information about Kagami’s character. In this we get to see that Kagami’s life doesn't revolve around being Adrien’s love interest, she is someone that has her own struggles and wants to find freedom in her own way, be friends with people, but she is awkward. Her development from this and Loveater shows how much she has grown on her own, how she has come to see Marinette as a friend, how she understands that there is more to life than just fencing. She wants to prove she is good enough, and wants to show she is worthy of friendship and love. Those are themes and traits that can be cultivated and grown. Kagami’s greatest appeal is that she can grow beyond her role as a Love rival, and that is why she succeeds.

____________________________________________________________________

Why She is Hated for it

Now despite all of these great qualities Kagami has demonstrated as well as how perfect her character is for such a role, the fandom is mixed about her, some even down right hating her. Interestingly enough, the reasons they dislike Kagami is not because of her character. Especially when you consider the rise in popularity of Marigami. Its because of 3 other factors outside of Kagami’s control. Over-saturation, Writing, and Fandom trends.

Over-saturation seems like an odd choice but it perfectly describes the situation. In season 1, we are introduced to two other female characters that were reoccurring characters AND were romantically interested in Adrien. Chloé bourgeois and Lila Rossi. Now both of them can be considered antagonists, and that is kind of the problem. Two reoccurring female characters already have a thing for Adrien, and both of them are jerks (that being the lightest term I can use). Now we know Adrien would never end up with a bad girl, but that impression starts to stick and make it seem like a pattern. That Adrien only attracts bad people (excluding Marinette). By season 2, when Kagami was introduced, it just seemed to the fans like, “Oh great, ANOTHER one”. Despite Kagami being a good character, and someone that actually cares about Adrien outside of the shallow aspects that Lila and Chloé were invested in, fans were ready to write her off and, with how the show was written, you couldn't really blame them at the time. 

The second is a bit more obvious, the shows writing. The largest offender being Frozer and Oni-chan. While Oni-chan was salted on by fans a bit excessively, I have no real defense for Frozer, Frozer was an awful episode and everyone involved should feel bad. Kagami suffers like many ML characters do from poor writing, now this doesn't destroy her character like many would like you to believe, but she gets portrayed in a more negative light when the intentions are not meant for it. Its a bit harder to explain, but just know poor writing and assume Zag interference was what caused issues.

The Last one is something that is a bit more controversial, Fandom trends. Now in season 2, fans really, REALLY, did not like Kagami. The first two reasons having a large impact on that, but what really made it hard for Kagami, was the fandom itself. Since she was introduced first, certain lovesquare shippers LOATHED her appearance, HOW DARE she jump in and disrupt the love square! There are more words that were used, most of which are very degrading towards women and I would not want to repeat. Kagami took the brunt of the fandom backlash, the one that ‘Ruined the Lovesquare’. And when season 3, or as I call it, the season of Salt, fans really hit her hard with hatred, the Adrigami fandom took a lot of salt from toxic stans, some of which didn't like adrigami because they hated Adrien and didn't want him to be happy. It is gross to think about and its tragic that she is hit hard by hatred simply for things outside of her control.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Luka is the alternate love interest of Marinette and was introduced in Captain Hardrock. He is Juleka’s older brother and is a guitarist.

His introduction is not terrible, but it is not as strong compared to other characters, but I do believe it sets the mood for what he is as a character. His character is the friend’s nice older brother musician, thats kind of it. It sounds like I am being mean but that sums up his character. He isn't really a foil to Adrien or Marinette in anyway, there is no shocking twists or clever parallels to be made, its just Luka. Simply put, Luka doesn't work as a Love rival.

Luka isn't a rival character. He isn't competing with Adrien, he doesn't clash with Adrien in anyway that would help him develop. Adrien and Luka get along fine, there is not a single bit of tension or conflict between them. This isn't a good thing when they are suppose to be competing for the same girl. I already hear what you are thinking, ‘But Adrien likes Ladybug.’ you're right, why isn't Luka interested in Ladybug then? Why is there no clash with chat noir? The point of a Love rival is to push another character towards something, to be a measuring stick. Luka doesn't do that for Adrien, and that is why the rival aspect fails for Luka.

The next course would be the love interest part. Surely Luka is someone that works well as an alternate love interest for Marinette? You are somewhat right, he does work better as a love interest for Marinette rather than a rival for Adrien. But that doesn't make him a good love interest for her. In my take on Love rivals, there needs to be three criteria met to be an effective love rival/love interest, an unequal development of both character, a differing connection that the two share, and a character underneath that can exist outside of the relationship. Luka fails to meet 2 of these criteria. The unequal development of both of them, Marinette has shown some development from her interactions with Luka but the reverse is not provable, we have yet to see Luka really change because of his relationship with Marinette, we don't know how much Marinette has helped/hindered Luka with his struggles, the best argument I could think of was that Marinette helped him be more bold in silencer, but really that sort of falls flat because he has shown bold actions outside of that. Captain hard rock said that he wasn't really good at expressing himself with words, but he shows pretty capable of doing so with people outside of Marinette, like his sister, or expressing anger to Bob Roth, so I don't really see how that works. The other criteria he fails to meet is having a character should the relationship end, Luka’s relevance is tied to him being the other guy for Marinette to choose, we as a viewer have no concrete reason as of yet to see him grow or change after the split. It doesn't help that Luka has even encouraged Marinette to go after Adrien on multiple occasions. People say thats because he is truly selfless and ‘Because he cares’ but really it just shows how little interest he has in trying to win her over, it almost comes off as insulting to Marinette. The only thing that Luka managed to pass was by having a different dynamic with Marinette than Adrien had with her. But that dynamic is shoulder to cry on. I guess that explains why salt fics really try to make Luka into Adrien.

Luka’s character in itself isn't awful, he isn't a bad person or anything of the sort. He is inoffensive and thats the problem. A love rival is suppose to be a point of tension, one that pushes, one that causes development, a force that at its core is meant to help the characters grow, and Luka just isn't the character to do that. He isn't a love rival, or a love interest. Luka is a wall, a wall put in between the two main leads in order to cause a divide without causing tension.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why He is Loved despite it

Luka isn't a love rival, and yet despite it he is one of the more popular characters in the fandom. It was something so mind boggling to me, what did this character have that made him so well liked in the fandom? Why wasn't he as hated as Kagami was during her introduction? I found myself coming up with three reasons why this was the case. Luka was so loved because of Necessity, writing and Salt.

 Much Like Kagami suffered from Over-saturation, Luka had the Opposite problem. Marinette’s other love interests all ended up losing interest by the end of the episodes they were in. Nino, Nathaniel, Theo (though it was for ladybug). All of them just got paired off with someone else shortly after. Marinette didn't have another person outside of Adrien that was potentially going for her attention. This necessity allowed for Luka to slip in and fill the gap. The fandom saw him show up and were excited! With Kagami *ruining* the lovesquare, they needed someone for Marinette to help mend her should kagami ‘Win’, and Luka won by default. So Luka was the one the screeching fandom saw as there answer.

The next key that helped Luka was the writing of the show. The problem with the writing in the show is that often the writing will clash and hurt the strong characters of the show. Luka, as someone that does not have any strong defining features is flexible and easy to write for the writers. It makes it easy for him to be written in a way that wont infuriate people because of bad writing. He is able to coast by without having his character be in jeopardy. In a way, he has nothing to lose.

The last factor is of course salt. Now in fandoms, salt is used as a means of criticism or used to describe problems with characters. Luka is someone that people don't really have a problem with, which during the season of salt, made him perfect for all those fics where they needed someone to be on Marinette’s side because Adrien was ‘the devil’ or Lila was an extra mean jerk. Luka didn't have any problems that were agitated by salt, so he was the perfect replacement for Adrien when the writer wanted to hate on the blonde. Luka was the substitute, he was the easy fix that took little effort to include. He was a nice older brother that already liked Marinette, perfect fix for any situation. Its rare to see Luka written in a negative light without his character being warped so far that he is a completely different character.

Luka is loved not because of the things he is, but simply because of the things he is not. He is used more as a means to an end rather than as a character. In the writing, he is more of a wall, while in the fandom he is more of a stand-in. At the end of the day, I don't know what is more tragic.

_______________________________________________________________________

Final Thoughts

Kagami and Luka are characters that were introduced in order to spice things up and add development for the main characters. I find that in some ways they do achieve that goal, but in other ways they fail. One of them embodies the spirit of a Love rival while the other embodies the love obstacle. Regardless of this analysis, your thoughts on Kagami and Luka are your own and you can love and appreciate them as you see fit.

______________________________________________________________________

If you want to support my insanity. Buy me sushi please 

[ship-ambrosia]

Chilumi Week Day 2 - Riptide (Fatui)

Summary: Childe tries to pull her under.

   Lumine gritted her teeth, catching her breath for just a moment before she turned heel and tumbled in the opposite direction she’d been going, barely avoiding the flame-imbued bolt of the Fatui sharpshooter who currently had her in his sights.

   “Behind you!” Paimon cried, giving her just enough time to throw up a gust of wind from her palm, blowing back the electrified hammer of a Fatui vanguard. The soldier fell on his back, unconscious, but it was only a little bit of relief as she remembered the sharpshooter again, the heat passing by her a little too close for comfort this time.

   “You’d think a Fatui hideout so close to the Dawn Winery would’ve been discovered by Master Diluc!” Lumine exclaimed, scanning the cliffs around her for the sniper. Her eyes fell on the manor in the distance, the home of her powerful, Pyro Vision-wielding ally from Mondstadt. She found herself worried for a moment, thinking of the worst. Thinking something might have happened to him while she was in Liyue. But she quickly reminded herself she was in the middle of a fight; besides, if something had happened to Diluc, someone from Mondstadt would have let her know.

   A sudden jolt in her side made her gasp; the agent with the hammer must have grazed her and she hadn’t realized it, but the aftereffects of electro energy were unmistakable. That would mean bad news if she couldn’t find the sniper, and he managed to hit her with fire, triggering an overcharged reaction-

   There was a cry from above, and then the body of the sniper landed at her feet.

   Lumine jumped, startled, unsure of what had just happened. Perhaps it was Diluc, having seen the fight in the distance from his manner? Or maybe it was Amber, the Outrider just happening to have been patrolling the hills of Windrise this way? Even Razor crossed her mind - sometimes he hunted out this far from Wolvendom. She looked up, and the silhouette she saw made her heart sink.

   Paimon gasped. “You!”

   Laughter echoed down from above them, before their rescuer - if he could even be called that - slid down the rocks effortlessly and landed gracefully on his feet right in front of Lumine. While she was breathing heavily from the fight, he hadn’t broken a sweat. Just another thing she hated about him.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t my favorite traveler,” Childe smiled at her.

   “Well, well, well if it isn’t the most annoying of the Fatui Harbingers,” she snapped.

   “Hey now, is that any way to talk to somebody who just saved you?” He feigned hurt, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Besides, you haven’t met all of the Eleven yet, so technically, you don’t know if that’s true.”

   “Call it a hunch. What are you doing here?”

   “I was just casually passing by-“

   “In Mondstadt?” She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not convinced.

   “Yes, I was casually traveling through Mondstadt, my lady, thank you,” he adjusted his gloves absentmindedly. “When I heard the sounds of battle! Imagine my surprise when I found it was you, my dear friends, being assaulted by thugs! I simply had to intervene.”

   “Thugs, right,” Paimon crossed her arms. “Thugs that happen to belong to your Fatui. Which makes them your thugs.”

   “Not at all, actually,” he grinned. “I’m the representative for Liyue. Any Fatui in Mondstadt are not associated with me.”

   “So who are they associated with?” Lumine asked him.

   He gave her a familiar, infuriating chuckle. “My dear, if I told you that I’d have to kill you.”

   “Lumine! Kick his butt!” Her companion yelled. “And then we’ll tie him up, and take him to the Knights of Favonius ourselves! Or better yet, leave him on Master Diluc’s doorstep!”

   Childe looked toward her, eyes gleaming as though he wanted to see her summon her sword back into her hands. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, girlie.”

   In response, she just kept glaring at him.

   “Okay okay, sheesh. You know I can’t resist that pretty face of yours,” he stretched his arms over his head, as if warming up for another fight. “They’re agents of Scaramouche’s command, as far as I can tell. Signora is still in charge of the Fatui in Mondstadt, but Scaramouche was assigned a new mission by her Majesty, and he’s been given free reign into any of our territories. I heard he was lurking in Liyue, and wanted to check out what his mission was.”

   “So you know it, don’t you?” She pressed him.

   Childe’s grin winded, as he leaned down toward her, his face merely inches from hers. “This seems a bit one-sided, don’t you think? What am I getting out of this?”

   The corners of her lips upturned slightly. She just couldn’t help it, the warm, bubbly feeling that rose in her chest whenever he got close like this. “I’m not knocking you on your ass, how about that?”

   “Like I said, don’t tease a guy. Come on, gimme something. What’re you doing back in Mondstadt? I thought you were done here. Signora already got the Gnosis, after all.”

   Lumine’s expression darkened at the mention of the event. He was trying to get a rise out of her now - everyone in the Fatui had to know about how she felt about what Signora had done.

   “I was coming to talk to Jean and the Knights about what happened in Liyue,” she sighed, giving in. “I wanted to hear some third opinions. As much as I respect Zhongli, Ningguang, and the rest of the Liyue Qixing, I don’t trust them as much as I do my allies in Mondstadt.”

   “About what I did,” Childe guessed. “And you want to tell them about me?”

   She smirked. “Don’t be so narcissistic. Not everything’s about you.”

He considered this thoughtfully for a moment, before sitting down in the grass. Childe gestured for the two of them to do the same, before pulling out his bag and producing a set of papers.

   “You’ve been deemed a threat of higher urgency to the Fatui than the Knights of Favonius, Dawn Winery owner Diluc, or any member of the Qixing,” his brow creased. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so concerned. “Scaramouche has been tasked with subduing you. Those Fatui agents followed you all the way from Liyue, and set up an ambush here.”

   “Whoa! Paimon thinks that must be why Master Diluc hadn’t found them.”

   Lumine listened intently, looking at the papers before her, before it clicked. Her head shot up and her disbelief turned to anger. “You were following me too, then!”

   More to her surprise, he didn’t deny it. “I had to see for myself.”

   “What kind of game are you playing here, Childe?!” She exclaimed.

   “I already told you. I prefer to let other people play the game. I’m just the thrill-seeking pawn,” he answered, his voice even.

   “I’m your enemy! Your Tsaritsa ordered one of the other harbingers to capture me, and you’re taking out your own troops on my behalf? Is this just your new way of manipulating me?”

   “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he mumbled.

   “Huh?”

   “I said you don’t have to be my enemy,” he looked at her, a grim seriousness setting in. “Wouldn’t you prefer if we were on the same side? I love fighting you, more than anything... but fighting alongside you is another thrill. Something I haven’t gotten to experience.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You could join the Fatui,” he said.

   Lumine and Paimon exchanged a glance.

   “You’re joking,” she replied.

   Childe’s smile returned. “I’m actually not.”

   “I’d rather not take orders from Signora, thanks.”

   “Who said it would be Signora?” Childe once again leaned in toward her, his proximity making her blush again. “What makes you think I’d let anyone else from the Fatui have you?”

   Before she could respond, Childe’s head suddenly jerked backwards, the young man letting out a grunt of annoyance. Lumine glanced around to see Paimon floating in the air behind him, her small hands buried in his hair and pulling.

   “Paimon thinks that you’re up to something bad!” The little fae exclaimed. “Paimon thinks Lumine cannot trust you as far as she can send you flying with her Palm Vortex!”

   “Let go of him, Paimon,” Lumine said, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she giggled at his expense.

   “You’re lucky I’m a generous guy,” the harbinger snapped at the little companion, rubbing the back of his head. “But I’m actually being serious. You’re a very important person to me, Lumine. I would like you to work for me, in the Fatui. I can protect you from the others if you join me.”

   Lumine was quiet for a moment. She’d never seen Childe look so worried - not even when they’d almost lost Teucer in the Ruin Guard factory. He was always sure of himself, of his abilities, to overcome any obstacle before him. Now she doesn’t see that certainty.

   He’s scared. For all his lies and honeyed words, that look in his eyes isn’t something he can just fake.

   “I could never join the Fatui,” she replied, careful with her tone. She doesn’t want to push him away - in fact she wanted to make it clear to him that she’s trying to pull him in closer. “Not after everything they did in Mondstadt. Venti, Jean, Diluc... everyone else in the Knights of Favonius. They’ve been hurt by their actions. Not after what you did to Liyue.”

   He lifted his gaze to her, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.

   She smiled to herself, remembering that it was those same blue eyes looking down at the paper on his desk, at the letter he wrote his family, and Teucer’s words came back to her.

   “No, I want you to travel with me,” For what had to be the first time since she had known him, Childe looked caught off guard. She found it was something she liked from him; it made him look younger, more his own age. She felt her face soften; he had a dangerous influence over her, that she already knew.

   “If you’re so worried about what the other Harbingers are going to do to me, then you should travel with me,” she continued. “I’m not going to stop looking for my brother. I don’t have any allegiance to Snezhnaya, outside of wanting you and your family to be safe.”

   The look he gave her through all of that was so tender, held so much awe, that she felt herself wanting to look away. But Lumine couldn’t drop his gaze - she wanted to show him she was serious. Just as serious as he was about her joining the Fatui with him. She stood there, waiting for his reply.

   “Hey!” Paimon’s sudden exclamation snapped both of them out of their gaze. “Doesn’t Paimon get a say in this? What if she doesn’t want this Fatui jerk traveling with you?”

   Lumine couldn’t help the giggles bubbling up in her throat, and she turned her attention to her companion - allowing both herself and Childe to breathe again.

   She crouched down close to Paimon, as a knowing smirk crossed her face. “Are you really telling me you wouldn’t want Mr. Money Bags here to pay for every meal we have every single day he’s traveling with us?”

   “Oh! Paimon changed her mind! Paimon would be very happy to let Childe travel with us!”

   Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I appreciate the warm invitation,” Childe waited for Lumine to look at him again before he continued. “I see Teucer told you about the letters I sent home.”

   Even though it was certainly not her who should be the embarrassed one, Lumine felt her cheeks heat up anyway. “How did you...?”

   “You’re good at hiding things, girlie, but I’m better,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “I didn’t become a Harbinger just based on my fighting abilities, you know.”

   “Paimon thinks that you are still too crafty to be fully trusted.”

   “I don’t like to reveal my sources, but... Teucer sent me a letter where he asked what’s keeping me from traveling with you, since you both seemed so “happy” with me.”

   “Teucer, huh,” Paimon smiled. “He’s too crafty, just like his brother.”

   Childe’s expression suddenly became very melancholic, soft... and apologetic. “But I can’t join you. Not yet. I understand why you can’t, and won’t, join the Fatui. I already knew you were going to say no, but I had to ask anyway.”

   “Likewise,” she answered.

   He took a step toward her, towering over with that cocky grin of his for a moment. Then Childe took one of her hands in his, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but the way he grinned up toward her face from behind his ginger hair sent her heart pounding.

   “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe from inside the Fatui, my lady,” he said. “Just hearing that I’m as important to you as you are to me is enough.”

[pinkjeanist]

“the luckiest.” || shouta aizawa

     ⇥ It took you three tries to tell Shouta you were pregnant. [1.6k words - f!reader]

a/n: this song makes me sob. catch it playing at my wedding. [navigation]

“You said you’ve been experiencing fatigue, nausea, and vomiting...do you know when your last period was?” 

“Uh…” You pulled out your phone to check your health app for the date, even though you knew well enough that you were long overdue. “Over a month ago, by a couple weeks.”

“Is there any possibility you could be pregnant?”

You’d known the question was coming. You were asked about it at almost every visit to the doctor’s, and the answer was always “yes,” but that answer seemed a little too close for comfort, now. After reading article after article online about what your symptoms could mean, just hearing Recovery Girl ask the question cemented the conclusion you’d now come to in your mind.

Your hand gripped the arm of the chair. “Yes.”

She looked over her visor at you, pausing in her typing. “You seem especially worried about that. Do we need to do a test?”

“I mean…” You sighed, breath quivering. “...I guess that’s the only reasonable thing to do.”

She fished out a test after a while of searching around her office and gave it to you to use the next morning. You held the box in your hands, but couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Recovery Girl came to sit next to you.

“I have a feeling you don’t want a baby?”

You sighed and shook your head. “No, I do, I just...I don’t know if Shouta does. We’ve never really talked about it, so I don’t know…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “I want a baby. I’ve wanted one with him even before we got married. But he’s always had enough kids on his hands to satisfy any want for one of his own, I think…” 

“Well, you can never know for sure unless you ask him!” You gave another long sigh at that. She set her cane aside to take your hand in both of her own. “There are always options. Even if you both aren’t ready now, that doesn’t mean you won’t be ready later. And you never know- you might not even be pregnant to begin with!” 

You stilled for a long moment, then nodded with a swallow. “You’re right. I just need to talk to him.”

“Have the conversation with him even if it comes out negative. Doctor’s orders.” She slid down from the chair and grabbed her cane, moving to sit back at her desk. You didn’t even know if she was a certified nurse, but you trusted her. Well, you trusted her enough, anyway.

The next morning, you slipped out of bed before the sun to take the test. Shouta didn’t think anything of it when you slipped back into bed and held him close. You didn’t cry until he’d gone off early to work.

Yeah. You were definitely gonna have to have the baby talk with him. 

-

It took you three tries to tell him.

The first time, you may or may not have chickened out, even though you knew the time you had left to make a decision about whether to keep it was running out. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous; you knew he would love you and support you no matter what, and you’d rehearsed your little speech over it a million times in the mirror that morning. But when you finally found a good time to tell him, you were at a loss for words.

It had been after work when you’d both come home with the intent of having a quiet, slow night in. Shouta said he’d make dinner for you, since there weren’t many nights lately where he’d had the chance, and you sat at the table with him in a painful silence. You were usually quiet when you ate, seeing as how you were trying to eat, but he noticed something off right away nevertheless. 

“What happened?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his own.

He poked at his food but kept your gaze. “You’re upset. Did something happen?”

Yes, you wanted to say, something did happen. It was a happening that he should very well know about, and was of utmost urgency, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. So instead, you told him: “I just...I’m a little tired. The kids took a lot out of me today.” 

It wasn’t completely untrue, you supposed, but you still felt bad, and you could tell that he still didn’t believe you. But he didn’t press, and you didn’t tell him what was really wrong. And so you ate in silence.

By the second time you’d tried to tell him, you had finally found the confidence to do so, but Shouta was called on an emergency job after work when you’d both planned on talking. He wasn’t home until late that night, and was too tired and beaten to do anything more than go to bed, so you went to bed with him and kept to yourself.

When you actually told him, though, it was by accident.

It was a few mornings after that night, and a week after you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d immediately gone to the bathroom to vomit upon waking, and then proceeded to the kitchen to eat half a breadloaf’s worth of toast. He woke up some time after you and stood in the doorway, watching you take another piece of toast from the buttered pile on your plate.

“Good morning, Grumpy,” You called him by his nickname, then chugging some water. His brow furrowed at you.

“That’s an awful lot of toast.”

“Yeah. This baby has me starving.” 

He blinked. You looked up, blinked back, and then froze.

“You’re-”

“I’m pregnant.” 

He stilled. “Oh.” 

You furrowed your brow. “What did you think I was gonna say?” 

“That you’re having cravings?? I don’t know, I thought you meant “baby” figuratively.” He came to sit down next to you and stole a piece of toast from your pile. He bit down into it and swallowed before he finally realized: “Oh fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“I said that!” You hit his arm gently as anxiousness climbed up your throat. You felt like you were going to vomit again, but not so much because of morning sickness, now. He looked at you with an expression you didn’t recognize, and becoming impatient, you asked, “I mean...what do you think?”

“Well...you’re the one growing it. I want to have it. I don’t think I could tell you how much I’ve wanted to have a baby with you...but it’s up to you if we’re keeping it.”

“You say “growing” as if it’s a melon or something.” 

“It’s gonna look like one in a few months.” You hit him playfully again, and felt a million times better when he smiled. He took your hand and ran his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean, It’s not a bad thing. You’re gonna look amazing. And then you’re still going to look amazing with a baby in your arms.” 

You felt your breath escape you as your eyes grew wet. “So you...we’re really doing this? You want to be a dad?” 

“Well now that you’ve told me...I don’t think there’s anything I want more.” 

You didn’t think about what his reaction would be when you told him. You already knew he wouldn’t be one of those people that jumped up and down and started screaming the news to the world, but you also hadn’t expected him to be so calm. You didn’t mind his cool about it, though.

Well, he had his wits about him until he started to cry, anyway. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.” You started to cry with him, feeling all of the stress and nervousness from the past week finally overflow. It felt good, though, crying with him. It was like you were turning all of that panic into joy- a joy that he chipped into with his own emotion. “You’re gonna be a mom.” 

“We kind of already are. You basically adopted Eri and your entire class.” You sobbed, squeezing his hand with a smile. You talked as if you weren’t weeping. 

“They’re all going to want to be godparents…” He choked with a smile. “...I’m not ready for that conversation with them…” 

“Oh, they’re gonna be so happy, Shouta, I’m so happy…” 

“I’m happy, too.” You couldn’t even comprehend the level of agreement in his voice. You knew what he was saying was true, and you didn’t even know why you’d been nervous. Of course he wanted a baby. A part of you felt like you’d known that all along.

He sniffed, but let his tears stain his cheeks. “How far in are you?” 

“I don’t know. I should probably go to the doctor to see.” You scooted your chair closer to rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, and you sniffled as you did the same. “Will you come with me?”

“You already know I will.” He grabbed at your body to hold you impossibly closer even still. You breathed him in as the last of your full-blown sobs simmered into hiccups. 

After a while, he murmured into your hair: “Thank you.”

You huffed with humor. “You should thank my birth control for totally beefing it with this one.” 

He pinched your side, making you giggle and hit his chest playfully back. You spoke up, “We should probably go to work.”

“God, no. We’re staying home and cuddling.” The aggression in his response made you giggle again. You kept an arm around him as you went back to eating your now-cold toast, and he kept his side pressed against yours as he made a quick call to Yuuei before eating with you. 

It would have felt normal were it not for the literal being festering in your belly, but not-so-normal was okay, you supposed. Shouta seemed content with the not-so-normalcy as well, which was all you needed for comfort. Well, the toast was pretty comforting, too. 

-

taglist: @keigos-dove @hanniejji @knifeewifee @bvnnyclouds @wesparklebitch @katsukis-sad-angel

- dm/inbox to be added or removed from a taglist. 

[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 11

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 11!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >| Masterlist

Summary: He sighed in relief only to tense up when he noticed the expression on Logan’s face.

“What happened?”

“We need a miracle.”

Warning/s: food mention, minor violence.

Characters: Logan, Virgil, OCs, Roman, Remy, Remus, Patton, Janus.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

11 | Danger Unknown

Once Virgil and Logan returned to the room, Virgil made a request not to be disturbed and they put up a magical barrier to keep anyone from using enchanted items or spells to spy on them. The group was sitting in the living area, with the tv turned off, and trying to come up with a plan of action, or at least a logical theory as to what is happening. So basically, they were stuck with no idea as to what was going on or what their next move should be.

Logan frowned. “Could these events be connected? Virgil’s parents and grandmother both being essentially missing.”

Remy shrugged. “Possibly. Right now though we’re just guessing.”

“I think that our next move is more obvious than we think,” Remus declared. “We need to find Virgil’s grandmother.”

Roman nodded. “But where to start?”

Remus shrugged. “Her room?”

“Whether she’s there or not though, they’ll have guards stationed there to keep up the ‘she’s sick and quarantined’ charade.” Janus pointed out.

“Oh! What if we use the teleportation spell?” Patton proposed.

“Would that even work in this realm?” Willow wondered. “And what if they have some kind of magic barrier like we have here?”

“Virgil, is there anyone who you would trust to tell you the truth about what’s happening? The best thing we can do is find a reliable source to inform us what’s going on.” Remy said.

Virgil sighed. “The Earl was my grandmother’s closest advisor, and I don’t think we can trust him at all.”

“What about the reporters? You said they give news to the people of this realm, so surely they would have some information,” Logan reasoned.

Virgil perked up. “I don’t know how reliable they’d be, but I guess that’s a start. We’d need to comb through the news channels on TV.”

“Ooh, I can do that. I figured out how to use the remote properly,” Patton proudly stated.

“I could do some reconnaissance. Like covertly listening in on what people say to each other,” Willow suggested.

“I can help keep you hidden while you’re doing that,” Janus added.

“Roman and I could also do some covert reconnaissance. Our hearing isn’t as good as Willow’s but it’s still pretty sharp,” Remus stated.

Virgil nodded. “Alright, Pat can look into what’s on the news while Remus, Roman, Janus and Willow act as our spy teams. Logan and I have left the room before, so we can go out again and try to see my grandmother or at least fake that we’re doing that to see how well her room is being guarded.”

Remy frowned. “Hang on kids. If there is something going on, I would like to get us out of here as soon as possible. You shouldn’t be getting too deep into stuff like this.”

“It’s dangerous, but we knew this was going to be risky when we agreed to it. And, really, this might be our safest option considering how the Earl was trying to convince Virgil to go back home.” Logan noted.

Remy sighed. “If you really need to check in on the queen, then I may know a spell that can help. But it’s difficult for normal mages to cast.”

The group exchanged curious glances. “What is it?”

“Mind linking,” Remy stated. “It’s a high-level spell that can allow a person to link their consciousness to someone else. You can’t do a full connection unless two people are doing the spell with each other, but there’s a way to use the spell to specifically disconnect one’s consciousness for a time in order to find other minds in the space around you. Aka this building. The spell goes through all kinds of loopholes and can work even inside or through magical barriers, but the caster needs a proficiency in mind magic…”

“So, theoretically, I could cast the spell?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, but another rule is you can’t cast the spell onto yourself.”

“You could cast it onto me though,” Logan said.

“I was actually thinking I could take the spell,” Remy declared.

“I think Logan should do this. If Pat’s watching the news, the twins, Janus, and Willow are out spying, and I’m maintaining this spell, then it would probably be a good idea to have someone checking news sites online, and we don’t have time to teach Logan about the internet,” Virgil pointed out.

“Inter-net? Is it some kind of magical net you catch information with?” Roman asked.

“Like I said, we don’t have time to introduce you guys to it. Maybe later though.”

Remy sighed. “Alright. But we’re going to need to go into full detail with this plan…”

The team did plan things out as best they could. Virgil explained to the spy team how to navigate the building. After that, Roman, Remus, Janus and Willow went to the elevator, casting invisibility spells on themselves that would make it so only they could see/detect each other, then went their separate ways.

Meanwhile, Remy showed Patton which channels were for the news and gave Logan the instructions for the Mind spell. Pat made notes on everything that was being said on TV in a small black notebook and once Remy finished instructing Logan he found a tablet to use the internet on.

“Remember, I’m only able to keep this up for five minutes, then you’ll be pulled back into your body,” Virgil said. “You know where to go?”

Logan nodded. “I’ll be fine, Virge. We can both pull this off.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. You might want to lie down then.”

Logan laid down and closed his eyes as the spell was cast. He could feel as the magic flowed through his body like a gentle wave washing over the shore. For a moment he thought that the spell had failed since nothing else changed, but then he sat up and opened his eyes only to realise that he was outside of his own body. More specifically, he was floating just above his body like a ghost.

He felt suddenly excited at this discovery. It was like he was now a ghost completely disconnected from his physical form. A glance over to Virgil however reminded him of the current urgency of his mission. He was watching Logan’s body with a particular concern. Right now he had no idea what was happening to Logan and it was worrying him a great deal.

Logan wanted to reassure him in some way, but this form wouldn’t really be able to do that, so instead, he focused on finishing his task so that when Virgil pulled him back he would have some useful information. He floated up to the ceiling and then phased through it like it was nothing more than a cloud of fog. He navigated his way literally through the building quickly until he came to the hall outside of the queen’s bedroom.

There were indeed a pair of guards outside the door, but no one else seemed to be on this floor. Logan phased through the door and looked around if anyone was there. The room was lavishly decorated in silver and lavender tones, with a pair of ornate wardrobes on either side of a large vanity table, a wall to wall bookshelf, and a large king-sized bed. In the bed, someone was laying down.

On closer inspection, Logan found that the someone was a fae woman with long tresses of silver hair that was spread out all over her pillows. She looked weak and sickly, with cold sweat on her forehead. Logan reached out to touch her so he could hopefully see into her mind when a voice from behind him said.

“Hello.”

Logan whipped around to find the spirit of the woman in the bed standing behind him. “Gah!”

“Oh, sorry darling, I didn’t mean to scare you there. You came looking for me, right?”

“Queen Valeria?”

“The one and only!” The woman said with a smile before her face turned serious. “You’re my grandson’s friend. Correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then I need you to get him out of here. Immediately. Tell my son what’s going on here so that he can save the rest of this world before it’s too late for the others. I won’t last long enough to see him again...”

“I- no, your majesty I don’t really know what is happening but I’m sure that Virgil will not leave if you’re going to-- to die.”

“Child, there is no way to save me. All of you need to go to Nico and explain to him that Earl Ynclementia has overthrown me. Then he’ll know what to do next once my powers transfer to him.”

“Ma’am… Prince Nico and King Thomas have both disappeared. They were attacked by an unknown spellcaster during a meeting and no one knows what’s happened to them or where they vanished to.”

Valeria paled. “No… then Ynclementia’s plan was successful. That’s just all the more reason for you to get Virgil out of here. If he receives my powers then… it all will fall to him…”

Logan felt a lump in his stomach at the realisation of what she meant. With his parents gone and his grandmother dying, Virgil would be forced to take rulership over both humans and fae. Except the fae realm has been stolen by the earl, and if Virgil reveals his heritage without his parents support, then lord knows what might happen.

The people could rise against him in fear. Dethrone or even kill him. Even if he were completely accepted as half-fae, they could still try to take away his throne on the excuse he was underaged and possibly didn’t have the necessary training to rule in his fathers’ steads.

“Your majesty, there must be something we can do. If you’re here outside of your body then surely there’s still time to heal you.”

“Dear, I don’t have much time left. The spell I’m using to keep myself alive will be gone soon enough. Nothing but a miracle could save me now. Please, my only wish is that Virgil is safe. Take him home and… tell him to destroy the porthole. Right now, I’m using a spell to keep Ynclementia here, but once I’m gone he will try to take over your realm as well. That cannot happen.”

“No, there has to be something. There has to be a way to save you.”

“As I said, nothing but a miracle could do that.”

Logan looked down at his feet sorrowfully, then an idea struck him. “A-a miracle. Like the mythical creature, Miracle?”

Valeria gave a short laugh. “I doubt there are any of those just walking around in your realm, much less this one.”

“But if we found one, it could save you?”

“Well, they’re supposed to have boundless knowledge of the universe, so possibly. But it’s impossible to find one. Please just… just get Virgil away. Right now he’s going to need good friends more than ever.”

Valeria stared sorrowfully at the painting above her door. Only now Logan noticed it. A large portrait of Valeria, Thomas, Nico, Tanya, Dune and Virgil, all together smiling happily. If the queen died now then Virgil really would need friends. His fathers were completely missing and neither Tanya nor Dune could leave the forest. In the castle, facing the duties of ruling a kingdom, Virgil would be completely alone.

Logan couldn’t let that happen.

He tried to say more to Valeria but he felt that his soul was being pulled back. As his vision faded he heard Valeria say one more time, “Take him home.”

Barely a blink and a breath later, his consciousness returned and Logan found himself back in his body, with Virgil staring at him in concern. He sighed in relief only to tense up when he noticed the expression on Logan’s face.

“What happened?”

“We need a miracle.”

Virgil tugged on his hood. “Is it that bad?”

“No, well, what I mean- ugh, do you remember Remus’s dream?”

“That one about the giant bagel?”

“No, the recurring one. That one that started on our vacation.”

“Oh, the nightmare.”

“Yes, that. To save the person, we needed to find the miracle that time left behind, right?”

“I’m with you so far.”

“I think that that dream was very literal…”

An hour later, the group was reunited and once again stuck thinking of what to do next. Logan explained everything that happened with Valeria, leaving Virgil terribly distressed, and then the spy team returned with the news that Ynclementia planned to use them as hostages since the plans to get rid of Virgil’s parents and assassinate Virgil ‘failed’.

“Assassinate me?”

Willow nodded. “That’s what a rockslide was. The agent Ynclementia sent must have believed they killed you then went off to get your parents.”

“And now Ynclementia thinks both plans failed so he needs you as a hostage to use against your fathers.” Janus sighed.

“The news isn’t giving me any hope either,” Remy stated. “It seems that they’ve… erased the queen. Like she or any of your family never existed. They’ve made it look like Earl Imbecile has always been in power and no one is speaking up about it.”

Patton nodded. “From what I’ve seen on TV they’re scared to even talk about him. Whenever they refer to anything he’s done or is doing, they have this terrible fear in their eyes.”

“Then it isn’t like they’ve been brainwashed or anything. They’ve been traumatized.” Roman theorised.

Remus chewed on her fingernails. “We need to get out of here.”

“Well, it’s not like we can just walk out of the place.” Janus declared. “They would lock us up for real if they caught us.”

“A porthole,” Willow said. “We can use a porthole to get ourselves back to the realm porthole and go home.”

“You pointed out earlier that kind of magic might not work in this realm.” Roman reminded them.

“Well, yeah, but how many successful spells have we used now?”

“Okay true.”

The group used a porthole to get themselves back to the realm porthole, then went through the second porthole and found Tanya, Dune, and a few other pixies waiting for them. Tanya looked at Virgil with a worried expression. She could already tell that something had gone wrong.

“Virgil?”

“...We need to close the porthole.”

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 27 

Pairing: Spencer x Reader 

Words: 5.2k! 

Please comment what you think of this, I'm proud of this one. 😊

Warnings: Severe degrading language, description of violence, talk of rights and misogyny 

 Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @thatsonezesty13, @bihoeofmanyfandoms, @rewindlr 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"And when he smiles. I find a reason to live a little more" - Nehwish 

Spencer’s knee bounced as he felt the turbulence of the plane getting ready to land. He'd never had trouble with planes in the past. Especially the landing. He supposed it was his nerves. 

Spencer bit at his nails nervously and looked out the window of the jet, catching the interest of Rossi and Emily. 

"Don't worry, there's a bathroom." Rossi jokes, smirking at the young genius when he finally turned his head towards the voice. 

Spencer sighed, deciding not to add fuel to the flame and shut his mouth. They all knew at this point that he wanted desperately to get back to you. His feet were itching to break into a run to head back to his apartment, but unfortunately he did not have the ability to glide on air.  

Emily smiled and leaned closer to Spencer. "Come on, Reid. It's okay to be worried." She assures, shrugging softly. Spencer looked away, thinking her words over. 

"I-I… I know I can be worried." He exhaled. "But the probability of Peter getting back to her before I do increases by each minute I'm away from her." Spencer felt an urgency welling up inside of his chest, and he couldn't get rid of it. 

Garcia popped up on the screen and sighed. "Hey, tell you what. How about I call Morgan and have him bring her to the BAU? So you can see her when you guys get unloaded?" Garcia suggests. 

Hotch nods. "That's a good idea, Garcia. I need to speak with Morgan as well so this will be convenient for the both of us." 

Garcia nods and clicks off her computer with some random farewell. Spencer felt a bit of his apprehension fall away at the idea of being able to see you sooner than originally planned. He could finally be in your presence and hold you when you wanted him to. He could comfort you. He could be there physically. For you. 

Reid looked down at his hands, noticing how diminished his fingernails were with how much he'd been biting. He knew it was just a nervous tick, but it wasn't good for him. 

"Try pinching the skin on the back of your hand instead. It gives the same effect." Rossi spoke up, moving over to sit across from Spencer. 

Spencer looked up at Rossi in interest, confused as to how that would be any better. "Pinching the taut skin of the back of the hand would cause more injury than biting nails. Did you know that our nails are made up of the same material in our hair? It's actually quite interesting-" 

Rossi raised a hand. "I took anatomy in highschool. I think I know what makes up my greying hair." He smirked, making one appear on Spencer’s face as well. 

Spencer smiled and began to look around, then back at his watch to check the time. Rossi adjusted his posture before he began to speak again. 

"Kid, let me tell you something about what I learned with all three of my ex wives. Don't wait to say it." 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to what Rossi meant. "I-I don't think I follow, Rossi. Don't wait to say what?" 

"Don't keep her waiting on those three little words. If you keep pushing it off, she may move on without you." Rossi advised. "Tell her how you feel. Most women love hearing how you truly feel about them. They love honesty. That's why we're often the ones doing the asking." 

Prentiss looked back at Rossi with a teasing look. "'Most women'? Hell, I enjoy honesty. Who really appreciates lies? My exes maybe." She shrugged, making JJ laugh. 

Spencer exhaled a tired sigh before running a hand through his messy hair. "I suppose that makes sense. B-but she's still recovering Rossi. What kind of person would I be to try and tell her now? I'd be taking advantage of her. That's the furthest from what I want." 

Rossi shrugged, sitting back into his seat as the jet began to touch down. "Whatever you say." 

Spencer looks out the jet's windows, thinking of you. And of Morgan. 

A few moments later, two agents opened the jet's door and stairs, allowing them all to unload from inside. Spencer was the first to his feet and out the door. 

JJ and Emily shook their heads, smiling knowingly. Rossi sighed as he got himself up from the jet seats. "Kids these days." He grumbled to Hotch, who smiled softly. 

Spencer tried not to make it obvious how hurried he was to get to you, his pace a fast walk instead of a run. It was hard not to race towards the back entrance to the BAU where he knew you'd be waiting for him in the bullpen. But he could do this. You were okay. He was going to see you. 

"Geez, excited much? You'd think a limited time showing of the original Doctor Who was playing in theaters." Emily teased beside him, hurrying in front of him to unlock the entry. 

"Forgive me for wanting to ascertain the safety of (Y/N)." Spencer expressed, the words coming out colder than he meant. 

Spencer hurried into the building once the door was open, rushing to the stairwell; the elevator was just too slow.

All he could think of was seeing you. Once he did, then maybe he'd consider doing his reports. 

Thinking about it now, he most definitely had it bad for you. 100.00% There wasn't a moment where he was near you that he didn't feel his heart beating a little faster. That he didn't feel a squeeze on his heart and his words got stuck in his throat. There was never a time that he wasn't thinking about what you might say if he were to kiss you in that moment. 

Finally, after three minutes and five flights of stairs, he burst through the door and hurried into the bullpen, slowing himself down once he saw you.

You smiled happily once Spencer entered your field of vision, putting the bag of food you had in your hands on the nearest desk to your right. It wasn't long after that you felt Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you tightly against him. 

"Spence," you smiled, hugging him back just as tight. Spencer put his face in the crook of your neck, reminding himself that you were indeed safe and not in danger. 

"Thank God you're safe," he exhaled, beginning to calm further as your hand met his hair. 

"Yeah, I'm okay Spence. Why would you think otherwise?" You were confused as to what was making him so worried over you, but even then you were glad he cared. 

"It… it doesn't matter right now. Just-" Spencer once again exhaled sharply, releasing you from his hold as the rest of the team entered the bullpen. 

Morgan smirked as he returned with a drink tray from the other room with Garcia in tow. "Was the case really that bad, Lover boy? Couldn't wait to get back to your pretty lady?" Derek teased, his eyebrows wiggling as he smiled his signature smile. 

Reid rolled his eyes, not as annoyed as he usually was with Derek's antics. 

"Hey, I bought food for everyone. Hope fast-food is good enough." You spoke up, picking up the paper bag to lift up for everyone to see. 

Hotch nodded, while Rossi and Emily smiled thankfully. "Sounds perfect. I didn't feel like cooking anyway." Rossi joked, walking over to take his share of the food. 

"It's a nice offer, but Will's got something at home for me. We rarely ever get home in time for dinner anymore, so when we get the chance we take it." JJ says, grabbing her go bag once it was dropped off. 

"Alright. Just send me your reports in the morning." Hotch says, getting a nod in return from JJ. 

"Junior G Man," Garcia spoke up. Spencer turned around, facing the eccentric hacker. "Don't you have something you wanna tell (Y/N)?" She asked,

Spencer’s face lit up in a bright blush, thinking Garcia meant something else entirely. This blush also effectively caught Morgan and Emily's attention. "Well? Do you pretty boy?" Morgan teased. 

You sighed. "Leave him alone guys. If he's not ready to tell me what happened that's fine." You settle. Truthfully, of course you wanted to know. But if it was something business related or something about the case you knew it could wait. 

Spencer sighed with relief. He'd tell you once the two of you were home. Maybe then, you'd be able to react without fear of judgement. 

Garcia sighed. "Well, still. I've got something to announce." She insisted, her smile returning bright and bubbly as ever. 

Hotch raised an eyebrow, pausing his conversation with Derek. "What is it, Garcia?"

"Well, since we all didn't get a chance to celebrate her rescue, I'm inviting everyone out to have drinks in a couple days in (Y/N)'s honor!" Garcia smiled, cheering to herself. 

You smiled happily, reaching into the paper fast food bag and pulling out a few fries. "Thank you Pen. You don't have to though." You insist, putting the fries into your mouth. 

Garcia waved you off. "Nonsense! We're gonna celebrate finding you! And we'll all have to get taxis cause we'll be too drunk!" Garcia insisted, hurrying over and giving you a hug. 

You hug her back, smiling at her happily. "Okay, okay, I give. Will you be letting us know the place soon?" 

"Why of course my fine furry friend!!" Garcia giggles. "Of course I'm gonna let JJ know too. Everybody's gonna be there." She says before she waves goodbye to everyone, scurrying back to her den. 

Spencer laughs and shakes his head. "I guess we just made plans?" He asks out loud. 

Hotch, Rossi, Emily, and Morgan all laugh along with you. Hotch even cracked a smile. "I guess we did. I'll see if I can get free for that night. She was right, you deserve to be celebrated whether your case was a priority for the BAU or not." Hotch explained, giving you a genuine look. You couldn't fight the blush that slipped onto your face, but you did smile at him. 

"Thanks, Hotch." You answer. Then your attention shifted to Spencer. "I'm going to head to the bathroom real quick then we can head home." You then began walking away from him towards the bathrooms, unbeknownst to you being checked out by Spencer himself. Hey, he's got eyes. 

"Reid." 

Spencer jumped and looked to Hotch, blinking a few times. "Yeah, Hotch?" He asked. 

Aaron walked over, clearing Morgan to go ahead and head to his office for them to continue their conversation. "Garcia sent me a message saying you both had information on Peter Calvin. What do you have?" He asked, his tone and volume lowered. 

Spencer sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck again, finding it worrying that he was developing it as a nervous tick. "Garcia and I saw him on some nearby traffic cams. I spoke to JJ and Emily about it. I assumed they would have told you by now." 

Hotch sighed, taking his mental notes. "Which direction was he headed?" He asked. 

"Southwest, towards Quantico." Spencer replied. 

"I'll let the police know to keep an eye out for the license plate number and the car Garcia got on the footage. For now, keep (Y/N) safe. We cannot afford him getting his hands on her again. He may not stay nearby this time. And she may not be as lucky." Hotch warned before he stepped away from Spencer and then began walking up towards his office. 

Spencer let out an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, you were standing near him, smiling gently at him. "Hey stranger." 

He smiled at you, his mood immediately improved by your presence. "Hey." 

"You wanna head home or get some dinner first? I know you probably don't want fast food. When I was getting this I was thinking about what you'd say. 'Eating junk-food has a-'" 

"A link to higher rates of obesity, depression, type 2 diabetes, cancer, and in some cases early death." Spencer finished, his smile wide as he looked to you. You giggled playfully and nodded. 

"Yep. Exactly." You smiled. "So I made sure to buy some extra healthy food to make at home." 

Spencer smiled back even wider. "That sounds great. But I think eating something healthy we can already buy ready-made will be good for tonight. This last case wasn't an easy one."  

You smirked and nudged his arm. "Is that so?" You teased. Spencer smiled and looked down somewhat bashfully. 

You smiled and looked up triumphantly. "Well, then you'll have to tell me about it on the way home." 

Spencer chuckled as he gave into your teasing, nodding his head a little. "Yes, I suppose I will." He replied, a bright smile on his face. 

○●♡●○ 

"Okay, you have got to tell me how you narrowed that hunting zone parameter down. I don't think I could've done it even if you were paying me-" you expressed gleefully, dropping the soup kitchen bag on the dining room table with two neatly placed chairs on either side. Spencer then walked in past you, dropping his go bag behind the couch as he turned back to face you. His face was brighter than a string of christmas lights and his smile whiter than a cloud. If he wasn't so focused on your beauty he'd notice the pain in his cheeks. 

"I'm sure you could've. I could help you if you'd like. It's actually quite simple." Spencer nodded his head and smiled at you teasingly, earning a playful and teasing glare in response. 

"Yeah, and I went to school for Geometry instead of Psychology." You joke, digging into the bag for one of the styrofoam containers of soup and placing them on the table. 

"Which makes me wonder why you didn't take Geometry. I know it wasn't for a lack of smarts, you're very skilled with that aspect-" Spencer began to ramble on, walking over to the table and putting napkins under the soup containers as you put them down to act as coasters. 

"I just suck at shapes, okay? Sure I can remember the damn perimeter formula and the area but give me variables and a word problem? I can't figure out how to do shit." You expressed, handing Spencer the plastic spoon that came with the food. Instead, he handed it back to you. 

"I prefer using my own cutlery. Reduces the chance of any chemicals remaining on or inside the plastic being used to make the spoons." He explained, pulling out a drawer and selecting two intricate spoons before closing the drawer with his hip casually. 

You smirk and giggle. "I never thought I'd see you do that." 

Spencer raised an eyebrow as he began to hand you a spoon. "Do what? I don't see what I was doing that was unusual behavior for my personality-" 

"Closing the drawer with your hips, Spence!" You expressed in a loud, happy laughter. "Seriously, you never seemed to me like the kind of guy who'd do that." 

Spencer raised an eyebrow and smiled happily at your cheerful face. "Well I guess surprises do happen on a day to day basis. Even in our line of work." 

You smiled brighter as you finally opened your soup and took a first spoonful. "Amen to that." You giggled, grabbing another napkin to wipe your chin from the stray soup that leaked onto it. 

"Guess I'm still a clutz. Not even being kidnapped and raped is gonna change that I guess…" you mutter, causing Spencer to half choke on his soup. His eyes widen as he looks to you, his eyebrows furrowed after a moment. 

"(Y/N), do you… wanna talk?" Spencer asks, slowly approaching you as he places his soup down on the table. He didn't even care where. You were more important. 

You sniffle and shake your head. "No… no I'll be okay. I just wanna eat and go to bed. And… and hope that I don't see his face again tonight-" you choke on a sob, lifting a hand to your face and wiping desperately at rapid tears. 

Spencer rushed over and hugged you tightly, cradling your head softly as he held you. He whispered gently into your ear, letting you deal with your emotions while he was there to listen. He was good at that, he thought. 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, your hands clutching at his vest. "S-spencer I-" you hiccuped. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't-" 

Spencer shook his head. "No, you should. You're allowed to express how you feel, (Y/N). I will always be here for you. No matter how many times you need me to be." 

You sniffled, sucking in your bottom lip anxiously as you looked up at him. "Promise..?" 

Spencer smiled down at you, caressing your cheek. "Promise." 

You let your lips curl into a hesitant smile as an idea crosses your mind. "Do… do you think…" your bottom lip quivers as you ponder your own question. 

Spencer’s head tilts and his face softens as he looks down at you, being patient with your feelings. "Yeah?" 

You take in a sigh and grunt at your pathetic-ness. "Do you think maybe I could share a bed with you tonight? Just in case?" You asked, a bright blush accompanying the slight voice crack that added to your awkwardness. 

Spencer’s eyes widened at your question and his cheeks blew up a firey red as he began to fluster. "U-uh-uh…" Spencer scrambled to reply in a timely and polite manner, but he was so caught off guard. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and grunted. "Forget it, I knew it was a long shot…" you let go of Spencer’s vest and began to move away to go back to eating. 

What surprised you was the sudden grasp of your hand once it fell to your side. You swear your head swung towards Spencer as soon as you felt his touch, almost as quick as a sword. 

Spencer looked down into your glossy eyes, red rimmed from crying. He saw beauty in them. He saw a genius, a comedian, a model, and saw perfection. All in the oceans of color that were you're irises. 

He would be a fool to reject your proposal. 

"Of course, you just shocked me a little." Spencer insisted, squeezing your hand. He wanted nothing more than to see your lips curl into their familiar smile and see you laugh again. At least he'd see one thing tonight. 

You smiled gently at Spencer’s reply, blushing softly in response. "You… you mean it? It's… not too terribly weird?" You brushed a strand of stray hair behind your ear, trying not to freak out. 

Spencer tried to make a face that said 'don't worry about it' but instead managed to make an altogether new look instead. One that gave him a chance to see the other expression he loved on you. 

You snorted at his expression and began to laugh. Your eyes were full of joy as you laughed, even with a care in the world. Spencer couldn't be more in love. 

You laid your head on his chest for a moment, sighing as you began to calm down from your laughter. You looked up at Spencer, who's face somehow had managed to grow even redder from your placement. 

"What?" You ask, moving back as you assumed you'd done something wrong. 

"It's nothing, (Y/N). Promise. W-why don't we just eat and then we can head to bed?" Spencer suggested, not knowing if he'd be able to handle another moment without kissing you. 

You took in a heavy, but relieved sigh. "Yeah… yeah…" 

Spencer then took his seat, moving the chair closer to your side. He picked up his now lukewarm soup and began eating it anyway. You watch him for a few moments before you begin to do the same. 

And it was just like that, just you two. 

○●♡●○ 

"You done in there yet? I still gotta brush my teeth. Studies have shown that if you don't brush your teeth it can lead to erectile disfunction, inflammation, head and neck cancer-" Spencer began to ramble, knocking against the bathroom door gently. 

You swing the door open with a toothbrush in your mouth. "I know, Spence. You just gave me that speech 10 minutes ago." You tease, a smile pulling onto your toothpaste stained cheeks. "Come on, get in here and brush those damn teeth." 

Spencer chuckled to himself and walked in beside you. "I don't believe that kind of language is supposed to be used when talking about the bones inside our mouth." He teases, raising an eyebrow. 

You roll your eyes and elbow his arm. "Shut up!" You smile playfully. "Compared to you, I'm a cranky old grandma, you old sailor." 

Spencer laughed as he put the toothbrush in his mouth and began brushing. You finished up and washed your toothbrush in the running water before heading into Spencer’s room to get into the covers. 

Spencer finished up a few minutes after and washed his toothbrush. "I am not a swearing sailor. If anything-" he starts, walking into his room to find you falling asleep under the covers with a pillow in your arms. 

Spencer softly chuckled and turned off the bathroom light, closing the door behind him and closing the bedroom door as well. 

He walked over and sat down on his usual side of the bed. He looked over at you again, smiling at your peaceful form. If he could give you eternal reassurance that you'd be okay, he would. Even if he had to do time for manslaughter. 

He sighed and turned back towards his lamp and turned it off once he plugged in his work phone. See, he knew technology. He just didn't prefer it to paper copies of things. 

He then adjusted the covers and climbed into them, trying not to convince himself that staring at you sleeping for a whole night was a good idea. 

A sudden crash echoed into the apartment and startled Spencer awake. It didn't sound like glass, more like wood breaking. He took heavy breaths and looked beside him, finding you stirring awake. 

Spencer reached into his nightstand and picked up his spare work pistol. He didn't know who or what it was that just broke in, but he wasn't going to let it get to you. 

"Spence…" 

Spencer looked back over to you, seeing your eyes opening slightly. "Shh… hey, I'll be right back. I'm just going to check what happened. Stay here, okay? No matter what you hear." Spencer whispered, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

You murmured a few inaudible sounds but nodded. That was good enough for Spencer. 

He then got up from the mattress and began to fumble with his gun. Once he had it aimed, he snuck out into the main area of his apartment. 

The windows provided plenty of moonlight to see, so Spencer wasn't worried about seeing the intruder. He didn't want to let them know he was awake. That would cause violence that didn't need to happen yet. He had the element of surprise. And he needed to keep it that way. 

Rustling of pages, and of books echoed into the room as Spencer slowly looked around the corner to see who was the invader of his home. 

The intruder was bent over the couch, looking through the books that laid there as if looking for something. Proof of something. The intruder was definitely a man. He was definitely at least 6'2, and his voice was a little deeper. 

"Dammit, how can she hide so damn well?!" The man cursed, letting the book hit the couch with a dulled thud. 

Spencer looked a little farther past the corner, swearing he'd heard this voice before, if not had heard it described to him before. He had an idea of who this was, a damn good one. But he needed proof before he decided to make his presence known to this devil of a man. 

Spencer’s foot made the wood beneath him creak for a moment, causing the intruder to look his way. And that's when Spencer knew. The man had green, piercing eyes. Ones he'd definitely seen on one Peter Calvin. 

He had enough evidence to do what he planned. Spencer hid behind the bookshelf for a few more moments, hearing Peter's footsteps approach his position. 

Then, just before Spencer knew he'd be in him, he turned and faced Peter with his gun facing him and his finger dancing with the trigger. 

"Give me one good reason not to shoot, you son of a bitch?" Spencer glared, his aim never wavering as his anger swirled around his head. 

Peter grinned. "You…" he began to laugh maniacally. Spencer’s composure wavered only a smidge. Why was he laughing? 

"You-!" Peter cackled, his face turning into one of victory. "Out of all the men in the world she could choose to protect her whore-ass--" Peter sneered, reaching behind him. "She chose you."

Spencer refocused his aim, his eyebrows furrowing. "What does that have to do with how you treated her? How badly wounded she was when we found her?" Spencer retorted, spitting out the words like they were poison. 

Peter rolled his eyes, putting his hands in the air as Spencer refocused his aim. "Please, she's my damn property. I can do with her as I wish-" 

"She's no one's property-!"

"Why do you say that? Have you been inside her yet? If you had you'd never want to let another man have her." Peter taunted, his smirk ever so large on his face. 

Spencer’s face and sneer never shifted, even as Peter was determined to get under his skin. "It doesn't matter. She doesn't belong to anyone. She's a human being. She has thoughts, feelings--things you can't take away from her. " 

"We'll work on that. Once she has my first child she'll have no feelings of her own. It'll all be about our little boy." 

"I don't care how much money you fucking paid for her--" Spencer’s voice raised as his finger fiddled with the trigger. "She is not yours! I will never, ever let you get your filthy hands on her again!" 

Peter rolled his eyes as Spencer roared his declaration. "Men like you disgust me. You let the women walk all over you. You give them rights to shut them up and then suddenly you start giving them the freedom to take power. Then we're suddenly the ones being undermined. We're the men! We should be in power while the women give us children-"

"No!" Spencer yelled. "You’re wrong." He breathed, hoping that you would stay where you were until he could be sure you were safe. 

Peter sneered and looked to the ground. "You seriously are gonna take the side of a woman? A walking pussy?" Peter asks, getting threateningly close to Spencer. 

Spencer re-aims his gun, making sure his first shot would be the only one he'd have to fire. "Yes. Because she's a person." 

Peter smirked and briefly laughed. "You wanna die? Or are you gonna step aside so I can reclaim what's mine?" He asks, his hand gripping Spencer’s gun tightly. 

Spencer scowled as he looked slightly up at Peter. "I'd rather lose my life than give you what was never yours." He growled, not daring to instigate the conflict.

Peter then forced Spencer to the ground with a roar of anger, slamming his head into the floor. Spencer scrambled and pushed against Peter’s shoulders, managing to bite his shoulder. 

Peter let go of Spencer briefly to gasp in pain. He was strong, but not as strong as Morgan. Why else did he need to injure Morgan to abduct him then? 

"Damn it-! You string-bean bastard!" Peter spat as he began to charge at Spencer again. Spencer narrowly dodged and grabbed Peter’s arm and shoulder, forcing him into the floor. 

"String Bean? That's the best you've got-?" He asked as Peter rolled him back around and held his shoulders down against the floor. 

"Why must you be so damn difficult-!? She's mine you cunt-!" Peter spat into Spencer’s face. Sending a punch into his face. Spencer spits up at Peter the blood from the impact, only earning him a second punch in return. 

Spencer grunted as Peter raised his fist to give a third punch. Spencer leaned his head back just far enough that he could headbutt Peter hard. 

The impact sounded throughout the small apartment as Peter staggered off of Spencer from the onset of the pain. Spencer scrambled to his feet and tried to race towards his gun. Peter unfortunately managed to regain his control and grabbed Spencer’s arms and spun him around. 

"You really thought you could win that easily?" Peter hissed, slamming Spencer’s face into the corner he'd previously been hiding behind. Spencer let out a cry of pain before he was spun right back around and thrown across the room from a shove. 

Spencer landed onto his back onto the go bag you had placed behind the couch. He winced at something hard hitting him in the back. Peter was slowly moving towards the bedroom now, a smirk on his face. 

No, Spencer grunted, reaching behind him through his blurring vision. He wasn't going to lose this. He wasn't going to lose you again. 

When he reached behind him, he found what he'd needed. It was his usual pistol. He must have mispacked it when he was getting ready to head onto the jet. 

"Hey Peter," Spencer called, surprising himself with how loud he still could be. 

Peter scoffed and turned back towards Spencer, who was managing to stand up on two feet. "What now? You can barely hold your own-" 

Spencer smirked. "You know what?" He asked, pulling out the pistol from behind him. Peter widened his eyes, glancing from the second pistol to the one he had knocked away. 

He was speechless as he listened to Spencer’s next and final words. 

"I can't say it was a pleasure to meet you." Spencer replied eerily before he fired his pistol, shooting Peter in the chest and shattering the glass of the bookcase behind him. 

Spencer exhaled a long sigh of relief once Peter fell against the floor, blood beginning to pool around him. With Spencer’s injuries, he'd be able to convince any judge that he'd only killed Peter in an act of defence. 

You were safe now. 

Suddenly footsteps raced out into the living room. Your figure entered the room and turned on the lights. What followed was a shriek of terror from you at both Peter and at Spencer’s condition. 

Spencer hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around you, not caring whether or not the two of you were together at this point. 

"S-spencer… W-what d-d-did-" you began to stutter, still breathing heavily and beginning to panic. 

Spencer instead cradled your head and softly shushed your worries. "Shh… it's okay now, I promise." He breathed, kissing your forehead protectively. 

You stayed silent, still in shock and horror of who laid dead at your feet. Instead you let him hold you, and you breathed in his cologne and his natural scent. It still managed to calm you, even after that night's events. 

"I promise, he's never going to hurt you again my darling…" 

And you believed him. 

[miss-bvnny]

Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: Todd Howard Expansion Pack

PART DEUX part 2 let's do this boys

Alright, so picking up where we left off, Kopa has been living in the Oasis for a bit while he heals mentally from Zira almost killing him. Zira and her blood children Nuka (Son of Scar and Zira) Vitani (Son of Zira and Mpendwa), and Kovu (Son of Jibu and an unknown male) were banished to the outlands with a third of the lionesses from Simba's pride who insisted on following Zira. Got it? Good. Let's keep moving:

Time has passed, and Simba and Nala are in NO rush to reinstate Kopa as the future king. He still has no wish to become the crown prince once again, as the thought is still...perilous to him. He's not sure about it, and....quite frankly, it makes him uncomfortable to think about. Simba and Nala understand, and do not force anything on him. Yes, the lack of an heir IS concerning, but...they know an answer will come with time. Nala remembers the way Scar used to pressure Zira and the other lionesses to find him an heir. She doesn't want the same pressure on her son. Simba agrees. But hey, sometimes we find an answer without meaning to.

Things are tense for a while, as Zira and her followers constantly sneak into the Pridelands to steal food and water whenever they need to. Simba enforces more rules and punishments for anyone caught trespassing, not being afraid to get harsh if he needs to. Zira is a persistent threat, and he's going to deal with her as such. It takes a while for things to calm down, and even then Simba and Nala are both restless (YES both of them because Nala being so passive in TLK 2 pisses me off, especially if you think about it in context to the story I'M trying to present). Regardless...things eventually calm down. Simba and Nala try for...another cub, about when Kopa would have been Simba's age, when he left the pridelands as a cub. THIS cub will one day be the crown ruler of the Pridelands, and they're going to be SURE to protect this one and keep her safe. Safe especially from the outlands and the outsiders. Kopa returns once or twice to see his parents and congratulate them on the new addition to the family. YEAH I see he was there when Kiara was born (Just like how Nuka and Vitani snuck across the border to watch the ceremony and report to Zira about it later. actually this is a good time to mention I consider all the deleted TLK 2 scenes totally canon, before going forwards). Kopa continues to visit, and loves his little sister as she grows up. We can just...say Kopa wasn't visiting the day she and Kovu met when she was older. Zira sees this as a chance to use Kovu as a pivotal figure to get her final revenge on Simba, standard TLK 2 stuff, you know how it goes. So anyway, even though Kopa has no desires to be the crown prince again, he IS thinking about moving back home. When word reaches him about the fire and Kiara almost getting hurt, his urgency to return is quickened. He makes the journey alone, and returns just in time for the final battle against the outlanders in the rain. He joins in, there's a sort of comical POTC 3 bit where he and Kovu catch up after all this time, and he sees Kovu and Kiara are in love, and ultimately they win when Zira refuses to let go of Scar and kills herself out of spite. Vitani and the other outlanders rejoin Simba and his pride, seeing the error of their ways following after Zira. They all vow to do their part in the pride and respecting the circle of life, everyone getting happier and healthier as they acclimatize to Prideland ways.

Not long after this, Simba and Nala are going on another moonlight hunt, when they hear a cub crying out in the night. They go to investigate, and see a lone newborn lion is all by himself. He smells neither of the outlands OR the pridelands, and they're unsure of who this little one is, or where he came from. But...it's a cub, and they can't just leave him behind. Simba and Nala adopt him as their own son, and name him Kiongozi (Or...just Kion for short).

Now...the lion guard (The actual team, I mean) is not really a thing in this rewrite. Vitani and her ''lion guard'' biker gang lesbians are instated simply because Vitani and her team want to express thanks to Simba by looking out for trouble, and to make sure Zira's not still somehow prowling around near the borders and waiting for a chance to strike. Like...YEAH if they saw an animal in trouble, they'd probably help, but they don't exist to stop predators from eating other animals because that's stupid. They don't overstep their boundaries when it coms to policing other animals in the pridelands, they just...want to make sure Zira's not around. Plus, I'd be lying if I said Vitani wasn't also secretly checking to see if Nuka was anywhere. She's having a hard time getting over him. Luckily, she befriends Kopa and he sympathizes with her, as..he's still got a lot of stuff from the past he's dealing with inside.

So, with Kiara as the future queen, Kovu as her consort, and Kopa acting as an advisor to his sister, there's...nothing much for Kion to do.

Kion is....kiiind of a little brat lmao. He thinks he's got a right to boss Pridelanders around because he's a member of the royal family, and often plays ''Lion Guard'' with his group of animal friends. He's basically trying to copy Vitani, but going about it in the wrong way by getting involved with the affairs of other animals and being a little know it all telling them what to do. He's...gotten in trouble several times, and Simba is TRYING to teach him that's not how a prince behaves. He understands Kion's hunger, but..there's a difference between a fair ruler and someone who bullies others for power. it takes Kion a while to understand this, but he DOES try, even if he gets it wrong a few times.

AAAAND that's....PRETTY MUCH it???? Really this was more about fixing continuity errors, making Kopa and Kion fit in a bit more seamlessly, stuff like that. IDK, lemme hear yuour thoughts if you got em.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: The Whole World Is Watching (1x04)

Well, uh... shit. Whole review under the cut for spoilers.

Cons:

Okay, honestly, I don't know how to feel about Lamar's death. If you watch this episode, it's very much this thing where the black sidekick gets killed so the white "hero" can go crazy and get his revenge, to fuel his need for vengeance and display his man pain. Now, I think the fact that John Walker is not really meant to be sympathetic here does help a little bit, but I was still pretty miffed at that unceremonious slaughter of a man of color in order to further a white man's narrative. Maybe I'm just primed to be on the lookout for this stuff. Maybe it's different/less egregious because this isn't an all-white show with one token black character? In any case, I was made uncomfortable by the trope I saw playing out in front of me. If I'm wrong, please let me know.

I continue to wrestle with the same overall issues that I have from minute one. The bad guys make good points, and Sam is sympathizing, but things are escalating. How does this end? Sam takes the shield, tries to save Karli but ultimately can't find a way to do it, so she dies? I don't know how I feel about that. But what other options have we been presented with?

We have the continued echo of Bucky chastising Sam for not taking the shield. Now, as I've mentioned in earlier reviews, I don't mind the fact that Bucky is upset, or angry, or lashing out. He's wrong, but he's not wrong to feel how he's feeling. The thing is, I feel like Bucky has had multiple chances to state his position, and Sam hasn't had the chance to really take a stand and state his. Bucky isn't letting it go, and it's getting to the point where it's not okay. Feel your feelings, James Buchanan Barnes. But it's not Sam's job to take care of your emotional state and behave the way that would be the most comforting for you.

Pros:

But now that I've chastised Bucky for his behavior, I do want to talk about him and the Wakandans in this episode. Especially Ayo. That opening scene... I tell you, my soul traveled back in time to 2014 and I was weeping in a movie theatre over Bucky and Steve and brainwashing and love breaking through brainwashing... it was really moving, to see Bucky fall apart over being free at last from his trigger words. And yes, I will be overanalyzing the fact that there was a flash of the "with you 'til the end of the line" moment when the word "homecoming" was said... that's the good shit. Thank you.

And then it's so brilliantly coupled with later on, while they're fighting, and Ayo disarms Bucky. Literally. That... gave me chills. Just from like a... Bucky is an amputee, and the people who saved him, who deprogrammed his brainwashing, who gave him his amazing superpowered arm... they have control over his body. They can weaken him with hardly any effort at all. I was shocked to see it, and I feel like there's a lot that could be explored there with regards to Bucky's trauma, and trust, and healing journey. Ayo was a friend. Ayo and Shuri saved his life in a very real way, and then there's this moment where he realizes that once again he can't be totally free and safe with someone. I thought it was really effective storytelling with just a few brief moments of the script.

But moving on to Sam, and speaking of trust!! His conversation with Karli, Karli calling Sam's sister... oh man oh man. All of this was so juicy, so intense. I like that Sam sympathizes, that he agreed with her cause just not with her methods. He's speaking that truth out for all to hear. John Walker is focused on eliminating a threat, whereas Sam sees the full complexities of the situation. It's why Walker with the serum is bad news, and why Sam... well, Sam would become more of himself, and I can only imagine that as a good thing for the world at large.

It was so intense, and so frustrating, to see Sam actually getting somewhere with Karli and then having Walker ruin it by coming in and interrupting. And then to see the switch flip, when Karli dared to threaten his family. Sam shows up dressed as the Falcon, and he is not playing games. That was such a great showcase of Sam's compassion, the person he is at his core. But he's also a bad-ass and he won't let anything bad happen to those he loves.

I also like the complexity of Sam (and Bucky to a lesser extent) decidedly not happy with John Walker, not willing to work for him or even with him towards a common goal... but there's sort of a bigger loyalty question which is that neither Sam nor Bucky are "anti Captain America," and they know how bad it would be if the Flag Smashers actually succeeded in killing him. Realizing that Karli had called Sam in as a distraction to get him away so that the new Captain America could be killed, Bucky and Sam of course race to the rescue. That whole sequence was really intense. I don't like John Walker. In fact I rather hate him. But I also really felt the urgency that Bucky and Sam were feeling to do right by everybody in the situation.

So that brings us to Zemo managing to escape in the chaos of the Dora Milaje, the Flag Smashers, John Walker and Lamar, and Sam and Bucky, all going head to head. Bucky and Sam are just trying to stop anybody from dying in this whole mess, but they each have their competing and complex thoughts about the situation as well. Zemo sneaking out, after being such a weirdo and kind of helping but also just being obtuse on purpose, was such a great tension-builder. He's a sinister character who also adds some dark comedy to proceedings.

Let's talk about Sam and Bucky and how they should get married.

No but really, I've expressed some frustration with Bucky's behavior, but ultimately this show is about the loyalty between these two men who have been through so much together, who have so many shared experiences and traumas, but who also can't possibly understand each other's perspectives fully. There's the moment when Walker calls Sam "your partner" when talking to Bucky, and Bucky immediately affirms that Sam is capable of talking to Karli, backing up his play, and then says "he's not my partner." There's a defensiveness there, but then an undeniable loyalty. When Sam tells Bucky that Karli told him to "come alone," Bucky doesn't miss a beat before saying "I'm coming with you." When they're in the middle of a fight, they back each other up. Sam checks on Bucky after the arm thing I mentioned earlier. They've fallen into being partners with each other without really dissecting if it's what they want. This stuff is catnip to me, truly. I can't wait to see where they land in the final episodes.

John Walker fucking cutting a dude to pieces with Captain America's shield in broad daylight and with multiple phones on him, recording it all... well, damn, Disney. That's quite the image to linger on. Obviously this is going to be A Situation. I knew something was going to break bad with John Walker, I just didn't know exactly what it was going to be. Lamar's death doesn't sit right with me. I feel like Walker might have gone off the deep end even without that particular catalyst. But the fact of his breakdown was really chilling, and effectively shot, and is sure to lead to intense consequences in the final two episodes!

Man, I'm sad it's coming to an end so soon... I want so much more of Sam Wilson, please and thank you!

8.5/10

[no-gorms]

Hi Annie! May I request a ficlet with Steve winking at Tony? I just realised I don't remember ever reading a fic where he's the one winking....which seems like a missed opportunity tbh

Hi! I don’tthink this is what you had in mind, but with Endgame reaction stuff goingaround recently, this spontaneously popped up in my brain.

Post-Endgame, everyone lives, Steve/Tony first kiss, feat.Morgan, Bruce, Thor, Natasha. (also on ao3)

+

When Tony told the team that he was thinking of having a few people over at the lake house today, Steve foresaw two possibilities: one, a handful of Avengers crowded on the porch in a rather more cheerful reprise of their time travel proposal of a few weeks ago; two, a full-on party.

They got the party.

Where on earth Tony got the canopies and catering a mere day after the Battle of Earth (as they’re calling it), Steve has no idea, but here they are. Avengers – core, new, ancillaries, allies, friends and loved ones –flood the grounds of Tony’s deceptively rustic home, eating and drinking and laughing and showing off their abilities. Luckily it’s a daytime gathering so alcohol is less an issue thus far; it’s daytime to accommodateMorgan, of course, who declared herself a VVIP earlier and is being bolstered around on Tony’s arm as he introduces her to everyone.

Not that Steve’s been watching them (Tony) walk around and play host, Morgan quietly excited and her father looser and more upbeat that Steve’s seen him in literal years. And even if Steve is watching Tony, it’s only out of concern that Tony not push himself, not after the close call with Thanos, the other close call with the gauntlet, and the freshly accumulated stress of the past five years leading into a one-chance time heist. The episode isn’t even really settled yet, what with the stones under lock and key somewhere in these very grounds, since the compound is a square mile of rubble and very few places on earth are safer than an Avengers tea party slash mosh pit.

Still, it pays to be vigilant. On Tony. Due to his health, and his status as the focal point for today’s gathering.

So Steve tells himself.

He used to be better at papering over his own motivations. If anyone asked, he’d say that he’s distracted from the party by thoughts of tomorrow. There’s still a lot of work to come – rebuilding, networking, accommodating the return of half the world’s population and all its associated complicated trauma – which is so beyond the Avengers’ original purview that they might not even need the team for that. It’s Natasha’s call, anyway. Steve will probably follow her. Clint brought Laura and kids today, but he’ll be leaving tonight. Bruce has his own work elsewhere now. As for Tony, no one knows what the hell he’s going to do next.

Steve certainly doesn’t expect Tony to be approaching him now, with Morgan still making a swing of the crook of Tony’s arm.

“Here you go.” Tony practically tosses a laughing Morgan at Steve. “Free up my hands for me, won’t you?”

“Sure thing,” Steve says, having accepted that he’d never not do anything Tony asks of him ever again. Steve adjusts his grip on Morgan in one arm, and puts his plate down on a nearby table with his free hand. Morgan beams at him, while at the corner of Steve’s eye he just catches Tony’s stuttering smile, as though he hadn’t expected Steve to roll with it.

“You want a drink?” Tony says, eyeing the nearest table spread. “I’m up for refuelling.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Steve says.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Tony says.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “That’s kind of rude.”

“Yeah, rude,” Morgan parrots, while Tony presses an outraged hand to chest. “He wants lemonade.”

“I would like lemonade,” Steve says agreeably.

“Geez, all right, as the lady demands,” Tony says as he bounds off.

“The lemonade’s good?” Steve asks Morgan.

Morgan shrugs. “I don’t know. We can try.”

Steve’s never held Morgan before, or talked to her properly before today, but this feels a natural extension of the rhythm he’s found again with Tony – the focus of shared goals and risks, the ribbing without hurt, the ability to be earnest without mockery – since that fateful day Tony rolled back up to the compound armed with little more than hope and a time travel GPS olive branch. But that’s not entirely right either, because they never had this easy rhythm off the battlefield before. It was only the shattering and its aftermath – and Steve’s learning the hard way that he had so much more to lose in the 21st century than he thought – that they’d found this.

“Are you staying here with your dad tonight?” Steve says. “Or are you going back with your mom?”

“Going,” Morgan says. “Too many people for sleepover.”

“Makes sense,” Steve agrees, looking out on the raucous mass with her. “It’s a lot of people. Do you remember everyone’s names?”

“Yes,” Morgan says, intense and offended. She presses a palm against Steve’s forehead. “Captain Thor.”

“Actually—”

“Captain Thor with the hammer. May I see it? Thank you.”

“You’re not tired of that,” Steve says dryly.

“No.”

“You know you can just ask actual Thor—”

“Captain Thor.”

Steve sighs dramatically, which only prompts Morgan to loop both arms around his neck expectantly. He does a quick surroundings check –Thor’s just a couple of feet away chatting with T’Challa and Hope, and Tony’s coming back over with a paper plate of pizza on one hand and a pair of lemonade bottles gripped in the other – and lifts his free hand.

Physically, it’s very different from the control he exerts on the shield. Mentally, the two are strangely similar, for much like how Steve just knows the shield’s trajectory at each throw, he knows that Mjolnir is coming to him. Today, the hammer sails in a parabolic arc, over the crowd spread over the lawn, and into Steve’s hand. There’s only a minor crackle of electricity in Steve’s hand when it lands, and it says a lot about the people present that barely anyone notices any of this.

Morgan bobs her head silently in approval.

Nearby, Tony huffs under his breath between bites of his pizza. The lemonade bottles are consigned to the table by Steve's plate, though sadly Steve's hands are preoccupied at the moment.

“Which reminds me,” Tony says, “no way that was your first time holding the hammer.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve replies, twirling said hammer on its handle.

“Right.” Tony holds out a mushroom slice to Morgan, who eats it without taking her eyes of the hammer. Tony’s smile is pure fondness, the kind of which sends somewhat intense flips in Steve’s stomach. It doesn’t matter that the smile is for Morgan; it just takes Steve’s breath away that Tony has so much love in him and, no matter that things didn’t shake out too well with Pepper, he still has unconditional outlets for that love. When Tony’s attention shifts to Steve, so does his expression to one of familiar wryness, “You knew exactly how to double-wield the hammer with the shield.”

Steve hums neutrally.

“How long you been messing with the hammer without us knowing, Steve?” Tony says.

“How long, Steve?” Morgan chimes in.

“Just a few times, back when we were in the Tower. Which was wrong of me,” Steve says meaningfully to Morgan. “You shouldn’t keep big things like that from your friends.”

Morgan’s focus is elsewhere, though. She’s twisting her mouth in cheeky thoughtfulness – she definitely got that from Tony – and holds a hand out. Steve obliges, and adjusts his grip on Mjolnir before holding the handle out to her.

Morgan tentatively wraps one hand around the handle. Steve eases his grip to the back of Mjolnir’s head, and subtly moves the hammer along with her.

“Worthy,” Morgan whispers.

Steve, grinning, slants a look over at her father and winks.

Tony startles and drops his pizza slice. Not the ground, which would have been neater, but to his shirt, at which the slice flips and flops while Tony scrambles, flails and fumbles, getting sauce and cheese everywhere, before finally salvaging it by stuffing the whole thing into his mouth.

“Butterfingers,” Morgan says primly.

Tony munches furiously, and does not look at either of them. While his daughter continues to bob Mjolnir against Steve’s hand, Steve’s captivated by the pink at Tony’s neck – a lack of sunscreen, or something else? It cannot be something else, because that would be ludicrous. Except.

“Goddamn,” Tony mutters. His eyes dart around wildly, and only for a mere split-second land on Steve before moving away again. Steve feels a prickle up his spine, along with a sense of anticipation and urgency, though without a clear goal to be seen. He’s seen Tony flustered before, but never like this, never because of him.

“Gotta clean up. You watch the madame, yeah?” Tony clears his throat and starts walking away from them, stiff footsteps towards the house.

Steve watches him go, heart hammering loudly over Morgan’s humming a tune to herself.

A shadow falls over them as Bruce approaches. “Excuse me,” Bruce says. “Hi Morgan, do you want another ride?”

“Yesssss.” Morgan lifts her hands up eagerly.

While Bruce sweeps Morgan up onto a massive bicep, Thor appears by Steve’s other side, a hand immediately clamping around Mjolnir. “I’ll take that.”

“And I,” Natasha says, sliding around all three men to take Steve’s plate from the table, “will take care of this.”

“What?” Steve says.

The three of them pointedly move away from him, focused on and chatting with Morgan as they go. Steve’s head swivels back and forth and back, before a sharp oh sends his limbs into action, pushing him into a quick jog that follows Tony’s path up to the house.

Tony’s already inside, having disappeared behind the front door. The whole house technically isn’t off-limits to guests, but FRIDAY has been pretty stern about who gets to come in (and even then, only because the garden bathrooms are occupied). She doesn’t say a word when Steve enters, though, so he follows the sound of running water to the kitchen, where Tony is washing his hands in the sink.

“Like an amateur, really,” Tony says under his breath.

“Hey,” Steve says, which doesn’t get much of a response beyond Tony’s increasingly furious scrubbing of his hands. “You want me to get a change of shirt for you?”

“Right,” Tony says, “because you know where my wardrobe is.”

Steve’s face grows warm, but he presses on, compelled by Tony’s not immediately kicking him out. “Would you buy that as a poor excuse to explore your house? Which is very nice, by the way.”

Tony mumbles under his breath. Frowning he may be, but he isn’t actually angry. Steve unfortunately knows what Tony’s anger looks like, and this is more embarrassed annoyance. Tony turns off faucet off and scowls when Steve offers him a drying cloth. He still takes it, though, and after drying his hands, dabs it at his stained shirt.

“Be careful,” Steve says, “your arm—”

“Oh my god, you can’t quit!” Tony exclaims. “You do not know how to quit! Wait, I shouldn’t be surprised by that.”

“Are you upset at me? Morgan’s with Bruce, I didn’t abandon her—”

“Why are you like this now?” Tony’s voice is shrill. “Why are you so wonderful now? Morgan can’t get enough of you, which is bad enough, but now the fight’s over and we did what we needed to do, and you’re still so—you’re so…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. “I know, I should’ve done better by you from the very start. But I’m trying, I’m really—”

“That’s not what I…” Tony shakes his head, a rapid side-to-side motion as though the man’s deeply rattled and has to express it physically. He sighs, the sound resigned and exasperated; it’s apparently a prelude to his tossing the dry cloth away and launching himself at Steve.

Tony’s lips are warm and soft and taste of tomato sauce. Steve doesn’t kiss back, too shocked as he is by the motion at all, which is over before he can even process it. His mouth tingles with the aftertaste, and the rest of him tingles at the depth of Tony’s wide eyes, filled as they are with hope and fear and surprise. Steve’s heart goes into double-time.

“Uh,” Tony says.

Steve kisses back. His hands find Tony’s cheeks, his palms brushing Tony’s facial hair in holding him close. Tony’s hands come to Steve’s waist, fingers digging in to the muscle as though making sure that he’s really there. Steve presses in, breathing rapidly through his nose as he does, and finds Tony’s mouth hot and wet and open.

In the deepening of the kiss comes a collective cosmic exhale. There will have to be talking later, which may help slow the dizzy, confused, ecstatic whirl that is in Steve’s brain, but that is later. For now he’s been given a gift, and he is not strong enough to not grab at it with both hands.

“Gonna mess up your shirt—” Tony says against Steve’s jaw.

“Priorities,” Steve says sternly. He comes back in for another kiss and Tony hums an agreement against his lips.

[scarletenvy]

eastbound, homebound. — chapter 3

this is for the nony who the other day asked me to post any previously unpublished parts of the airline au i might have. here’s 5k of unfinished, unbeta’d and not edited ch3. includes smut.

Chapter 3: concrete jungle.

*

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Violet squeaks, startled and surprised, and tries to get up, but Pearl just lets out a guttural grunt and tightens her grip on the junction of Violet’s hip and thigh under her skirt, thus effectively trapping Violet where she’s straddling Pearl’s lap. Violet produces a disagreeing noise that turns into a shameless moan as soon as Pearl sinks her teeth into her flesh just above her collarbone, and involuntarily grinds her hips down.

“Come on, guys, again? Really? In my fucking cockpit, too?” Kameron whines.

Violet’s lids flutter open and she looks up. Kameron is standing in the doorway, shielding her eyes with her palm theatrically. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s body, settling against the backrest of her pilot’s seat, but her index and middle fingers curl under the waistband of Violet’s panties.

“Oh knock it off, Michaels, you can’t possibly expect us to believe you haven’t done this with your purser wife even once,” Pearl says while her other hand slides up Violet’s back under her unbuttoned blouse and sneakily unhooks her bra.

“Pearl!” Violet protests half-heartedly and slaps Pearl’s arm. Pearl just smirks and pushes her hand under the undergarment to cup Violet’s breast.

“I’ll be happy to inform you that my wife and I can actually keep our hands off each other for longer than five minutes, because we’re not a pair of libido-driven bitches, thank you very much,” Kameron says sternly.

Pearl hums in a noncommittal manner and leans back in to drag her lips against Violet’s collarbone. Violet’s lids fall closed again and a pleased purr forms somewhere deep in her chest and escapes her.

“I should really fuck you in first class next, doll,” Pearl states. “You’d look so fucking good, getting yourself and the seat all wet and messy while I finger your pretty little pussy. Would you like that, babe?”

“Oh, God, I can’t hear you, I can’t, I’m not listening!” Kameron shrieks before Violet can react.

Violet blinks, trying to bring her surroundings back into focus, the rampant arousal that pools in her gut making it difficult. Kameron is squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with her palms, looking equal parts flustered and amused.

“Pearl,” Violet repeats hoarsely.

“Mmm,” Pearl says, slipping her hand to squeeze Violet’s ass under Violet’s skirt while her other one is still playing with her breast. “Okay, go on, then, doll, the sooner I land this thing the sooner I’ll get to actually fuck you.”

She manoeuvres her hands to rest on Violet’s waist and swiftly pushes her to her feet, proceeding to straighten her tie and crack her neck like she wasn’t just walked in on by her captain. Violet reaches to wipe her lipstick off Pearls mouth, and then secures the hooks of her bra behind her back and buttons her blouse up.

“C’mere, princess,” Pearl beckons her closer as soon as Violet’s done straightening her uniform.

Violet bends over, planting her hands on the armrests of the seat Pearl’s occupying, and Pearl presses a gentle kiss on her mouth, her plum lips so soft and good against Violet’s own. Before it can escalate, Pearl slaps Violet’s ass lightly and repeats her command to go on. Violet pecks Pearl once more and grabs her blazer from Kameron’s seat where she shedded it not too long ago before circling Pearl and heading out of the cockpit.

Kameron is still standing in the doorway, her arms crossed on her chest. She’s shaking her head slightly, her expression scolding, and it would almost make Violet bashful if it weren’t for the way Kameron’s so obviously fighting off an entertained grin.

“Nice bra, Chachki,” she shoots as she moves aside to let Violet through, and that’s when Violet is assured she’s not nearly as irritated as she tries to act.

“Why, thank you, captain,” Violet says, making sure it comes out pointed and clear, audible.

Behind her, she can hear Pearl snap around in her seat and let out an actual growl, low and dangerous, and she runs off quickly, feeling oddly pleased with herself for provoking a reaction.

There’s always a small part of her, shy and quiet, that keeps nagging that she should be ashamed of such vulgar, flamboyant behaviour she’s engaging in. Lately Violet’s grown very talented at ignoring it, progressively more so around Pearl, but today it’s louder, more persistent somehow. Maybe it’s because of where they are right now. Violet doesn’t let that thought linger, doesn’t let any of it linger, just works harder to not think of it at all.

She arrived in Atlanta early in the afternoon yesterday to overnight there before their flight to Johannesburg. She hadn’t told anyone she’s back, hadn’t left her hotel room, either. It was unlikely she would run into someone familiar in the busy streets, but she didn’t particularly feel like risking it. It’s been a while since she’s been back, and it was a peculiar feeling, being here as a visitor, a passer-by on her way to another, faraway destination.

Now they’re at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International, getting ready for their flight. The airport is, at core, the same it was eleven, thirteen, fifteen years ago, but at the same time it’s not. The difference is, she’s never seen it like this before. She’s never seen the staff security checks and airline meeting rooms and unnoticeable doors that only open with a swipe of one’s I-D. badge. It’s both unnerving and comforting, the way a place can change so much, but not because it hasn’t, essentially, remained the same; rather, because she has not.

It seems no one’s really missed her in the main cabin. Farrah is standing in the middle of one of the two aisles, her palms placed on the backrests of the seats either side of her, and one of her knees is bent, her foot lifted coquettishly and the heel of her shoe brushing against her ass. Michelle is standing in one of the rows, her back to Violet, and she’s snapping photos of Farrah as she poses. Her expression is simultaneously oozing both seduction and saint-like innocence in the way only one Farrah Moan is capable of perfectly mastering.

“NorthWest should really use you in their next advertisement campaign, Farrah,” Violet chuckles.

Farrah strikes another pose, standing back on both feet and popping her hip, her hand moved to rest there now.

“I’m Farrah. Fly me to Milwaukee,” she breathes out, her tone eery and empty like she’s a bimbo from some 60’s movie.

“Amazing,” Violet laughs. “Do they even have an airport there?”

“Does it matter? It’s Milwaukee,” Farrah shrugs and reaches for her phone Michelle’s handing her.

“You ever been to Atlanta before, Violet?” Michelle asks.

“This is the first time this is my base,” Violet replies vaguely.

“So you’ve never been to Johannesburg before?” Farrah says wistfully. “Me neither. Gonna be fun!”

Violet hums her acknowledgement, then looks around the cabin. “Where’s Brianna?”

“We’re missing two life vests, she’s sorting that. We should be able to start the boarding soon,” Michelle says.

“I’m sure someone stole those vests during the previous flight,” Farrah chimes in expertly.

“Why would anyone steal a life vest?” Violet questions.

“Girl, people tend to steal the most random unnecessary shit, you’d be surprised,” Farrah says like it’s obvious.

“She would know,” Michelle notes.

Farrah whines, that drawn, high-pitched sound that has become her signature in Violet’s mind by now. Michelle doesn’t seem too bothered by this reaction, just laughs and suggests they get back to work.

They monitor the cabin together swiftly, making sure everything is taken care of before Brianna returns with the missing vests. Violet is unsettled, craves to get going already, but luckily Farrah is rushing them in her palpable excitement, so Violet clings to that excuse as she moves through the familiar steps with more urgency than is usual to her.

They’re one-third into the 15-hour flight when Brianna asks Violet to check if the cockpit needs anything for her while she deals with something in first class. Violet uses the intercom in the back galley, holding the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she leans against the counter, her legs crossed at the ankles, and examines the fresh coat of nail varnish she applied that morning while she waits for Kameron and Pearl to accept the call.

“Liaison,” she hears Pearl’s absentminded drag after two rings, her voice thick with amusement as if Kameron and her were just laughing at something when Violet phoned.

“Captain,” she purrs seductively. “Main cabin here, Violet speaking.”

“Blatant erasure,” Kameron chimes in before Pearl can reply.

“Shh, Michaels, you’re ruining the fantasy,” Pearl snorts.

The playfulness in Pearl’s tone makes Violet smile involuntarily, and she glances down at the tips of her black pumps and bites her lower lip like she’s trying to hide her reaction despite being alone, convince herself her heart doesn’t beat faster and her cheeks don’t get a little bit warmer whenever she hears Pearl sounding happy or imagines her grinning.

“So, what’s up, main cabin?” Pearl prompts.

Violet straightens her posture, crossing one arm over her chest and grabbing the receiver, and quietly clears her throat, seductively narrowing her eyes and dropping her pitch before she speaks. “Just calling to see if the cockpit needs anything, captain. Maybe I could get you something to eat?”

“That depends,” Pearl drawls cheekily, clearly playing along with Violet’s flirting, her voice husk. “What’s on the menu?”

“Why don’t I come and personally show you?” Violet chirps immediately.

“Jesus, Chachki, you’re on fucking speaker, come on,” Kameron groans.

Pearl laughs roughly, and Violet lets out a pouty sound, not really caught off guard by the interruption — it’s a wonder Kameron let it fly as long as she did, actually — but still a little dismayed. It’s been six days since their last flight together, six days since Pearl rushed her into a toilet stall at Seattle-Tacoma and took her against the wall, hot and desperate and messy, six days of radio silence and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Violet is itching for contact now, restless to get her hands on Pearl, hardly satisfied by their quick make out session from earlier.

“Goddamnit, Michaels, you’re such a bitch,” Pearl complains through laughter. “Why can’t you ever let me have any fun?”

“Because your idea of fun is having phone sex at work while you’re flying a craft and I’m sitting a foot away, you absolute genius,” Kameron shoots back.

“It’s better than your idea to play I spy with my little eyes for three hours straight, Michaels. There’s only fucking sky and clouds to spot!” Pearl says and Violet giggles, knowing full well the line was punctuated by a huge eye roll.

She moves her arm from her chest and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, then fits her hand between herself and the counter and slips one of her heels out of the shoe, absently dangling it on her toes in the air. Pearl is in a good mood today, had been already when she had come out of the conference room to meet Violet in the hallway before their briefing and, despite Violet’s protests, taken her suitcase from her and carried it herself. It’s not exceptional, Pearl is in a good mood more often than not, but it’s a contrast to how she had been in Seattle last week, curt and rough and on edge, almost as if inflammable if approached wrong. It had been a three-hour layover, a flight that wasn’t even scheduled for Violet but that Aja had magically made happen anyway, and they had spent the majority of it with their hands and mouths on each other. After Pearl had made Violet come, Violet had backed her up against the opposite wall and gently rubbed her through her panties, the damp cotton catching on her swollen clit so perfectly, a light teasing touch insistently right where Pearl needed it until it had slowly gotten too much and she had let go and released.

Violet hadn’t asked if something was wrong, and Pearl hadn’t said anything, either, had just hidden her face in the crook of Violet’s shoulder and held her close while she came down, and then abruptly pushed past her out of the stall and the restroom without another word, and Violet hadn’t seen her again until the briefing.

“Seriously, though, is there anything you two need?” she interrupts Kameron and Pearl’s friendly bickering, her tone more professional now.

“No, babe, not really, I don’t think. At least I’m good, how about you, Michaels?” Pearl replies.

“Nah, I’m good, too. Maybe like a bathroom break in a half hour? But send someone else, I don’t want this plane crashing while I’m peeing because Liaison got distracted getting her fingers wet.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so fucking funny, Michaels, fuck all the way off,” Pearl snorts. “But what a glorious way to go, huh?”

“I’ll send Brianna or Michelle up there in like twenty,” Violet promises, stepping back into her heel and pushing herself off the counter.

“Thanks, Chachki,” Kameron calls. “Tell my wife I miss her and I love her and I can’t wait to get back to her.”

“Ew, you two are gross,” Pearl says before Violet manages to get her reply in.

“You just tried to have public phone sex and I’m the one getting called gross?” Kameron gasps in mock offence.

“You wish, Michaels, I know you’d like to hear how pretty she moans,” Pearl deadpans.

“Oh, trust me, I have heard her moan. Our room has been next to yours more often than I’d care to remember.”

“Okay,”Violet cuts in before Pearl can continue. “Nice talking to you, cap, main cabin will check in again later, have a good one. For the love of God, stop torturing her, Pearl.”

“Okay, baby, if you say so,” Pearl agrees solemnly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The line clicks in indication that the call is over, and Violet stays staring at the mute receiver for a while, the word Soon heavy on her tongue but never having had the chance to leave her lips.

*

They arrive in the early morning, and despite it having had been a fairly easy flight, Violet is physically drained and a little disoriented. It’s immediately clear Pearl likes Johannesburg, and while she puts her chin on Violet’s shoulder and keeps pointing out places and landmarks, painted in the soft glow of the quickly rising sun, through the tinted car window on their cab ride from the airport to the hotel, Violet thinks she could see herself falling in love.

Their accommodation is located in the northern part of the city, and Pearl tells her the neighbourhood, as well as those surrounding it, is considered one of the most prestigious in Johannesburg. The establishment is scattered across an undulating hill, a bunch of separate villas rather than one big building with rooms, and Michelle says it’s lovely, one of her favourite overnight locations she’s ever been to. Farrah snatches a little booklet from the front desk upon their arrival and check-in, and buries her nose in it, reading away and informing Violet that the name of the business — Zandfontein — comes from one of the early farms in the area.

Inside, their villa turns out to be a cosy, open space with a number of bedrooms and a shared kitchen and lounge. Everyone just kind of silently agrees that Pearl and Violet will take one of the two doubles, with the Michaels’ occupying the other, without any discussion or explicit acknowledgement of it. Violet thinks she should feel flustered about the way they’re treated by everyone as an extension of each other, a package deal, almost, should resist the implications, but there’s a craving crawling under her skin and she can’t think far past it, needs Pearl close and can’t deny herself.

“How do you feel about thunderstorms?” Pearl asks her when they’re settling in and the air between them is mostly filled with weary contentment and slowness of thought and motion, no energy to jump each other until they’ve slept the flight and jet lag off.

She’s changing into something comfortable to nap in, her uniform shedded and carelessly draped in a messy heap over the first somewhat suitable surface, the back of a chair today. She always does that, and then curses on the day of departure, stressing over how wrinkled the fabric is and resulting in Violet trying to straighten her up to the best of her ability. Violet is only slightly better than Pearl at this. Her uniform usually ends up strewn across the floor of whatever hotel room they’re entering as soon as they’re through the door, but at least she picks it up later on and makes an attempt at actually hanging it.

“Um,” Violet says, a little taken aback by the randomness of the question. “I feel fine? Or, like, I’m not, like, afraid of them or anything. It’s kinda nice when it’s thundering outside and you can just curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea and a book, yeah, you know, the cliché. I don’t know, why?”

She glances at Pearl over her shoulder, a hanger with her blouse and blazer temporarily looped over her wrist. Pearl is pulling on a white tank top, her bra already off, and Violet succeeds to catch a glimpse of the perfectly round underside of her breasts right before Pearl tugs on the hem and covers the rest of her upper body. Violet lets out a pouty noise and blindly tries to hook the hanger on the closet door handle, eyes concentrated on the visibly darker spots on the material of Pearl’s top where her nipples are stiffened and poking against it.

“Just figured I’d ask for, you know, later,” Pearl shrugs, running her hands through her hair to get it out of her face and then readjusting the waistband of the loose black cotton shorts she often sleeps in. “Baby, my eyes are up here,” she adds with a low chuckle after noticing Violet’s spaced out staring.

“I know, but I’m talking to your tits,! Violet muses, finally managing to place the hanger where she wants it and reaching for her skirt to hang it. “Whats happening later?”

“The thunder?” Pearl says like it’s clear while she moves to pull the comforter aside on the bed and adjust the pillows and covers like they’ve grown accustomed to having them. “It’s gonna be raining and thundering in like five hours or so.”

“Oh, come on now,” Violet snorts and brushes her off, finally turning to fold the skirt over the little bar on the hanger and grab the oversized t-shirt she packed as her pyjama. “There’s not a single cloud in the sky and it’s getting progressively warmer by minute. Thank God you’re a pilot and not a meteorologist ,”

“Babe…” Pearl says softly, and there’s a pause in the rustling of the sheets.

“Hm?” Violet hums and spins to face the rest of the room, pulling her locks out of the collar of her shirt where they got stuck upon her putting it on,

Pearl now has one knee perched on the bed, stretched out to place the pillow she’s gripping wherever it is she sees appropriate and frozen mid-movement, gaze turned up to scan Violet. Violet fixes her a quizzical look and spreads her arms in the air with a little shrug, almost challenging Pearl to disagree with her observations and deduction, and suddenly Pearl’s expression lights up, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a lopsided, extremely pleased smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” Violet demands.

“Nothing, babe,” Pearl says and shakes her head, going back to her pillow arranging. “It is an awfully clear day, isn’t it? Almost like calm before the storm, huh?”

“You’re such a cryptic fucking bitch, Pearl,” Violet complains, slipping her hands under her shirt to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. “The fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Pearl laughs uproariously and throws a pillow at Violet. It hits her in the thigh and lands at her feet, and Violet sighs in exasperation as she bends over to lift it. When she straightens up, Pearl is already sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed out in disarray like a human-sized starfish. Violet crosses the room and shoves the pillow in Pearl’s face as soon as she’s close enough to aim.

“Bitch,” Pearl mumbles into the soft material, giggles spilling out of her in sporadic gales.

“Idiot,” Violet shoots back,

“Yeah, but you like that,” Pearl retorts, still making no attempt to free her face.

“Do I really, though?” Violet mutters absently and flops onto her back on the bed next to Pearl.

“Uh-huh,” Pearl says assuredly, like there’s no care in the world, no doubt whatsoever, and maybe there isn’t, maybe she’s right, maybe she knows something Violet has no clue of, and Violet allows it soothe her until there’s something heavy in her belly and throat.

They lie there for a while, both completely quiet, and Violet enjoys the weight of the body next to her, just the way it makes the mattress dip different than it does when she sleeps alone, the warmth of it, the familiar scent, cherry blossom of Pearl’s perfume twining with the smell of cigarettes, lacing lacing lacing until it’s so unmistakably her Violet thinks there’s no replicating it,, not even coming close to. She verges on searching for Pearl’s hand, but then changes her mind and interlocks her own fingers beneath her chest, wonders how and when the silence between them got more comfortable than mindless chatter with most people is.

“What’s the meaning behind your thigh tattoo?” she asks finally, when the atmosphere gets too light, too easy, close to compressing in how natural it feels.

“Huh?” Pearl finally raises the pillow off her face and drops it somewhere in general direction of the head of the bed. “Oh, this one?”

She throws her legs up and props her ass off the mattress, trying to keep her lower body up with her abs and failing spectacularly, almost tipping over and nearly ending up with her feet over her head and eventually just falling back down on the sheets with a frustrated huff. Violet resists the urge to laugh for approximately a split second and then cracks up, drawing her hand up to facepalm. Pearl mumbles something under her breath and elbows Violet in the ribs lightly, pretending to be dismayed by her temporary loss of cool, even though she’s never been hiding her dorky side around Violet and they both know it.

“Each flower represents a woman in my life,” Pearl says when Violet succeeds to stop cackling and outstretches her arm to brush her knuckles against the ink. “There’s one for my mom, then my sisters, and my grandma, oh, yeah, and this smaller one is for my nephew.”

“that’s so sweet,” Violet smiles. Pearl must be close with her family, she seems the type, seems like somebody who keeps in touch a lot and insists on spending at least one set of holidays a year together, makes it work despite everyone having their own busy lives. Violet doesn’t ask, though, wants to avoid the series of corresponding questions touching the subject will surely breed painfully harder than she wants to learn these things about Pearl, feels claustrophobic more than she does intrigued. “You designed it yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yah, doll, all of my ink,” Pearl confirms. “Nap time?”

With that, she pushes herself up on the bed to lie down on the pillows, Violet follows her, pressing close to her side and twisting her gently until Pearl’s back is to her chest and she can loop her arm around her middle and bury her face in her hair. Pearl sighs happily, her hand immediately covering Violet’s where it’s resting on her tummy, and relaxes, and Violet falls asleep to the deepening pattern of her breathing.

*

Sure enough, Violet wakes up to the sounds of thundering and raindrops against the window some hours later.

It takes her a moment to register she’s in Pearl’s arms now, despite them having had been in the reversed position when she dozed off, but it doesn’t particularly alarm her — she’s used to Pearl’s tendency to flip them around in her sleep, as if she can’t possibly get enough of holding Violet and will utilise any chance she gets. Next, Violet registers Pearl’s open mouth dragging against the skin of her neck and her fingers aimlessly stroking her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, the light trailing of her blunt nails sending chills up Violet’s spine.

“Pearl…” she croaks, her voice cracking a little.

“Shh, baby,”Pearl breathes out.

Violet gasps almost soundlessly, shifting a bit, and Pearl presses a kiss right where her whisper is still burning Violet’s skin. Her palm flattening on Violet’s middle, she starts unhurriedly sliding it higher, pulling Violet’s shirt up with it. She reaches Violet’s tits, gropes the flesh forcefully, but before Violet can push her chest out into the contact, Pearl drops her hand lower, hooking her fingers under the rolled up hem of the shirt. She tugs it over Violet’s breasts, and Violet barely bites down a filthy moan as the cool air on her bare body gives her goosebumps.

“Pearl,”she repeats, a pleading tilt to her tone.

Pearl’s mouth moves to Violet’s ear, and she closes her teeth around the lobe lightly, then laps her tongue over the spot, and Violet’s toes curl, the action causing her to lose a bit of her breath. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Pearl presses two of her fingers right between Violet’s exposed breasts and starts slowly tracing them down her chest and abdomen, her leisurely pace nearly torturous and making Violet’s gut twist and her whole body tense and shiver in anticipation and excitement. She’s still hazy from sleep, soft and a little powerless, ardent and almost shapeable under Pearl’s touch, needing her to set the tempo and do whatever she pleases, and Pearl seems to be in the matching mood, wanting to take control and have Violet her way, dominant in such a tender, disarming fashion. She reaches Violet’s panties, twiddles with the waistband, slipping her index finger under it and swiping across the skin there, and Violet involuntarily bucks her hips into the impact, a whimper escaping her as Pearl retaliates and puts her palm on Violet’s pelvis instead, swiftly drawing her back closer.

“Baby…” she mutters, scolding, teasing, perhaps a tiny bit breathless.

“Please,” Violet utters instantly, not caring about how desperate the thickness of her voice sounds.

Pearl’s lips are back on Violet’s skin immediately, kisses being peppered in a neat string from behind her ear all the way to the crook of her neck. She simultaneously forces her foot between Violet’s ankles, and gradually pries Violet’s legs open with her own, fitting her full thigh high enough to be lightly brushing against Violet’s pussy. She starts sucking a mark on top of Violet’s shoulder, and moves her hand and places it on the back of Violet’s own, fingers feathering over the knuckles before interlacing with hers.

As Pearl begins to drag their joined hands lower, Violet squeezes her eyes shut and exhales in shattering pants, wanting to squirm, to rock her hips to try and get some friction against Pearl’s thigh, but also immobilised, unable to recall how to use her muscles, her lust rendering her boneless and completely pliant. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s skin, leaving the spot hot and throbbing in her wake, and lifts her face to nose Violet’s curls, her deep and heavy breath tickling the nape of Violet’s neck. She guides their hands all the way down and stops right above Violet’s panties again, her fingers still securely clasped over Violet’s, and Violet senses how prominently her muscles tense under her palm as Pearl stalls deliberately.

There’s a moment of stillness, the only sounds disturbing the almost perfect silence — the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional thundering that feels like it rolls over the area in huge waves, as well as their noticeably laboured breathing. Violet’s wound up, thinks she might snap any second now, loves how charged all of this is, utterly enjoys the way Pearl is torturing her and the ache in her core from too much tension without any relief.

After the longest while, Pearl nuzzles her faze closer and presses her lips behind Violet’s ear, and that’s what finally sends Violet right over the edge.

“Daddy,” she whines, so fucking needy and desperate that there’s no mistaking it.

Pearl must lose some of her composure with that, because she curses lowly and screws her knee, thus working Violet’s legs farther apart. With determination, she pushes their hands into Violet’s panties, and Violet produces a surprised Oh, her eyes flying open, not having had realised Pearl was planning something like this, but promptly relaxing her wrist to allow Pearl full control of the situation and her body, relishing in the way surrendering to Pearl turns her on so much.

Without delay, Pearl presses their fingers between Violet’s lips, and Violet hisses as she senses her own wet heat, nearly burning against her skin. She’s slightly mortified by the ease with which Pearl reduces her to this state, by the fact Pearl can feel it just as well, by the way the humiliation only stirs her on.

“God, Vi, dripping already,” Pearl rasps, her fingers twitching like she can’t contain it. “Slutty little thing.”

Violet whimpers and squirms, too overwhelmed and consumed by all the sensations, all the softness and intensity of their position to produce anything intelligible, limbs too heavy to try and speed the things up, to do anything except give up and let go. Pearl aligns their fingers so that hers are lying primly along Violet’s, and. with another kiss pressed to the side of Violet’s neck, thrusts her wrist to rub the digits against Violet’s aching clit.

[gisachi]

#42 for the shinran kissing prompts maybe? (thank you for the nice tags on my art btw 😉💜)

Thanks for this request! 💞 Ahh, what can I say, your doodles are so funny and so lovely to look at!! I’ve never had the proper chance to thank you for your tags on my posts too so I’ll take this opportunity. It makes me really happy that you like what I write ;;_;; So I remembered reading one of your tags saying that you like Domestic!ShinRan so I’mma give that to you rn. I really hope you like this! 🤗

42. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead. (1,551 words)

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9:00 PM.

It’s automatic, whenever the grandfather clock strikes 9:00 PM. Seconds after the last chime of the bell, he’ll hear the library door open, footsteps lightly approach him, then hundreds of pecks will wordlessly land on his cheek in the midst of his paperwork, disrupting the mind palace he’s put up for hours.

It did surprise him the first time, giving his wife a weirded out ‘What’s with you?’ look, but it doesn’t take a while for Pavlov to prove his theory to him when for the next four or five times, he begins to grow accustomed to this flow of events. He doesn’t even have to look at the clock; he just knows that once the library door clicks, it’s 9 o’clock, and he’s bound to ready his cheeks for the array of kisses that’ll shortly follow.

Though his mind has already been conditioned to this, Shinichi’s yet to admit that that is the most favorite thing he wants from his wife to do. After all, anyone who knows him knows that he must not be disturbed in the middle of his deductions. Well, they can, but at the expense of being ignored, or avoided, or humiliated for feeling like they’re talking to a brick wall.

Thus it has been a universal rule that a working Shinichi is an absolutely-cannot-be-disturbed Shinichi. And his wife knows this for sure.

Yet why? For what purpose is she doing this, persistently giving him something he never asked for? Something she isn’t even sure he wants, or needs?

Tonight is rather a busy night for him. He doesn’t usually bring home extra paperwork from the Department, but this present case - a child kidnapping case - calls for urgency. Since 5 PM, he hasn’t left the Kudo library and has even missed dinner. But hunger is nothing compared to the need for the case to be resolved as soon as possible. Time is the enemy. So for almost three hours, he reads, he closes his eyes, he writes, he thinks. On repeat.

“Yes, Megure-keibu. Yes. Among the suspects only the child’s aunt living in Minato ward can possibly do this. Said she’s never been in touch with the kid for years and- Yes. And yet she knows her routine after school. She’s been spying on her. Right. Please send the Team right away to her house. Be on guard. It’s possible there’s someone with her with a weapon. Mm. Let me know once the suspect is restrained.”

He paces back and forth the library, grave and relentless worry evident in his face. He waits, and waits, and waits. Forty minutes of frantic silence and tension, hunger and thirst unnoticed. For forty minutes his world zeroes in on just him and this case, not in the least mindful of his environment, of any sound other than his nervous heart and seeing nothing other than the flash of memories from back when he - and she - was young.

Finally, the awaited call arrives.

“Shinichi-kun, the culprit has been apprehended. Good job. We’ll hear more details on this tomorrow. You may now retire for the night.”

Thank goodness.

Slumping into his chair, he heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Megure-keibu.”

He checks his phone clock. 8:58 PM. Wow, it took almost four hours. He doesn’t even realize. Oh, the effect of child kidnapping cases on him.

He stays in his chair, unmoving. That’s when it hits. The fatigue. The hunger. Minor unfinished paperwork still lays on his desk but he figures he needs a little breather.

For once he actually seeks for rest.

Ran.

8:59 PM.

How convenient. Now he just has to wait for one more minute. Then the grandfather clock will chime and the door will click and this time, he’s ready to welcome whatever intrusion there’ll be, as long as it’s from her.

Ran.

He closes his eyes, chuckles breathily. Hah.

For the first time, is he really actively waiting for her to come?

He waits, and waits, and waits.

Any time now.

Aaaany time.

9:01 PM.

9:10 PM. 9:15 PM.

9:20 PM.

Maybe it’s the tiredness acting up, and he’s not supposed to be cranky because he has just solved a kidnapping case, but right now, he cannot stop his brows from furrowing and his lips from curving upside down.

Where the hell is she?

Releasing an impatient groan, he decides to just continue with the minor paperwork. Maybe she’s already asleep; doesn’t wait for him anymore since he sure is taking his time with this. He mechanically grabs his pen, flips some pages over, and stares blankly at words.

Man... he’s pretty bummed.

“Done with the case?”

He jerks from his seat, heart leaping a little. Trying to keep a straight expression, he slowly turns to the door, and there she is. The woman he’s secretly waiting for.

Ran.

Shinichi watches her walk his direction before finally realizing how much he’s been staring, and then returns his attention to his paperwork.

“...Late.” He mumbles, so low she barely hears it.

She stops, quirks an eyebrow. “Oh. Were you waiting for me?”

“Wh— N-no. Not at all.”

How childish he might’ve sounded just now.

Trying to push past her teasing stare, he pretends to go over the piles of paper in front of him one by one.

But Ran knows her husband too well. She approaches his desk, and, after a faint giggle, gives a light peck on his visibly flustered cheeks.

“I tucked Sakura and Shinji to bed,” she says, giving an answer to his unspoken question. “Took me quite a while this time.”

He tilts his head, half-facing her. “And? Are they asleep now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.”

She leans in for another peck and Shinichi instinctively offers his cheek, closing his eyes. Feeling her subtle smile against his skin, he cannot help but smile, too, as she gives him three more. Ran stands straight and sighs.

“You skipped dinner, Shinichi. I’ll heat up your food, okay?” She steps away, only to be abruptly stopped by a stubborn tug of his hand on her wrist.

“Ran, that’s...not enough.”

Swiveling his chair to face her, he opens his arms, catching Ran dumbfounded from where she stands. Then, without any word, she retraces her steps, slowly, until she’s standing between his legs, and his arms wrap around her waist.

“I was.”

“Was what?”

“Waiting.”

Cheeks dusting with red, Shinichi holds her gaze as she stares him down his seat; her eyes wide at the unexpected declaration before narrowing into slits.

“Mmm, really? M’not bothering you with your work?” She nudges her head to his desk.

“Nope.”

“But that’s not what I was getting before.”

“Hmm?”

“You've never reciprocated my kisses then,” she puffs her cheeks.

“Well…”

"You didn’t even notice I checked up on you before 9 o’clock. You were too engrossed with the case, spanning the room back and forth like a madman.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, so I figured it’s probably better not to disturb you until you’re done with it...don’t wanna risk being yelled at.”

“I’m not-“

“Oh, Shinichi. I understand, you don’t want any disturbance when solving cases, not even from your wife—“

He cuts her off with a kiss on the lips, dissolving Ran’s further complaints in his mouth.

“That’s not true,” he declares, then kisses her again, chastely. “Keep on doing that, okay? ‘Disturbing’ me or whatever...Even if I look serious,” another kiss. “Or annoyed.” Kiss. “Or cannot be bothered.” Long kiss. “Just...don’t stop doing that.”

He pauses for a good minute, admiring how she looks with her brows still wrinkled but face and ears now more crimson than his.

Ah. Yes— Now it’s clear.

What a shame for not having realized this sooner.

Breaking off his loving gaze, Ran pinches his cheeks, pulling them like dough. “Who says anything about stopping? Who’s gonna tuck you to bed when that happens?”

“Oh okay,” he chuckles, “so you’re really doing this whole thing to annoy me, huh?”

“Of course. Is there any other reason?”

He kisses her again, smiles fondly against her lips. “Because you love me?”

She returns the kiss, reciprocates the smile he doesn’t even bother hiding. “Now you’re being cocky.”

Hands intertwined, foreheads together, eyes closed, soft giggles lingering, husband and wife drown in each other’s comfort, forgetting about the time and hunger and everything else, his long day ending with her, at last. No one can take away this moment from them this time. Not even the minor unfinished paperwork.

Yes. This woman. His wife. Ran.

The only distraction he’ll ever want, and ever need.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what the case was all about?” He speaks softly, a little above a whisper.

“What is it?”

“Child kidnapping case.”

“Oh no,” Ran separates from him, expression visibly concerned, “and you’ve solved it?”

“Yes. The TMPD already apprehended the culprit.”

“That’s a relief,” she returns her forehead to his. “Though Shinichi, honestly I’ve never seen you so invested in a case before.”

“Yeah. It hits close to home.”

“What do you mean?”

Silence, then he takes a deep breath.

“Did you know that you were almost kidnapped when we were in Kindergarten?”

“I was almost...what?!”

“Let’s save that bedtime story for later. Dinner first?”

.

.

.

[queerchoicesblog]

Broken Dreams

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in the City of Lights - & Love - at the time of the Belle Epoque, at the turn of the century.

The story of Élodie and Léa continues a bit later than usual but here we are!

Next and final chapter of this story will be out next week: stay tuned for the finale!

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapters: Paris, Paris ; One Night At The Moulin Rouge , The Handkerchief, The Cage of Fools,  La Vie Bohème

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

_______________________________

The morning after, I arrive home early. When I left the apartment, Élodie was still sleeping, wrapped in a shawl. I enter my room like a ghost, I take off my favourite dress, so carefully picked last night, and let myself fall to the bed like a dead body, feeling empty and heavy at the same time. I close my eyes and doze off for an hour or two, I cannot tell. I am awaken by the voice of Marie in the other room. My friend is back. I sigh and stand, joining her and my roommates in the kitchen after putting on my robe. When she sees me, her smile is soon replaced by a concerned expression: I don't look well, am I feeling alright? No, actually not really, no. I feel sick and hurt and tired and I barely slept. A roommate dismisses her concerns, informing her that my night out is probably to blame. "Yes, I went out with some of the girls last night and I suppose I had a bit too much" I confirm: sometimes a white lie is easier than the truth. It is now,at least. "Girls...we believe she has a secret lover" the other says, handing Marie a glass of milk and a small plate of biscuits. Their words hurt more than they surely meant with their idle maliciousness: I wouldn't have given them much thought under normal circumstances, but they ring differently after Élodie's party and refusal.

My friend can't refrain a surprised gasp. "Is it true, Léa? You didn't tell me anything" "If she did, it would no longer be a secret affair" the first who spoke argues. "No, Marie, it's just a crazy theory of the ladies here" I sigh, taking a seat too. "How was your journey?" Luckily, my abrupt shift of topic works. Sipping her milk, Marie tells me of her stay in Argenteuil. Being back home after all that time has been nice and weird at the same time: so much has changed since the day she left. Her mother's hair is now turning grey and his little brother announced his engagement to the butcher's daughter, a shy gracious girl named Marguerite: they'll marry next year. Despite what the doctors feared, her Aunt is now recovering, slowly but steadily. The illness debilitated her quite a lot as she's still among the living, which is all that matters. Marie's mother is looking after her now: she's in good hands. Our conversation distracts me but less than usual. I try not to notice. I join the three of them for a late breakfast even if I have little appetite, out of inertia. Then, I go back to my room, Marie in tow. As she start unpacking her bag, I lay back on the bed, unsure of what to do. I wrap myself in the blankets, overcome by a sudden cold. "Why don't you get some rest? It helps with hungovers" she suggests, folding her clothes. I look at her, wondering if "hungover" is truly what makes me feel so wrecked. What last night truly was, a side effect of vie bohème. "Are you nursing me?" I smile weakly. "Of course, you're my friend!" she chuckles, throwing me a sympathetic look. "Close your eyes, I'll be as quiet as a little mouse" Too tired and heartbroken to protest, I do as she says. I slowly descend into a dreamless slumber, a sweet merciful oblivion I anchor to like the victim of a shipwreck holds on to a piece of wood floating in a dark stormy sea. Isn't a shipwreck a good metaphor for my condition? I dared too much and tumbled overboard... Over the weeks that follow, I do my best to blend in my old life as if nothing happened and it was all a dream, a gorgeous dream I had to wake up from sooner or later. I work twice as hard as I used to and my efforts don't go unnoticed, especially now that we have so many orders and so little time on our hands. One day our infamous supervisor gave me an appreciative look and a surprisingly polite smile: keep up the good job and a promotion might be in store in the new year, she said. Marie overheard and winked at me from her desk. As the year inexorably comes to an end, we don't get to see our friends as often as we used to before she left but we keep in touch somehow and make plans for the New Year's Eve celebrations. Something to look up to, right? Life goes back to the way it was and I am grateful. Yet I cannot fool myself, I know it too painfully well. I miss Élodie terribly, unbearably but I don't dare to try and see her again. I avoid crossing Pigalle and Montmartre, I keep my distance from the Moulin Rouge. After what she said, I think she wouldn't like to see me. I've waited weeks for a letter, a note, whatever sign from her but nothing came. It hurts, especially at night when at times sleep is slow to come and I am left all alone with my thoughts. I shut my eyes and she is there, laughing as we gallop down the corridor, whispering my name like a prayer, kissing my lips in the moonlight. Then she dissolves when morning comes, an hurtful remainder that she's gone. A week before Christmas, Marie reads me a letter from home: after hearing what I did for her while she was away, her family invites me to spend the festivities at Argenteuil. If I have no plans to travel back to Roscoff, they would be delighted to have me as a guest. Of course going back home is out of question, so I accept. They welcome me with the warmth everyone would reserve to a relative they don't see often but who hold a special place in their hearts and I must confess, it touches me. Marie and her brother show me around while her mother cook us one of the best meals I have ever had. Even Aunt Odette helps, despite Marie's concerns. Sitting at their table, listening stories and eating a delicious Galette Des Rois, I feel at home, for a moment. I wish I could have felt that way in Roscoff too but it never happened. We leave after an interminable series of hugs and wishes. Marie's father makes me promise to attend the wedding next year, I offer to help sewing the wedding dresses, the groom's and Marguerite's. They all keep waving at us until our carriage takes a turn and disappear from view. We arrive back in Paris just in time for the New Year's celebrations: we greet 1890 drinking cheap champagne and dancing by the river, barely acknowledging the sleet withening the streets of the City of Lights. On our way back home, we share our dreams and hopes for the new year before the mad routines of our lives sets back into motion. I must say that for once I am thankful to the routine I complained about at times through the years. There is something oddly comforting in it now that I am trying to be a whole again. Then one week later, something unexpected happens. I am at work, cutting fabric for a new dress when our supervisor storms in. At first, I fear I am in trouble because she makes a beeline for me. Luckily, I am not: she is just going hysterical because the secretary of a certain Monsieur Toussaint, a loyal costumer and 'a most respectable lawyer', is here to collect an order with urgency but she has no idea where the suit is: the girl who took care of - and made a mess with - the order is sick that day. She adds other anxious mumbling but I don't understand a word. It's clear though what she wants. I assure her I will go find it immediately: as I leave my desk, she squeals to hurry, faster, faster! Away from her hysterical pressure, I find it in no time and head to the hall downstairs after checking myself in the mirror: we must look put together when meeting costumers. Or costumers' secretaries, I suppose. When I reach the ground floor, I see her. A young woman is waiting, patiently looking out the window. The cloak looks oddly familiar: it must be pretty popular these days. I address her with the dignified politeness and affability we have been instructed to have with our costumers. When she turns, I stop mid-sentence: it's not just the cloak, even her face is familiar. "Oh hello, Amélie..." She blinks twice and for a moment a shade of pink colours our cheeks as if our being acquaintances and the circumstances of our meetings make us suddenly shy. She recovers quickly though, and offers me a hand to shake. We chat a little but we don't have much time: duty calls for both of us. She's already heading towards the main door when she suddenly stops. I'm about to ask her if she forgot something, her gloves maybe when she speaks again. "You...don't know what happened, then?" I freeze. A name immediately crosses my mind followed by a growing concern: Élodie. "What? What happened?" She winces and walks back to the counter. In a somber tone and keeping her voice low, she tells me that it was New Year's Eve. The Moulin hosted a huge party to celebrate the success of its opening. Élodie performed in la quadrille that night, as usual. The routine was running smoothly and the dancers lined up for the hat kick. Out of the blue, a visibly drunk spectator grabbed Élodie's foot and pulled her, probably in an attempt to take off her boot or whatever he was thinking. Two gentlemen nearby promptly intervened, pushing him back and freeing her from his clutches, but damage was already done. Élodie lost balance and took a bad fall to the ground. She stood again, helped to her feet by Laurent, and kept dancing till the end. But when she made it to the backstage, she collapsed again, in tears and great pain. "The doctor said that with an ankle in that conditions, it was a miracle she even managed to stand up again" Amélie explains. "Oh God...I knew nothing of it" I cover my mouth with my hand. "I thought so" she grimaces. "How...how is she now?" "Very depressed: she spends her days lying in bed and refusing to see anyone. I had to insist and almost force my way in her room to visit her" She takes a pause. "You see, the doctor told she cannot dance now. Maybe anymore. Not as she did, anyway" I cannot even fathom the effect those words must have had on Élodie: dancing is everything to her. It's like saying to a bird it will no longer fly because they will tie one of its wings. "It can't be..." I reach to the counter for support. No, it can't be... "I know....a tragedy" she agrees. "But you should go see her. I'm sure it will make her happy and maybe you can make her change her mind" Cold dread washes over me as she leaves but I have a new steely resolution now. The following day, after work, I am knocking at Élodie's apartment's door. I am greeted by a young man with a pair of blonde moustaches who introduces himself as 'Louis Renard, painter extraordinaire'. I explain him the reason of my visit and he nods sympathetically, letting me in. He and the other roomates are all worried for El, he says: she's refusing to eat and talk and they only hear her cry. They don't know what to do to help, but "maybe you can, maybe she will listen to her friends", he adds encouragely as we stop in front of her door. Luis clears his throat and knocks but no answer comes. "Él, sunshine? Guess what news I bring? You have a visitor...a friend here came to-" "Go away, I don't wanna see anyone" Luis shakes his head and throws me a pained look. Her voice is so different from the last time I heard it. "But she's here, she came for you. At least-" "I'm tired, I need to rest" Luis opens his mouth for one last attempt to reason with her but I raise my hand, gesturing him to let me try. "Élodie? It's me, Léa, remember? I've heard what happened and I just want to check in on you. If you're tired, I will let your rest and wait here until you wake up. But I will not leave without seeing you" No answer comes again, only silence on the other side. Luis and I hold our breath for a moment then I say: "I will let you sleep, I'm in the other room" Luis shows me the way and we walk down the corridor. I grimace: what was I expecting? Amélie said it all herself... I am taking a seat, bracing myself for a long painful wait when her voice resounds again behind the closed door. "Come in" Luis and I exchange a look then he smiles. He has to go now, he must deliver his latest painting, but I am welcome to stay. Keep an eye on El in the meantime, would you?, he asks. My heart is racing when I open her door: I have gone through what to say to her on my way here so many times but I can't remember a single word now. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves before stepping in. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work. Élodie is sprawled over the bed and props herself up when I enter the room. She offers a weak smile, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders before diverting her eyes. She looks tired, a shadow of her usual self. "Léa, what a surprise..." Her voice is feeble, a whisper; her hair askew fall on her face, hiding her visage. At the bottom end of the bed lay her legs, barely covered by wrinkled blankets, the same that once welcomed our passionate embrace. My heart aches at the memory of it and at the sight of her right ankle, wrapped up in tight bandages and held in place by wooden sticks on each sides. "I came as soon as I heard the news" I grimace. She nods somberly, always avoiding my gaze. "I-I should have known you would but you didn't have to after-" Before she can complete the sentence, her voice breaks and even if I can't see her face, I know she's crying. I don't even have to think: I run by her side and pull her into a tight hug, tight enough to hopefully offer her an anchor. She immediately wraps her arms around my waist and I feel her tremble against me as she succumbs to her grief. Her career is over, she says between sobs, she will lose everything and what will she do now? She always knew it wouldn't have lasted forever but now it's too soon, she's still young, too young to end it so soon. I caress her hair, calming, soothing. She buries her head against my side. It's a terrible thing to see: lovely mirthful Élodie shattered, defeated. The worst thing is I can do very little for her apart standing here by her side and holding her as she cries her heart out. I keep stroking her curls even when her sobs subside at last and she takes long breaths, grasping for air. "We'll figure something out" I say out of the blue. She parts and meets my gaze, her eyes puffy and red. "We'll figure something out" I repeat, brushing away a tear with my thumb. I have no idea how but there must be a way out of this, I don't know. In the meantime, I do the only reasonable thing I can think of: I take care of Élodie. I visit her almost every day and bring her food so she won't starve herself. She's a bit hard to convince at first: she keeps saying I don't have to do this but I am more stubborn than her. One day, she takes my hand into her and she apologises for disappearing on me: she regrets it dearly and missed me more than words can tell. Her voice trembles as she speaks and I believe mine does too when I smile to her and say I missed her too. Funny how a bunch of words, the words we need or hope to hear, can make the world around us a bit brighter and warmer even in the heart of winter. One evening, I head towards her apartment with my usual gifts. As I take off my coat and hand it to Luis, I hear her: Élodie is singing a doleful song I have never heard. A memory of her childhood maybe since she recalls the words so well. I hear her from the main room: her voice, albeit a little uncertain, is utterly beautiful. Melancholic, modulated, melodious. That kind of voice you would never get tired of listening, over and over again, like a lullaby. When I reach the threshold of her room, she's looking out of the window, absentmindedly, playing with a loose strand of her. She turns towards me and stops, offering me a smile instead. "What was that?" I ask, walking closer. "Oh, nothing, just an old tune" she shrugs. "I don't even know why it even crossed my mind after all this time" "I got you a book and a little treat" I hand her a cheap edition of a novel a colleague gifted me and a slice of cake I bought on the way there. Élodie's eyes bright up as if I brought her a shiny diamond rock. "You're spoiling me, little pearl" she smiles, unwrapping the sweet. "Here, have some!" I lean down to press a kiss on the top of her head. "No no, it's for you only" She takes a bite and scoots over so that I can take a seat beside her. "Charming" She reaches out and kisses my cheek. The crumbs on her lips tickle, making me chuckle. "What's the story of the book?" she asks, mouth half full. I pick it up and adjust at her side. "I'm not sure honestly...I think it's a romance. I thought it might keep you company" "Sweet" she comments. "....or spicy. Let's see! You're not leaving so soon, right?" I smile, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. She leans into the touch, a sweet expectancy in her eyes. "No, I'll stay. We can read it together when you finish" She smiles again, nodding and checking the back of the book to get an idea of the plot. As I watch her eating and skimming the book I brought her, I cannot stop thinking of the little tune I caught her singing a moment ago. I look at her and she seems so blissfully unaware of the gracious beauty she filled the room with. When she takes the last bite, she hands me the book to read. "Sounds like a nice story. Shall we?" I take the book in my hands but I hesitate. "Sure, but first could you sing that song again?" I knew my request would surprise her. "Yes but...why?" she asks, sitting straighter. A smile crosses my lips as I place a hand over hers. "I have an idea"

[k-llama-llama]

Confidence Boost

SuperM AU: 8th member

YinYin x SuperM

YinYin during SuperM’s american interviews!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!

A/N:YinYin is here for a limited time, so if you have any requests for her send them in now!!!. ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“And, what do you think about the support you’ve been receiving from your fans?” The interviewer asked.

They were currently sitting for an interview in LA, and YinYin had never been more anxious. Through every single press conference and interview, she was just trying her best to keep up. She barely understood most of the questions, and the ones she did were quickly answered by the more outgoing members, like Mark or Baekhyun.

She mentally cursed herself. Since when was she the shy one? But here, speaking English all of the time, she had never been more out of her element.

But this question...this question she understood. She’d been practicing possible answers in the car, and this was one of them.

Mark knew it too, turning to her with a supportive expressing. “YinYin? You want to answer this one?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “We...we all are in diff...different groups. We have different fans, so...”

The interviewer nodded like he understood, encouraging her to keep going.

“So, it makes us very very happy that-”

“That you can see all of your fans coming together to support you? I imagine that must be nice, to really feel united as a group.” The interviewer finished for her.

He talked fast and YinYin barely understood, but she was certain that he had finished her answer for her. She nodded and sunk into her chair.

The interviewer turned to look at his cards.

“Wait, hold up.” Mark switched to Korean. “YinYin, you had more prepared. Do you want to say it?”

She shook her head quickly. “It’s okay.”

The interviewer barely noticed their exchange, and quickly jumped into the next question.

For the rest of the interview, YinYin reacted supportively to the other members answers, but every time she thought she knew the answer, something in her brain told her to let someone else answer it.

She supposed she couldn’t blame the interviewer for jumping in. Her English sounded painful even to her own ears. But still...she was certain the pronunciation had been right. She’d repeated the words to Mark a hundred times.

The interview finished, and they gave a group farewell before officially being dismissed. 

YinYin stood, smoothing out her hair and stepping off stage. After this interview they were supposed to have a couple of hours for lunch, which she was anxious for.

“Hey, man.” The interviewer clapped Mark on the shoulder.

Mark turned to speak with him, and all of the other members waited nearby, trying not to eavesdrop.

Taemin leaned his head on top of YinYin’s giving a heavy sigh to indicate his own urgency for food.

“And, hey, sorry if it sounded like I was cutting you off on some questions. It’s just, you know, it’s best for the viewers to not have to struggle to understand. Especially that fan question, you know? I just needed to jump in, cuz you could tell she was struggling.”

“Really?” Mark suddenly sounded a lot less friendly. “I thought she was doing great.”

There was a long awkward pause. 

“But hey, we’ve got to get to lunch. See ya.” Mark shook his hand one last time and hurried back to the group.

Half an hour later they were camped out in the private booth of a Korean restaurant. YinYin was really craving Chinese food, but she was so hungry that she just shovelled chicken into her mouth.

As she ate the last bite of her chicken, another piece appeared on her plate. She gave a thankful nod to Taeyong, who simply smiled and continued eating his own meal.

“Do you want to practice any more answers, YinYin?” Mark asked her. “To get ready for the next interview?”

She covered her mouth to finish chewing before answering. “No, it’s okay.”

“But you did so good.” Kai said encouragingly.

“Yeah, much better than me, so you can talk for me.” Baekyun winked at her.

She still shook her head. “It’s okay, I’ll just let you guys talk.”

Ten sighed. “Is this because that guy cut you off? He was an idiot, Yinnie. You were doing great.”

“Screw that, you were doing awesome.” Mark crossed his arms. “Here, I’ll set you up to answer in the next one, and you can answer, and I won’t let anyone cut you off.”

YinYin bit her lip. “I don’t want to make people listen to me.”

“They’re listening to all of us, they can listen to you too.” Taemin said with a smile.

YinYin shrugged and took another bite of her noodles, effectively ending the conversation.

An hour later, YinYin stood as their stylist fixed her hair for the next interview. Despite her conviction not to speak English, she was actually terrified. 

“Yinnie?” An arm wrapped around her waist, and she looked up and smiled unconvincingly at Lucas.

“What?” She asked in Chinese.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell. You aren’t smiling enough.” He teased. “Come on, be confident. Be the crazy Yinnie that I know and love.”

“Lucas, I don’t want to. I don’t think I can handle someone else saying my English is bad.”

“Yin.” He pulled her into a hug. “Whenever any member of our group was struggling, you were the first to encourage them. You’re always the first to help Ten or I when we don’t know a word. So let us help you, because you’re a part of this group and fans want to hear what you have to say.”

YinYin sighed. “You know, sometimes you’re actually pretty smart.”

“I know.” He beamed. “I save it just for you. So, you’re good?”

She nodded. “I’m good. I’ll try.”

“YES!” He picked her up and spun her around, setting her down after a stern look from the stylist. “Sorry! Let’s do this Yinnie!”