#shes quite friendly and nice but her face is very messed up from her accident

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: whilst caring for a new patient of yours, you definitely didn't expect to fall for her cute neighbour, Wanda Maximoff

warning/s: very minor mentions of injuries and death

author's note: okay so firstly, buckle in, folks, this is gonna be like 6 parts long lol. Also, I google translated all the Russian bits so i apologise if they are incorrect! okay, you may enjoy now :)

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

"38... 38... 38..."

I scanned the doors to the many apartments in the hall, hoping to find the one that belonged to my newest patient – Anna Pivec. As a nurse, I was always given new patients to visit and tend to until they no longer needed it or chose not to have me around. I'd just been assigned a new patient, Anna, and was excited to meet her.

"38!" I said to myself, spotting the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked on before waiting patiently, hoping she wasn't sleeping or anything. It wasn't too early – 10AM – and she knew I was coming, so finger's crossed.

The door opened to reveal a short, old lady with grey hair and a cane in her hand. I smiled kindly, meeting her cloudy gaze.

"You must be the one my granddaughter is paying to look after me because she can't do it herself," the woman spoke before I could introduce myself. Stepping to the side, she motioned with her cane. "Come on in."

My smile dropped at her abruptness. "I, er, yeah, I guess that's me." As I walked in, I said, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N. The nurse from–"

"Yeah, I know where you're from," she cut me off, closing the door and heading further into her apartment. "They sent me a brochure, milaya."

I followed after her, surprised at how quick she was for an old lady with back and heart problems. She was leading me into the open plan living-room and kitchen.

"I'm sorry – milaya? What does that mean?" I asked politely, hoping I didn't come across as rude.

She waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something to herself in what I think was Russian. Her profile did say she was from Sokovia, so maybe that was it.

"Okay, erm, well, as I said," I changed the subject, figuring she wouldn't give me an answer, "I'm Y/N. I'll be here five times a week and basically be doing anything you need me to do. Of course, I only want you to be comfortable in your own home, so if you ever feel anything but, please let me know."

She hummed in acknowledgement before motioning for me to follow her. I set my bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the couch as she did so on the recliner. She sighed with content as the pain on her back was eased from taking a seat.

"Tell me about yourself," she said gently.

I smiled with amusement. "That's usually what I ask my patients."

"Do forgive me, milaya," she said, and I made a mental note to bring a Russian-English dictionary with me tomorrow, "but you're a stranger in my home. I'd prefer to know about you before I let you take care of me."

I nodded, slightly impressed. Her profile didn't do her justice. Usually, the elderly I cared for were quick to allow me to do my thing, never really questioning who I was or what my intentions were. I was starting to get the impression that Anna was a strong, stubborn woman in a little old lady's body – definitely not one to mess around with.

"Okay, well, I'm a nurse," I began with the basics, and from there, went into a long ramble about my job, how I got into it, what it consisted of...

Anna was full of questions, taking the time to get to know me and I her. Once I had told her everything I could think to, she told me about her life. How she lived in Sokovia up until she was thirty-five years old and had to flee with her husband and daughter because of the war. She gushed about the both of them, a twinkle in her eye as she recalled their livelihoods like they were still alive. Her husband had unfortunately passed many years ago due to liver problems – "All that drinking, milaya! Us Sokovians are a force to be reckoned with!" – and her daughter had passed in a car accident not long after.

It was a tragic tale, but she didn't let it bring her down. In fact, she seemed grateful to have lived it and I couldn't help but smile as she shared it with me.

I noticed she would speak short phrases in Russian mid-conversation, without realising, which didn't make it easier for me to understand, but I couldn't bring it in myself to interrupt her to ask what they meant because she said it with such sincerity that I figured it reminded her of her home.

After our conversation, I made her lunch and gave her her medication before watching some TV with her and pretty much talking to her once again. She was quite an interesting woman, different to my usual patients, and I was enjoying our time together. After spending the day there, I wished her a good night before leaving.

When I returned the next morning, I let myself in with the key Anna gave me and called out a good morning.

"In here!" an unfamiliar female voice called out.

I furrowed my brows as I took off my jacket and headed into the living-area. Anna was sat in her recliner as usual, but she had a guest sat on her couch. A young woman, possibly my age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile on her lips was sat comfortably; she had a cup of tea in her hands and her legs pulled up on the couch like she lived there.

The stranger and Anna exchanged words in Russian briefly before the former stood up, about to introduce herself.

"Oh, are you her granddaughter?" I asked, putting two and two together. It was the only explanation I could think of for how comfortable she was and the fact that she was also Sokovian (I assumed, anyway).

The girl laughed, her green eyes sparkling as she shook her head. Putting out her hand, she said, "I'm Wanda Maximoff. Anna's neighbour."

Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I smiled awkwardly and shook her hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I just thought because you were speaking Russian that–"

"It's fine, no harm no foul," she put me at ease quickly, before taking her seat again. "I've lived next door to Anna for about a year now. Sometimes I keep her company on my days off."

I set my bag on the floor before taking a seat on the couch, leaving a gap between Wanda and I.

"That's nice," I said with a smile before looking to Anna. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs Pivec?"

She sighed, waving her hand dismissively, before saying something to Wanda in Russian who was listening intently. Nodding her head, Wanda looked to me with amusement.

"What did she say?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"She said she told you to stop calling her Mrs Pivec yesterday," Wanda translated, trying not to laugh.

"Just call me Anna, Y/N," Anna added with a nod. "And I'm fine. Just had breakfast with Wanda here."

"Breakfast," I repeated slowly. "How long ago was that? Just gotta make sure you get your meds."

"Shoot, am I doing your job?" Wanda asked, slightly panicked.

"No, no, you're not." I laughed at the way she scrunched her nose. "I mean, it would help if I could have breakfast with Miss– Anna, so I know when she has her medication. But it's all good."

"Are you sure? I can leave if I'm in the way," Wanda said with a frown.

"No need," I reassured her. "If Anna doesn't mind your presence, it's all good. I'm just here to look after her, clean up, make sure she eats, has her meds."

Wanda looked to Anna, who seemed unbothered by her presence.

"She can stay," Anna said with a shrug. "Makes it feel less like I'm a pet."

I opened my mouth to say something, possibly make her feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't mind her," Wanda reassured, giving Anna a knowing look before shooting me an easygoing smile. "She tends to speak her mind exactly as it is. No filter whatsoever. And very stubborn. You may have noticed."

I cracked a smile, feeling better knowing that it wasn't just me who noticed Anna's unique personality traits.

"Hey, that stubbornness and lack of filter is exactly how I beat my husband and his friends in every poker game back home," Anna said with a playful smirk.

Wanda and I chuckled, before the brunette leaned on the couch comfortably and looked to me.

"We finished breakfast, maybe, ten minutes ago? I made us eggs and toast," she answered my question from earlier.

I hummed before getting up with my bag and heading to the kitchen. Setting my bag on the counter, I grabbed my diary and also Anna's medication from its place on the kitchen counter.

"I'll give you your medicine now, Anna," I told her, already grabbing a glass of water for her.

"Thank you, milaya," she called back, and I spun around, immediately going to get my Russian-English dictionary from my bag. "Wait, I know what that is!" I flicked through the pages and scanned it eagerly. "Milaya... milaya... milaya! Okay, it means... sweetie."

"Sweetie," Wanda said at the same time, and I looked up to see her watching me from behind her cup of tea, trying not to laugh again.

"I guess another perk of your presence is being the translator," I said sheepishly, realising just how eager I was a second ago. "Anna likes to speak Russian a lot, which I'm fine with of course, but..." I waved the dictionary in the air.

"It's funny watching tvoye lichiko, milaya," Anna said with that same mischievous smirk on her face.

I looked down to my dictionary, struggling to pinpoint a single word in her sentence that I could search. It was overwhelming, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"She said it's funny watching your little face, sweetie," Wanda translated upon seeing my frozen state.

I relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks." Then I realised what she said. "Hey!"

Anna laughed as Wanda grinned, and I was suddenly glad she was here. I grabbed Anna's meds with a glass of water before giving them to her. After making sure she swallowed them properly, I put the glass to the side and took a seat on the couch again.

"So, you said you visited Anna on your days off?" I asked Wanda, intrigued by why a neighbour would be so interested in another. It wasn't very common in today's day and age.

"She's almost always here," Anna answered before Wanda could speak. I looked to her as she continued with a grateful smile. "Helps me with everything. Groceries, cleaning, my medication."

"So basically me but unpaid," I joked, and Anna laughed.

"Exactly," she agreed, and I looked to Wanda to see her blushing, eyes avoiding mine.

"That's really sweet," I said gently, earning her attention. "You're a really good neighbour, Wanda."

Wanda ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing. If anything, I enjoy being here. Anna reminds me of Sokovia and my family and, well, home."

"Oh, so you're Sokovian, too?"

She nodded before smiling playfully. "Did the accent not give it away?"

I hid a smile. "I didn't want to assume. I mean, you could've been Czech. Slovakian. Basically anything else."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she gave in, tilting her head to the side, smile widening.

It was then that I learnt her smile was extremely contagious.

Same as yesterday, my plan was to stay the day with Anna, though this time Wanda also kept her company (and me, too). After lunch, I left the two of them to watch some TV as I excused myself to change Anna's bedsheets in her room, ready for bed tonight.

As I was doing so, I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Wanda entering the room. I gave her a smile before continuing to replace the pillowcase.

"Here, I can help," she offered, and didn't give me chance to decline as she grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and began to change its case.

"You sure? You know it's my job, right?" I teased, looking up at her over the bed between us.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm aware. Just thought I'd make it a bit easier for you."

I chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it... how is Anna?"

"Dozed off," Wanda quipped with an expectant nod. "Same time every day. Like clockwork."

"Huh." I thought back to yesterday and how she ended up taking a nap after lunch, too. "Noted. Thanks."

Wanda smiled before putting the pillowcase on the pillow and puffing it with her hands. I did the same, content with its appearance, before moving to the duvet. Wordlessly, Wanda grabbed one end and began to help me put it on, which I appreciated. The duvet was bigger than I was and definitely a two-person job.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke out of the blue as we were putting on the duvet cover.

"Go for it," she said encouragingly, glancing sideways.

"Of course, you don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask since I'm going to be looking after Anna for a while," I gave a little disclaimer, before saying, "She makes a lot of snide remarks about her granddaughter. Do they not get along?"

Wanda sighed quietly. "Her granddaughter doesn't really visit her here. She rarely calls."

"Her daughter's kid?"

"The only one," Wanda confirmed. "She keeps her distance, ever since her mum – Anna's daughter – passed. She just pays for, well, you."

I frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, breathing out.

The two of us spread the duvet over the double bed before I looked to her with a small smile.

"At least she has you," I pointed out. "It's nice you give up your free time to spend it with her."

"Like I said, it's good for me, too," she reminded me, returning the smile.

"So what do you do when you're not here keeping her company?" I asked curiously, moving to Anna's bedside to clear it up a little.

Wanda hid her smile behind a look of confusion. "Do you not– don't you recognise me?"

I quirked a brow, pausing my actions. "Am I supposed to?"

She snickered, shaking her head, eyes falling to the bed with mild disbelief. "I mean, I guess not. I'm–" She chuckled, looking to my confused face. "I'm one of the Avengers."

I studied her, her words not quite settling in. But when they did, I realised I actually recognised her and she was one of the Avengers.

"Oh my God!" I blurted, the penny finally dropping. "The one with the weird red energy powers! I mean– not weird but– the magic!"

She stifled laughter, nodding her head. Just like her smile, her laughter was contagious, too.

"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.

I made a weird motion with my free hand, like I'd seen her do on TV when saving the day. "Does Anna know about your y'know?"

Wanda crossed her arms, raising a brow and watching me with a humoured gaze. "Is that supposed to be my powers?"

I stopped making the motion and felt my neck heating up. "I– yeah."

Laughter spilled from her lips yet again, automatically making me smile. I didn't mind that I'd made a fool of myself all of a sudden.

"Anna knows, yes," Wanda said with a bright smile. "She actually recognised me straight away. Much quicker than you. And she's eighty."

Waving my hand to distract from my flushed cheeks, I said, "Pfft, she probably confused you with someone else and played along when you told her who you were."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it, ty milyy maneken," she retorted with her piercing gaze.

"No fair, my dictionary is in the other room," I said with a pout, and she only laughed even more.

"Guess you'll never know," she teased with a smirk, making me roll my eyes to distract from the way it made me feel when she stared at me like that.

It was much later on when I learnt that she had called me 'a cute dummy'. And that was the beautiful start to Wanda and I's introduction into each other's lives.

—

From then onwards, about eighty percent of the time I would go to care for Anna, Wanda was present, too and I didn't mind one bit. Not only did she keep Anna company, but she made my job a lot easier whilst keeping me company as well.

I was beginning to look forward to seeing her whenever I would open the door. Whether she was cleaning something up, playing board games with Anna or simply having a tidy up around the apartment, she'd always stop what she was doing and help me with whatever was in my hands as she greeted me at the door. It was adorable. She was adorable.

The few times she wasn't present because of work only made me miss her, the apartment feeling emptier than usual. Even Anna agreed, the two of us making up for the lack of the Sokovian girl's presence by distracting ourselves with other activities.

I was convinced Anna was warming up to me as she freely let me care for her without resistance. Obviously, she wouldn't be Anna if she didn't throw funny remarks my way or speak to me in Russian, knowing I didn't understand her, but it was tolerable. And I was liking her, too; she was easily becoming one of the best patients I cared for. There was just so much personality to her that I couldn't help but smile whenever I spoke to her.

One time, I was helping Anna out at her place when Wanda wasn't present. I was leading her into her bed when I decided now was a better time than ever to ask her about her birthday on Sunday, which I knew was then because of her file.

"So, I'll be seeing you in two days next," I told her as I pulled the duvet over her. "And a little birdie told me it's your birthday then. Eighty-one, Anna! That's amazing!"

She smiled but seemed embarrassed that I knew.

"Tell me what you want and I can make it happen," I said promisingly, smiling down at her.

She waved her hand. "I don't want anything, milaya (sweetie). Your presence is enough."

I chuckled. "As sweet as that is, I know everybody wants something for their birthday. Now please, Anna. What can I do to make the day a bit more special?"

She pondered my question momentarily and I waited for her to speak, hoping it was something doable.

"I would love to have a traditional Sokovian meal," she said reluctantly. "It's been a long time."

I breathed out quietly, patting her hand gently. "I can do that, Anna. Don't you worry."

She smiled genuinely, before shooing me away. "Okay, enough sappiness, ty mozhesh' uyti seychas (you can leave now)."

I laughed, standing up and dusting my pants off. I only knew what that phrase meant because she said it almost every time before my shift ended and I left for the day. I knew she didn't mean it as harshly as it sounded.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, already heading to the door. "I'll see you Sunday, birthday girl."

She groaned quietly, making me grin, before I double checked everything was okay in the living-area and grabbed my stuff to leave.

As easy of a request that it was, I knew absolutely nothing about cooking a traditional Sokovian meal. But I knew of one person who did and instantly headed to Wanda's apartment next door to see if she was home.

With a quick knock, I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she was even home since she hadn't visited Anna today and she usually did so if she was. When I was beginning to think she wasn't, I told myself I could Google a recipe and put something together, but then the door opened and revealed a tired-looking Wanda.

"Y/N," she said with surprise, but a friendly smile was on her lips nonetheless.

"Hey, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late, but I wanted to ask– wait, what happened to your face?" I stopped speaking and lost my own smile when I noticed the faint scratches and bruises dusting her skin.

"Oh, it's nothing–" she started, raising her hand, fingers wavering over her head, but I cut her off.

"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" I reached out, taking her hand in mine and studying the cast that was around her wrist. Concerned frown on my lips, I glanced up at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, Y/N," she tried to reassure, but I couldn't help it as my worry got the better of me and I studied the cuts on her cheek. "I just came back from a mission. Minor injuries. Honestly."

I let go of her hand, realising I was still holding it, and nodded slightly. "Right..." Realising she must have been exhausted, I awkwardly stepped back and shook my head with realisation. "Sorry, I should go. I didn't mean to bot–"

"You were saying something," she interrupted, nodding encouragingly. "You wanted to ask me something. What is it?"

I paused, nodding. Admittedly, I was still worried about the bruises on her forehead. I knew she was an Avenger and this was probably the norm for her, but to me, it looked like she'd just got mugged. And the irregularity of that worried me.

"Yeah, I was saying," I finally found my words, trying to ignore the way her tired eyes peered at me hopefully. "It's Anna's birthday on Sunday and she wants to have a traditional Sokovian meal to celebrate. The only problem is, I don't know what that is." Wanda cracked a smile as I continued. "Do you, maybe, have a recipe I could use?"

"Of course," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Come on in."

I followed after her, closing the door behind me, and stopped at the kitchen counter patiently. As she searched for a notebook in her drawer, I subtly glanced around, taking in the inside of Wanda's apartment. I'd never actually been in it before, but the minimal décor was very her. She didn't have many knickknacks and everything on display served a purpose.

"There's some recipes in here," she said, grabbing my attention. She slid the notebook across the counter and leaned forward with a smile. "Take your pick."

I flicked through it briefly, smiling at the notebook filled with recipes, all in Wanda's neat, cursive handwriting.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, looking up and catching her staring.

She perked up, clearing her throat as she nodded in response before looking the other way. Cute.

"Are you working on Sunday?" I asked with a raised brow, before rolling my eyes playfully. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. Not with that wrist."

She chuckled, still avoiding my eyes. "I'm not."

"Well, why don't you come over for her birthday? You can help me cook her a meal. Or rather, I can help you cook it since I'll probably screw it up."

Finally meeting my eyes, she smiled with amusement. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a knowing look, ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach as she held my gaze with her intense dark eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Anna will love to celebrate with you. And..." I pursed my lips, taking a leap of faith and adding, "and I'd love it, too."

Wanda let out a quiet laugh. "You would, would you?"

I straightened up, smile widening. "Yeah, I would."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. "Well then, I clearly can't say no."

Something stirred in my chest the longer she watched me and I oddly liked it. It was obvious that Wanda was a beautiful girl with a heart of gold, but I guess I hadn't really acknowledged that I may have had feelings for her until now. And I didn't mind one bit.

"Great," I finally found my words, nodding slightly. "I'll see you Sunday."

She mirrored my expression, saying, "See you Sunday," and I knew I couldn't wait until then.

[novoaa1writes]

candles

image source

pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating. 

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t. 

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

принцеса | printsesa | princess [feminine term of endearment] мила | mila | honey [feminine term of endearment] любима | lubima | sweetheart [feminine term of endearment]

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.  

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you. 

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well. 

You’ll explain. 

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk. 

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed. 

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night. 

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously. 

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety. 

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering. 

Bye-bye, security deposit. 

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage. 

The rest of the week wasn’t much better. 

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it. 

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact. 

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that. 

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days. 

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication. 

Whatever. You were just trying to help. 

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it. 

With that, you left. 

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week. 

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts. 

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really. 

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

 So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back. 

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long. 

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends. 

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else. 

Which was pointless, really. Stupid. 

You were single. 

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would. 

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas. 

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did. 

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas. 

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity. 

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke. 

That was more than enough for you. 

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance. 

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest. 

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors. 

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back. 

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip. 

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter. 

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well. 

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick. 

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once. 

The next bits were something of a blur. 

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever. 

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe? 

And now… Now. 

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night. 

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket. 

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels. 

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long. 

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else. 

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda. 

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better. 

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back. 

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station. 

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus. 

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly. 

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other. 

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care. 

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all. 

She’ll make everything better again. 

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda. 

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.  

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off. 

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times. 

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free. 

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.  

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door. 

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief. 

You’re safe now. 

You made it.  

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place. 

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before. 

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you. 

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I...  I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true. 

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared. 

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense. 

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories. 

No point in lying. 

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him. 

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now. 

Fuck. 

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— — 

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do. 

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light. 

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business. 

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them. 

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments. 

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile. 

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees. 

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap. 

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose. 

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone. 

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose. 

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame. 

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another. 

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them. 

You’ve always loved candles. 

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer. 

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look. 

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing. 

In, out. 

In, out. 

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone. 

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame. 

And the worst part? You’re not lying. 

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery. 

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm. 

You do. 

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand. 

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her. 

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do. 

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored. 

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—” 

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—” 

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle. 

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out. 

Is she going to—? 

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step. 

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise. 

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad. 

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip. 

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat. 

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Crack!

Holy fuck. 

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush. 

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it. 

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core. 

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known. 

Crack!

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise. 

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop. 

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—  

Crack!

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out. 

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike… 

But it doesn’t come. 

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you. 

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions. 

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.  

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop. 

But as it is, you’re not. 

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly. 

In, out. 

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.  

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open. 

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.” 

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time. 

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui​

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

[annaofthenorthernlights]

Cruising beyond sunrise

This is my fanfic-contribution to the Frozen Fanzine Volume 5: Summer lovin - organised by @frozines! Hope you enjoy - happy frozine everyone ❤️

Pairing: Kristanna, modern AU setting

Rating: G

Summary: Anna and Kristoff set out for their individual summer jobs on a cruising ship along Norway´s coastline. Meeting "accidently" on the way to Hamburg´s harbour, the journey spins off "kristanna-slow burn-style..."

Chapter 1 / 4 (find the complete fic on AO3)

Somewhere in Southern Germany

For Anna, the invitation for this summer job came right in time. All her family would not be there during those long following weeks. Her parents were abroad on business reason, and Elsa had decided to join the summer camp of the philharmonic orchestra. She was a fabulous harp player after all. But then, Anna felt lonely. After breaking up with that unfaithful brat of a boyfriend… It had already been so many weeks since the disastrous night, where she had walked right in the middle of things, with him being served in the most intimate ways by his secretary… Yack! Anna´s eyes still filled with tears of fury and disappointment when the scenery flashed back before her inner eye.

Her suitcase was finally packed, and all her music devices sorted and stored neatly within her luggage. Anna was ready to depart and embark on the summer trip of her life! If only she wouldn´t feel so lonely… Ah, well, soon she would be surrounded by lots of people and fun programs. She was ready to go!

Somewhere else in Southern Germany

Normally, Kristoff would not travel inland by plane. But the ticket was paid by the shipping company, and he was kind of short on time. So, he would accept the offer and was on his way to Munich airport. He had mastered his finals and until starting his new job, he could just as well earn some money with this summer occupation. It might be a good start off into his career. Still, being surrounded by numerous people all day long, that was not his vision of a quiet and peaceful summer. With a sigh, he stuffed the ticket in his travel bag.

His suitcase was packed, and all his literature supply sorted neatly within his luggage. Kristoff was ready to risk the wave of vacation feeling washing over him.

***

The flight from Munich to Hamburg would take approx. 1 hour. Already they were delayed due to rain and maintenances still going on. Kristoff tried to relax in his seat, but then this size of airplane was not built for big guys like him. He tried to stretch and stretch his legs into the aisle without hindering the still boarding passengers. He desperately hoped they would take off soon, so he could leave this cocoon like cage after their landing. So, he flicked through the plane magazine to distract himself, when he noticed a person stopping just by his side. The woman was about to store her bag just atop of his head. She was small, tiptoed to the upmost maximum and stretched to the extent that Kristoff thought she was about to do pull-ups while dangling at the storage box. Some sort of moaning and sighing noises came to his ears, but nobody seemed obliged to help the tiny lady.

“You need help up there?” he asked, peering up from his seat.

“Huh?” the young woman glanced down between her arms and smiled at him. “That´s very kind of you, thanks, but I manage.” She then somehow shrank back to her normal size and stood there, with a shy grin and pulled up shoulders.

“I´m sorry, but may I…?” She pointed to the window seat.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Kristoff made some efforts to peel himself out of his seat. For some reason, he seemed stuck. This was ridiculous and he swore under his breath, in his mind strangling the architect of this seating construction.

“Oh, you know what? Don´t bother yourself. Just hang on.” And with that, before Kristoff realised what was happening, the young lady started to climb over his legs, holding on with one hand to the backrest of his seat and with the other to the seat in front of them. Within a jiffy she´d swung herself with ease into the seat next to him and wriggled herself into a cosy position. Of course, she was small and delicate of figure. She could move in here like a little fish in the water. For a short moment, Kristoff envied the small person next to him. But then, excuse me, how rude was her behaviour. He couldn´t help to clear his throat and then stare back at his magazine. What else was there to do?

“Oh no!” The girl exclaimed.

“You´re alright?” Kristoff asked vaguely, glancing over briefly.

“I left my mobile up in my bag, and I thought of listening to some music.” She gnawed on her lips and was about to get up.

“Would you mind? I´m so sorry. But you don´t need to bother yourself again. I can just as well…”

“No. No. That´s totally fine, really!” Kristoff pushed himself out of his seat as fast as he could before someone could climb over him again for the second time within two minutes…

“Oh thanks! That´s so kind!”

After the energetic neighbour had plumped herself back into her window seat, Kristoff turned his attention to his book that he had fished out of his bag before sitting back again.

After the plane had taken off, the flight continued in a peaceful manner, for the girl had plugged her earpads and was listening to music all the time. Only the snack break would stop her from napping with little snores or then happily humming along to the songs. According to the tunes that emerged from her lips, she had to be listening to ABBA.

It was hard concentrating that way, but after a while Kristoff got used to it and for some reason the humming didn´t bother him as much anymore.

And when the plane finally landed, he was off as fast as possible to escape that tiny place and the crowd of people that were all around him.

***

Anna stood at the docks in awe. She had never been on a ship like this one or seen anything like it from close up. Excitement filled her and the thought of being part of this adventure for the next two weeks. The change of tapestry would do her good, she was sure. Since that dreadful time of new year, Anna hadn´t been able to go anywhere or participate in any activity really. The shock of catching Hans, cheating on her in such a horrifying way, had kept her ensnared for weeks. Her family hadn´t been of much help. Of course, they´d been helpless as well. In their ways, leaving her alone, for a good reason, Anna understood them. Finally, she had found relief and regained her composure by repeatedly talking to her aunt Gerda, who had shown her so much appreciative value and heart-care!

“Hi there. Are you alright?”

The friendly voice next to her interrupted her thoughts. Anna turned to face a lovely woman with big almond shaped eyes and ebony skin. Her hair was an impressive bunch of black, neatly combed into a braid that fell all down over her chest.

“Oh, hi. I´m sorry. I´ve never been on a ship like this and had to take a long look first.”

“Yes. It´s quite impressive, isn´t it. By the way, I´m Honeymaren.”

“Oh, I´m Anna. Nice to meet you. Are you going to work here, too?”

“Yes, I´m the 1st hostess and here to help if you have any questions. So, what are you going to do aboard?”

“Me? Oh, I´m here as a fitness instructress.”

“Ah. That is fantastic. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights! Come on, I will show you around and sign you in, alright?”

Anna was so grateful to have met Honeymaren. First, she seemed so kind and then, Anna would have a safe contact in case of an emergency on her behalf. She was about to get a bit nervous, though. If only she would not mess this up and make a fairly good job here!

Her cabin was alongside the other staff lodges, and she loved it. It was cosy, furnished and the bullseye-window was so cute!

The passengers would check in only the next morning, and for tonight there would be some sort of welcome party for all the ship-staff. Anna was looking forward to this event immensely. She desperately hoped to find some nice people to hang out with for the next two weeks and not being left on her own.

***

“Good evening, Dr. Bjorgman. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights. I hope you´re satisfied with your cabin and all?”

“Yes. Thank you. All fine.”

“That´s great. Have you met the captain yet?”

“Yes, I have. Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Well anyway. Enjoy your stay aboard and if you need anything or have any requests, don´t hesitate to contact me. Alright?”

“Yes. Thank you. As a matter of fact, that might well be the case since this is my first cruising tour you know.”

“Ah. Don´t worry. You´re not alone there. Our fitness instructress is new to this , too. You two might just as well stick together then?” Honeymaren smiled and winked sheepishly.

Dr. Bjorgman didn´t get it but was wondering how long he was supposed to endure this event, when the hostess put a hand onto his arm and waved with the other.

“Oh. There she is. Just hang on a second, I´ll introduce you. Hey Anna! Over here!”

Kristoff followed Honeymaren´s gestures and spotted an auburn-haired girl, who waved back into their direction excitingly. The humming girl! She hurried towards them, stopping abruptly upon seeing him. Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together, pulling up her shoulders while stepping up to them.

“Hi there!” Anna lifted a shy hand to greet them both, constantly looking back and forth between Honeymaren and the man standing next to her.

“Hi Anna. May I introduce? This is Dr. Bjorgman. Dr. Bjorgman, this is Anna, our fitness instructress. You two might have business to talk?” With that, Honeymaren left them to themselves, she was needed somewhere else.

Silence.

“So, I hear this is your first cruising trip, too?” Kristoff asked awkwardly. Meeting the sportive lady again had not been on his mind to be honest.

“Yes, indeed. Goodness… Had I known.” Anna put a hand to her chest and shook her head, obviously embarrassed. “Seriously, I´m so sorry for bothering you on that flight and isn´t it funny, we sat right next to each other? But I was so nervous getting here. I mean excitingly nervous, not nervously nervous, you know?”

Her expression seemed truly apologetical, but friendly and enthusiastic.

No. He would know nothing about the feeling of being excitingly nervous.

“Yeah, sure. Don´t worry.”

They were standing, looking at the people mingling and grabbing drinks from the bar.

“Would you know what we are supposed to do now?” Anna asked uncertainly, gnawing on her lips.

She was nervous after all.He could tell.

“Frankly, I don´t know. For my part, I don´t like such functions. But I guess it´s part of the job.”

“Oh. I love meeting people. I´m just kind of unsure where to start.”

Why not getting her over to that bunch of people and then take a leave?

“We could grab a drink at the bar and join the party?” offered Kristoff with a sigh. Anna nodded feverishly and smiled at him, grateful for his suggestion.

So, when they got to the bar, the barkeeper greeted them with a friendly nod, offering them a “welcome drink”.

“Hellloooo!” A cheering voice sang into their ears from behind and Kristoff and Anna turned to look at a rather little fellow with light hair and big eyes. He grinned broadly and shook their hands enthusiastically.

“Hi! I´m Olaf and I love meeting you all!”

“Oh. How nice! And what are you doing here?” Anna beamed upon meeting someone so refreshing.

Olaf´s face lit up even more at Anna´s remark and he explained, “I´m responsible for the evening entertainment. And youare…?”

“Oh. I´m Anna. I´m the fitness instructress.”

“Aha. That´s lovely. And who is that funny looking grumpy head?” Olaf leaned towards Anna, conspiringly glancing in Kristoff´s direction.

“Oh. That´s… Dr. Bjorgman.” Anna shrugged, unsure of how to address the medical crew member respectfully. But Olaf wasn´t satisfied.

“Gosh, no. That´s too complicated. We are family here!” He waved a hand demandingly at Kristoff. The latter sensed his chances, repressed an amused chuckle, but smirked at the little one.

“It´s Kristoff.”

With that, he waved his goodbyes, wished them a nice evening, and left.

Maybe this wouldn´t be so bad after all. So far, they all seemed to be a friendly bunch of guys. And Anna was safely left in good hands with this Olaf.

This way, Kristoff felt less guilty… If you like to read on... find the complete fic on AO3

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍

he knows what could happen if you remember. he’ll do anything to prevent that.

word count : 1.6k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀whatever iwaizumi was thinking, he certainly had no logic. honestly, he probably would've been better off just not telling you a thing about oikawa. after all, he should've known from the start it's in human nature to want to push past restrictions forced upon them. and as much as it pained him, he knew he had messed up bad, his anger getting the best of his common sense and regretting it a day later.

⠀he knew you were curious about your boyfriend.

⠀rather, the boyfriend you didn't even know you had.

⠀from the very beginning, hajime could see it in your eyes - the natural attraction your body held as you and oikawa first exchanged short glances towards each other in class. volleyball had taught him to be quite the observer, and you made no effort in being subtle. unfortunately for iwa, oikawa noticed your innocent curiosity as well.

⠀he was afraid to ask you more about what you remember. it was different from the first day you had woken up from your coma, you were completely out of it so your muddled brain couldn't have remembered nor recollected much. now that you were spending regular time at school, just like normal, your memories might have just resurfaced sporadically. as far as hajime knew, you remembered everything, just pretending like you're still suffering from memory loss.

⠀but he knew you weren't like that. you wouldn't do that to him.

⠀you two weren't best friends before the accident, basically just friendly acquaintances who shared the same pain in trying to make the aoba johsai volleyball captain learn how to stop and take a damn breather. you had made it quite obvious in the past that you were an admirer of oikawa's, much to hajime's dismay - but he suppressed such feelings, in fear he'd be seen as too selfish.

⠀and he paid the price by seeing you happy in oikawa's arms.

⠀maybe iwaizumi was biased, but tooru really was more on the shitty side when it came to being a boyfriend. he had asked his peer countless times why he had accepted your feelings when he knew he didn't have time for a relationship; and every single time, hajime would get the exact same answer:

⠀"she made me happy at the winter tournaments, i'm only returning the sentiments."

⠀does causing your car accident count as making you happy?

⠀seeing how determined tooru was to get close to you again, pissed hajime off. what was there to be pissed off about, though? if this was a game, iwaizumi was winning. oikawa lost everything, from his reputation to his girlfriend. hajime was on his way to making you happier than tooru ever could. there was no competition here - he had this hook, line, and sinker.

⠀at least, he should have it in the sinker.

⠀a part of him knew, deep down, he was always default to second place. even without your memories, you still had your conscience, that internal voice in the back of your head that still held its senses. and if your conscience was stupid enough to adore oikawa even after everything he's done to you, how could the ace possibly fight against it? you could've died. and it would've been oikawa's harsh words as the true perpetrator.

⠀he wanted to prove a point to himself, you, and oikawa. that he was worth it. that you shouldn't have to waste your time with a scumbag who took your adoration and admiration for granted. the entire team knew that tooru wasn't the type to put anything over volleyball, and he displayed that when it came to your guys' relationship. while the captain was deserving of any praise he received that was volleyball related, hajime knew that it was unfair for you to be neglected because he spends so much time and energy on it.

⠀"hajime? are you listening to me?"

⠀he turned his head towards you, your words shaking him out of his daze. he blinked a couple of times and sat up, turning his head so his attention was fully on you. "sorry, y/n. a bit tired today. what do you need?"

⠀"huh? i don't need anything." you shook your head. "i was telling you that makki and mattsun were inviting me to go out with them today, just out to eat so they can also fill me in on random things, and to talk a little more. i said yes because they seem nice enough, and you seem to trust them, so i didn't have a reason to say no. i just wanted to tell you because i'm not going to be walking home, so you don't need to take me today."

⠀hajime's heart dropped to the abyss in his stomach.

⠀you were going to what?

⠀he knew exactly what those two were planning on telling you, and he was not having any of it. panic bubbled and almost erupted out in the open, but he saved himself with a deep breath and a plastic smile, nodding his head slowly. "right, i trust them... yeah. you have fun with that." you appeared happy with what he said, giving him a quick hug before walking off. he waited for you to turn the corner before walking off on his own, his jaw clenched and his destination set.

⠀"iwaizumi, where's - " hanamaki was grabbed by the tie as the brunet glared at his former teammate, his eyes anything but nice. "what are you doing? let me go. i'm supposed to be meeting - "

⠀"i know what you're fucking doing," he spat, his grip around makki's uniform only tightening. "this isn't just some random meeting. y/n asked you for this meet up, didn't she? she wants to know stuff, and figured you two would willingly comply." he laughed, more of a mocking volume. "and what do you know, she was right."

⠀"iwaizumi, let me go." the male with pink hued hair snapped more sternly the second time around; hajime hesitated for a few moments before reluctantly releasing his grip on his fellow third year, who pressed his lips together as he fixed his uniform hastily. "you got us," he muttered, his eyes finding iwa's. "she came to us during lunch and kept asking us. you were already on your way back to the table so we simply told her we'd tell her after school. that's all."

⠀"that's all, my fucking ass." pointing an index finger in takahiro's face, hajime shook his head. "you better not tell her about oikawa. she's much better off without that piece of shit in her life."

⠀"but she has a right to know."

⠀iwaizumi's face paled, taking a step back as makki crossed his arms. holy shit, he was serious. he and makki were going to tell you everything. "she's a big girl, iwaizumi. she wants to remember her life before the car accident. i can't imagine what she's going through, having her memories blacked out like that. i know if i was her, i'd want to know every single detail." makki's eyes narrowed. "including the memories that could hurt me."

⠀hajime's hands clenched into fists as he shook his head again in protest, sticking his foot out to prevent the other from walking forward. "over my dead body will i let you do that. the last thing she needs is a reminder of the nightmare he put her through. you won't tell her a fucking word about it."

⠀"or are you just scared you'll lose her to oikawa again?"

⠀just that question was a punch to the stomach as hanamaki observed iwaizumi's reaction. a corner of his lips protruded upwards as he stared at the other male in the hallway, the truth so horribly obvious. "doesn't take an idiot to see how set you are in making y/n fall for you. using her amnesia to your advantage to brainwash her into forgetting oikawa and becoming her new boyfriend... i was on your side at first, iwa. now? you're being just as shitty as he is."

⠀"don't you fucking compare me to him. i'm not like him, and i will never treat her like shit."

⠀"maybe not like shit, but she's certainly more like a prize than an actual person in your eyes."

⠀takahiro watched the frustration boil to hajime's face, taking a deep breath and walking around him before he could be stopped again. "if you excuse me, you made me late. i'm sure y/n will - " he grunted as a sharp pain grabbed hold of his wrist, his eyes widening slightly as hajime seethed at him, jaw clenched and face glowing angrily.

⠀"i said, you're not telling her anything."

⠀"who's going to stop me?"

⠀iwaizumi's smile was anything but pleasant as he pointing towards the school entrance. "mattsun and y/n are waiting for us, right? we shouldn't leave them waiting for too long."

⠀makki's breath hitched in his throat at the realization and cursed to himself quietly, shaking his head as he had no choice but to pull hajime along with him. "your logic is fucked up. y/n is nothing but a trophy for you to show off."

⠀"y/n means more to me than what you could ever hope to understand. keep walking, bastard."

⠀"hajime? what are you doing here?" your face revealed genuine surprise as he had appeared right beside hanamaki, releasing his iron grip on his wrist before exiting aoba johsai. "i thought you were walking home?"

⠀he could see the silent exchange of glances going on between the other two, and he could tell by matsukawa's quiet but exasperated sigh that he understood what was going on. iwaizumi pretended to not notice, however, as he moved to stand next to you. he saw the confusion flickering within your irises, how they were averted towards the ground instead of looking at him. if only he could tell you how important you were to him and why he was acting this way for your own good, maybe you'd understand his side better.

⠀"i figured since i was hungry, i'd join you guys. after all, we all trust each other enough to discuss anything, right?"

a / n : second post today! promised it would come out soon 🥳 ALSO, THANK YOU SM FOR 900 FOLLOWERS !!! it truly means the world to me that you all decide to stick around my profile, i promise i’ll do the best i can to provide content worthy of your attention 🥺❤️

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms@manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam@0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest@tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch@readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammerss @monviemoo

[roberttchase]

Brettsey prompt - established brettsey relationship and jealous Sylvie.

Have some cute Brettsey with kids! They are from my Must Love Dog series. This is set in the future. I will be writing more with them but for now, have a tiny little sliver.

At four, almost five years old, Adelaide Casey is going to be the death of Matt. Whether it’s from her curious, independent personality, or him being wrapped around her finger, he’s not sure which. It’s early; barely eight am, but the little girl has been restless since Sylvie left for her usual cycle-bar lesson, and she’s been asking for the past twenty minutes straight to go to the park.

Matt’s usually pretty good at tuning things out (he had to be when Otis and Cruz were galavanting around the firehouse), but the relentless determination his daughter seems to have woken up with is finally cutting through the barrier. That, or he just can’t say no to her. Looking at where she’s laying splayed across the couch, playing with two small animal figurines, he smiles. He sends a quick text to Sylvie, then walks over.

“Go get dressed and we can go.” The words make the tiny girl freeze, then she hops up, grinning and all but running up to her room.

They’ve been working on letting Addy dress herself more, and make more decisions, instead of just telling her. It’s definitely an ‘Addy-day’ as she so affectionately calls them, because when she reappears a few minutes later, she’s dressed herself and looks proud. Looking her over, Matt thinks it could definitely be worse. He and Sylvie have been explaining to her about the weather lately, and how to dress accordingly. It’s September, and the little black and white striped leggings with panda faces on the knees, paired with her favorite short sleeve shirt that reads ‘Jedi in Training’, should easily be enough to keep her warm.

“Can you put my hair up like Mama’s please?” Big blue eyes look up at him and Matt is amazed (as always) how much she looks like Sylvie.

“Of course. Do you think you can sit still for me long enough?” He teases, taking the hair brush and hair tie from her little hands, leading them to the living room. She sits on the coffee table while he sits on the couch behind her, brushing her wild mess of long, curly blonde hair.

“Papa, do you think Mama will wanna to get a donut after? She’ll be real hungry from the bike, right?”

Matt snorts as the hair tie hangs loosely between his teeth, pulling her hair up before catching it all with it, pulling it through to make a ponytail.

“She might be. Are you still hungry? We have more oatmeal and banana,” he offers, knowing exactly what game she’s playing at. He can’t help the smile taking over his face.

“No! I’m allll full. Jus’worried ‘bout Mama.”

“It’s very sweet of you to worry. When she finishes and meets us at the park you can ask,” Matt suggests, kissing her head. “You ready to head out, Chief?”

“Yes sir!” She gives him a mock salute and he laughs, following her to put their shoes on.

“Can we take Beau? I’ll walk him!” She freezes in the middle of the hallway, making Matt stumble.

“...we can. But only if he wants to go. Go find him and ask okay?” Another thing they’ve been working on- everyone has feelings, even animals. You have to ask before assuming someone wants to do something.

Moments later, while Matt’s pulling on his Nikes, Addy comes back with Beau trailing her, little nub wagging wildly. Matt nods and grabs Beau’s leash off of the hook near the door to the garage, handing it to her. She clips it on and grabs her sunglasses, another new development lately.

“Let’s head out. We can go to the park a few blocks away, yeah? The one with the tire swing?” When he gets an excited smile and wiggle, Matt lets her out into the front yard and locks up.

The walk doesn’t take long, and Matt, as always, is impressed with how well she walks their little frenchie. They get to the park that’s blissfully empty, though he’s not surprised. It’s early enough most kids are just waking up. He’s sure that Andy, their two year old, is just waking up with his Aunt Stella, Uncle Kelly, and their three year old (his best friend) Jackson. Sleepovers with the two are common, enough so that they know they’ll happen twice a week. Addy prefers Cruz’s twins, even if they’re almost two years older than her. Beau starts sniffing around near Matt, extending his leash to the longest it can be.

“Want me to come with you, or do you want to explore and play alone for a bit?” Options, Matt reminds himself, as his daughter thinks them over.

“Alone, but together later?”

“Of course. Go play.” With a smile, Matt watches Addy run over to the large structure, climbing up the little fake rock wall. They’ve come a long way from three months prior, when she was scared to do it on her own. Now she’s handling it like it’s nothing, and Matt couldn’t be more proud. Around ten minutes later, a mom and her two girls who seem to be around Addy’s age appear, and within seconds all three girls are talking and playing.

“They seem to be getting along,” the mom, a red head says, walking over. “Normally Katie’s pretty shy, but she seems to be warming up to your daughter quickly. I’m Elise.”

Matt’s never been one to just talk to other parents, that’s Sylvie’s specialty. He’s of course capable of making small talk, but his reserved nature makes him weary of it. Giving the woman a smile, he nods.

“Addy’s pretty quick to make friends,” he supplies, not fully sure he even wants to give her name out, but it seems rude not to. The girls look well adjusted enough, and his paranoia is put to rest when he sees their features resemble the woman’s next to him. “Matt, nice to meet you,” he adds. Beau snorts and Matt can’t help but laugh. “And this is Beau.”

They talk about their kids, and Matt’s unsure if he’s imagining it; he’s never been good at picking up signals, but it feels like Elise is flirting with him. He’s suddenly, acutely aware he doesn’t have his wedding ring on, doesn’t have it at all, actually. An accident a few months back involving cribbing being dropped on his hand and swelling had resulted in his ring finger swelling enough they’d had to cut his ring off. He definitely needs to get it replaced.

As the minutes tick by, Matt relaxes a bit. Elise is nice enough, and maybe she really is just being friendly. He can’t imagine her flirting with her kids so near by. Or...maybe not. The redhead is inching closer to him on the bench, and the firefighter tries not to look uncomfortable. Before he can say anything else, he hears Addy yell ‘mama’ at the top of her lungs. Looking up, Matt sees Sylvie walking towards them, breathtakingly beautiful. Though she may have just come from spin class, she’s still the prettiest woman in the world, blue eyes bright and smile wide.

Elise, for her part, looks only slightly thrown for a loop. He watches her smile tighten as Sylvie walks over. There’s something unreadable in her expression that Matt can’t quite place.

“Hey sweetheart,” Matt stands and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey love. Hi! I’m Sylvie, Matt’s wife. Nice to meet you.”

Elise’s eyes are calculating, then she huffs. “Elise.”

Watching the interaction, Matt feels like he’s missing something, but with the way Sylvie is suddenly eyeing the woman, he thinks that maybe his first assumption of Elise flirting with him was right. By now, Addy’s next to them, clambering to try and get into Sylvie’s arms, one of her favorite places to be. Sylvie, while still reaching down to hold her, keeps eye contact with the other mom, cocking an eyebrow.

“I think we’d better get going,” Elise informs them, when her twins start making their way over. When Sylvie doesn’t reply, Matt speaks up.

“It was great meeting you!”

“Likewise Matt.”

When the family is walking off, he turns back to his wife, looking at her curiously. “What was that?”

“She was flirting with you, and needed to be put in her place.”

Matt’s not sure what to do with the information that Sylvie is jealous, and not only that, she’s adorable when she’s jealous, like a grumpy cat.

“Mama, can we go get donuts? You must be reaaallll hungry after workin’ out….”

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Savior

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Thorn x Fem OC (Mayakel Renspou)

Summary: Maya's first night on the job as a cleaner in the Senate building resulted in her being on the receiving end of a Senator's wrath. Thankfully a kind Commander on patrol arrives to defuse the situation.

Warnings: 12+, none really, bit of aggressive language at one point.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Notes: This is the start of a little short series involving my OC Maya and her interactions with the Corrie Guard over the years. As always, feedback is really appreciated, along with reblogs! Thanks so much for taking the time to read.

The air in the grand senate corridors was cool this evening. A regal smell lingering from those who’d graced said hallways earlier that day. The only light source being the flares of bright colours that shone from the city beyond the window, dancing an array of patterns onto the golden decor.

Smooth jazz flowed through Maya’s headphones, keeping her in her own world and breaking the otherwise eery silence of the political capital. Her feet shuffled slightly to the beat as she continued mopping, drawing patterns with the wash solvent as she went.

It was her first night on the job as a junior cleaner for the Senate’s contracted company. She still hadn’t quite got over the shock of finally managing to get herself a good, honest job. This was it, the steppingstone that would help her haul her way out slowly up from the lower levels of Coruscant where she currently resided. It’d taken a lot of dodgy jobs and keeping her head down while continuing to study for qualification after qualification, hoping that one day she’d find that golden opportunity. The one which would lift her to the upper levels where the air was fresher and the people nicer. Well, that’s what she’d heard anyway. Now finally, she was on the way up, the hard work paying off. The job paid well, it was an honest day’s work and, according to her Pantoran colleague, apparently the Senate building had some of the juiciest gossip around. It seemed the Senators forgot that other beings existed in these hallways, leaving plenty of criminalising evidence just hanging in the stuffy air.

Maya chuckled to herself at the thought, still not quite believing it. These Senators were fancy folk who were taught word play and etiquette from birth, surely they had a bit more about themselves to be able to keep their private lives private.

She was pulled from her thoughts once realising that she’d finished her mopping in the corridor. Taking a moment to admire her handiwork with a small smile, she grabbed her bucket and made her way back to the supply cupboard to get the wax needed to make the floor sparkle.

The dirty water in the wash bucket swished and splashed as she lugged it back to her station, still singing away in her head to the music that played from the small datapad, tucked into the leg of her grey, utility trousers.

Still in her own world, she wrenched the door of the cupboard open. The view she was met with however caused her to drop the dirty bucket in shock, spilling its contents all over the floor she’d just spent the last hour cleaning.

Maya’s mind wasn’t focused on the mess though and instead she locked gazes with Senator Liss and one of the core world senatorial aides, who held each other in a rather compromising position, both in various stages of undress. Her brain had shut down from the sheer shock and awkwardness of the situation, leaving her mouth hung open with no words coming out.

The Senator apparently wasn’t a fan of her gawking. He made that abundantly clear once he clocked the cleaning uniform and proceeded to start screaming obscenities at her for invading his privacy. I mean you were in MY cleaning closet, pal.

The onslaught was ruthless as the large man emerged from the small space, backing Maya up until she was stuck between the man’s awful words, his even worse breath, and the ornate corridor wall. “Who do you think you are, you sick, disgusting, lower-level scum.”

“I’m so, so sorry sir, I had no idea. Please forgive me.” She replied, throwing all her effort into backing down and taking the verbal abuse from the renowned Senator.

“I swear they hire dumber staff each and every time. What of it now filth, you going to run to the holonews?” He bellowed, shattering the silence that had descended on the Senate building that evening.

“Sir, please. I’m very sorry, it won’t happen again. I saw nothing I swear.” She pleaded, Kriff she really couldn’t lose this job.

“When I’m through with you there won’t be a planet in the entire galaxy that will hire you, you stupid waste of-”

“That’s enough, Senator.” A modulated voice cut through the tension, pulling the Senator’s wrath away from Maya for a few moments. The man whirled around to stare down the Clone Trooper, who was ironically far taller than him, forcing the Senator to drag his eyes upwards until they were level with the soldier’s dark visor.

The Trooper’s armour was different from the others that usually patrolled the building, he wore white armour with red accents on the upper chest and shins. His helmet was red in the face, adorned with a grey visor. Above the visor two wings were visible either side, their red colour making the images pop against the white plastoid. It was all finished off with a grey Kama which fell to his knees in length, the red piping around the edges pulling the whole ensemble together. He looked like authority personified. Like he could command the attention of any room, as he was currently doing.

“And what of it Clone? Move on, this doesn’t concern you.” He spat out the name like it was bitter in his mouth before turning back to face Maya. However, the Clone Trooper made no effort to leave.

“It’s Commander, sir.” The red and white soldier stated boldly, making her eyes widen at his confidence as he closed in on the Senator. “And my duty is to protect all occupants of the Senate building, including our cleaning staff, and I don’t think being screamed at by a Senator for doing her job was in her contract, do you?” He was standing before the Senator now, his armour-clad form towering over the small man.

“What’s your number Clone, and who is your superior officer?”

“It’s CC-5870 and that would be Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Senator.” the trooper deadpanned back, nearly making her chuckle. Eventually the Senator backed down, knowing that going to the Chancellor about one Clone was a waste of time.

Grumbling, the large man grabbed his remaining clothes from the floor of the closet and dragged the young senatorial aide behind him, trudging away in embarrassment. Just before the pair departed, the Senator span back round on them both “A word about this to anyone and I’ll end the both of you.” While the power of this Senator was quite strong, neither Maya nor the Commander could quite take his threat seriously as he stood there in his underwear, having lost this battle.

“Of course, Senator. Have a nice evening.” The trooper replied, a clear smirk in his voice, making the man scoff before finally leaving the pair in peace. Maya took a deep breath and wiped away the spittle that had landed on her face from the Senator’s outburst. The Commander looked over to her, his helmet hiding whatever expression his face held. “Are you okay? I know the Liss can be a bit rough.” His voice had softened tremendously. The authoritative tone replaced with a friendly gentleness.

“Uh, thank you, Commander sir. I’m fine.” She replied with a slight smile “I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t know they were in there. I would never want to cause any trouble I-” she started blabbing, panic settling over her mind as the prospect that she could very much loose this job became real. She didn’t know much about armies or their hierarchy, but she knew Commander was a high position and she wanted to make sure he knew it was an accident.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. He’s all bark and no bite, I guarantee he would’ve forgotten your face by the time he’s finished his little affair.” The nice Commander reassured, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Commander. I hope you’re right.”

“You can call me Thorn.” He replied.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Thorn. Given the circumstances.” Maya’s small attempt at humour made him chuckle and the sound brought another smile to her lips. Considering the short amount of time she’d spent with this trooper, he seemed to be an expert and making her lips turn upwards.

“You too, Mayakel” She was about to question how he knew her name until she’d clocked the massive name tag attached to her bland, grey uniform.

“Ah, my friends call me Maya.”

“Oh, are we friends now?” Thorn teased. Maya’s eyes widened once again as she started stuttering before the Commander chuckled and assured her, he was only messing with her. “I’d like to be friends.” He left the statement out there, her cheeks beginning to ache as she smiled yet again at the soldier.

“Well, I best get back to work and clean up the mess I made.” She gestured to the dirty pool of water that sat on top of the marble flooring. “Quite the first day on the job.”

“You’re doing better than most.” He said, his tone light. “Well, I hope you don’t get fired.” He raised his hands and actually proceeded to shoot finger guns at her. Finger guns. And this guy was a Commander?

“Gee, thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she chuckled at his childish antics.

“See you around.”

Maya felt her cheeks burn as she smiled, having turned her back to the kind Commander who continued his patrol. Despite the evening’s events, should she return back to work the next day, Maya felt confident that she’d at least have one ally in the Senate Building from now on.

Back to Masterlist

[ladynoirelf]

Dark Crystal Tik-Tok challenge: Calling s/o the wrong name.

Deet to Rian:

Deet was writing up her midterm paper comparing Stonewood and Grottons weapons for her elective history class. Thanks to Rian and Ordon, Deet had tons of research material to work with thanks to Ordon’s collection and Rian’s expertise. Though she was having a bit of trouble remembering what a specific sword was used for. She also made a mental note to call up Amri and see if he could send her a picture of his family’s old bombs that they used. She called to her boyfriend:

“Amri! I-I mean Rian”!

“Amri”!?

Oh crud.

Rian walked out in robe, pink facial mask on and his hair tucked under a towel.

“Of all the names to call, you call Amri? Your EX”?!

“Im so sorry”.

“Amr-Does Amri sounds like Rian? D-Do I look like an egotistical grottan with a bad haircut who makes horrible fashion choices ”?

“Hey”!

“Oh don't defend him Deethra, short or long just pick man”!

Deet stifled the growing lump of a laugh in her throat. “He was on my mind, I meant to call your name-”.

“Why was he on your mind? Why are you thinking about your ex-boyfriend when you have all this”?! Rian circled his hand around himself.

“I need help with my paper”. Deet giggled, finding humor in her boyfriend’s reaction.

“No you know what, get an F”.

“Huh”?!

“Yeah, you want to hurt your boyfriend’s feelings, you get privileges taken away. No more help, no more access to the family weaponry, you want help you get Amri”. With a final humph and quick tightening of his robe, he left Deet alone cackling on the bed.

 Rian to Deet:

After a successful date, Deet recommended that they grab some burgers and fries from Wimpy. 

Deet was driving despite Rian’s gentle protest, but the young Grottan loved using the car since it took to roads so well compared to a Grottan vehicle that was more suited for the paved sirt of her hometown. The problem was that Deets turns were quite harsh and sharp as if she was still trying to trek through the caves roads.

Rian held on to the coat handle for dear life as Deet skidded the car into the parking lot, nearly knocking over one of the trashcans by the outdoor seatings.

“For the love of Thra! Mira you're gonna kill us”! Rian screeched just as Deet spiraled to park perfectly.

“Who”? Deet put the car in park, brows raised in question.

“Huh”?

“D-Did you just call me by your ex-girlfriend's name”?

Did he? He was too terrified for his life to even comprehend what he was saying.

“Did I”?

“Yeah, did my driving make you think of her”? Deet grinned leaning in close to a flustered Rian, who was clutching his thumping heart. 

“Probably, she drove crazy like you. Though she didn't have an excuse she just liked giving me a scare”.

“Awww, you’re still going to introduce me to her right? She sounds fun”. Grinned Deet, grabbing her purse from the back seat.

“Oh yeah, she’ll love you”. Rian breathed, shakingly getting out of the car. 

His legs were so wobbly Deet had to help him inside the restaurant.

 Brea to Kylan:

Brea was on her phone while Kylan was at the foot of the bed folding their laundry. 

As she scrolled through her phone, she got an email from her friendly ex, Rek’yr. Apparently, he had tickets to a museum benefactor gala. He was going to go with his plus one but apparently, they had to cancel. So Rek’yr decided to offer the two tickets for her and Kylan to use. Delighted by an evening out, Brea immediately accepted the offer.

“Rek’yr what are you doing on Friday”?

“...”

“...”

“A-Are you...Were you addressing me”?

Brea slowly looked up from her phone, mortified as she realized her error. Kylan looked at her, a mix of confusion and hurt on his face.

“... I am so sorry”.

“I-Its fine, i guess. I mean...It was a mistake right”?

“Yeah”. Brea’s lips quivered, tear bubbles forming in the corner of her eyes. Kylan cooed, pulling her into his arms he rubbed her back as she began to cry.

“Shhh, it's okay Brea, I know it was a mistake”.

“I-I-Im so sorry”. She wailed, clutching Kylan’s snotty shirt.

“There is nothing to be sorry for Princess”. Kylan sweetly assured, kissing her temple as she continued to cry in shame.

Completely forgetting about the tickets.

 Kylan to Brea:

As much as Kylan was getting used to Brea’s family members randomly coming over to their apartment, It was a hassle when one of her sisters just came over randomly. The latest ‘visitor’ was Brea’s second older sister, Tavra.  Who apparently stopped by to drop off some leftovers she thought he and Brea might like then left in a hurry. 

So when he heard the door open, he assumed it was Tavra coming back for something.

“Did you forget something Katavra”?

“Excuse me, Ka-who”?

Kylan looked from his book to his girlfriend's confused frown. Brea pushed her sunglasses over her eyes, hands on her hip and amber eyes narrowed.

“Who is Katavra”?

“W-Wha”?

“You heard me”. Brea sauntered over, her intimidating demeanor forcing Kylan to scramble to the side of the couch. “Who is Katavara”?

“Is this a trick question or are you having fun with me”?

“Kylan, do I look like I'm having fun with you”. Brea leaned over, caging Kylan with her petite body. “I'll ask again.Who.Is.Katavra”?

“...Your sister”. Kylan warily answered.

Brea blinked, irritation morphing into realization. Her mouth opened in an “oh”.

“You mean Tavra”?

“Did you forget your sister’s name”?

“Well I mean, no one calls her Katavra so...Yeah I forgot her name. Sorry larva”.

“For the love of Thra woman”.

 Mothria to Gurjin:

The best thing about being chosen to dance in the Sog community’s up-and-coming festival was that Mothria had an excuse to ditch Pop-Pa’s excruciating farmwork. To replace it with an excruciating hour of practice, though it's not all bad. It was nice to spend time with Naia, as both of them were partnered up to dance the part of the maiden. Although, having your ex-boyfriend as the head director can be quite awkward. Thankfully, Geal was very professional and only talked to her when needed.

Unfortunately, when Mothria got home after a long rehearsal her greeting was a little off.

“Geal I'm home, wanna get take out”?

“The FUCK you just call”?

Mothria stiffened as Gurjin stomped over to the foyer, arms crossed and eyes burning with anger.

“Did I call you Gael by accident”?

“Yeah, you did”.

“I messed up bad huh”?

“Mm-hm”.

“Couch tonight”?

“I'll get it set up for you”.

Mothria didn't move as Gurjin’s locs hit her snout as he swiftly turned to march to the linen closet.

“I love you”. She called.

“Love you too, but you're still on the couch tonight”.

 Gurjin to Mothria:

If there was one thing Gurjin liked doing, it was messing with Mothria when was in a pissed mood. Not to pissed that would kick him out the loft, but pissed enough to at least get kicked out of the room for thirty minutes to an hour.

And he cooked up the perfect way to agitate his love moth even more.

His ‘victim’ was sitting at the kitchen island on her phone probably venting to his twin. With natural born charm, Gurjin slid to Mothria’s side wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, Lovemoth, why so sad”?

“Oh, just dealing with family drama Gur-Gur”. She sighed, leaning into his touch “Not to be a brat but can you cuddle me later. We can watch whatever I just want snuggles”.

“Of course, Resha”.

Gurjin bursted out laughing as he was roughly shoved on his rump.

“I freaking hate you”! Mothria growled, stomping their shared bedroom after gently punching Gurjin below the belt.

“OOF”! Gurjin guffawed as he clutched his gentiles “M-Mothy what about cuddles and movies”? “You're banned from cuddles and movies! I'm going over to Naia’s”!

“Can I come”?

“NOOOOO, people who call me by ‘Resha’ don't get my love”!

The fuming Mothria stepped over her still laughing boyfriend who was now rolling on the floor. Grabbing her purse and keys.

“Love you”! Gurjin wheezed, tears in his eyes.

“Eat sog”! Screamed Mothria, slamming the apartment door. Leaving a chukaling Gurjin on his own for the next few hours.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Maid To Be

Genre: Regency AU, slight friends to lovers

Pairing: Namjoon/Named Reader

Warnings: Accidental groping, awkward Joon, a little cringe at times but in a cute way

Synopsis: Marriage wasn’t something you thought about much as a maid. You knew you would end up wherever your mistress, Dorothea, did. Despite the encouragement of your employers, you planned to live your life as Dorothea’s maid forever. When her attractive cousins come to visit, you can’t help but notice how much they’ve changed.

Note: A continuation to “Rabbit Hunting” and part of my larger Regency AU series of one shots.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Miss Cooke!" Mrs. Kim called from the entrance parlor. You dropped the duster and rushed out to the main parlor where the elder Miss Kim, a basket full of wildflowers and her hair and absolute mess. "Please help Thea dress for supper tonight. It seems she couldn't keep her composure during one simple outing."

Dorothea rolled her eyes and headed towards the room, dropping the wildflowers off on the table near the door. She seemed to have a dreamy look in her eyes. The elder sister was always prone to fantasies--both Kim sisters were in fact--but there was something different about the glaze over her eyes. If you didn't know any better, you would guess this wasn't just any morning walk.

"Oh, Miss Cooke what am I going to do with that girl? It'll be a miracle if I can find a gentleman to marry her. A gentleman is more likely to fall for a maid like you than a girl like her, even with her breeding!"

"Oh, Mrs. Kim, I'm sure that's not true," you said, ignoring Mrs. Kim's slight on your station. She hadn't meant any offense, but you still felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. "Any man would be lucky to marry either of your daughters. Now, would you like me to send for some tea? Maybe that will help you relax before we have out visitors."

"That sounds lovely, Miss Cooke."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Oh Eliza, he was so infuriating! Insulting our sex and then suddenly changing his mind! And, I don't even know what favor he wanted to ask me!" You tightened Dorothea's corset causing the last syllable to come out a slightly higher pitch.

"Yet, you're still hoping there'll be a ball so that you can dance with him." You raised your eyebrow as the girl turned around and you helped her into her dress. Dorothea blushed. The girl was a couple years younger than you and you'd been with her family so long that the Kim sisters felt more like your younger sisters than your mistresses.

"Well, it would be improper of me to turn him down if he asks." You laughed and Dorothea soon joined you.

"Your mother will be thrilled. If he's interested that is," you said. "It sounds like he's a suitable gentleman. Considering he's friends with your cousins."

"I can only hope," Dorothea said. "Who knows, maybe there will be a gentleman for you?" She nudged your side lightly as she sat down at her vanity and allowed you to brush your hair. You brushed it out and braided it back into a bun in a way that flattered her face.

"Oh, don't be silly, Thea," you said. "A gentleman would never look my way. And, even if they did, they would know it's improper."

"Maybe you'll find one that doesn't care about propriety. If my memory serves me correctly, didn't you and my cousin, Seokjin, have a flirtation the last time they visited?"

You laughed. "Seokjin and I are simply a friendly flirtation. We are good friends, that's all Thea. The man is a natural flirt and I like to tease him about it."

"Oh, wouldn't it be marvelous if you married one of my cousins! We'd be cousins then, Eliza!"

"Thea, you know I will go to whatever estate you end up the Lady of. I will never leave you."

"Oh Eliza, I hope you meet a rich gentleman, so you don't have to be a maid anymore."

"I like being a maid."

Dorothea looked at you like a forlorn puppy, and huffed slightly. After a few moments of taking in your figure, her face lit up and she told you wait there for a moment. When she came back she carried a small bundle of wildflowers, she held a few up against your hair before sliding a violet colored flower behind your ear.

"Please wear it while you serve supper," Eliza said. "I wish you could eat with us."

"Your mother is already kind with allowing the staff to eat the nice food that you and the gentlemen eat. Don't worry about me, worry about wooing Mr. Jeon tonight."

The mention of the gentleman's name caused the girl to become dreamy once again. She sat down at her vanity and began to put the finishing touches on her look.

"Now, don't do anything too strenuous that will ruin your hair. Your mother will blame me this time."

The girl nodded and left the room to work on the centerpieces. As you worked, you remembered the last time the Kim brothers visited. They were much younger, Seokjin being the only one who was close to marrying age. You'd heard he, too, hadn't married. You'd had a girlish crush on the eldest brother, so much so, that you only had a few memories of the two younger ones.

They all treated you as if you were their cousin and not their maid. They knew Mrs. Kim had taken you in as a charity when you were a young orphaned girl with nowhere else to go. She was the closest thing to a mother you had. She was kind enough to teach you some skills, in the hopes that you may marry someone with a decent job that would allow you to work less or if you were lucky, not at all. But, you would never reach the level of the Kims. It wasn't unheard of, but so rare you didn't dare dream. You weren't like Dorothea, you didn't have the money to dream.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Miss Cooke, it's wonderful to see you again," Seokjin said, allowing you to take off his jacket and place it in the closet.

"A pleasure as always, Mr. Kim." You turned to see more men working their way into the parlor. All of them handsome. All of them filthy rich. By the time the carriages were unloaded, there were seven in all.

You spotted one with a yellow flower tucked into his collar and you smiled in recognition of Mr. Jeon. His eyes seemed to be flitting around the parlor and up the stairs.

"Looking for the elder, Miss Kim?" you asked, smirking.

"Um, uh, yes, how did you know?"

"Ah, Miss Cooke knows everything around here," Taehyung said, coming through the door and clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You really should get on her good side."

You smiled at Taehyung, immediately remembering his boxy smile and the way he had been infatuated with you when you were children.

You helped each man out of their coat learning their names as you went: Mr. Jeon, Mr. Min, Mr. Jung, and Mr. Park. The middle Kim brother was the last one. He was the one you didn't remember all that well. He had always been the tallest, but he was very shy growing up, opting most of the time to keep himself content in the library.

"Mr. Kim, you've matured much since I last saw you," you said, taking his jacket and hanging it beside the rest of the men's jackets.

"You have as well, Miss Cooke."

When you turned back around, you met his eyes, the first time in the interaction. You hardly remembered how handsome he was: his intelligent eyes and dimples nearly knocking you off your feet.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Dinner was a frenzy. You worked to serve all the food at once. You had just sat down a plate of vegetables and turning to head back to the kitchen when you felt something brush the backside of your skirt.

You face reddened and you turned around, in disbelief that any of the so-called gentlemen would touch you in such a way, but when you met eyes with the guilty gentleman, he seemed just as embarrassed as you. Namjoon's eyes were wide and he was holding up his hands.

"Miss Cooke, please don't think that I would mean to touch you in such away. I was simply trying to reach out for attention. Please forgive me."

"'Tis nothing, sir. I can see from your face you had no ill intentions."

You quickly excused yourself to the kitchen and never met the man's eyes again. You heard indistinct chattering among the guests, but could clearly hear the Namjoon's brother's teasing him.

"I would've paid to see Miss Cooke take a whack at you," Taehyung said. "When she turned around it certainly looked like she wanted to."

"The look on your face must've frazzled her. She's never called any of us 'sir' before."

The other's boys laughed and you made a point to tune out the rest of their conversation as you ate in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Miss Cooke," Namjoon said to you as you retrieved his jacket for him that night. Just like when he arrived, he was the last one to leave. "I want to apologize for what happened at dinner. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's quite all right, Mr. Kim. Accidents happen and a little embarrassment is good for the ego."

Mr. Kim turned around his gaze felt hot against your skin. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the small violet flower Miss Kim had placed behind your ear earlier that day. "You dropped this while you were serving. That's, uh, why I was trying to get your attention before."

He hesitantly reached up and placed it back behind you ear, smoothing back your hair as he did so, you ensure it wouldn't become tangled around the plant.

"I thought you might want it back. It flatters you."

You blushed and curtsied to thank him. He left with a polite farewell and as you closed the door you felt like all the air drained out of the room.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You had managed to avoid the Kim brothers and specifically Namjoon all day. You'd of course greeted them, but you felt you cheeks grow warm when Namjoon smiled when he spotted the flower still tucked behind your ear. You knew you couldn't be around him the rest of the day or else you might lose your composure.

It was nearly the end of the day and you'd finished your duties early, Mrs. Kim insisting that you take the night off. Even telling you that the Kim brothers wouldn't mind seeing themselves out.

The night before they had announced that they were hosting a ball at Finchfield. The two Miss Kims had been so delighted it was all they could talk about. You were happy that Dorothea was finally going to get to dance with Mr. Jeon, because it was obvious from the night before that the feelings were mutual. And, you were sure the younger Miss Kim would find a suitable partner as well.

You entered the library--your favorite place to go whenever Mrs. Kim allowed you the night off--and you were startled to find the three brother's inside. The furniture pushed to the side while Taehyung and Namjoon stood across from each other, halfway through the steps of a country dance.

"Miss Cooke!" Seokjin said. "What impeccable timing! We were just complaining about the lack of female partners. We were just teaching Namjoon how to dance. I'm not sure how he got this far into life without learning how to do a simple Country Dance."

"The offer flatters me, Mr. Kim. But, wouldn't one of your cousins be a much more suitable partner?"

"Ah, but see Miss Cooke, my younger brother is embarrassed to admit to his younger cousins that he does not know how to dance. Please will you save him the embarrassment?"

"See, the thing is, Mr. Kim, I don't know how to dance either."

"Even more perfect! Namjoon won't be as embarrassed if his partner also can't dance! It might make our job harder, but we're willing to sacrifice."

You could already see through the Kim brother's antics, but it appeared Namjoon was nearly as embarrassed as you, but as you went to stand across from him, he bowed politely.

The dance was simple, you'd seen it a few times when balls were held at the Kim estate, but you were never allowed to attend a ball as a guest.

You followed the instructions, meeting Namjoon's eyes only for a moment, before pulling away again. Your hands softly touched as you swiftly came together before pulling apart again.

"Your flower hasn't wilted," he said, nodding towards the flower tucked behind your ear.

"I put it in water last night," you said. "I want to make sure it lasts as long as possible."

"Mr. Jeon did the same with his. I think he's really quite taken with my cousin."

"Hm, I should think so. She's quite taken with him as well. She talks about how infuriating he is, but I can see straight through her. Last night was the first time I've seen her speechless."

When Dorothea had walked in and spotted Mr. Jeon with the flower tucked into his collar, she couldn't keep the blush off her cheeks or the smile off her face.

"I expect I'll be moving to Mr. Jeon's estate within the year."

The dance stopped.

"Why would you move to Mr. Jeon's?"

"I plan to go wherever the eldest Miss Kim goes," you said. "Our bond is that of sisters and I can't think of living here without her."

"Oh, I see." Taehyung cleared his throat which caused you and Namjoon to look back over at the youngest brother. "Ah, yes, thank you, Miss Cooke for humoring my brothers, and for the dance. You're not a bad dancer, although, I may not be the best judge of that."

You curtsied and quickly grabbed the book you had come in for and left the library on shaky legs, trying to get the feel of the light touches from the dance off your hands.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

It was the night of the dance and you had settled into the window seat of the library. You had nearly the whole manor house to yourself, except for the other staff. You had just finished the first chapter of a new novel when the library door opened.

"Mr. Kim! Shouldn't be headed to the ball?"

"Uh, yes," he said. "Yes, I should. But, I couldn't go without reserving my first dance for the person who taught me to dance. And, it will give me one last practice."

"Oh, Mr. Kim, I'm flattered, but I don't want to make you late."

"I will always have time for you, Miss Cooke. But, if you truly don't wish to dance with me, allow me to add to your collection."

He reached out and handed you a book--a modern collection of poetry. "I saw you took a book of poetry yesterday. I thought you might enjoy this one. I have another copy back home, so feel free to keep this one."

Your eyes became misty. It was the first book you owned. You always borrowed from the library which Mrs. Kim was generous to allow you to do in the first place.

"Finchfield has a wonderful library, too. I'm not sure why the previous owner left it, but perhaps one day if you accompany Miss Kim, I can find a reason for you to spend the day there."

"Mr. Kim, this is all too much. How can I ever thank you?"

"Allow me to the pleasure of the first dance?"

"Of course," you said.

You both stumbled through the steps. You didn't quite remember and Namjoon hadn't quite perfected it yet, but when your hands touched for the brief moment, you were overcome with joy. You knew it couldn't last and that you and Mr. Kim could never be together, but even for the moment it felt like you were more than a maid. You were allowed to dream for just a moment.

Namjoon left not long after the dance, leaning down to kiss your hand before he left, something he would never do if anyone else were around.

You set aside the novel and opened up the book of poetry. Inside he had written a short inscription: May the prettiest flower never wilt.

[merakiaes]

A Nice Night In The Middle Of July - William Miller

Pairing: William Miller x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. First time I’m writing for Will so sorry if it’s a bit OOC, leave a comment and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 3377

Summary: Having a barbecue with Will and the boys on a nice summer night. 

“This is why I can’t have nice things, you know.” You mumbled against Will’s shoulder, looking down at his hands as he struggled to fix the broken chain of your golden bracelet.  

Will only grumbled under his breath, using a small pair of pliers to bend open the small golden rings.

“I’m fixing it, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He insisted, like he had been for the past ten minutes.

But you knew that his patience was wearing thin, pressing a light kiss to his shirt-clad shoulder and gently rubbing his bicep with your hand. 

“Will, I love you and you know that.” You said, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “You’re a good man and a good soldier, but you’re not handy. Not in the slightest.”

He stopped fiddling with the chain, turning his head around to look at you with his eyebrows raised in a playful manner. “What do you mean I’m not handy?” He asked. “I fixed the broken sink, didn’t I?”

“That’s not quite how I remember it.” You chuckled.

“No? How do you remember it?” He put the pliers down, turning his body towards you.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling as he took you into his arms. “You made it worse and Benny was forced to come over in the middle of the night to clean up your mess so that we wouldn’t flood and permanently damage the house. That’s how I remember it.”

He turned quiet for a moment, his fingers that had previously been rubbing small, comforting circles on your waist where his hand had found its place, coming to a halt.

“What is it with you and nitpicking, hm?” He asked after another moment of silence, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not nitpicking if your brother saved us from going bankrupt all because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, honey.” You pointed out, chuckling.

He started chuckling too. “Yeah, yeah.” He agreed, before leaning in closer to your face. “You know you love me.”

Smirking, you raised your arms to wrap them around his neck, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.” You mumbled, and began leaning in to close the space between you.

Your eyes fluttered close and your lips were just about to brush against each other’s, when the door to the living room flung open with a loud bang, causing the two of you to jump apart in shock.

Your eyes instantly found Ben as he walked outside into the backyard where you were sitting, his arms thrown out and his hips moving around in a ridiculous dance.

“Who’s ready to get their party on? Woo-woo!” He sang and while Will annoyedly rolled his eyes beside you, you laughed at his childish antics, bringing a hand up to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus, Benny!” You exclaimed. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Benny laughed loudly at you, jumping down the steps of the back-porch and heading your way. “Well, I am naturally terrifying.” He answered playfully and you chuckled.

Before any of you could say anything else, Tom appeared, walking out through the same door as Ben had just seconds before.

“I think we’re too old to party.” He commented simply with a small smile playing on his lips as he headed down the steps and in your direction, referring to the first words Ben had spoken when coming outside.

Ben, however, didn’t listen, giving his friend a disappointed look. “Oh, come on, man. You’re never too old for a good ole’ bender.”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his choice of wording and beside you, Will chuckled, pointing a finger to one of the chairs across from you.

“Sit your ass down, Ben.” He said, and his brother flashed him a cheeky grin, doing as told just as Pope appeared on the porch.

The second you turned your heads to look at him, he raised both of his hands into the air to put the four six-packs he was holding on display. “I brought the beer.” He said, stating the obvious and flashing you his pearly whites.

“And I brought the meat.” Tom joined in, coming up to the table and dumping the paper bag he had brought with him onto the wooden table, bringing said meat out and slapping the pieces onto the bag “This is the real deal, I’m telling you.”

Just the sight of the raw meat got you excited and you couldn’t wait until it was all cooked and ready to eat, not having eaten since lunch time.

Before any of you could comment on the good-quality meat, however, Catfish was jogging down the steps of the porch too, waving his hands around.

“And I brought my good company. Thank you, Frankie!” He cheered himself on, causing you to chuckle at the sarcastic tone in his voice.

“Thank you, Frankie.” You told him sincerely, your smile widening as he came up to your side and planted a friendly kiss on your cheek.

Once him and Pope had sat down next to Ben, they wasted no time in digging into the carton packages of beer.

Pope snapped the metal cap off a bottle and stretched it out for you to take and you accepted it without looking at him, keeping your gaze on Tom as he moved to the grill standing off to the side. “We got the grill all warmed up for you, Tom.”

Tom simply nodded his head, flipping the lid open and grabbing the metal kitchen utensils laying on the wooden bord next to the grill to stir the coals around.

While he busied himself with the grill, too engrossed in the task at hand to even spare you another glance, Ben leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“What have you got there, brother dearest?” He asked, and you moved your gaze to Will, seeing that he was now giving fixing the bracelet another attempt.

You hadn’t even noticed him going back to it, but now that he had, you could only roll your eyes. “My bracelet. He broke it.”

“On accident.” Will quickly filled in, without looking up from the golden piece of jewelry.

“How did you manage that?” Ben chuckled and, again, you rolled your eyes.

“He was fiddling with it, even though I told him not too, and as usual, he was too rough.”

A mischievous grin crept up the youngest Miller’s as he watched you, his hand slowly raising the bottle of bear to his lips. “Really?” He asked when he lowered it again after taking a sip, raising his eyebrows. “Because Will here tells me you like it rough.”

Pope and Catfish both choked on their beers at his words and Tom was obviously trying to cover his laughter up with coughs over by the grill.

Your eyes opened wide for a moment, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but then it turned into a glare, your head whipping around to face your boyfriend and your hand shooting out to slap his chest. “Will!”

Will’s glare was already set on his younger brother when you turned to look at him, his foot kicking him underneath the table, causing his younger brother to quickly raise his hands in surrender. 

“Kidding, kidding.” He said, but your glare didn’t leave Will, your arms crossing over your chest and a questioning eyebrow shooting up.

Before anyone could say anything else on the matter, however, Ben reached his hand out for the bracelet and the pliers in his older brother’s hands, nodding his head. “Let me have a look.”

Will turned to look at him, shaking his head. “I got it.” He insisted and you snorted, putting your hand on his.

“No, you don’t. Time to swallow your pride.” You said, trying to pry the pliers out of his fingers. “Give it to him, baby.”

He sighed, but did as told, handing the pliers and the bracelet to his brother, who wasted no time in starting to look it over.

While he busied himself with that, Will wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your arm. “Come here, you.” He said, and you did as told, moving into his side and settling comfortably under his arm.

“So, how’s your day been, guys?” You asked then, looking between all of them.

All of them shrugged, and Frankie leaned back into his seat, blowing a raspberry and raising his eyebrows. “Well, no one died.” He replied in a causal manner, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Those are your standards?” You asked, but when only getting an amused smirk in return, you shook your head in a chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

They hummed in agreement and you turned to Tom, raising your bottle of beer to your lips and taking a sip before asking. “How’s Tess, Tom?”

Without looking away from the grill, where he had now put the first round of meat onto the metal grid, he answered. “She’s good. Very good, actually. She won the spelling bee yesterday.”

“You should’ve seen her. It was impressive.” Benny wasted no time in pitching in from across you, causing you all to turn to him.

You raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of your beer and snuggling further into Will’s side. “What were you doing at Tom’s daughter’s spelling bee competition?” You asked, and Frankie chuckled, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” He asked, amusement evident in his voice. “He’s trying to nail her English teacher.”

“And I’m succeeding.” Ben instantly answered, pointing the pliers at his friend. “And not only with her. Teachers are just crazy for me, man. I think they’ve got a thing for soldiers or something. Or maybe it’s just because I’m smoother than the cream cheese on a bagel.”

Tom scoffed from where he stood, and you did the same, shaking your head. “Please, you’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.”

At the sound of your words, he turned towards you, pointing the pliers at you instead. “Watch it, or maybe I’ll keep the bracelet for myself.”

You leaned forward at that, eyes wide with expectation. “Did you fix it?”

Placing his hand over his heart, he gave you a feign hurt look. “You doubted me? I’m wounded.” He said and you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out.

Chuckling, he dropped the bracelet in your hand and you smiled to see that the chain was now whole again. “That was quick.” You pointed out, ignoring the way Will scoffed from beside you and smiling at his brother. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Don’t mention it.” He raised his beer to you and smiled, before bringing the bottle to his lips.

You turned to Will, looking up at him and holding the bracelet up. “Help me put it back on?” You asked and he grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless took it from you and undid the clasp.

You held your wrist up for him and he put the bracelet on without any trouble whatsoever. You moved to bring your hand back down but he caught your wrist, holding your eyes as he moved your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

A smile instantly rose to your face but before either of you could say anything, the egg clock went off inside the house, causing all of you to stop what you were doing to look at the porch door.

You smacked your lips. “Looks like the potatoes are done in the oven.” You told them, and went to stand up.

But Pope quickly got to his feet, holding a hand out to stop you and flashing you a soft smile. “I’ll get them, you sit down.” He said, and you returned the smile, nodding your head and sinking back down next to Will.

Next to stand up was Ben, pushing his chair back and putting his now empty bottle down on the table. 

“I’m gonna go raid your liquor cabinet.” He said, and beside him, Frankie put out a cigarette that you had barely even noticed him light in the first place, standing up too.

“I could go for some whiskey.” He agreed, the three of them heading toward the porch.

You looked after them until they had all disappeared into the living room, heaving a sigh when you could no longer see them. “Oh, well… I guess it’s just us three th- Where are you going?” You cut yourself off when you turned to look at Tom, seeing that he was now also moving to leave.

“You didn’t bring the limes.” He told you simply, wiping his hands on a towel to rid them of the marinade that the meat was covered in.

“Oh, shoot.” You groaned, giving him an apologetic look. “I totally forgot. They’re in the fridge.”

He smiled at you, throwing the towel at the table and nodding.  “Got it, be right back.” He said, stopping only to point a finger at you, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could get a word out, you felt a sharp pinch at your butt, a surprised yelp leaving your lips instead.

“No promises.” Will said from beside you, causing you to turn around to look at him, catching him trying to hide his pleased smirk behind his beer.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky antics and Tom only chuckled, before heading for the porch and leaving the two of you alone.

You watched the side of Will’s face closely as he took another sip of his beer, a hum leaving his lips before he leaned forward to put the bottle on the table in order to give you his full, undivided attention.

When he turned to face you with a small smirk playing on his lips, your face instantly lit up in a big smile, said smile widening even further when he leaned his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

He started planting feather-light kisses along your neck, out on your jaw all the way to your chin. 

“Hey, there.” He mumbled when his face was right in front of yours, and you smiled, looking down at his lips.

“Hi, yourself.” You mumbled, bringing your hands up to his neck, stroking the back of his head slowly.

He analyzed your face, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“You’ve got...” He trailed off, and you followed his every move with your eyes as he brought a hand up to your face, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin. “An eyelash.” He finished, bringing his thumb up in front of you, a single, black eyelash now resting on the pad. 

You chuckled, blowing the lash off, before reaching up with your free hand to take his in yours.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, taking you back under his arm and smirking playfully at you. “So, you come here often?”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “Well, considering that I live here, yeah.” You replied, and this time it was his turn to snort.

“Cute.” He said, and kissed you.

You hummed into the kiss, using your hand at his neck to pull him closer. “Thanks.” You mumbled against his lips. “I murdered a care bear and ate its heart to get this adorable.”

At the sound of your words, Will had to pull away from you with a laugh. “Wow.” He drawled lowly, raising his eyebrows.  “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was the care bear.” You gave him a feign evil look, before breaking into a wide grin.

He chuckled at your antics, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You mumbled, letting go of his hand to bring it to his neck where your other one was already at, pulling him in for another kiss.

“That I do.” He mumbled against your lips, and you simply smiled, pulling him closer.

The sweet moment of passion was cut short, however, when the sound of a can opening reached your ears, the two of you opening your eyes and slowly turning your faces around to the side, your lips only coming apart when you spotted Benny standing at the end of the porch with a grin on his face.

You brought your hand up to wipe your lips, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend’s brother. “We were having a moment.” You said, eyes only narrowing further when he loudly slurped the can.

“And I’m having a beer.” He deadpanned, still grinning like an idiot as he walked to where you were sitting at the table.

“I thought you were going to go get the whiskey.” You raised your eyebrow, and he wasted no time in raising the bottle you hadn’t noticed until then.

“I did, but that’s for later.” He replied, sinking down into his old chair just as the others returned outside, talking loudly.

While Pope and Frankie sat back down, Tom busied himself with cutting up the limes at a cutting board he had brought with him outside, all while the six of you engaged in conversation about everything between heaven and earth, reminiscing in old memories.

The food was served close to an hour later and it was even better than you’d imagined it would be, tasting like heaven when you hadn’t eaten anything else for so many hours.

The clock was well past midnight by the time you finished, but the conversations never stopped, drunken laughter filling your entire backyard.

The topic at hand was currently about the time Ben had stolen his neighbor and crush’s underwear in high school and thrown them up in the highest tree in the neighborhood for all to see, something he was still to this day very proud of, when you suddenly felt Will’s face nuzzling into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

His nose grazed over your neck, moving the hair out of the way, so that he could press a kiss to the skin.

“I love you.” His gruff voice came right by your ear a second later, and you smiled, closing your eyes as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, baby.” You mumbled, your smiled widening when he pressed another kiss to your skin, this time right at the corner of your lips.

“Hey, no more of that! You can bone each other later, preferably when we’re not here!” Ben’s voice yelled out, and before you got the time to react, you were hit in the face with a piece of lime peel.

You jumped, turning to glare at Ben who was smiling drunkenly at you, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“You’re the worst.” You told him, and he only stuck his tongue out at you, causing all of the others to fall into a fit of laughter.

Will started laughing too, his chest rumbling behind your back, the sound automatically causing the glare to fall from your face and be replaced by a smile.

You turned back to him, bringing your hands up to grab his face, causing his eyes to flicker up to yours.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you and you smiled, bringing him closer.

“But you.” You mumbled, swiping your thumbs over his cheeks anf pausing to peck his lips, pressing your forehead against his once you came back apart. “Are the best.”

He smiled, leaning in to press his lips against yours in another kiss, but was cut short by another lime peel being thrown at your heads, followed by a second, a third and a fourth, forcing the two of you to come back apart to cover your heads as the guys continued to torment you until they were all out of peels.

It was a beautiful night in the middle of July and you were together, drinking, eating, laughing, talking and having a good time with your closest friends, wrapped up in the arms of the love of your life. Everything was perfect, and nothing could bring you down.

[gyllenhaalstories]

Hi can you write a fic about dad!jake because there’s not a lot of them on here (if u want) and plus your writing is amazing hands down one of the best jake blogs on here ♥️

i do agree, there is a cruel lack of dad!jake. it’s so unfortunate! i mean, he looks like uncle goals and he would make the best dad in the entire world! thank you so so so so so much anon! you have no idea how happy your kind words make me! you didn’t give any specific setting so i went for the ultimate softness! just because i love naming characters, let me introduce you to toddler (ish) rose gyllenhaal! EXTRAS: i suggest you listen to the cinematic orchestra’s to build a home to get in the same mindset as i was while writing this. i found the gif on google image and couldn’t find the original creator, i’m sorry! WARNINGS: none except i don’t know how kids act and like what they are except very strange creatures so i’m so sorry if my awkwardness is showing through this fic! i hope you, and everyone reading this, will enjoy it! ( 1500 words)

BUILD A BEAR

“Teddy Bear!” Your daughter pointed, her head and arm peeking from the pillow fort you helped her build in your living room. “Big Teddy Bear!” She pointed at her father.

You chuckled, realizing that Jake has returned from running errands.

“You learned new words? I’m very proud of you, sweetheart!” Jake frowned, confused, as he planted a kiss on your forehead, then your daughter’s. Proud was an understatement. He would brag about how smart your daughter was at the simplest thing. Whether she fed herself without making a mess, drew an absolute chaotic art piece with her crayons or found her way to snuggle up in her parents’ bed despite being told not to, he was so proud. She amazed him.

It amazed him how she looked exactly like the two of you combined. She had his piercing blue eyes, but they had your shape, soft and cheerful. She had a bright smile like him. She had your button nose. She had that little curl in her hair that resembled yours. A bad encounter with the coffee table during a tickling session left her with a tiny scar on her chin, which looked exactly like one of Jake’s shaving accidents when he was young and innocent.

It amazed him how fast time flew by. Not even yesterday, the two of you were hearing her first cry and hugging her for the first time. It amazed him how much love he had to give this bundle of joy, while he believed he could never love someone or something as much as he loved you.

Rose repeated the nickname again and again. Maybe it was her new obsession. Last week, she tasted her very first lemon and kept screaming lemon all the time. Quite the learning experience, she had her father’s vocal chords that was for sure.

Jake shrugged it off and brought the mail to the kitchen table. He did not bother taking off his jacket, he kneeled with the two of you. He opened his legs and arms, hoping Rose would crawl and sit with him, but she just laughed and pointed at his face again. “Bear, Daddy is a bear!”

It finally hit you and you brust into laughter, leaving Jake in his confusion.

Rose pretended that her fingers were scissors and she mimicked the snip snip sound as she ran her little hand around Jake’s beard.

“She thinks you look like a bear.” You, too, brought your hand to Jake’s face and you stroked it lovingly. Rose agreed by nodding her head frantically. “You know, with the beard.”

“That’s not nice! I’m not a bear!” Jake pouted and pretended to be sad, which resulted in your daughter covering his face with kisses.

“No sad Daddy, I love my teddy bear!” She hugged him tight and Jake widened his eyes. He mouthed that she didn’t have a teddy bear and suddenly this looked like the biggest emergency in the world.

He scooped her up like she was as light as a feather, pulling out the cutest giggles out of her tiny body. “Get in, sweetheart, we’re going shopping!”

You told Jake you preferred to stay at home and clean around the house. He insisted he would prefer to have his princesses with him, but you gave him a wink. He was quicker to understand it meant you were clearing their evening schedule for something more entertaining than laundry, baby food making and bento box lunches binge watching.

So Jake got the little toddler ready. He let her pick her hat, her scarf and her mittens while he put on her boots. She usually hated that part, but he had this magic trick of singing a silly tune as he did so. It made her want to sing too, and forget about the heartbreaking moment her feet leave her favourite slippers. She opted for teal mittens, an orange hat with a pink pompom and a purple scarf with stripes. “She’s New York Fashion Week ready!”

You laughed, kissing them good bye.

*~*~*

Jake drove to the nearest mall and carried Rose over his shoulder until they reached the door of the shopping center.

“Where are we going?” She kept asking, from the moment she was in the car to now, when Jake was all scrunched over to hold her tiny hand.

“It’s a surprise, Rosie!”

“I love surprises!”

He made the walk to the Build a Bear store fun. He went to grab a muffin from a food stand and shared it with her, washing her hands so she would not stick them every where. He even stopped by a clothing store, taking notes of the pieces she liked from the front windows so he could get her new outfits. And when they finally made it to the store... She was running and dragging Jake along. He was surprised by her strength, but he really should not be. Ever since she was a baby she was strong like the Hulk, or like her mother. He liked to think she got it from you, his super woman with super strength and super everything.

“You can pick one, okay? And we’ll bring it to life together! Poof!” He added sounds to his explanations, catching her attention.

Rosie was impossible to control. She ran from one corner to the other, apologizing adorably when she bumped into a friendly employee. She would pick up a giraffe, no a cat, no, a dog, no, a dragon... Honestly Jake wanted to buy them all. He was aware the mall was closing soon, and he knew better than to torture these poor employees with an excited child who skipped her nap and would crash at any moment (or well, she would when he would stop giving her M&Ms to buy her concentration).

She finally made up her mind on a light golden bear. It came with a flower on its ear and pink paws. “It’s perfect, just like you!” Jake exclaimed and booped her nose. He let the employees teach Rose how to fill the plushie with stuffing until it was the best cuddle buddy in the world.

“How should we name her?”

“Jake!”

He shook his head, trying not to be insulted by the fact she still associated bears with him.

“No!” She listed possibly fifteen names that made less and less sense and gave the employees a headache.

Rose pulled on Jake’s pants, asking him to come down to her level, which he did. “What is Mommy’s favourite flower?” She asked and he answered.

“Daisy!” They both said in sync. It was a perfect name, because the bear had a daisy on it and Jake and you really had this flower theme going on. You, in fact, hesitated between so many flower names for your kid.

“Let’s show Mom your new friend!”

*~*~*

Jake managed to spend the entire car ride without a cry, a scream or a word of complaint until he accidentally woke Rose up from her nap by picking her up. She was tired and fussy. It was dinner time, but you and Jake decided it was better if she slept a bit more before. Your plans for the evening got bumped to tomorrow, but you could not care any less. Rose and Daisy were the new partners in crime and they were too adorable to resist.

“I have another idea!” Jake announced and set Rose down on the couch, inviting you to do the same. He disappeared in the laundry room, where he threw a soft blanket in the dryer with a dryer sheet. He then ran to the kitchen and prepared a platter of hot chocolate. He made sure that Rose’s was just warm enough and he placed a big marshmallow on it. He set the platter down and left again, only to come back with a warm blanket.

He turned on the television to play Frozen and sat on the couch with Rose in between the two of you. Your bodies were wrapped in a coccoon of warmth. And your heart felt the same. Rose quickly fell asleep, she did not even make it to the pat where Olaf appeared, and it was her favourite moment. She snored lightly, clutching on Daisy.

Your head was resting on Jake’s shoulder and you looked up to him.

If somebody told you a couple of years ago that you would live a life like this, you would have never believed it.

You have a beautiful house to live in. A job you love that allowed you as much family time as you wanted. A significant other that was nothing less than your soulmate. And you had this precious soul sleeping soundly with her mouth covered with hot cocoa.

You took a deep breath and Jake stared back into your eyes. The silence said it all.

You wanted nothing more in life than this: the taste of hot chocolate, your child being so peaceful and happy, Jake’s content face lighting up the evening sky and this never ending smell of fresh laundry. Your family was like a basket of clean laundry. So warm, so satisfying, so comforting.

Jake built Rose a bear.

And Jake, Rose and you built a home.

[idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44]

Mirror

(AO3 Link)

Mirror. A reflective surface, often framed and decorated, in which your own appearance may be seen.

The first time Kagami snuck out was in the middle of July. She was supposed to be studying next year’s coursework, and she had gotten as far as cracking open the brand-new pre-calc textbook before she was suddenly standing, full of energy and not sure what to do with it. She fiddled with the choker Ladybug had finally entrusted her with that winter, and before she even made the decision to, she found herself on the roof, wrapped in an armor of spandex and magic. That first night was full of a dread that made her movements sloppy, her jumps often stumbled and her heart over-fast. Her mother had trusted her to study, to stay in her room and do as she was told. Slipping back through her bedroom window to find her treachery undiscovered filled her with a heady rush. A secret. She had a secret.

From then it became a habit. About once a week, often more, when she was supposed to be studying, she climbed out her window and took to the rooftops. She hadn’t realized how little of Paris she had seen until then. She visited kitschy sandwich shops and outdoor farmer’s markets. One particularly tepid August day, the week before school started, she stumbled upon a dance battle outside a small hip hop studio (she didn’t win, not by a long shot, but something about the feeling of being a part of a crowd, of a moment, thrilled her). After years of magical ladybugs and rampaging akumas and mayor’s daughters becoming superheroes, it was practically mundane to have a girl dressed in a dragon-y onesie visit your grocery store. She’d been complimented on her “cosplay” at least three times. She didn’t tell the other superheroes. She didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t against the rules or anything. Rena Rouge regularly picked up pizza before team hangouts, and Chat Noir had been spotted frequenting a flower shop once or twice. It was nice, though. To have something that was just hers. That wasn’t for anybody else. That she did just because she wanted to.

The first time she got a B on a homework assignment was an equal-parts mixture of confusingly exhilarating and nerve wracking. At first she was sure she would burn it. Shred it or rip it up and hide it in a dumpster where no one could find it. But instead she smoothed it out from where her tight grip had crumpled the paper, and slipped it in her backpack. She taped it to the back of her locker, and every now and then she would look at it and smile. She didn’t have any friends at school to ask her why. Even if she had, she wasn’t sure what she would say. Something about the curved letter, splashed in bright red across the top right corner of her history paper, made her feel like she was tethered. One large, egregious stomp of a footprint where before she had tiptoed, barely indenting the sand.

She was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Kagami wasn’t sure it was a deli, to be clear. It sold sandwich meats and cheese, but also fresh fish and honey cakes when the owner’s elderly mother made a batch, and a collection of awful romance novels on a shelf in the back that the owner collected and nobody bought. But the sign out front said “Alberts’ Deli,” so, Kagami was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Or, more specifically, Ryuko was. But Ryuko was more Kagami than Kagami was Kagami, most days. The girl was blonde and overwhelmingly foul mooded. She was rarely spotted without pink bubblegum scrunched between her teeth, and she was pessimistic in a way that made Kagami feel positively bubbly in comparison. When Kagami ordered fish, the girl went out of her way to find interesting newspapers to wrap it in, a sort of inside joke between the two of them. Kagami had never properly had an inside joke with someone before. Kagami didn’t know what to do with the fish that she bought. The money wasn’t a problem, she had a weekly allowance and nowhere to spend it barring the few times a month she and Adrien got together, but she hated wasting the fish, and it wasn’t like she could just leave it in her refrigerator. Her mom still didn’t know she’d been sneaking out, and mystery fish wasn’t easy to brush off. So far she’d been leaving it on Marinette’s balcony, because she seemed like the type of person who knew what to do with spare fish. But this weekend her mother was out of town until Sunday afternoon, and Kagami had an idea. Kagami didn’t know how to cook. Maybe she should have spent more time contemplating that, but she pulled up a recipe and googled how to use the stove. She burned herself three times, twice on her pinkie finger and once across her palm, but she ended up with an arguably passable cooked fish. It was a little burnt and a little under seasoned, but she ate the whole thing, and hand washed her plates and the pan, returning them exactly where they had been. It felt like a victory.

“I’m gay,” she said to an old man as she helped him cross the street. He looked a little confused, due to her being a complete stranger, but shrugged and said, “Whatever floats your boat, Missy.” “I’m gay,” she said to the girl who worked at the deli. “Am I supposed to act surprised?” Adelaide returned in a bored voice, scrounging up a copy of the funnies that she’d saved at the bottom of the newspaper pile in the case that Kagami stopped by. Kagami smiled. “I’m gay,” Kagami tells Ladybug, on accident when the two of them are partnered up on patrol. She hadn’t meant to. She’d wanted to keep her life and Her Life separate. But it was out there now. “Oh,” Ladybug said, looking a little shocked. “Oh, okay.” “Is that okay?” Kagami asked, hesitating before her next jump and fumbling the landing. “Yes,” Ladybug said, and Kagami knew that she would say yes, she did know it, but something in her breathed a sigh of relief anyway, “Yes of course it’s okay.”

Kagami joined a hip hop class. Not Ryuko-Kagami. Kagami-Kagami. Kagami, face bare of any mask and hands exposed to the open air, asked her mother if she could sign up for a dance class at the studio where the dance battle had been. She didn’t tell her mother about the dance battle. Her mother had been confused, at first. But she’d agreed. Reluctantly, but she’d agreed. Kagami’s first class went poorly. It was November, so everyone else was leagues ahead of her, and she kept messing up the moves. Her arms felt jerky and awkward and her feet were never quite in the right place it seemed. She didn’t know if she’d ever been that happy in her life.

The B on her homework didn’t become a common recurrence. She kept the history paper taped to her locked, and it was joined by one pre-calc assignment and a lab write up, but overall she kept her grades up. She knew her place in the hip-hop class was more or less dependent on her school and fencing performance remaining unchanged. She’d made one friend though. “What’s that about?” George asked the first time they walked together to their lockers, hers and then his, in order of closeness to their final class, “You do know that you get the top grades in, like, the whole year, right? You don’t have to torture yourself with the few average grades you get. Anyone would be jealous to just have 3 Bs.” “No,” she said, “It’s not about that.” He seemed to want to ask what it was about, then, but she shrugged. They walked in silence to his locker, and she leaned against the wall as he stuffed back-breaking textbooks into his backpack. “My name means mirror,” she said finally, and he looked up, curious, “Sometimes it’s nice to… remind myself I’m not just the things people want to see in me. I guess.” “That’s… poetic,” George said, but not like he was mocking her. Kagami felt half her mouth lift in an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

She ends up not being very well suited to hip hop. Which isn’t to say that she quitted, just that she discovered her “worst in the class” phase wasn’t much of a phase at all. The gap became smaller, though. Penelope, a girl not much younger than Kagami, asked Kagami to help her with the footwork she forgot. The teacher corrected her less and less. She stopped feeling like a fish out of water and more like an average fish in a school of particularly exceptional fish… or something. They had a dance battle again. The studio puts them on once every three months, and participation isn’t mandatory but there’s no shortage of friendly peer-pressure. Kagami finds out that it’s scarier to dance in front of a crowd when you know them and they know you. When you’re not just a stranger in a mask. She didn’t anticipate how much sweeter the failure feels when, upon hopping off the makeshift outdoor stage, you’re surrounded by friends (and they are her friends, she has so many more friends than she could have ever imagined) whom holler and yell about how “AMAZING you were, Kagami, oh my god you killed it!” Penelope shyly asked if Kagami could show her how to do the jump Kagami had made up. It was a weird jump, kind of stumble-y and very awkward. Kagami shows her anyway. (She was still the worst in the class. She really didn’t mind.)

“You seem different,” Adrien said off-handedly one evening. The two of them were eating ice cream in the park, watching the newly sprung-up grass sway in the breeze. There was still some snow on the ground, leftover from the last big storm of winter. “I know,” Kagami said, “I feel different.” “You seem happier,” he added, getting chocolate all over his face. She smiled, and handed him a napkin, and stared up at the sky. “I spent so much time trying to be what other people wanted me to be,” she said, taking a contemplative lick of her strawberry ice cream, “And then I decided to figure out who I was when I wasn’t.” Adrien was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure who I am all the time,” he confessed. Kagami giggled. “Me neither.”

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (3/6)

Part 1 Part 2

Further drinking, making a scene, and a stumbling walk home. @clairjohnson ‘s Miss Argentina puts up with a lot.

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul

His eyelids felt as heavy as his hand, and when he blinked, tears finally fell. He wasn't so drunk not to know that was embarrassing, so he wiped his face roughly with the back of his hand. 

Maria was sitting so proper across the table from him. She thought him pathetic; he knew that deep in the depths of his soul, and even deeper, he knew she was right. He'd been reduced to trying to trick a teenager. A teenager who turned the tables on him, who fucking lied and sent him right back to the Netherworld –  

Anger returned, nipping at the heels of the well of self-pity he was floundering in. He used it as a rope to haul himself back up, but words failed him this time. Inarticulately he roared, slamming his palms so hard on the table it made his bottle tip over. 

Luckily Maria's glass was still in her hand, and doubly lucky his bottle fell away from them both. 

The luck lessened when he noticed staff of the club clustered and whispering as they looked over at their booth, and it fled entirely when he caught sight of the Madame of the place heading their way. She wasn't accompanied by any bouncer, at least. 

Yet. 

Stopping at the front of the table and adjusting her full skirt over her hips Madame Bouriseau smiled politely at the beauty queen. Diplomatically the expression remained as she turned her attention to Beetlejuice, although it hardened the lines on her face a bit. 

"Miss," she said with a nod to Maria, in greeting, “ and Beetlejuice. Although we are always happy to host guests, certain behaviors are not tolerated in the club." 

She turned to the ghost who had managed to set the tipped bottle upright and was scowling.

 "You are fully aware of the rules. Another outburst like that, Lawrence, and you're out."

The use of his name, Beetlejuice glanced up. He opened his mouth as if to spit something back at her, but the set to her face brooked no argument. Sullenly, he nodded. 

"You'll be paying for the cleaning of the upholstery," she added, nodding towards the plush bench that had absorbed some of the alcohol he spilled. "If you would like to follow me, I'll find you a new seat and freshen your drink." 

The last part of her offer was directed solely at Maria.

The roar and subsequent slamming of the table startled Maria. Her back straightened and her eyes went wide, hardly noticing the bottle of booze as it tipped over. 

“Beej . . .” the words were just above a whisper, and whatever else she had planned to say vanished when, she assumed, the owner of Dante’s approached. The beauty queen looked up at her apologetically  – even though she wasn’t the one to cause any problems, Maria felt a certain level of responsibility for Betelgeuse. 

Another outburst like that, Lawrence, and you’re out. 

Lawrence?? Was that his first name? No one had ever called him that. Not in the several decades they worked together  – and he had never brought it up. How the owner knew it was a mystery to her. 

At the offer of a new table and drink Maria stood, nodding politely at the older woman while she did. 

“A new table would be great, thank you.” She said and lifted her half empty drink from the table. “As for the drink refills, I think we’re both all set . . . we’ll finish what we have here and call it a night.” 

Miss Argentina turned to the intoxicated poltergeist still slouching at the table, checking to see if there would be any protest. 

“Let’s go sit at a different booth, hm?” Maria prompted, and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. 

She gave him a light, comforting squeeze to get his attention. It wasn’t crossing the line, yet, but she was dancing on it. Her thumb absently rubbed the stripe on his jacket as she peered down, a mix of sympathy and frustration swirling around in her chest. She needed to bring this man home soon.

Being chastised reduced him to an inch tall. The soft hand on his shoulder  – when did Maria get up? – made it worse, his fuzzy brain realizing that both women were looking down on him with what he imagined was disgusted pity on their faces. 

The fingers straightening the collar of his jacket felt nice, however. 

Beetlejuice pushed himself to his feet, fumbled the bottle before getting a good grip on it, and only took a second to get his balance once upright. Looking into the open space of the club, he realized he'd been wrong. It wasn't just both women looking at him. It was most of the other girls on the floor, and some of the patrons too. 

The music was just as loud, but the laughing banter and hopeful chatting  – from the patrons, securing a dancer's attention for a little private time, for the girls, securing a patron's wallet for a little extra cash  – had died down to see the show he'd provided. For free. 

He told himself he didn't care. 

"Yeah. We can take a different booth if you want," he replied, although he didn't voice that it better be close because he wasn't sure how far he could walk while the floorboards undulated under his feet. At least it wasn't a problem to bring the bottle back to his mouth for another swig.

She saw the way he eyed the floor skeptically when he agreed to move  – with how much of that bottle he’d downed already, Maria was surprised he could stand. Not removing her hand, but sliding down to the back of his arm, she led him, slowly to the table next to them. 

“I know you’re not in a great place,” she pointed out, her eyes following his shuffling feet as she guided him, “but this was intended to be fun, compañero.” 

Maria helped him ease down into the new booth then situated herself across from him. In a few quick sips she finished her drink and set the empty cup aside, hoping he’d be reluctant to keep drinking if she stopped. The brew he was chugging was much more potent than what had been in her glass - but two cocktails in were enough to start feeling the licks of a buzz. She was a lightweight in life and death, it seemed. 

The realization had hit her when he’d knocked over the drink that she’d have to help him home. Maria had never been to his place – there hadn’t ever been a reason, and she found herself intrigued on what she’d find. 

“So – Lawrence?” The beauty queen looked across the table at him in amusement. “You never told me that was your name.”

Madame stood aside to let them pass, briefly catching Ivan's eye to impart a "you may be needed to move his dead weight, drunk body later" look. The Russian bouncer nodded his understanding but remained unobtrusive. The staff here were nothing if not professional. 

"Please let me know if you need anything," she said politely to the beauty queen, and only the beauty queen, before leaving. The Latina beauty seemed to have a handle on Beetlejuice, even if he was loud and drunk. 

Beetlejuice leaned more heavily into her arm than maybe he should have. It was nice to have a friendly arm to steady him. He plopped down into the new seat, accidently dropping the bottle a little more loudly on the table than he meant to. The tabletop just came up so fast. The bottle rocked but stayed upright this time, although it landed slightly out of easy reach. He muttered a partially slurred apology to Madame, only to find her gone. 

Maria's soft question made him look back to her. 

"Never asked," he replied, his ess more sibilant than normal. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. "No reason to. How many years was it before you tol' me your name was Maria?" 

Truthfully, she had told him and he'd known a long time. Before he got to know her better, addressing her as "Miss Argentina" was his own doing, despite her less-than-pleased response to it. Only when she'd finally laid into him about it, using some creative Spanish that he immediately stored to memory, had he quit. He liked seeing her passionate about something instead of her typical cool demeanor. 

"Lawrence is just a stupid name, along with everything else." 

Longingly he looked at the bottle, but it was too much effort to get it and drink more.

Maria scoffed, but it was in good humor. He’d introduced himself as Betelgeuse, friends (when he had any) called him Beej. That was that. He was cagey about his age, where he came from, how he died – there didn’t seem any reason to push. 

“Oh, I told you my name,” she corrected and folded her arms over her chest. “Multiple times, actually. You introduced yourself and I had no reason to believe you had another name hidden away . . . though I suppose I should have suspected. I’ve known you longer than I was alive – ” That thought struck her for a moment, and she paused to regain composure before continuing. “ – and you’ve never told me anything about yourself . . . the one time I tried to ask you about how you ended up working for Juno, you didn’t speak to me for a month.” 

She knew he must have killed himself. That much was certain when someone was a civil servant. However, most ghosts wore their death on their sleeves, so to speak. It was all very personal, yes, but at the same time very public. Whether you had been dismembered, burned, drowned, or cut – it was out for all to see. Not with Beetlejuice. There was no obvious cause of death, and it had intrigued her from the moment she met him. She had her theories, but none of them were based on anything tangible. 

The longing, lazy look he was giving the bottle set her at ease. Maybe he’d finally worn himself out.

“Let me take you home, Beej.” Maria reached across the table and moved the almost empty bottle further away from the drunken man. Then, stepping over the line, she placed her hand over his and offered a smile. “You’re a mess.”

It took several moments to realize his companion for the evening had made mention of how long they'd actually known each other, and poked a stick at some memories. He really wasn't very nice to her. 

Tears filled his eyes again, the fuckers. He tried to blame it on the booze. 

"Christ. Did I get a bottle that used water from Archeron?" he muttered, squinting to read the label of the bottle that was too far away. That was a mistake; it squeezed the tears out. He wiped the back of his hand across his face. "I meant to get Lethe." 

Maria's soft hand on his own refocused his attention. It was such a juxtaposition, her uncalloused fingers and manicured nails compared to his. With the exception of those beautiful nails, her hands were unadorned. No ring on any finger. Sure, the Miss Universe contestants were to be unmarried, but that didn't mean they couldn't be engaged. He had never once asked her about what she may have left behind. 

He was also suddenly transfixed by the fact her nails were the same color as the stone in his ring. 

Finally realizing she'd basically asked a question, Beetlejuice nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Sounds good. Your place or mine, doll?" 

The esses were still slurred. If the alcohol continued to muddle him, maybe it'd be enough to forget all the recent shit that had happened to him.

The implication behind his follow up question rattled her, and she responded with a forced laugh. Flirting was second nature to this man, and he was blind drunk, it was easy for her to brush it off. Not removing her hand from his, she slipped her fingers under his palm and stood, gently tugging him up with her. 

“Your place, tonto – so you can get some rest. I just want to make sure you get there and don’t end up passed out on the street.” 

Maria gave him another soft tug, trying to coax him out of the booth. With the way he’d been stumbling before she knew getting him home was going to be a challenge. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he easily weighed twice what she did – an arm slung over her shoulder might do the trick.

Her insistent tug spurred him, and Beetlejuice struggled to his feet, using the table for balance as he got there. The slight woman bolstered him for a moment between her hip and the table till he managed to not sway, and more surprisingly, she nudged herself under his arm. It felt like her arm slipped around his waist, but that couldn't be right . . .

"El tonto?" he muttered, refusing to allow his fuzzy brain to focus on her arm around him. "I'm not that naïve. More accurate to say I'm el torre, or maybe at this point I should be el ermitaño." 

They appeared to be moving, or somehow Dante's Inferno Club was moving around them, easing them towards the exit like the building itself was going to vomit them back onto the street. Vaguely, he was aware that the bulk of Ivan was not far behind them. Still, he kept up his loose tarot card train of thought.

"An' what does that make you, Maria? El sol? Hmmm. La estella? No – la emperatriz. That's it. My emperatriz." 

Just like he wasn't quite sure how they got from the table to the door, suddenly they were awash with heat on the street. Dante's was already behind them, a blistering light of red and orange in the mists.

Thankfully, he wasn't as difficult to hold up as she had feared. The beauty queen smiled absently to herself while he prattled on about tarot cards. She wasn't very familiar with tarot, not beyond the very basics, so she merely hummed her agreement at him while he spoke. 

"The Empress? Why that one?" She questioned back with the ghost of a smile, and raised a curious brow at him. "I didn't know you were into this sort of thing. I thought your interests ended at women and booze." 

Her own restraint muddled by alcohol, she nudged him lightly with her hip, emphasizing that she was teasing him. 

"Among the many things I don't know about you, where you live is one of them – you're going to have to help me out here." Maria stopped on the sidewalk and peered around, catching glimpses of buildings obscured by veils of heavy, dark mist. The Netherworld was so abysmal. She couldn't wait for her time as a civil servant to be up, just a few more decades, and then she could put in for a top world pass. See the sun again. The blue sky. Just for a little while, a few hours would be enough. The man hanging off her didn't realize how good he had it being able to sneak up to the land of the living.

Beetlejuice didn't rise to her bait. Instead, he focused his leaden feet on keeping moving in the correct direction, trusting them to find the way home like well-trained horses, and focused his fuzzy mind on her first questions. 

"La emperatriz," he repeated, rolling the syllables out of his mouth. "She's femininity. She's compassion. The same as you. She's the most beautiful . . . just like you." 

He bit his own tongue at saying any more. Something too intimate, like, "Those judges did you dirty, Maria. You deserved the crown that year," even if it was the truth. 

Suddenly he wanted a cigarette, to cover the embarrassment he was ambushed by. As she liked to say, "it's all very personal", and he knew her well enough that admitting he saw her at her pageant would step over a line, even if he would only mean it as a compliment. Too bad he was too uncoordinated to have a smoke at the moment.

Luckily, though, they'd come to the hole in the ground he called home. 

"Welcome to my oubliette." 

He attempted a flourish as if it was a thing of grandeur, and managed to throw himself off balance.

tbc . . .

[oceanera12]

“Are you sure you’re in the right Cabin?”

Chatting with my sister (again) and we were talking about Nico going from this sweet innocent child who was obsessed with fun card games to the literal son of Hades rocking the black t-shirt and skull ring look. Like, wow. Way to step into that role with little to no pressure (not necessarily bad, just interesting).

And that got us thinking more than it should have about the Olympians and the attributes their kids get from them. And also the attributes they DON’T get from them.

What if Child of “________”, but everyone thinks they’ve been claimed by the wrong parent because there is no way in Tartarus this kid is related to that Olympian.

[And we did the big three in Greek form just to keep it simple (and Percy needs a half-blood sibling, everyone else already has one, fight me on this) Also feel free to replace the names, we just used these as fillers because just saying “Adjective” child was getting confusing.]

First up: “Brandon” the son of Zeus. (Aka. Anxiety child)

First off: I’m thinking the kid is no more than ten years old (more like nine, in all honesty)

This kid is afraid of heights. No joke. He refuses to even climb a step stool because the idea of being off the ground terrifies him to no end.

He’s shy as heck and talks very softly. When he first shows up to camp everyone is convinced he’s the son of some minor god (maybe the god of sleep) because “What son? We can’t hear you. Speak up!” *mumbles under his breath a little louder*

Hates being the center of attention (the exact opposite of his Dad) and just wants to make it through the day without having an anxiety attack.

Fights with a knife (and when we say fight, we mean “hold the thing up, look for openings, take them, but otherwise hide in the background and let Angry child and Sunshine child take care of it”)

He’s just scared of a lot of things, okay? (I’m thinking Neville from Harry Potter) He tries to fight and do what he’s supposed to in training and just falls flat on his face.

But when it comes to battle tactics? Oh, this boy has got some ideas. It doesn’t come as naturally as it would to Ares and Athena kids, but he’s great to have in war councils around the ping-pong table (yes, the nine year old is good at chess, so sue me)

Also, since he’s always so quiet, when he actually does speak up EVERYONE pays attention.

When he panics/freaks out/has an anxiety attack he just sits down on the ground and rests his head in between his knees and tries to breathe. Most of the time that helps but sometimes it just gets worse and worse and that was how he figured out he could summon lightning bolts from the sky (no one was injured but now he’s terrified of accidently hitting someone so he’ll run off somewhere quiet when he needs to breathe)

The one time camp has seen him angry was when Pearl was hunted by some bullies and came back bruised and bloody. Everyone agrees they never speak of that time and to never have a repeat of that time.

Doesn’t really have an opinion on his half-siblings (both Jason and Thalia scared the heck out of him the first time they meet and the two take that as a sign to give the kid space). He doesn’t mind spending time around them, but he’d rather be with the “Big Three Mess-Ups”

Next: “Pearl” the daughter of Poseidon (Aka. Angry child)

This girl has zero chill, even for a thirteen year old who is going through that angry teenager phase. 

And I mean ZERO. Ten minutes in camp and she’s already challenged three people to a duel and been in two fist fights (which she won one and lost the other)

The Ares cabin was already making room for her (because who else could it be?) and suddenly there’s a blue trident hanging over her head at meal time and Percy ends up choking on his blue food

She doesn’t like the ocean. Or water. Or sand. Or outdoors. She can swim and climb and all that stuff, she’d just rather stay inside. All the time. It’s a problem.

And when she is outside she likes to climb a tree (because it’s away from people). When the nymphs start complaining she storms off (quite literally) and hides at the bottom of the lake for a week. That becomes her solitude spot, much to Brandon’s and Violet’s annoyance.

Will carry a book everywhere. And it’s not because she loves to read (she hates reading because of her dyslexia). She just uses the book to ignore everyone around her and get people to not talk to her. Sometimes the book is upside down and she doesn’t notice (and will get mad when people point it out)

The one thing she definitely got from her Dad is just pure strength. This gal can deck most everyone in camp even if she stands at a mesley five feet. Also, she’s got pretty good control on the whole “water controlling thing” which is nice (especially when it comes to slapping some manners into a bunch of bratty Hermes kids who thought it was a good idea to plant dead flowers outside of Violet’s cabin and blame her for spreading death around)

She hates horses and this includes pegusi (mainly because they talk too much) 

The one thing she claims to not “hate” is her fellow “Big Three Mess-Ups” (although secretly she really loves sappy soap operas, a secret that is never shared with anyone)

Fights with a spear, weirdly enough and isn’t bad at archery. Prefers fighting with weapons then with “water abilities”

She doesn’t like Percy for no particular reason. She just avoids him most of the time and when they do talk it’s mostly short awkward conversations. (“Sooo... How’s camp?” “Fine.” “Good.” “Great.” “Good.”) It’s hard to hate Tyson so she just avoids him as much as possible.

And last: “Violet” the daughter of Hades (Aka. Sunshine child)

She wears bright sunny colors, loves sunshine and rainbows and is basically the happiest fifteen year old you will ever meet.

And it’s not that forced happiness that’s creepy and everyone is like “Uh, this kid needs therapy” she is actually happy with her life and loves camp.

Also wears flowers in her hair. They start out the day cheerful and bright but by the end of the day, they are wilted and dead as can be. Everyone has learned not to bring up the dead flowers (she gets angry because DANG IT, SHE DOESN’T MEAN TO KILL THEM SO QUICKLY)

When everyone met her, they thought she was Demeter’s kid. 

When Hades’s claimed her, everyone thought she was Persephone’s and Hades was just covering his wife’s butt or something.

And then someone thought it was a good idea to pick on Brandon and the everyone remembers the screams from the Ares cabin as an army of skeleton soldiers chased them across camp because “You don’t tick off the Mom friend” (Chiron had to get her to call them off because “It’s been two hours, they are going to drop from exhaustion”)

The Ares cabin nicknamed her “Violent” after that and all are convinced she is haunting their cabin at night by having skeletons outside their window and stare in at them (which she is, but no one can prove it sooo...)

Also she’s claustrophobic so don’t stick her in a small space unless you want skeletons to start popping out of the ground.

She is very friendly and outgoing and gets along with pretty much everyone (As long as you’re not a bully). She’s basically the ultimate Mom Friend.

Doesn’t really fight with weapons and most would think she’s a pacifist. But in reality she just summons the army of skeletons to do the fighting for her. When she does actually have to fight it’s just her swinging around some kind of staff (maybe made of bone?).

Violet LOVES her half-siblings and wants to be friends with them very very badly. Nico gets a little freaked out by her and tries to run in the other direction but Hazel thinks she’s pretty chill. The two of them get along fine enough.

Random things the three do together:

These three are best friends/the new trio/“The Big Three Mess-Ups”/whatever you want to call them and will fight anyone for any of them.

“Anyone want to trade parents?” *All three raise their hands without looking at one another*

Sleep over’s in one another’s cabins because let’s be honest: their siblings are never around (if ever) and it’s lonely. They switch cabins every week to change the scenery. Violet loves it (”Sleepover with friends!”), Brandon is very appreciative of it (”I don’t like being alone.”) and Pearl pretends she hates it and puts up with it, but is secretly very grateful for it.

They also eat with one another at meal times and will do group projects together because everyone is a little terrified to try.

Once, for capture the flag, it was the three of them vs the whole camp (Pearl made a bet with the Hermes cabin that the three of them could beat all of them. The Hermes cabin just took it to a completely different level). Violet guarded the flag with her army of skeletons while Pearl and Brandon sneaked around. They ended up winning, but barely (it was the entire camp, seriously)

That’s all I really got at the moment but I’ve fallen in love with these three and want to see them get into some trouble.

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy comes clean

Whitmore Guy masterlist

word count: 4158

music: why are you here by mgk, halfway dead by steve aoki, global dan and travis barker

“I’m here”, he said after a pause. By this time she was already sat in her bed, in a defensive position, with her knees firmly in the mattress.

“Mal!”

He didn’t let her finish.

“Would you have preferred me to stay invisible, would that make you feel more comfortable?” he asked reasonably, reading her mind. “You know I’ve been here. Because I told you”.

“Bonnie did”, she yelled, “Bonnie did! What are you, Mal?”

Mal stepped out of the darkness without making noise, and it hit her finally. Finally. He’s not human. There’s no way in hell he’s mortal! The way he moves, the way he never looks tired, although he claims to barely ever sleep, the way he just manifests himself at places; she thought of the first time they met, back in the gatherings hall, and how he smelt sweet like chewing candy. And how she thought he might be a trickster. That would suit him well. The eyes were pitch black in the twilight of the room. Y/N didn’t move.

“That’s a bit harsh”, he said coldly. “What am I, really? You think I’m some kind of monster?”

He chuckled and gave his light attitude away.

“How did you get inside my house? You never broke the lock”, she said quietly.

“I picked it. It’s easy. Do you want me to show you?”

She got out of bed puffing. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he creeped her out. If that makes sense? She felt like she could take him out, no matter what, and not because she could arguably throw a punch. But because she had certain power over him. Mal has always been nice to her, not in a friendly way, but in a ‘you’re special’ way. As opposed to everybody else. With other people, he was superficial, secretly arrogant and dismissive, but he treated her differently which, unfortunately for him, gave her the advantage. That’s what she thought.

Mal smiled slowly as she approached him, circling the bed. He bit his lower lip, pretending to check her out.

“You never answer any of my questions. You never tell me the truth”.

“I never lie to you, either. You just gotta ask the right questions”.

Mal lifted his hand and looked at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“We have to go. Can you get dressed really quickly?”

She narrowed her eyes. Obviously, something’s up if he showed up in her house. And didn’t ‘stay invisible’. Clearly, she needs to call Damon ASAP and check on them. Her paranoia told her to. Yet, she was standing there, in comfortable darkness, allowing him to listen to her heartbeat, two steps away from him, and her head was filled with the memories of them making out on the couch after the dinner party. Between the dinner party and finding the bodies in the house next door. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted so very badly, but thankfully, she was a thinking creature. Hot take: the desires of the body are not stronger than the council of the brain. Mal wanted that, too. His face was lean, wolf-like in the shadows, and he watched her carefully, badly hidden threat behind his smile. His smile was always only lips-deep, like a sticker he put over his face, like a mask. Every time Y/N touched him, it fell, and she took in his deep, dark color, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

“You think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re severely mistaken”, she said.

“I thought you wanted to know the truth”, Mal said innocently, and tilted his head.

“Truth about what? There’s too many things messed up to know clearly what you mean”.

“What if I tell you they’re all connected? Your gape in the head, and Damon going on a killing spree, and…” he paused, puzzled, “uh… that…” he closed his eyes, ruining the mysterious allure. He was trying to recall a name again. “That dude… Ma… Mutt?”

“Mal, fucking hell”, she threw her hands up, “Matt, his name was Matt, and he was one of my best friends”.

Mal nodded, seeing that she wasn’t joking anymore. Y/N stepped away and went to the window to open the curtains and let some more light into the room.

“Why don’t you jump out of your pj’s and put something on, so that we can go? It won’t be too nice in the town for the next ten hours or so”.

She turned abruptly.

“What do you mean?”

Mal shrugged again.

“I will honestly strike you on the head if you don’t stop talking in riddles”.

Mal licked his lips, and she finally saw, as the street light fell on him, that his jaws were pressed together. His eyes were dark because he was pissed, even though he smiled, even though his voice was close to normal, the usual. There was a time bomb inside his head, and she could all but hear the ticking behind his eyes.

“Listen, I don’t have time to chat you up, okay?” he said, and it sounded like he was a stranger. Y/N’s instincts kicked in, and she grouped standing at the window, like a small animal. As Mal moved towards her, her brain made a crazy attempt to convince her crawling out of the window will be a good idea.

When he grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, she could feel the zip again, that happened occasionally. He always wore synthetic shirts, and she got quite used to it. She never even brought it up, and now suddenly, it was clear as day that she should have. There were no accidents with Mal. This weird itchy feeling when he touched her, meant something and he knew about it, too. She was startled for a second, then she tried to kick out, but his fingers wrapped around her forearm decisively.

“I gave you a chance to change, now you gotta ride all the way to Georgia in your sleeping shirt”.

She didn’t know how he managed to drag her down the stairs, but when she blinked, they were already standing at the driveway. Mal walked towards her car taking her keys out of his pocket.

“Get in, we’re going”.

“What have I gotten into”, she mumbled, approaching the car and opening the door slowly. “You’re too strong for a normal dude, you know that?”

Mal smiled shortly as if she complimented him.

“I’m not a normal dude though, am I?”

He started the car quickly and drove out into the street. Mal usually refused to get behind the wheel if Y/N was willing to drive. He even whined a little about having to drive when she got too drunk to do it. Now, he looked as if he’s been the most experienced driver. The wheel was calm and obedient under his hand, and it felt like betrayal, too. Like she didn’t know him at all. Y/N looked at him, the side of his face, the upturned nose and focused eyes, and thought that it wouldn’t surprise her if his whole personality was a lie, too.

“What’s happening with the town? Are the guys alright?”

“How am I supposed to know?” he frowned childishly, his eyebrows gathering together. “I just don’t want you to be there when it comes down, obviously. The FBI guys have returned, apparently, and they’re determined that Damon has killed everybody… which I fully support”.

“You know damn well he hasn’t killed anybody”, Y/N bumped her fist into his shoulder and he didn’t budge.

“How do you know? You’re so brainwashed by him”, Mal threw.

“That’s far from truth”, she muttered, checking the pockets of her pants. As he was dragging her out of the room, she was still holding her phone in her hand. Millennials, am I right?

“Where’s the damn phone”, she said to herself, frustrated. Mal drove out into the main street and sped up, clearly wanting to get out of the town soon. She put both her hands into her pockets and checked the seat.

“Where’s my phone, Mal?”

“I have it”, he tapped himself on the chest pocket of his jean jacket. Y/N blinked with one eye; it was more like a twitch.

“Give it back”.

She realized he had slipped his hand into her pants while they were walking down the stairs.

“To do what?”

“Give it back, you tricky bastard”, she leaned over and grabbed him by the hand free of the wheel.

“Whoa! Calm down, psycho”, Mal grinned and pushed her back gently. “What do you need it for? It’s the middle of the night, everybody’s asleep”.

“I need to call Elena to make sure she’s alright! Do they even know the FBI… whatever they are, are in town?”

“Of course. I learnt it from them”, Mal said shortly. They were now straight on the highway leading out of Mystic Falls. The town is that small. A couple of streets, weaving inside like spider guts, a park, a square, and that’s it. A little place to live, really. It closes your mind, clogs your imagination. One can easily go crazy here.

“I was at the Craze, then the blonde slow vamp, Carrie, runs in, and her eyes are like, this big, and she says the tol and the smol are back. And I’m like, so what? And she’s like, they’re onto Dean! And I’m like, good for them, you know? Carrie is all flustered. But he’s our friend, and he didn’t kill anybody… while he totally did”, Mal shrugged. Y/N closed her eyes, irritated at his intentional name mess. He has established his dominance enough times already. There’s no need to purposefully diminish them every time, to remind her he doesn’t feel too psyched about the gang.

“And I was all, hm, there might be confrontation, so how about I take you away, yeah? It’s their own problems, let them deal with the feds themselves”, his face lit up a little, “they’re big vampires now after all”.

“I’m involved in that as well”, Y/N hissed, “you know? One of the vampires, before they all died at Craze, refused to bite me, which is a nonsense for a young vampire”.

“Oh”, he frowned a little, “then it’s all the better to take a break, right?”

She hit the back of the seat hard, looking at the dark ribbon of the road lying ahead. Her bare feet were rubbing against each other. Mal started fidgeting with the audio system and actually had the audacity to take out her phone from his pocket to connect it to the player.

“Unblock it”, he said, and it sounded more like an order. She rolled her eyes and, as he handed the phone to her, tried to grab it away from the guy. His fingers were worse than ironlike clutch of death.

“Hey, don’t be funny. Listen, I don’t mean anything to happen to you, okay? I’m just taking precautions”.

There was the familiar rectangular dark shape which was the sign with the name of the town. As the music hit the car, Mal stretched his neck a little, tilting his head from side to side, and she felt a strong desire to make him open up. She just wanted him to trust her enough to tell all. To not play anymore. It’s not that she’ll run, because there’s something wrong with him. She just needs to know to own him completely. Maybe it was crazy, too early for commitment like that, but her flaring nostrils told her she’s cooked enough.

There were cars on both sides of the road, but she couldn’t make them out properly as her own car sped past them. She turned her head back and caught the glimpse of people starting to gather on the road behind them, as if they had been expecting her car to pass, to close the way. One car moved forward and stopped right in the middle, blocking the way out of Mystic Falls.

She looked at Mal, wishing to hell he glances back, and she got severely disappointed, because when he did, there wasn’t a shred of sympathy for her distress. Her gut feeling got much worse though. It looked like a trick now, less like him acting on impulse. Mal understood it, seemingly. He shrugged off his playfulness and was completely serious now.

“I lied to you once”, he said.

I’m not myself

I’m not myself when you’re around, no

Can’t be helped,

the song chanted. He spoke calmly, his head swaying a little as if his neck was a light balloon string.

“I did steal your chain. I wanted to have a part of you with me at all times. Take it”, he lifted his elbow and opened his chest pocket. “Don’t fucking touch your phone”.

Y/N felt her whole body tense, the freeze so deep her skull got stung for a second, like she all turned into a stone.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll break your arm”, he said.

She kept looking at his absent stare he was radiating onto the road. It’s like he wasn’t watching where he was driving at all, like he was inside somewhere. That’s a powerful stunt, demanding something from a person without even looking at them. She put out her hand out of curiosity and slid her fingers into his pocket. It was warm on the inside, the heat was coming from his body. Very normal human heat. Something stopped her, either the fear of pain, or the fear that this pain will be inflicted by Mal. Her fingers brushed over the lukewarm smooth screen of her phone, and she felt the pricky chain of her necklace. She pulled it out, and looked at it, mesmerized. Mal finally glanced at her.

“Was Martha Hopps ever your girlfriend?” she asked.

“No”, she shook his head, “I wouldn’t do you like that”.

 Y/N looked back again and clutched her necklace in her fist. Her other hand crawled to the handle of the door. Mal was speeding no less than fifty miles on the highway. She pulled the handle and pushed the door with her shoulder, grouping and closing her eyes. The song was filling the interior of her car. It was called ‘halfway dead to me’ and now she thought, right before throwing herself on the road and potentially killing herself, that even the music they listened to together should have communicated some message she’s missed.

It happened very quickly, as the door flew open, and the wind brushed over her violently; the sound of the highway being eaten by the wheels of the car. The dark sky, a starless back dome above; she was almost out, in the air, when his hand grabbed her by her neck and pulled back into the car so hard she collided with Mal and hit her thigh. The door of the car closed by itself with a bash and the music blasted her head like a baseball bat. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her jaws together to withstand the pain. When it let go, she moved herself in the seat and shook her head.

“You could’ve killed yourself!” he yelled, sincerely frustrated. The car swayed as he returned both hands to the wheel. She has never seen him scared before, and it baffled her. Mal gave her a wide-eyed stare. “What is happening inside your goofy head?!”

“You’re not human!” she cried in return.

“Duh!”

She punched his shoulder once again to see that he doesn’t mind the mild pain. He barely noticed.

“You’re a vampire”.

Mal sniffed with displeasure.

“You only pulled this to test me? What if I hadn’t caught you?!”

“But that’s… that doesn’t make any sense. You walk in the sun and you eat all the time, and… others didn’t smell you”, she was still panting from the jump. Her neck ached from the stiff clutch he performed on her. In fact, Mal grabbed her so hard it felt like he was about to tear her head off completely. She rubbed her throat and the back of her neck with both hands.

“And you entered my house, without an invitation”, she finished. Mal sighed, turning the music down a little. She was still very aware of the songs that were playing. They always listened to this one playlist, which she had no memories of compiling. The title, the combination of the songs, the cover was inexplicable to her. These six months were so frustrating even this screaming oddness felt more like it was meant to be. Now she realized it was the only playlist she ever heard Mal play. And the fact that it was titled ‘douche’…

“That’s because I’ve already been there before”, he said, nonchalantly. He didn’t need to say it, she already knew.

“Malivore is in Georgia, huh”, she said. Diving deep into the seat, she looked on the path they were traveling again. Finally realizing is so liberating it’s hard to describe. For a moment, it felt like the car was completely silent.

The whole attraction thing, Mal knowing ways to get to her, the music, the movies, the manners… the mutual trust which is virtually impossible among people like him… the nights and days she felt lost, when she felt like there was a piece of her brain missing and the gaping hole whistling in the wind. The pink sky reminding her of something it couldn’t utter in human language, and the sucking, sad, tragic tunnel pulsating in her guts – all this meant she was broken over losing somebody at the shore of the sea of oblivion.

 “You know how you had that strange feeling you missed somebody? And thought it was Matt?” he said with disgust. Y/N had no energy to say anything, crashed down by the powerful feeling of loss once again, all coming down at once, like she was pulled away right from her skeleton. She was looking at this stranger sitting next to her, trying to fit him into the frame of the new found truth, and he didn’t match. And that was the part of it.

She finally knew who she’s been crying about those weeks, when she would collapse on the floor of her room suddenly, startled by the outburst, confused by even why the tears are coming. The long nights she spent agonizing, - and she’d never told anyone, not even Elena – over something, crouched under the cover, seized by terror, like something was impaling her – now she knew why. Her chest got hard and narrow, and she put the hand to her throat.

“You’re the guy he threw into the Malivore”, she finally said. Mal nodded. The world was tearing apart; she could see the tear line up above, so clearly. It was fucking crumbling down in pieces. Only Damon – only that bastard could ever think of that. Of throwing someone into oblivion to erase them completely.

She might have whimpered, because Mal slowed the car down, concern on his face, and they stopped in the middle of the road. The night highway was empty and hollow, and when she left the car, almost crawling out, she noticed there were stars after all. Just very far away. Unreachable.

She felt the light movement of air on her cheek that was burning up, like the rest of her body. The road was long, leading away into the dark patch of space where the street lightning failed and gave in. The fields were quiet around them, night fog falling slowly to wrap them in its deadly embrace. The wind cried, get inside! Be safe! But the blue twilight of the forest in the distance felt like a mount of doom approaching. You couldn’t hide from it in the car. She couldn’t figure out now why she was crying. She felt so robbed; she felt like somebody had the audacity to come and tear her heart out, and now, the worst thing, she couldn’t feel anything because it was the heart she lacked. She couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to Mal. A cautious look thrown at him found him on the other side of the hood, watching her carefully. It was as if he was afraid to approach. Maybe he thought she was too delicate, or was actually afraid.

“How…” she tried her voice, and it let her down. Only whisper came out. “How did you get out?”

Mal circled the car slowly, without hurry. There were no more sounds, just the music from the car, and his steps. Mal touched her shoulders and made her focus on him, shooting right into her eyes. He was being very dramatic.

“I crawled back to you. Wouldn’t even be the first time. Remember how I got out of hell?”

In a second only she realized that there’s a smirk crooking his dirty mouth. He enjoyed his little joke.

“Oh, of course you don’t. Sorry”.

Her hands grabbed on Mal’s elbows and she pressed herself into his chest. It’s fucked up how memories are nothing. How not having the essential information makes you lose your head as you try to understand why you trust a person you don’t know so much; why you intuitively know he’ll do no harm to you; how you’re attracted to him. His smell was familiar now, almost vital. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and felt a heavy sigh that left his body. Mal hugged her back, putting his chin on the top of her head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you. I’ll show you everything, I know how. I have so much to tell you… honey”.

All those days, and she cried in vain. And now she knew what she cried for. And that is so unfair her throat is about to burst with rage. Only Damon…

“I’m going to kill him”, she said gravely, all of a sudden. She could hear his heart now, too. Beating like there’s no special vampire force in it. Mal sighed again.

“It was their collective decision”.

She stepped back to look him in the face.

“What?”

“They were all on it”, he repeated. It was hard to hide the joy in his voice, like he was bringing good news. She knew now how to filter it. She knew he can’t control it.

“Even Elena?”

He rolled his eyes a little.

“Even Elena”.

Mal pulled her on the elbow gently as she started crying again.

“I’ll fix everything, I promise. Hey, they’re paying for it right now”.

With a shaking hand, she clutched his, and squeezed it.

“Mal, please… please, don’t…”

His face went hard.

“I don’t get it. Do you want to punish them or not?”

She moaned. She was holding on to his hand because the knees almost gave in. She could literally feel sanity leaving her, from the little hole in her temple. She was going mad.

“Mal…”

“It’s Kai by the way”, he added, harshly. “Kai Parker. Look at me. You know, this is what I never really understood. You’re so clearly upset, and it makes me very happy… I mean, like, not in a way that I like to see you hurt, but… well, you get it. But you still want to protect them? You were never able to make the choice, you know?”

Seeing that she is not able to object, he went on.

“Quite honestly, that’s hurtful. You know, after everything I’ve been through… you know, you have been the only person ever that didn’t hate me outright. You know? I always thought that maybe you will be the first person who chooses me over everybody else. Is that a lot to ask? I don’t know. Is it? Do you know that I spent more time searching and fighting for you since we met than actually being with you?”

“Mal, you’re hurting me”.

“It’s Kai. I am Kai. You call me Kai, because it’s my name”, he snapped, “it’s the only fucking thing I still have left. And you know who’s to blame for it? Your friends. The bunch of…” he sucked the air through his teeth. His hands were doing the opposite of what he was saying, holding her, rubbing her shoulders so that she doesn’t get cold. Maybe he held her too tightly. She yelped a little with pain, and he almost let go. Pressing his forehead close to hers, he whispered,

“This time I have made that choice for you, okay? Clearly, you need my help. I will never leave you, baby, never. You will be with me forever now, okay? Don’t worry. We’re not drifting away anymore, I won’t let it happen ever again”.

She shivered. As they kissed, she wasn’t sure who’s kissing whom. She knew she wanted it, and at the same time, in her mind, the sirens were going off, wailing like the apocalypse was banging on the walls of her consciousness. She was almost sure she knew what was happening in Mystic Falls.

[idwithoutthesuperego]

Dream Of Me

CHAPTER 01: SETTLING IN

SUMMARY: m!reader (Y/n) is an incubus, who enrolls into an state university, just outside Beacon Hills, a town that has a quite lively supernatural little community, even if the supernaturals themselves aren’t all aware. There, he meets a shy blonde guy who acts like he is half of himself, and a dark haired one who is loud and can’t keep his mouth shut to save his perfect little ass.

Tags: Teen Wolf AU. m!reader x stiles x isaac. Smut. Fetishes. College. Nsfw. Past mentions of abuse. Physical abuse. Drinking. Drugs. Angst. Fluff.

“Well, that couldn’t have gone more wrong”, you thought. Really, after all this time, you should have learned your lesson about befriending mortals. They are just way too fragile, and well, mortals. One drunk night, one fight, one slight mistake on the wheel, and it all goes wrong. Now you couldn’t stay here anymore. The place too much of a “we”, so you couldn’t bare being in it with just yourself to fill all of the empty rooms.

Booze or drugs didn’t really work on you, so getting high and forgetting wasn’t a choice. Getting into a supernatural sex frenzy could take your min out of it for a while, but it only drove grief away for so long. And it didn’t feel right anyhow. You just had to get out, to leave. But easier said than done. Had it been what? Two weeks since the funeral, and you were still in that bed?

In the midst of your wallowing, you heard you doorbell. It was Evony Marquise, and old friend. A bitch to most, but trusted and supportive to few, including you. As soon as you opened it, you saw her standing there, as always, with her wavy brown hair, expensive clothes and perfect appearance.

“Hello darling, still in the blues?”. She said, taking off her sunglasses.

“What do you want Eve?”. Tired face looking at her.

“I see the answer is yes.” Throttling in, even though you didn’t really invite her. “I’ve graciously come to get you out of this hellhole. It’s been almost a month since the accident.”

“You mean three weeks.”. Following her in and sitting in the sofa in front of her.

“I mean long enough.”. She took a pause, before looking you dead in the eyes. “Yeah, he was your friend, and from time to time we get really fond of our pets, I get it. But you know how it ends whenever we get too close to our humans. They just don’t live long enough. No matter the amount of life you get out of or into them, no matter how much I inspire them, they have expiration dates darling.”

“So? You came here just to make me feel worse?”

“No, I came here to tell you that you are being moved from the apartment. I already charmed the landlord and hired a moving company to get your stuff out by the end of the day.”

“You what!?”. You could get angry, but you just too tired for that really.

“You need to get out, go back to having a life. How long has it been since you fed? It shows in your face how weak you are.”. Busted. “I know you tried to keep him alive at the hospital, and now you aren’t feeding. You know how it ends. So, you are getting as little stuff as you need, moving into another place, another faraway city and restarting. Today.”

“I... hmn… I’m not going to… I can’t…” You scoured your mind looking for excuses, but you were tired of just sitting in bed remembering a happy bubbly best friend of years that made your life better and wans’t going to come through the door anymore. So, you just conceited. “Ok. But at least drop that coat and help me pack.”.

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

A couple of day later, you found yourself at Beacon Hills. A small town really. But it had a college just at the border of the city, which meant parties, which meant lots of young people brimming with sexual energy, which meant a buffet. Also, you could use their library to distract yourself. Not to mention that the town had the fame to attract an unusual amount of supernatural beings for some reason. So one more wouldn’t be noticed, especially at the start of a semester.

As soon as got into town, your first target was the sheriff, a friendly going bald man. You need to know if he or the police knew something about any supernatural activity or any “strange” accidents.  You found him on patrol around town early at morning. And all you had to do was shake his hand after asking for directions for the university. Then, his mind started going numb and hazy, and your conversation wouldn’t be remembered later, only that you were a nice guy and could be trusted.

After that went to find an apartment near the university that had looked up online, and the owner so kindly sold it to you at a low price, taking the payment all in cash on the spot. Last stop on the afternoon, while the moving team got your things on your new home, was on the dean’s office, to sort off your spot at Beacon U.

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

On campus you certainly felt some wolves wondering about and looking at you, as well as a banshee? “Interesting” you thought. Even if you were using your powers so that most wouldn’t notice your presence until you reached the dean’s office, guess you really needed to feed. After the talk, on your way home, you were stopped by some cute twins.

“Hey man, you are new here right? My name’s Ethan and this is my brother Aiden.”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, I just got to town.” You said giving a sweet smile, waiting for them to continue.

“Anyway,” Ethan said “we have a little wager, that we were hoping you could help us settle”.

“Do you now?” You asked, eyebrow going up.

“Yeah, since we are turning a new leaf and everything here, we have a little competition to see who is the best looking one. And who is the best in bed.” Aiden said, giving a smug smile and throwing an arm over your shoulder. “So, why don’t you help us settle things over at our room?”

You hid the distrust in your smile. I mean, if the wolves wanted to increase their pack, they could at least come up with some better plots and plays. But still, you could turn this in your favor, and it’s not like Ethan was completely against having you in a bed for what you could feel. So you followed them.

You guys were on your way, chatting while you used you powers to distract and charm them, when a body and books collided with you. A boy named Stiles (was that even a name?), who the twins seemed to know, spend some time apologizing after blushing and staring at your eyes for way too long. Maybe he had been caught in your charm, maybe.

It was cute, even if the twins took a piss at him for it. But you were hungry, so you just accepted the “sorry” and left for a double meal. Leaving a Stiles mess looking into your eyes whose color he swore gleamed just the perfect amount when you looked at him.

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

Arriving at the twins room, you spared no time.

They took their shirts of and Ethan kissed you hard and deep. Pressing his body flush against yours, and you could definitely feel how into it he was. But then came Aiden, behind you, pulling your hair, exposing your neck and about to bite you. A pity really, you could have quite some fun with Ethan, wolves always had too much hormones and stamina.

Just as teeth was to meet skin, your eyes glowed an incandescent color, from the spots that your skin met theirs, they could feel as if a rush rocking pleasure was keeping them from moving, and their minds began to turn hazy. Their thoughts muddy, and movements no longer their own. You just willed them to get in front of you, their lips almost touching yours, and then, began sucking their life force until there was barely any left. “to still be alive, you boys must be alphas,… nice”.

A few minutes later, just before leaving, you left them on a very compromising position and took some pictures. Never know when those might come in handy.

[trillian-anders]

chambers - v

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, angst, slow burn

word count: 3273

description: Post-Endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Very loosely based on the Netflix series of the same name.)

an: a little shorter than the others, but! I just had a hellish weekend at work that’s not quite over yet and writing this between tables makes it a little better so... enjoy loves. 

The community center was in Brooklyn, the large brick building housed many different projects. An after school program for kids, a homeless shelter at night, various ‘anonymous’ meetings during the day. This wasn’t like the typical VA. It was very much a hodgepodge group of people brought together by the circumstance of Sam Wilson being a good human being. Sam Wilson was probably one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. 

You didn’t belong here, maybe this was a mistake. You were standing very awkwardly off to the side, holding a cheap styrofoam cup of coffee. If anything this dress was definitely a mistake, the button up t-shirt dress you figured was a nice middle ground of looking nice but not trying to look too nice, but everyone else’s jeans and t-shirts made you feel like you should have just worn jeans and a t-shirt. The exception was Sam, who ran the group. He was in a nice button down and slacks, but even Bucky was just in a black t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. 

You were trying not to think about it. 

“Are you going to be okay while we make some rounds?” Sam asked you. The two wanted to leave you momentarily to go and greet people they know, “Grab a drink, we’ll be right back.” 

You didn’t belong here. These men and women who actually lived it. You flinched at the memory that plagued you last night. Boot camp. It was rough, but Steve made it through. Not without sore bones and an asthma attack or two. But it wasn’t you. 

You feel like a fraud. 

You could feel yourself at a different time, a darker room. People who were a little more sad. 

After the blip, when everyone came back, the world was a mess. People who had moved on now had their spouses, partners, kids back. Some of them had new kids, had gotten remarried. Others had died during the blip. The accidents caused by disappearing drivers, pilots. People who couldn’t handle the loss. People returning was just as bad as people disappearing. But everyone picked themselves back up a little easier. 

There was optimism with loss. Iron Man, Tony Stark. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. Captain America, Steve Rogers. They sacrificed their lives in order to save everyone in the entire universe. There were murals of their faces in every borough of New York City. You passed three on your way in. 

“This VA is a little different than the one I ran in DC,” Sam said, “But it’s pretty much the same.” There was a mural of their faces in this community center. It made you a little sick. You could almost feel him looking over your shoulder, Steve, hot on your back. Like he was actually there. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Bucky told you as the three of you parked the car, “Get some coffee, eat some snacks. You can just observe.” He was trying hard for you, hand on your back, rubbing slightly to comfort you, but you felt empty when he walked away to talk to a man who was much older. Someone who was almost his actual age, in a wheelchair playing cards with men not much younger than him. 

It wasn’t hard to forget that Bucky was supposedly in his hundreds. It was 2025, the guy was 108 years old. He looked to be in his 30s. You felt like you were a hundred, suddenly the coffee wasn’t that bad. 

“New here?” A man sidled up next to you, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the metal coffee server next to you. He was handsome, but had the same hollow look in his eyes that you’d often seen in Bucky and Sam. Even Steve. You scraped your fingernail gently against the styrofoam. Nervously you answered, 

“Yeah,” You took a sip from your coffee. Fraud. “I’m just here with some friends though,” You explained, gesturing to Sam. “I’m not- I haven’t.” He chuckled, stirring his creamer with one of the wooden stir sticks before studying you. 

“It’s okay,” He smiled. Charming. “You don’t have to explain.” His hair looked like it was cut with kitchen scissors, you noticed. Shaggy and reaching around his ears. Five o’clock shadow, motor oil around his nail beds. “I’ve been coming here for about a year now,” He explained. “It gets easier.” Sip of coffee and a sweet smile. “No matter what brought you here.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You offered him your hand. He grinned, his teeth were perfectly straight. 

“I’m Eric.” His hand was rough and calloused in yours, a shiver went through your body when you noticed he had dimples. “Do you wanna sit by me, maybe?” He gestured over to where Sam and Bucky were setting up the circle of chairs. You looked over at the both of them, who seemed intent on trying to not pay attention to your conversation. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared at Bucky for a moment more, heart aching, 

“Sure.” 

He refreshed your coffee for you and sat a little too close to make you comfortable. You didn’t notice Bucky and Sam exchange a look, before Bucky decided to sit on the other side of you. 

“You okay?” He asked, nudging your arm softly, eyes pointedly glancing at Eric. You nodded silently, giving him a soft smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You could tell he felt unsure, shifting down in his seat so he could look at Eric from behind you. 

Bucky was unsure about this guy. 

“He’s just being friendly,” Sam assured him as they brought out the metal folding chairs from the utility closet. “We left her alone for a while, she obviously was uncomfortable.” Bucky huffed grumpily. 

“He’s trying to hit on her.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Relax Buck.” Sam unfolded the papers from his pocket and laid them on the chair he’d be using, “She’s fine.” It didn’t stop him from heavily taking the chair next to yours, leaning back in his seat to examine the guy as he talked, trying to read him and see what he was all about. 

“I lost my wife in the field.” He said. Your heart broke, “We were in separate divisions. I’m a marine, she was in the air force.” You could see Bucky shift in his seat. “During the blip she was running drills with a teammate, the plane went down when her teammate blipped.” Eric’s eyes were watery when they met yours, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “I had blipped myself so…” He swallowed harshly. “When I came back… I had nothing to come back to. I always thought if either of us were to die at war it would be me y’know? The air force is typically pretty safe.” 

“We were all affected by the blip,” Sam explained, “Some in more ways than others. You’re very brave for sharing that with us.” Bucky grunted next to you and you looked over at him, sunk down in his seat, hands in his jacket pockets, starting ahead at Sam. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered to Eric, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at you with a watery smile. 

“I’m trying to move on,” He explained to the group. “It’s been two years since I’ve been back and I think it’s finally time.” The group clapped for him in encouragement. 

The air here was tense. Everyone had a story like this, something similar anyway. Sam lost his best friend out in the field. A girl named Ally lost her right leg in Afghanistan. A man named Neil’s daughter died overseas in war, he fought in Vietnam. It was heartbreaking. These people were laying themselves bare, exposing their insecurities and their fears. Their never ending night terrors and crowd anxiety. Slowly, over time, the room became lighter. More relieved. 

“You think you’ll be back?” Eric asked you as people were collecting their belongings. You shifted your empty coffee cup between your hands, looking at Bucky behind you. 

“Maybe,” You said with a nervous smile. 

“We just have to clean up and then we can go if you want,” Bucky interrupted, giving Eric a tight smile before looking at you.

“We can stay if you wanted to play some cards or something?” You offered. Bucky had promised one of the older men from earlier that he would stick around and play a hand or two. He shrugged, looking over at Sam. 

“I’m just saying, the first time is kind of intense,” Eric was standing off to the side awkwardly during this exchange where Bucky seemed to be ignoring his presence. “If you wanna go back home we can.” His hand lay comfortingly on your arm. 

You shake your head, “No, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” He nodded once, eyes drifting back to Eric’s momentarily before grabbing both of your chairs and walking away. 

“Your boyfriend is scary.” Eric laughed nervously.

“Oh he’s not-” You gestured towards Bucky, “He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just like-” You didn’t know how to properly explain it, “Roommates.” Sounds about right. 

Relief crossed Eric’s features, “Oh good,” He walked with you back over to the coffee and continued as you poured yourself another cup, “So it wouldn’t be too forward of me to ask you to dinner?” Your hand stilled under the coffee server, looking up at the man beside you. 

He was handsome and from what you could tell he was kind. It just wasn’t the right time. You had so much going on. How would you even begin to explain the compound? He had to know who Bucky and Sam were. 

“Is that a no?” He chuckled nervously. You sighed and looked down at the black liquid in your cup.

“I’m sorry,” Your eyes met his crestfallen ones, “It’s just…” you looked over at Bucky and Sam, sitting down to join the older men in a game of poker. “I’m recovering from heart surgery and it’s been…a process.” A soft smile broke out on his face, 

“Not technically a no… can I at least give you my number?” He offered, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Maybe once you’re a little more out of the process?” You’ve never really dated, having been too sick for most of your life. This could be your chance to go on an honest to god date. Flowers, dinner, everything. You were still so unsure of your feelings. Steve’s and yours mixed all together in this overflowing pot you’d been trying to keep from spilling over. 

“Sure,” You pulled your phone out of the pocket of your dress, exchanging numbers with him. He was charming and if that dimple was anything to go by, you could imagine caring about him. Someone that seemed as broken as you felt. Maybe. In a different place, a better life. 

“Stay safe out there.” He called as you left to join Sam and Bucky at the poker table. 

“You too,” You called back, choosing to pointedly ignore Sam and Bucky’s questioning looks. 

“What was that all about?” Sam asked teasingly. A blush spread across your cheeks,

“Nothing.” Bucky was stiff next to you. They dealt you in, a game you’d never played before, but the older man--Louie--assured you he’d help you out. He was wearing his Vietnam veteran hat and he told you that you reminded him of his granddaughter. 

“You shouldn’t really be dating right now.” Bucky said later on in the car on the ride home. Sam gave him a side eye, 

“Buck, chill.” Sam glanced at you in the rear-view mirror. 

“It’s none of your business frankly.” What the fuck? “I told him no.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, sinking down in the back seat. 

“I’m just saying,” Bucky shrugged, looking out the car window, “You should be focusing on figuring out whatever is going on with you right now.” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” You snapped, glaring at the back of his head. God his hair was shiny. “What is your problem?”

“Yeah, Bucky, what’s your problem?” Sam pulled up to the gate of the compound, scanning a key card to enter. He grumbled in the passenger seat, 

“Something’s off about that guy.” He explained to the both of you, “I don’t like him.” 

“Something off like what?” You asked angrily, leaning towards the passenger seat. “Him asking me to dinner or him crying about his dead wife?”

“I don’t know yet.” You rolled your eyes, shifting away from him. 

“This is just like that time Barbie Goldstien asked me to the Sadie Hawkins instead of you, you literally swore she was doing it to be mean.” You accused. Heart dropping out of your chest practically as you realize what you just said. The car was parked and the three of you sat in a tense silence. No one moved. Your throat was closing up, where did all the air go? Bucky practically ripped the car door off, kicking it open with his foot, leaving it open. He walked four paces away towards the front door before turning and returning to the car, ducking his head back in to stare you down, face enraged,

“She did ask Steve as a prank, I told her to either go with him for real or to fake sick otherwise I was going to tell everyone about her pissing herself in the hallway in the first grade. So my intuition was right.” Car door slammed and he was stomping up to the house, leaving the two of you in a strange silence. You tossed your head back, looking at the sky from the back window of the car, tears welling in your eyes. 

“I can never win Sam.” He leaned back against the headrest sighing heavily. “I’m losing what’s me and what is him.” He looked at you from the rearview mirror, you lifted your head to look at him.  

“Bucky is never going to be easy.” He explained, “He’s trying.” You know he is. “He’s trying.” Sam repeated again, rubbing his eyes. 

You didn’t see either of them for the rest of the night. 

“I’m getting better at it,” Wanda said, her powers. Practicing. They were incredible, powerful. She was strong, “I lost a lot of confidence after what happened in Nigeria, but I’ve come a long way since then.” She was lifting things in the gym, both of you in workout gear, she was showing you how easily she could lift heavy objects, but you already knew that. You’ve already seen it. “I try not to use the mind warping unless I actually have to.” She explains. You remember that too. She’d shown you Peggy.

She’d shown Steve, Peggy. 

You could almost feel her dress beneath your fingertips, swaying side to side, dancing in your living room. Nat King Cole crooning over the speakers of the record table under the window that faced the rose bushes you’d planted for her, their buds just peeking over the windowsill. A roast was in the oven, it was Sunday. 

“I was thinking of taking a Holiday,” She whispered against your chest. “We could go to the beach?” You hummed in contentment,

“We can do that.” You flitted back to the quiet singing coming over the speakers. This is what you wanted wasn’t it? Peggy was in your arms, shield and hammer packed away. For all intents and purposes you were a house husband. Coming out whenever Peggy had something she needed your help with, but for the most part…

You cooked, cleaned, you’d recently been discussing having a child. 

Who were you now? 

You were just Steve Rogers. 

Just Steve.

“Hey,” Wanda was in your line of vision, “You okay?” You hummed, 

“Yeah, did I have another seizure?” She shook her head.

“No, you just kind of drifted off, like daydreaming.” Huh. “You had another memory?” Her brow was pinched in concern. 

“Yeah,” You shake your head as if clearing a fog. “I did.” You sighed heavily, rolling back to lay down on the mat beneath you, staring at the ceiling. 

“What was it about?” She asked, sitting herself next to you. 

“Peggy.” You gave her a tense smile. “It’s so strange to love someone—remember someone—in such an intimate way, someone I’ve never known myself… but Steve loved her.” Wanda nodded, hand coming to rub your back soothingly. 

“He left all of us for her.” Emotion thick in her voice.

It was hard to remember that Bucky wasn’t the only person that lost Steve. The only person who was devastated by him leaving. He left handprints on all of these people’s lives and just left. “The only selfish thing the guy’s ever done in his life.” Sam told you with a humorless laugh. 

No.

Steve’s done a bunch of selfish things. 

The accords. 

You felt the self-righteousness. The belief in being right. A part of you still staunchly believes you did the right thing, the only thing you could have done. The only thing Steve could have done. But you know that it could have been handled differently. 

Steve was clouded by thoughts of Bucky and the need to protect the man who always protected him. Bucky was a good kid. Better than Steve ever was. While Bucky was taking care of his Ma, his sister Becca, and Steve himself, Steve was off getting into fights and trying to illegally enlist in the war he would lose Bucky to. 

Bucky was really good at science and math, he liked dancing and music, he loved the movies. He had time for all of those things, when he wasn’t pulling twelve hour shifts at the canary and picking Steve’s sorry ass off the street where his face had found someone’s fists. 

You suddenly realized why Bucky looked so tired. 

He’s been tired his entire life. 

“I can understand why he did it,” Wanda continued, “If I had the chance to have either of them back…” You nodded solemnly, the two of you coming to hold each other in the middle of the gym. 

“That’s the thing though right?” You stared over her shoulder, watching Bucky as he entered the gym, eyes catching yours, “If we all got everything we ever wanted the world would probably be a much more terrible place.” 

You were trying to sleep when the first text came in, 

Eric: Hey, I know this is a little soon and you said you weren’t ready to date, but everyone has time for friends right?

You stared at your phone screen in the dark, thinking about the man you had met earlier in the day. You’ve always felt pretty average. You knew you weren’t ugly, but you wouldn’t exactly compare yourself to Gal Gadot or anything. You’d just never had the time for actual dating. You were born with heart problems, they persisted throughout your entire life getting increasingly worse until you found yourself on the table under a knife getting the heart of a deceased super soldier. In high school, prime dating years, you spent more time in the hospital than in the classroom and you were sickly, pale, always with bags under your eyes and a crushing fatigue. 

You’d never been approached like this before. 

You’d never been asked on a date before. 

You’d never had someone ask you for your number and then text you the same day before. 

This was new. 

So what are you supposed to do? You stared at your phone screen in the dark, the light from it illuminating your face as you typed out your reply.

Do you want to get coffee sometime?

.

.

.

taglist //  @nutellakirb​ @witch-of-letters​ @torntaltos​ @emotionallysalty​  @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​  @albinotigerpython​ @an-lover​