#so happy birthday to me i am drop kicking this thing into the wild

[onesparrow]

So I actually went and posted the first two chapters of my angel!alec fic?! I'd appreciate any and all kudos, comments, and thoughts. It's a whole verse I have thought out and have written bits and pieces of, and will progressively get more eldritch horror/true form angel as time goes on. In the meantime, here's the info~

cheer for oblivion by weathering

At this moment, there are four facts about Magnus Bane that Alec is absolutely sure of: He is stuck in Edom. Lilith is raising an army against him. Lilith is going to kill him and reopen the rift. And Alec loves him too much to let the first three things happen, which he can’t do anything about unless he finds a way to shut the rift and survive long enough in Edom to do it.

Part 1 of divine creatures

[bucky-boychik-barnes]

Ages ago, @awrubyblue made some fanart with Bucky finding a pocket size version of Steve. (Sadly I am unable to find them now, or I would link to them.)

My shipper brain immediately ran wild with a new type of Soulmate AU. Where you get a little version of your soulmate to carry around - I called it Pockets AU. And after blabbing on and on and on and on and on to my friend @subluxate about it, they made this AMAZING fic.

I finally remembered to ask permission to post it. I hope you enjoy. (Let me know if you do, they also wrote a fic about Steeb after Steve gets the serum.)

---

Characters: Sarah Rogers, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Steeb, Booky

Timeline: 1910s, very pre CA:TFA

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Genre: Soulmates, Kids, Wholesome, Shortfic, idk genres anymore just tropes

Word Count: 898

Steven is still snoring away when Sarah walks back to the bed they share. He’s rosy-cheeked, not fever-flushed like he tends to be when he makes noise like that, but then it’s getting to be autumn and his allergies do kick up around the middle of September.

“Wake up, love,” she says over the monstrous sounds coming from her wee lad. “Time for breakfast.”

His ready alertness, such a trial when he’s ill, is a blessing the precious times he’s well. He pushes himself up and smiles at her, covering a yawn with his hand. He thinks she doesn’t know he’s lost a tooth a bit before it was ready to come out, which tells her all she needs to know about how he lost it.

The yawn ends on a tiny squeak. Steven stares at her, his eyes huge in his narrow face.

“Got a pet mouse, have you?” Sarah asks for lack of anything else to say.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t do that.” He drops his hand from his mouth, and his thumb brushes against his pocket. A moment later, he’s yanked the pocket open--oh, she’s glad he didn’t pop a stitch, she has enough patching to do already--and is staring down into it. “Mama?”

Steven hasn’t called her ‘Mama’ since he declared himself a big boy on his birthday. “What is it?” she asks, already resigned to a dying kitten he found and forgot to mention.

He dips his other hand into the pocket. His fingers wiggle, and then he’s got hold of whatever it is and is drawing it free of the fabric. It whines and rolls over in Steven’s hand, burying its face against the ball of his thumb.

Sarah’s seen smaller, but not in some years, not since her younger sister woke to a similar little being sleeping under her hair. “That’s not a mouse,” she tells her son.

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the Pocket curling up in his hand. “It’s a Pocket,” he breathes. “Mama, I have a Pocket!”

Every house should have at least one, Sarah thinks as she leans down to kiss Steven’s forehead and get a better look at the pajama-clad little Pocket in her wee lad’s hand. “You’ll have to name your Pocket,” she tells him.

“I gotta think about it.” He sounds more congested, but he’s alert and still not fevered, so she stands and doesn’t stop him following her out to breakfast.

“I’m sorry we haven’t a thing for you to wear,” she tells the dark-haired little Pocket before she leaves for work, while Steven yanks on his short pants. “I’ll try to make you something tonight. Steven, mind the hems!”

The Pocket gives her a wide, sweet smile. He’s missing a tooth himself, the lower right front. She knew lads with smiles like that when she was a child herself, always either the most trouble or the most loyal. He babbles at her, a wash of playful happiness in the sounds, and Sarah wishes she could kiss his head.

Not that it would bother Steven or his Pocket, of course, but something always feels wrong to Sarah when she touches someone else’s Pocket. That seemed more common at home, but maybe it’s just living in the tenements and crowds that makes people so indifferent here. Half the time, they never seem to notice their hand has passed through a bit of someone’s love and soul.

“Make sure he names you today,” she continues to the Pocket. “He’s a mite stubborn sometimes, so you make sure he understands if you like a name, all right? Don’t go letting him run all over you.”

“Ma,” Steven groans at her. He finishes buttoning his shirt. “You’re giving him a bad impression of me!” His voice sounds thicker than it has the rest of the morning, enough that it takes her a moment to understand his words.

“A bad impression it might be, but an accurate one,” she says. “Remember your handkerchiefs, mind your teacher, I love you.” She kisses her boy’s head and lets herself out and does not worry about him making it to school on his own, just as she hasn’t worried since his first day.

-

She should have worried, she realizes when she gets home to find her son with a bruise rising on his jaw, a sturdy dark-haired lad about a year older than him, and the mending basket pulled out between them.

“Oh, Steven,” she sighs, since he’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t. “Who’s your friend, then?”

“Ma, this is Booky.” He sounds even worse than when she left, but it’s nothing a bit of steam won’t help. “Booky, this is my ma.”

“Booky?” she asks the lad, since she’s certain she hasn’t heard Steven correctly.

Possibly Booky hops to his feet. “Bucky, ma’am.” He smiles at her, sweet and wide and missing a tooth. “James Buchanan Barnes. I go to school with Stevie.”

“Steeb,” Steven grumbles, but he doesn’t do more than that.

“Nah, remember? That’s Steeb,” Bucky says, pointing to the tiniest Pocket Sarah has ever seen. He has wispy blond hair and looks as though he’s trying to climb Steven. “An’ that’s Booky.” This time, he points to the one rummaging through the mending.

“He’s not Booky!”

“He’s Booky,” Bucky confides to Sarah.

At least she can kiss the top of his head.

[highlady-sorcha]

Happy Birthday (Azriel x OC) (Mature)

Hey guys, I had a bit of a lonely birthday today, and wrote some utter filth to cheer myself up. This is complete garbage, but I thought someone might enjoy some filth between Azriel and my OC, Sorcha. 

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

Sorcha Nightchase was determined to skip her birthday this year. It was just depressing. After being Made, and no longer a human, what was the point of celebrating aging? Aging meant nothing now. It was just a reminder that and endless length of time stretched ahead of her, and she had no idea what to do with all the years that stared her in the face. 

Feyre had drug her out of bed that morning though with a plate of muffins. A candle was stuck in the center one. By the time Sorcha gave in to Feyre’s proddings and obnoxious singing, the candle had slumped sideways and was dripping wax over the muffin next to it. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Sorcha groaned, sitting up in bed. 

“Because,” Feyre said, shoving the plate of muffins into her friend’s lap. 

Sorcha stared down at the plate. The candle burned so low that the sugar sprinkled across the top of the middle one started to turn brown.

“Well, blow it out.” Feyre flapped her hand in the direction of the plate as she whirled towards the window in a flurry of skirts. 

Sorcha scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and blew the candle out before sitting the plate back on the bed. Her thick brown curls stood out in a bush around her head, and before she thought about it, Sorcha leaned to the nightstand, fumbling for her glasses. 

Feyre wrenched the thick scarlet curtains open, flooding the room in late morning spring light. Birds twittered and the breeze that filtered in when Feyre threw the panes open was cloyingly sweet. 

“Cauldron boil me..” Sorcha murmured as a frilly outfit appeared at the snap of Feyre’s fingers. 

“Let’s get you dressed, I’ve got the whole day planned. You’re not going to lay around and be miserable.”

***

Azriel slowed his breathing, counting the seconds in and out. The knot of the tie at his throat felt too tight, the room too hot and the city too small. 

Fancy dinners already weren’t his thing, and sitting around a table in a sweaty little restaurant across from the female he’d tear down the world for? No thanks. Maybe if she felt the same way… but she didn’t. 

Az sighed and ran his hands up through his hair, destroying the careful style Mor had wrestled his short locks into. 

It was one night. Only one meal that he’d have to see her and keep himself under control. Only one meal with those breasts staring him in the face, with the light glinting in her caramel eyes, that ass pulling against the fabric of her dress.

The room felt even hotter. Az groaned and braced himself against the thick marble top of the bathroom vanity. 

A year. It had been a year now since Sorcha Nightchase dropped into their lives. A year since she showed up battered and bruised to Feyre’s damn art studio, and been taken in by the High Lady like a kicked puppy. Three hundred and sixty five days where he’d inhaled her sweet, honey scented, lavender laced scent. Fifty two weeks of icy showers and wrenching himself away from family gatherings before he grabbed her, ripped up her skirts and fucked her like a wild animal. 

His breath was coming harder now, Azriel’s cock stirred against the tight confines of his pants. 

“Cauldron boil me,” he hissed, unzipping his fly. 

***

“Oh come on, you can handle another,” Feyre teased, shoving another drink into Sorcha’s hand. The bright blue liquid sloshed out of the hurricane glass as Sorcha took it. She grinned drunkenly at the high lady and shrugged.

“I am sooo fuckin drunk, but yea, what the hell.” Feyre laughed out loud and Nesta was giggling beside Azriel as she threw the straw on the table and drank the cocktail like it was a glass of water. Slamming it back down in front of her when she was finished. 

“Damn Sorcha, do you take everything that well?” Cassian jeered. 

Sorcha locked the general with those doe eyes of hers. The best she could, as drunk as she was. Her thickly lashed lids hung lower than they normally did, giving her a breathless, bedroom tousled look. As he’d predicted, her strapless dress hugged her figure in all the sinful ways he hated, but loved it for. The shadowsinger could barely look at her. 

“Only when what I’m taking lasts for more than thirty seconds,” she shot back at Cass.

The table exploded in laughter, Cassian roared with humor, his face already a bright red from the several empty steins of beer that sat around his plate. 

Az offered a tight smile as he fought for self control. Against every wish, his body responded instantly to Sorcha. And it raged against him at any mention of sex from her. Any innuendo, any whisper. Any thought. 

Azriel looked away from her, out into the rest of the restaurant to distract himself. Not before he caught Rhysand’s eye. There was a knowing gleam in their dark purple depths. He grunted, pointedly ignoring the High Lord’s look. 

The night drug on until Azriel was thinking about slamming his head into the table until he had a concussion for an excuse to leave. He could have sworn that as the night went on, her gaze flicked to him more and more often- whereas normally, he hardly sat in her peripheral. Sorcha’s scent seemed to grow stronger and stronger too. A restaurant should have been a safer place to be- the smell of food and sweat and so many people pressed into one space.

But the inner circle had been there so long that other patrons had gradually finished their meals and left. Az had been able to detect Sorcha’s sweet scent all night, pick out the whiff of it above all the other tangling smells. Now though, every breath he took tickled the inside of his nostrils and crept down the back of his throat and lingered there. He couldn’t escape her.

Then, she propped her face in her hand and stared directly across the table at him. Her cocktail glasses had been cleared away, and she’d stopped drinking. Too lost in the conversation to think about getting drunk. Although sober, a bright pink blush still painted the tops of her cheeks. 

“And you know what I really want for my birthday?” Sorcha asked the table in general. Her eyes pinned Azriel to his seat. “I want this one to finally talk to me.” She said, her mouth twisting in a playfully cruel smile. 

Cass, unlike Sorcha, had never stopped imbibing. The Illyrian laughed raucously, tipping his chair back before clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian didn’t know his own strength when he was drunk. The force of it would have shattered a lesser male’s bones. 

“Sorcha, you know why he doesn’t fuckin talk to you? You know why?” He laughed some more. 

The rest of the table had fallen silent. Azriel was still as death itself. Nesta rested a hand on Cassian’s forearm, a silent warning.

Sorcha still had Azriel pinned in her gaze. 

“Cass…” Rhys warned.

Cassian was too drunk to notice the tension that built around him. The air shifted around Az’s face as his shadows swept in like serpents of smoke, coiling around his shoulders.

“He doesn’t talk to you because he wants to fuck you!” Cassian shouted, laughing so hard tears leaked from the edges of his eyes. Still cackling, he grabbed his stomach and fell sideways out of his chair.

Nesta’s face was tense when she shot to her feet. She grabbed the general’s arm and looked over to Sorcha. “I’m sorry, he’s drunk. I’m taking him home… um, happy birthday!” Between one heartbeat and the next, Cassian and Nesta disappeared. 

Azriel looked down at his hands. It had been a long time since he had felt so ashamed, embarrassed. 

Once Cassian and Nesta winnowed away, to where she was surely about to hand his ass to him, the restaurant was painfully quiet. No one said anything for several minutes. Finally, Rhys cleared his throat. 

“Well, Sorcha, I’m sorry that your birthday dinner ended that way.”

Sorcha shook her head, making herself busy with the fork in her hand. Suddenly, the pattern on the handle was possibly the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Hey, it’s ok, he was just drunk.” 

A growl rumbled in Rhys’ throat. “It’s not ok, he’s hundreds of years old and knows his limits with alcohol. He drank himself stupid tonight and ruined the meal.” 

Sorcha didn’t reply at first. “I wouldn’t say he ruined the meal,” she said finally. 

Azriel hesitated, but gradually lifted his gaze to Sorcha, across the table. She was leaned forward, her elbows on the table. The fork that had been so interesting earlier, she now twirled in lazy circles on the table top. Az swallowed a lump that formed suddenly in his throat. The way she sat gave him the perfect few of her full, heavy cleavage. He could feel his skin heat, his balls tightening. The shadows around his shoulders swirled faster, weaving in and around his head and arms. He could’ve sworn that hunger danced in Sorcha’s honeyed eyes, the caramel brown growing molten in their intensity. 

Feyre stood from where she sat beside Sorcha. Silverware clattered when her thighs hit the table, standing so suddenly. 

“Rhys, we really ought to get home to Nyx, we’ve been out a while now, and you know how Nyx likes to be tucked in at night,” the High Lady said with a nervous laugh.

Rhys opened his mouth, as if to argue before his face glazed over. Az watched the Lord and Lady argue mentally before Rhys wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin in his lap and neatly set it on his clean plate. He tilted his head smoothly in Sorcha’s direction.

“I’m afraid my mate is right, darling, we have been out much later than normal, and Nyx doesn’t like being kept waiting.” 

Feyre leaned down and gave Sorcha a quick hug, the chiffon of her long midnight blue dress rustled. The High Lady pecked her on the cheek, telling Sorcha she’d see her the next morning at the studio before both of them disappeared in a wisp of night. 

Only Azriel and Sorcha were left at the table. Empty dishes, smudged glasses and used silverware were their only neighbors. 

Azriel was about to excuse himself, fly back to the river house and scream into his pillow when Sorcha cleared her throat. 

“Is.. is that why you don’t talk to me?” She asked slowly. 

Azriel met and held her gaze again. Gone was the catlike playfulness, the teasing look that had been there only moments before when Rhys and Feyre were still there. 

He swallowed thickly. “Sorcha..”

“It’s ok, really. You don’t need to answer that, I shouldn’t have-“

“Yes.” Azriel said finally. His voice low and gravelly. 

Sorcha’s thick eyebrows raised in surprise. Rising in a graceful arch towards her hairline. 

“Hm.. well…” She said awkwardly, lapsing into silence.

At the same time, Azriel wanted to both die and dance. His shadows pooled around his ears, whispering that now was the perfect chance. 

“I- I wish you’d found out differently but um,” Azriel felt like he was choking. How did Rhys and Cass do this? “I’ve… felt very strongly for you from the first time we met.” 

Sorcha’s face curled into a smile, she glanced down at her lap before looking back at him.

“I like you too, Az, a lot. I’d like to fuck you too.” She said with a smile. 

Azriel let an easy laugh slip out, trying to ignore the stirring in his cock. “Good to know, good to know. Would you maybe want to take a walk?” He suggested. 

Sorcha’s face was absolutely feline, putting the fork she played with down. Her long nails seemed to curl like claws. 

“Actually, I’d prefer to fly.” 

***

Half an hour later, Azriel and Sorcha fell through the front door of her cottage. Nestled in the woods on the far edge of town, it’s simple white walls and green roof were exactly the place that Azriel wanted to be. 

Sorcha panted against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Azriel groaned as he slammed the front door behind him hard enough that the stained glass tree in it rattled. 

“Don’t break my fuckin’ door,” she said breathlessly, pulling back to look him in the face. 

Azriel met her eye, his face mere inches from hers. His dark eyes glimmered in the low light from the lamps that flickered on around the sitting room. The shadowsinger snarled softly, his upper lip peeling back from his teeth. “I wouldn’t talk like that, if I were you.” 

Sorcha laughed in his face, smirking at him. “Or what, bat boy?” She teased. 

Heat scorched Azriel’s eyes, and he cracked a wicked smile. He lifted a hand and cradled the side of Sorcha’s face. “Because. I’ve had a damn long time to think about all the things I want to do to you, and I’m ready to do it all at once.” He growled. 

Az ground his hips into Sorcha, his other hand at the small of her back, holding her in place. Her breathing hitched when she felt the length of him pressed into her stomach. She was so much bigger than she ever would’ve imagined. 

She focused on his eyes, the golden night within them. And despite the shadows staring her down, she smirked right into the darkness. “Bring it on then,” Sorcha told him. Her voice dripped with challenge. 

Before she could breathe, Azriel slammed her against the wall a few feet behind them. A picture fell off the wall and shattered on the floor. He ran his thumb over Sorcha’s bottom lip and rucked up her skirt with the other. The dress she wore fit her thick curves like a second skin, and in one motion her bottom half was exposed.

Sorcha gasped, and Azriel stuck his thumb in her mouth. “Suck,” he growled. 

She closed her mouth around the digit as Az ran his other hand up her thigh. A low groan wrestled itself from her throat as the shadow singer’s hand grasped her ass, his other thumb hooking in her thong.

In one smooth motion, he ripped the leg of her panties and the fell to the floor beneath her. A wicked smile adorned his face as he slipped one scarred finger into her folds at the apex of her thighs. She cried around his thumb as he flicked her clit.

“That’s a good girl..” He growled, slipping another finger into her wetness. Az began to fuck her with two fingers, playing with her clit at the same time. 

She wined and begged. Finally, he took his thumb out of her mouth and captured his lips with hers. He sucked and bit. Arousal coiled hotly in the bottom of Sorcha’s stomach. Her thighs twitched around the finger fucking he gave her. 

Azriel broke their kiss- a long string of saliva strung between their lips. His were bright red, swollen from kissing. 

“You’re going to come for me, Sorcha.” He purred. She nodded furiously, the heat mounting higher and higher. 

He buried his face in her neck, nipping at the tender skin there.

“I’ve waited so fucking long for you, Sorcha,” he groaned into her supple flesh. “The first time I saw you in that art studio, you were bent over picking a pad of paper off the floor. Your thick ass was up in the air, and I wanted to just rip those gods damned pants off you and plunge my fat fucking cock in you right then and there. I wanted you bent over that damn stool, gripping the legs and begging for me to fill you up, to dump load after load of cum in that tight little pussy of yours.” 

Sorcha panted, whined as the her climax neared. Her body was on fire, the world was on fire. 

“Come for me, princess. Come on my fingers, then you’re going to lick it up and taste what I’ve been craving for an entire fucking year.” He snarled. 

Sorcha screamed as her orgasm clanged through her, a wave crashing down and smothering everything in its path. Az still pumped his fingers inside her slick flesh, easing her through the orgasm, easing every last drop of her wetness from her. 

When she was left mewling like a kitten against his lips, he pulled his fingers from the apex of her thighs and ran them over her mouth. She parted her lips and took his fingers in. The scarred skin drug across the soft skin of her tongue. 

“That’s it, that’s it. Good girl. Taste what a slut you are for me.” He murmured, watching her suck her wetness from his hand. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. A halo of shadows swirled around his hear. Azriel was every bit the king of shadows, straight from hell that anyone outside the court believed him to be. 

Sorcha felt wetness running down her thighs as Azriel pulled his fingers from her mouth.  

“Now, since it’s your birthday, I’ll be extra nice to you.” Azriel raised one hand and snapped his fingers. The shadows from around his head darted to Sorcha’s wrists and ankles, wrenching them away from her sides, and where her ankles ground together. They lifted her off the ground, bringing her almost eye level with Az, and pinned her to the wall. 

Azriel grinned like a fiend. “If it wasn’t your birthday, I’d have you on your knees, and you’d be worshipping my cock. But, I guess I’ll give you a gift instead.” 

Sorcha panted as Azriel palmed the enormous bulge at his waist. Slowly, torturously, he undid the button of his pants, unzipping the fly. Az pushed his boxers down, and his enormous cock sprang free. The bright red tip already glistening with precum, and Sorcha hadn’t even touched him yet. 

He marched forward several steps, stroking the full, veiny length of him. Sorcha’s eyes widened to teacup saucers. She’d never seen a man that thick. A drop of panic cooled some of the arousal in her belly, would she be able to take him? 

The shadows held her to the wall as the shadowsinger approached. His lips crashed into hers, and he slid his hand between her thighs, testing her wetness before pulling her hips to him, and testing her entrance with the head of his cock. 

He broke the kiss as he pushed into her. Not gently, but taking his time. Sorcha moaned as he slid in, taking his sweet time. She felt her cunt stretch around him, accepting every inch of his girth. Finally, he bottomed out. Sorcha was trembling, ready to beg her just to fuck him with that incredible cock when he pulled out suddenly and slammed back into her. 

He fucked her against the wall until finally, his balls tightened, and he roared when his orgasm flooded into her. 

“Happy Birthday, princess,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear. 

[winters-tales]

OC interview time!

Tagged by @astorythatwritesitself - thank you!

No-pressure tagging @frostedlemonwriter, @minutiaewriter and @monstrousfreedom - and of course, anyone else who wants to do this!

I think I'll choose Rowan for this one, she's been on my mind a bit

name ➔ Rowan

are you single ➔ *grinning* Why, you interested?

are you happy ➔ Sure, pretty hard not to be

are you angry ➔ *pause* isn't everyone, a little?

are your parents still married ➔ theyw ere right up until they died, sure

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ The Emerald Isle herself!

hair colour ➔ Red

eye colour ➔ Green

birthday ➔ October 13th

mood ➔ Didn't we already establish it was happy'?'

gender ➔ Girl, I guess? Woman?

summer or winter ➔ Summer

morning or afternoon ➔ Afternoon

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ *continues grinning* why, you interested?

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Nah. people are pretty at first sight, sure, but love... I'm not sure I believe in it at all

who ended your last relationship ➔ *long pause* Technically, neither of us. Technically, outside forces are what ended the relationship.

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Oh, a fair few

are you afraid of commitments ➔ *pause* I feel the way that question is worded is unfair. I'm not afraid of anything.

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Nope

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Woulnd't be very secret if I knew now, would they?

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Not really. Made myelf sad a bunch, sure, but I feel like heartbreak is more than that and there's not been a sad so big I'd call it that

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ *laughs* I am here for a good time, not a long time - lust, any day

lemonade or iced tea ➔ Lemonad, what sort of monster drinks tea cold?

cats or dogs ➔ Well, it used to be dogs, but I'm not sure how keen I am on that any more

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ I have... *pause* ... well, I got a bunch of friends, sure.

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ Wild night out, baby!

day or night ➔ Night

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Yeah, my sister ended up welding bars over my bedroom window when I was a teen. Didn't work

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ Can you see the size of my feet? It's not a matter of 'have I' it's a case of 'when did I last'

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ Wanting shouldn't hurt. See a doctor for that

wanted to disappear ➔ *pause. the smile drops almost completely* Well. Who hasn't?

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Eyes - I'm a smiler, but a good pair of eyes will stop you right in your tracks

shorter or taller ➔ good luck finding people taller'n me!

intelligence or attractive ➔ Oh I'man incredibly shallow person, give me something nice to look at

hook-up or relationship ➔ hook-ups. Relationships are too hard for me

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ I drive my sister up the wall but she hasn't tried to kill me yet

would you say you have had a “messed up life” ➔ Not really, most messes tended to be my own doing

have you ever run away from home ➔ Nope, home was where the food was

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ *pause* once. Definitely learned my lesson that day

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ If you hate a friend then you're not really friends, are you?

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ I consider all of my friends good drinking buddies

who is your best friend ➔ My bike

And here's a blank version below the cut for easy copy/pasting!

name ➔

are you single ➔

are you happy ➔

are you angry ➔

are your parents still married ➔

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔

hair colour ➔

eye colour ➔ .

birthday ➔

mood ➔

gender ➔

summer or winter ➔

morning or afternoon ➔

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔

do you believe in love at first sight ➔

who ended your last relationship ➔

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔

are you afraid of commitments ➔

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔

lemonade or iced tea ➔

cats or dogs ➔

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔

wild night out or romantic night in ➔

day or night ➔

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔

fallen down/up the stairs ➔

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔

wanted to disappear ➔

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔

shorter or taller ➔

intelligence or attractive ➔

hook-up or relationship ➔

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔

would you say you have had a “messed up life” ➔

have you ever run away from home ➔

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔

who is your best friend ➔

[juicywritinghoard]

emoji prompts

🥺you sleep with the stuffed animal I won you??

🤏 truly I am this close to kissing you or biting you and I haven't decided which

🥖 I would do anything to get you to bake me more bread, was that straight up mind control oh my god

🥚babe we cannot raise a dragon egg babe please we live in an apartment 

🧨stop asking me to do crimes with you I am falling in love too hard 

🏆okay I know the two of us are crazy stupid competive and are very close to getting kicked out for our bs but trying to beat you makes my blood pump like it never has before

🌮I'm the celebrity guest on your cooking show trying not to show the whole world I can't make anything more complicated than grilled cheese but I'd do anything to make you keep laughing

🎟did not actually expect to win the lottery with you and now we have to split the cash, but at least I can afford time off work now to run from your insane family that's after the money? 

🎈you're a single parent at this birthday party at my work and I cannot believe I have to keep up the shtick when I'd much rather be wooing you 

🩰we are rivals and I hate your guts stop being so pretty and kind about me getting the lead or I'm gonna have a feeling about it

🔌androids aren't supposed to have souls but we sure are falling in love like you have one 

📚you are my favorite author and you haven't published anything for so long can I help you please please please

🔎my life long dream of inspecting a murder mystery super might get me killed but like, worth it

📬penpals to lovers I'm willing it into existence I know you live so far away but I can't help falling ass over teakettle in love with you, I mean. you seal your letters and doodle and add washi tape how could I Not

🔒I broke into your car to impress you when you locked your keys in and now I have to construct an elaborate lie to explain myself 

🛏this mattress store is gonna kick us out. yep

👑stop kissing me so right I have to assassinate you

🗡four minutes after you, my sworn rival, tilted my chin up with your sword

🎻you keep asking if your practicing is bothering me but honestly I'm so swept away. play something for me. haha I mean freebird not a like, romantic song, that would be, wild

🎩your costume is stupid but just you wait until you see mine

🔇you haven't been online in two days would it be insane for me to drive to your place and make sure you haven't like, died. because I am omw

💍good morning will you marry me

🛒every little moment with you is a sweet adventure, even going to the grocery store, which I hate to bastard death

🥧 I am so sad but this pie you brought me is helping a little. let me get two spoons 

🎂am I the first person to wish you happy birthday today? it's so late :( I'm dropping everything rn let's celebrate you

🦖and don't get me started on jurassic Park as a concept if they had just had some ENRICHMENT, sorry, sorry, you don't need to listen to me go on. I know it's annoy- why are you looking at me like that

🦄so like. Magic is real huh. and you're magic? cool cool cool. I'm gonna be sooo normal about this just. just give me a sec

👽no you crashlanded your spaceship in my backyard I think I'm owed an explanation actually 

😻I'm so sorry my cat keeps escaping to go to your place, Beans is just obsessed with you. haha and who could blame him, honestly

❤️‍🔥may or may not be burning my exes things in the park and sobbing be cool maybe

[onbeinganangel]

warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

[doc-pickles]

anywhere i want (just not home)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

For the love of my life, the inspiration behind TS week, the wind in my sails… Happy later birthday @odd-birds-and-booksellers I hope you enjoy this

Always, Your Computer Wife,

Nina

+

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The pain in her cheek is still stinging as she struggles to open her eyes. There’s the faintest hint of sunlight filtering through the large window of her bedroom, a new day just beginning only hours after she’d finally been left alone long enough to find some peace.

The bed next to her is cold and empty, Paul having left for work while she was still crying and groaning in pain. He hadn’t spared her a second glance as he’d gotten dressed for the day, stepping over the puddle of blood that had collected on the floor where she’d laid for hours as he kicked her mercilessly, hurling harsh blows and leering insults as she’d tried to protect herself.

She pulls herself up and drags her barely conscious body to the shower, rinsing off the dried blood and sweat as she tends to the wounds she can see. She already knows she has at least one bruised rib and a sprained ankle, but she can’t do much about it now. For now all she can do is rinse off, lay in bed and hope that tonight doesn’t bring more of the same.

+

Jo bolts upright in bed, hand pressed to her chest as she attempts to slow her breathing down. The dream echoes in the back of her head, the painful memories replaying themselves in vivid technicolor right before her eyes.

She knows why they’re haunting her again, knows that he’s looking for her right now and that he won’t stop until he’s found her. Paul has made that much clear with his texts and letters, little signs to make it clear that they’re not done yet.

A hand closes over hers and she almost jumps before she remembers where she is. Jo squeezes Alex’s hand back, letting him pull her back down and into his embrace. As soon as his arms circle around her she can feel her body begin to calm down.

“It’s not even 2 AM, try and get some sleep, you need it,” Alex’s voice in her ears convinces her to close her eyes, even if sleep is far off the feeling of him so close helps to relax her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

It’s later that same day when Jo receives another text, the ping stopping her during rounds and prompting her to make a flimsy excuse to Meredith as she rushes to the nearest bathroom.

Can’t wait to see you soon, both of you.

The text lingers in her mind as her breakfast reappears, tears flowing as she tries to drown out the overwhelming noise in her mind. Paul didn’t make empty threats, that’s one thing she knew for sure. The texts she was receiving were just the tip of the iceberg for whatever he had in store for her.

“Jo? You in here?”

She can barely respond to Alex in between crying and being sick, her body overwhelmed as she tries to keep herself calm. Jo can hear Alex saying something incomprehensible as she begins to hyperventilate, his voice growing further away as her breathing became more ragged.

The last thing Jo registers before everything goes black is Alex holding her against his chest, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to calm her as his heartbeat echoed unsteadily in her ears.

When she comes back around Jo’s not shocked to find herself laying in a hospital bed, an IV and monitoring wires hooked up to her pale skin. Before she has a chance to overthink anything though Alex is in front of her, his hands running down her cheeks and wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized had collected there.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you,” Alex’s voice is soft as she meets his eyes, his gaze causing her to melt into another round of tears. “Oh Jo, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! He’s going to kill me, he already knows where I am and this time he’s going to make sure I don’t survive,” Jo chokes the words out, her fingers ghosting over her protruding stomach. “Alex, he's not going to leave me alone until both of us are dead. I can’t put our baby at risk like that.”

The thought almost makes her sick again, her daughter kicking against her hand as she draws in a deep breath. Of all the wild and unexpected things her and Alex had been through, their daughter was by far her favorite. Even with a few weeks left until she arrived Jo already felt a fierce instinct to protect the little girl growing in her womb.

“I’m not going to let him get anywhere near the two of you, I promise,” Alex brushes back a few strands of hair lingering on her forehead, pressing a kiss to the cool skin as he settles into the bed next to her. “You’re safe with me Jo, both of you are.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

Jo wants to believe Alex, she really does. Since her breakdown over Paul’s threats he had been by her side whenever he could. His presence was comforting but it did little to calm the raging mental battle she was fighting inside her head.

Now though, as she stares down at her daughter sleeping peacefully in her arms, she knows that she made the right decision. She just hopes Alex agrees with her.

“She's perfect, you did so good,” Alex had repeated the words over and over since Isla had made her appearance almost six hours ago, but they still prompt a smile on Jo’s face. “I love you two so much.”

“I love you, we both do,” Jo leans up and captures his lips with her own, lingering a little longer than she normally would as Alex’s fingers trace her cheek delicately. “Would you do me a big favor? I left my robe at home and it’s freezing in here. Could you go home real quick and grab it?”

Alex nods, a grin on his face as he stands from the chair at her bedside and gathers his keys and wallet. Jo watches him intently, memorizing every movement and expression that makes him exactly the man she fell in love with. He leans down to press one more kiss to her forehead then Isla’s before promising to be back soon.

As the door to her hospital room shuts, Jo looks down at her daughter, tears splashing onto the newborn's cheeks as her mother watches her, “Your daddy loves you very much, don’t you ever forget that.”

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

“Alex, are you coming to work today? It’s been a week,” Meredith’s voice rings out from the doorway of the loft, but Alex can’t bring himself to answer her. She’d been by everyday since he’d come home, her voice prodding at him the only sound in the loft.

He’d gone home to get Jo’s robe like she’d asked, finally finding it tucked away at the very back of the closet instead of hanging in the bathroom like it usually was. On his way back to her room, he’d stopped in the hospital gift shop and grabbed the fluffiest pink and white teddy bear sitting in the window. He had told the cashier that his daughter had just been born and showed off the photo of Jo and Isla that was already his phone lock screen.

And then he’d gone upstairs, the missing robe and teddy bear tumbling from his hands as he found an empty bed and bassinet, Jo and Isla’s bags gone from the room that they’d occupied not even an hour before when he’d left. He’d asked every nurse and doctor on shift but no one had an answer for him. When he finally made it back to the room, he saw the note hastily scribbled across a spare piece of paper, his knees giving way as he read the words printed in Jo’s recognizable script.

I couldn’t let him find us, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry, we’re safe.

Love you always.

J & I

He’d sat on the floor of the hospital room until Meredith had come to collect him at the bidding of the nurses on the floor. She’d given him a sympathetic look and held him as he cried, only letting his guard down for his closest friend.

The reality hadn’t truly sunk in until he came home later that night to an empty loft filled with baby gear and the scent of Jo lingering on every surface. He’d screamed then, throwing pillows and couch cushions and anything he could find in an attempt to get some of his emotions out in the open.

It hadn’t helped though, the sadness he’d felt morphing into feelings of anger and helplessness. Alex knew that Jo was acting out of desperation, doing what she truly thought was right, and he couldn’t be mad at her for that. No, his anger was directed at the man that had pushed her to that point, had scared her and haunted her every move so horribly that she’d fled Seattle with their newborn daughter in tow.

As he ignores Meredith for yet another day, Alex let his mind wander to Jo and Isla for a moment. He knows Jo would never run with their daughter if she didn’t have a plan to keep her safe, but just the knowledge that they were out there without him broke his heart.

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

His fingers press down the collar of the light blue button up once more before sliding the black suit jacket over it. He examines himself in the mirror of the hotel room one last time before turning to leave. He’d only been to Seattle once before for a medical conference, but this trip held a much more important air to it.

Brooke, his Brooke, was close. Closer than she’d ever been before and he couldn’t wait to see her again. He was delighted when he’d found her again, even more so when he found out that she was a doctor giving him the perfect opportunity to drop in on her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he saw her.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

When Alex finally makes it back to work he’s met with an abundance of pitying looks and unhelpful comments. He knows most of his coworkers have good intentions but he’s in the verge of screaming at the next person who interacts with him. All he wants to do is work and try and forget that his daughter and the love of his life aren’t waiting for him at home like they should be.

“Alex! I have someone I want you to meet,” Arizona’s bubbly voice almost makes Alex roll his eyes, the blonde not doing much to improve his demeanor since he was in no mood to meet anyone new. “This is Doctor Paul Stadler, he’s an expert on laparoscopic surgery techniques which is always helpful when we have tiny humans to save.”

Alex can feel his blood run cold as he turns towards Arizona and the man standing next to her. Whatever picture he had painted in his head fades as he stares at the man in front of him. Despite his bright grin Alex knows exactly what Paul is capable of, what he had done and threatened to do to Jo.

“While I’d love to meet your whole team Doctor Robbins, I’m not here on business today. I’m looking for Doctor Wilson actually.”

“Oh,” Arizona’s face falls, gaze turning to Alex as his jaw tightens. “Actually she’s-“

“She’s gone, she left,” Alex’s voice has an edge that makes even him flinch at how harsh and cold it is.

Paul eyes Alex for a moment, looking him over before speaking again, “That’s unfortunate. Would you happen to know where she is? I’d love to speak with her.”

“Well get in line then because I've been waiting for her to come home for the past three weeks,” Alex slams the iPad in his hands onto the counter of the nurses station, eyes ablaze as he stares Paul down. “You harassed her for months on end and scared her so much that she ran away with our daughter hours after giving birth.”

Paul attempts to conceal the smirk on his face but fails, causing Alex to step towards him with clenched fists. Arizona steps between the two men, fixing Alex with a hard stare.

“Back up Alex. I know that you’re upset about Jo but-“

“But nothing! He’s the reason my girlfriend and daughter are gone!”

“Okay why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Arizona’s hands squeezing his shoulders finally breaks Alex’s gaze away from Paul whose face has broken into a full on shit eating grin. Arizona and Alex exchange a look and he can tell she’s holding back her anger now as well. “Alex, go home.”

How can I when they’re not there?

The question echoes in his mind the whole drive back to the loft, Alex’s heart constricting as he sat on the edge of his and Jo’s bed. The loft was still empty, sounds still echoing off the walls as he sat alone. His mind brings up the image of Jo and Isla sitting in their hospital room as he walked away, not knowing that was the last time he’d see them.

He leans forward, reaching into his dresser and rummages around his sock drawer for a minute before pulling out a velvet box. When Jo had told him she was pregnant he’d immediately gone out and bought the ring. Not because of Isla, but because starting a family with Jo was all the confirmation he needed that she was it for him. Now the box sat collecting dust in his drawer, it’s future uncertain as he wondered exactly where Jo was.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

“And this is your daddy and your Auntie Meredith. They love you so much,” despite knowing that the infant couldn’t understand what she said or even clearly see the photo she had pulled up on her phone, Jo made sure that Isla knew about all of the people they loved in Seattle. “Your daddy misses you so much, baby girl. I’m sorry I took you away from him, I know that makes me a crappy mom.”

“You’re not a crappy mom,” Jo looks from Isla to the man sitting next to her, his hand settling on her shoulder as he fixes her with a knowing look. “You did what you had to do.”

“Some days it doesn’t feel like that,” Jo sighs, her head falling to his shoulder as she fights back tears. “I took her from her dad! I took her away from the only family she’ll ever have, Link. And why? Because I’m scared?”

Link pulls back from Jo, meeting her eyes as he speaks, “You had every reason to run, you know that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I wouldn’t want to worry about that all the time if I were you. Especially with a newborn, I get it. So don’t feel too bad for yourself, I think you made the right choice.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

“Jo?”

The lights in the loft are off but Jo’s car is parked out front. When he switches the lights on Alex sees Jo shoving clothes into a tote bag, tear stains tracking down her cheeks.

“Jo what are you doing?”

"I'm going to Stephanie’s for a few nights, just until I can figure things out.”

Jo’s voice is nervous and she's talking a mile a minute. She still hasn't looked up at Alex but he can see the bright red hives cropping up on her neck already.

"I'm sorry it was an accident but I’m going to

fix it. It's my fault, I'll fix it!”

"What are you talking about,” despite the fact that he's spoken up more than once Jo seems to be in a world of her own.

“Don't worry about it, you don't need more stress,” Jo’s hands are shaking as she closes the bag she's holding. "It's still early, it'll be an easy fix. I'm going to fix it, I have an appointment scheduled."

It clicks for Alex then just exactly what Jo is talking about. He sinks to his knees next to her tilting her chin up so she’ll finally look at him.

“Are you pregnant?”

"I'm sorry, I missed my birth control it was an accident," Jo’s tone is frantic now as more tears begin to fall. "I have an appointment, I'm going to fix it-“

"Jo slow down, I'm not mad so stop apologizing,” Alex wiped at the tears that had collected on Jo’s cheeks. "You don't want our baby?”

Jo blinked up at Alex as if nothing he was saying was making sense to her.

“What's actually the matter Jo? Why were you so scared to tell me?"

“I… I'm married."

“What?"

“I'm married to a guy who nearly beat me to death. And when I got pregnant I thought he'd

be happy and maybe he'd let up, instead he yelled and screamed and then he,” Jo pauses, eyes downcast as she looks down at her hands. “When he was done with me for the night I wasn't pregnant anymore.

“He wouldn't let me get birth control though so the next time I just solved the problem quietly. And when it happened a third time I ran. I ran and changed my name and never turned back,” Jo finally looks up and meets Alex’s gaze, eyes watery still as he watches her. “I had a miscarraige that time, probably because of how banged up I was. But it got me out of there. So when I started having the same symptoms again I freaked out.”

“Oh Jo…”

“Alex, I’m terrified of my past and of losing you and losing this baby… I’ve already lost far too much. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m all in with you even if it means we never get married. You and this baby mean everything to me. That is if you want it.”

“Of course I do, I want this more than anything. I want kids with you, I really do but…”

“Okay then we’ll do it.”

“Really? You dont think I’m too damaged or crazy?”

“Yes Jo, I want all of that,” Alex pulled Jo into his lap, placing a hand over her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you and you’re just about the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

The room is spinning when she pries her eyes open, dried blood making the task difficult. She tries to sit up, but the pain radiating from her stomach keeps her down. She knows if she moves she’ll make it worse, but her body is in pain and she can’t lay in this position much longer.

As soon as she makes a move, the pain is back. She thinks it’s his foot that’s making contact with her ribs now, digging into her back as her body curls in on itself.

“Stop! Please!”

The cries are useless, they always are, but she hopes that maybe they’ll convince him to end her suffering sooner or throw the next punch a little softer.

“Please stop! Stop!”

Her shoulders are shaking as she blinks her eyes open again, a pair of blue eyes staring down at her in concern.

“It was just a nightmare, you’re okay and you’re safe,” Link’s words help to steady her heartbeat a little, her eyes moving to Isla who's peacefully sleeping in his arms. “I woke you up because I just turned the news on. Take a look.”

“Former Harvard University professor Paul Stadler was arrested early yesterday morning on charges of battery and assault against his girlfriend, who is still being treated for her injuries at Massachusetts General Hospital. Since his arrest, three more women have come forward with allegations against Stadler ranging from ongoing harassment to physical violence and sexual assault. Boston PD is asking any other victims to contact them at this time.”

Jo stares blankly at the television in front of her, eyes welling with tears as the news footage continues to roll. She wasn’t alone and she was so close to being free from Paul’s hold on her.

“You have to go to Boston, your testimony could put him away,” Link’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, eyes moving from the television to him. “Jo, he’s going to prison. You can finally be free.”

The hope that had ignited her heart just moments earlier was crushed as she played through the possibilities before her. What if she testified and Paul wasn’t put in prison? What if he continued to harass her? What if he hurt Isla? Or Alex?

“I can’t. I can’t face him again… There's too much on the line,” Jo looks away from Link, her tears finally falling. “I have too much to lose.”

“And you’ll be stuck right here if you don’t do anything!”

“At least I’ll be safe then.”

“And what about Alex? You’re okay never seeing him again? Never letting Isla see him?”

Jo stands suddenly, facing Link with an angry expression, “You don’t get to make the calls here Link! I appreciate everything you’ve done for us but I can’t risk everything when there’s not a guarantee that it’ll end up well.”

Jo storms out of the room then, complex emotions overwhelming her as she sinks into her bed. She wishes things were easier, were more black and white instead of the fuzzy grey she’d become so accustomed to. But they aren’t, they never would be with Paul and now she’d dragged Alex and Isla and even Link into the pools of grey she’d spent so long trying to avoid.

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

Alex watched his phone ring for a moment, debating on picking up at all. He doesn’t recognize the number and he doesn’t know anyone from California. But he still clicks the green accept button, hoping whoever it was wasn’t going to waste his time.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m so glad you picked up.”

Alex freezes, stares at his phone for a moment, then brings it back up to his ear, “Jo? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” there’s a long pause and Alex almost thinks she’s hung up before she begins to cry. “I’m so sorry Alex. I’m so sorry we left you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know, I get why you left. I hate it but I understand,” a sigh leaves him as he rests his head against the wall next to him, tears forming in his eyes as well, “Are you okay?”

“Yes we’re both fine, I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have somewhere safe to run to,” Jo sucks in a breath, as if her next words are taking everything out of her. “Paul is going to prison.”

“I know, I saw. Are you going to testify?”

“I don’t know. I want to but… There's too much at risk. I don’t want him to hurt you or Isla.”

Just the sound of his daughter's name tugs at Alex’s heart, the tears that had been welling in his eyes spilling onto his cheeks.

“If you don’t go you’re going to be living in fear for the rest of your life. But if you do, you can get closure. And you can save more people from getting hurt by Paul.”

She lets his words sink in for a moment before he hears her voice again, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you and Isla both,” Alex can hear shuffling in the background, a deep voice and then a small cry.

“I have to go, Alex.”

“Wait Jo-”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead then and Alex can’t help the sob that breaks from his chest. He misses Jo, misses Isla, misses the feeling of wholeness that came to him when he would climb into bed with Jo at the end of every day.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

Alex doesn't know what drives him to fly to Boston, but he feels a small sense of relief when he sees Paul Stadler in the defendant's seat. A sick feeling makes itself at home in the pit of his stomach as he watches half a dozen women testify to the horrors that Paul had put them through, detailing the ways he had tormented them. Jo had never gone into detail to him but if what she went through was even half as bad as what he was hearing then he understood why she had gone to such extremes to hide from Paul.

He watches as the final woman testifies and finds her seat again, the courtroom silent except for the prosecuting attorneys whispering among themselves. Finally, one of the lawyers stands and addresses the courtroom, “Your honor, we’d like to call our final witness. The prosecution calls Brooke Elizabeth Stadler, now Josephine Alice Wilson, to the stand.”

Alex feels the air leave his lungs as he watches Jo approach the bench. Her hair is shorter and a dirty blonde color but she’s still the same woman he knows so well. The dark blue dress she’s wearing sways lightly as she takes the stand, stating her name and swearing in before she begins to give her testimony. Jo explains how she and Paul met, how they married, and then she goes into the abuse she endured. Alex listens to the detailed accounts she gives, accompanied by the numerous hospital reports.

“And then one day I got sick of it and I ran. I knew Paul would find me though so I fled the state and changed my name. I started a new life and I have a beautiful daughter,” Jo finally meets Alex’s gaze and he gets the overwhelming urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. “But Paul found me again and he was threatening me so as soon as my daughter was born I ran again. I left behind my new life, the only place I’ve ever felt safe because I knew he would find me again and I couldn’t risk him hurting my daughter.”

The air in the courtroom is thick as Jo’s words sink in. Alex knows he’s not the only one who’s been affected by her testimony and the words of everyone that went before her. The prosecutor thanks Jo, the defending attorney waiving their right to question her. As she steps down from the stand she meets Alex’s gaze for a moment before turning away and going back to her seat.

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

“Jurors, have you come to a decision?”

“We have your honor,” there’s a tense silence in the courtroom as the decision is handed off to the judge. “We find the defendant Paul Stadler guilty on all charges.” A breath of relief leaves Alex as he turns to look at Jo. There’s tears streaming down her face and the slightest hint of a smile as she looks at him. Before he can get up and go to her though she's surrounded by the other women who had testified, all of them crying in relief.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

She sees him about fifty feet in front of her, his back to her as he stands almost perfectly still. She watches him for a moment, his slumped shoulders and overall defeated attitude and for a moment she feels guilty for what she’s put him through in the past three months. Before she can dwell on the feeling for too long Alex is turning towards her, looking over her with that same sad expression he’d been wearing in the courtroom.

There’s a moment where all Jo and Alex do is stare at each other before she finds herself rushing forward and launching herself into his embrace. His arms are holding her tightly, refusing to let go even as she begins to cry into his chest.

This moment, the feeling of being in Alex’s arms again, is all Jo has wanted since she’d left Seattle.

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

“Alex, I’m so-”

“Stop, you don't need to apologize to me,” Alex pulls back from Jo, one hand coming to cup her cheek. “I get it, I understand where you’re coming from. I know why you ran so don’t ever think of apologizing to me. I’m just glad that you’re safe.”

A fresh round of tears springs to Jo’s eyes as she looks up at Alex, “I don’t deserve you. I’ve put you through so much.” Alex blinks down at Jo, not believing what he’s hearing. Their relationship had never been one sided, they’d both supported each through tough situations and had come out stronger at the end. In his eyes this was nothing more than another speed bump.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you back Jo. I love you and all of this? None of it changes how I feel about you,” Alex leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jo’s lips. “I love you and I’m glad you’re back in my arms.”

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

“Hey! I just heard the verdict!”

Jo turns at the sound of Link’s voice, a wide smile spreading across her face as her best friend comes into view. It’s not so much the blonde man’s presence that makes her grin as it is the infant in his arms. Isla is wide eyed as she looks at Jo, the three month old blinking up at her mother with a sense of wonder.

“Hi baby girl, I have someone who’s very excited to see you,” Jo eagerly takes her daughter from Link before turning and looking at Alex. “Isla say hi to daddy, he missed you sooo much.”

The look on Alex’s face as he takes Isla from Jo’s arms is priceless, tears welling in his eyes as he lets out a watery laugh. The little girl snuggles comfortably into his arms, as if she had done it a hundred times before and Jo can’t help her own tears as they leak onto her cheeks.

“You three get together, I think this moment needs to be remembered.” Alex and Jo both heed Link’s instruction and wipe their tears away to boast wide grins. The photo of the three of them squeezed together after a grueling ordeal graces their family mantle for years to come. Even when there are dozens of other family photos, pictures from Alex and Jo’s wedding, and the birth of their second daughter, the photo of Jo, Alex, and Isla standing in front of the courthouse in Boston remains the centerpiece of their living room as a reminder of the sacrifices they all made to keep their family together.

Look at how my tears ricochet

[wolf-and-bard]

Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”  

[cardest]

London playlist

London - since 43 AD it has to be one of the more fascinating cities on Earth. Such a rich history. From Shakespeare Theatre to the music from there today. I just had to put a London playlist together. From Soho to Brixton, from Highgate to Clapham  what a collection of songs! It’s over 350 songs and it could easily expand to 400. **I have a separate England & Wales playlist coming, so, stay tuned for that**.

To play the songs, hit the link right here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_ntP663JhZl-hvn9EwFp9L

ENGLAND & WALES playlist is coming soon! What songs have I left out? Let me know! Add your own songs! Cheers. Pip pip, tally ho!

LONDON 001 Generation X -  Day By Day 002 The Clash - London Calling 003 Austin Powers  - theme song (Soul Bossa? Nova ) 004 The Kinks - Dedicated Follower Of Fashion 005 Killing Joke - Empire Song 006 Black Sabbath - Wicked World 007 The Who - Welcome 008 The Damned - Neat, neat, neat 009 GIRLSCHOOL - LONDON 010 007 theme song 011 Motorhead - Motorhead 012 Wire - Ex Lion Tamer 013 David Bowie - Maid of Bond Street 014 The Misfits - London Dungeon 015 Rolling Stones - 016 The Adverts - Bored Teenagers 017 Siouxsie & The Banshees -  Spellbound 018 Penny Dreadful - Soundtrack - Main Theme 019 Eurythmics - Love Is A Stranger 020 The Cure - Subway Song 021 Adam And The Ants -  Puss 'n' Boots 022 Iron Maiden - 22 Acacia Avenue 023 COIL - Fire of the mind 024 Public Image Ltd - One Drop. 025 LUSH - Breeze 026 Bliss Signal - Surge 027 The Pogues - Misty Morning, Albert Bridge 028 PhD - Won't Let You Down 029 Birthday Party - Hats On Wrong 030 Eddy Grant - Electric Avenue 031 Help Yourself - Reaffirmation 032 Grave Miasma - Gnosis of the summon 033 Roy Ayers - We Live In London Baby 034 Led Zeppelin - The Rover 035 Gang of Four - What we all want 036 Pet Shop Boys - West End Girl                 037 Sleaford Mods - 6 Horsemen (The Brixtons) 038 Paul Young - Love of the Common People 039 The Saint (original) - Theme 040 The Human League - Dont You Want Me 041 Sex Pistols - God Save The Queen 042 The Beatles - A Day In The Life 043 Def Leppard -  Love bites 044 The Stranglers - Another Camden Afternoon 045 The Kinks  - See My Friends 046 Elton John - Bennie and the Jets 047 Suede - Moving 048 Queen - Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy 049 Cliff Richard & the Shadows - She's Gone 050 The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up 051 Loop - Fade Out 052 Jah Wobble's Invaders Of The Heart - A13 053 The Magnetic Fields - All the Umbrellas in London 054 Wendy Carlos - Title Music From A Clockwork Orange (From Purcell's Music For The Funeral Of Queen Mary) 055 The Police - Every Little Thing she does it Magic 056 Cockney Rejects - The Greatest Cockney Rip Off 057 Spandau Ballet - Spandau Ballet Chant No.1 058 The Pretenders - Middle of the Road 059 The Who - Dogs 060 The Jam - London Girl 061 Cradle of Filth - Hurt and Virtue 062 Joy Division - Isolation 063 Nick Drake - At the Chime of a City Clock 064 Sham 69 - Cockney Kids Are Innocent 065 Deep Purple - Mandrake Root 066 Throbbing Gristle - Hit by a rock 067 David Bowie - Rubber Band 068 Roxy Music  - Do The Strand 069 Slaves - Cheer Up London 070 T. Rex - London Boys 071 Kirsty MacColl - Autumngirlsoup 072 New Model Army - Archway Towers 073 Scorpions - Lovedrive 074 Isaac Hayes - Doesnt Rain In London 075 Peter Tosh - Buk-In-Hamm Palace 076 The Slits - Typical Girls 077 Pharaoh Sanders - Midnight In Berkeley Square (Instrumental) 078 Blue Cheer - Girl From London 079 Sex Pistols - Satellite 080 Judas Priest - (The Hellion ) Electric Eye 081 UFO -  Lights Out 082 Joy Division - Digital 083 Muse - Uprising 084 George Harrison - All Things Must Pass 085 Robert Palmer - Addicted To Love 086 Fine Young Cannibals - Blue 087 New Order - Blue Monday 088 Würzel - Midnight In London 089 Rod Stewart - Gasoline Alley 090 The Wildhearts - Down On London 091 Supertramp - Nothing To Show 092 Motörhead - Metropolis 093 Current 93 - Lucifer Over London 094 The Pogues - Dark Streets of London 095 The Cult - All Souls Avenue 096 The Jam - In The City 097 The Undertones - Teenage Kicks 098 Iggy Pop -  Play It Safe 099 Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Jack the Ripper 100 The Cure  - Lets Go To Bed 101 Suede - Animal Nitrate 102 Wire - field day for the sundays 103 Black Books  TV Show - Opening Theme 104 Paul McCartney & Wings - London Town 105 Madness - Primrose Hill 106 The Troggs  - No. 10 Downing Street 107 Iron Maiden -  Gangland 108 PJ Harvey - The Last Living Rose 109 The Rollers - Soho 110 Electric Wizard - Lucifer's Slaves 111 The Buzzcocks -  Just Lust 112 Doctor Who Theme Tune 1980 113 Cathedral - Fountain Of Innocence 114 Pretenders - Swinging London 115 Hanoi Rocks - Tooting Bec Wreck 116 Es - 'Chemical 117 Bee Gees  - Trafalgar 118 The Peddlers    - Under London Lights 119 Cliff Richard - The Young Ones 120 Big Audio Dynamite - Sightsee M.C   121 ABC - Tower of London 122 Accept - London Leatherboys 123 Pitchshifter - Please Sir 124 Portishead -  We Carry On 125 John Lennon - Whatever Gets You Thru The Night 126 The Lurkers - Ain't Got a Clue 127 Iron Maiden - Die with your boots on 128 Siouxsie and the Banshees - Kiss Them For Me 129 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - From Her to Eternity 130 The Jam - London Traffic 131 The Cranberries - Waiting In Walthamstow 132 The Kinks - Victoria 133 Heads Hands & Feet - Pete Might Spook The Horses 134 Whitesnake -  Long Way From Home 135 Queensryche - London 136 Concrete Blonde - Walking in London 137 Deep Purple - Fireball 138 The Ruts - dope for guns 139 Wham! - Bad Boys 140 Generation X - One Hundred Punks 141 Joe Jackson - Down To London 142 Anti-Nowhere League - Streets of London 143 The Wildhearts - Shandy Bang 144 David Bowie - The London Boys 145 The Human League - Human 146 Cockney Rejects - East end 147 Dire Straits - Eastbound Train 148 Ian Drury - Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick 149 Sepultura -  Filthy rot 150 The Jam - Down In The Tube Station At Midnight 151 Fine Young Cannibals - She Drives Me Crazy 152 Purson -  Electric Landlady 153 Black Sabbath -  Tomorrow's Dream 154 The Clash - Guns of Brixton 155 Blood Ceremony - Lord Of Misrule 156 Monty Pythons The Meaning of Life - Penis Song 157 Gentlemans Pistols -  Hustler's Row 158 Frankie Goes To Hollywood - Relax 159 Jethro Tull - Cross Eyed Mary 160 The Yobs - The Ballad of the Warrington 161 Cradle of Filth - Principle Of Evil Made Flesh 162 Bruce Hornsby - The Black Rats Of London 163 Inspiral Carpets - How It Should Be 164 The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Foxy Lady 165 PETULA CLARK - WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL 166 Lush - Olympia 167 Hunters & Collectors - Blind Eye 168 Thompson Twins - Hold Me Now 169 David Bowie - The Man Who Sold the World 170 UK Subs - C.I.D. 171 Queen - Dont Stop Me Now 172 Bruce Dickinson - Accident of Birth 173 the clash - capital radio one 174 UB40 - Here I Am (Come And Take Me) 175 The Meads Of Asphodel - Guts For Sale 176 Horrible Histories: Savage Songs - Boudicca 177 Swallow the Sun - Labyrinth Of London (Horror Pt. IV) 178 Mad Professor  - Ben Gone Wrong 179 Howard Jones - Things Can Only Get Better 180 Genesis - The Battle Of Epping Forest 181 The Damned -  problem child 182 Squeeze  - Cool For Cats 183 Manfred Mann - Belgravia 184 The Bee Gees - Walking Back to Waterloo 185 Pink Floyd - Waiting For The Worms 186 Madness - Victoria Gardens 187 Paradise Lost - Soul Courageons 188 YES  - Roundabout 189 PJ Harvey - This Is Love 190 The Horrors - Jack The Ripper 191 King Crimson - Red 192 The Smiths - How Soon Is Now 193 Level 42 - Heathrow 194 Intaferon - Get Out Of London 195 Burt Bacharach - Bond street 196 David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust 197 The Clash - Londons Burning 198 Killing Joke - Follow The Leaders 199 Saxon - The Court of the Crimson King 200 Buzzcocks - Harmony in My Head 201 Fairport Convention - Fiddlesticks (Peel Session) 202 Napalm Death - Errors In The Signals 203 Empire  - Hot Seat 204 Anathema - Shroud of Frost 205 Pitchshifter - Condescension 206 The Beatles - Hey Jude 207 Affinity - Highgate 208 KLF - 3 A.M. Eternal (Pure Trance) 209 Warren Zevon - Werewolves of London 210 David Axelrod - London 211 The Wombles - Wellington Goes To Waterloo 212 EastEnders Theme 213 Cathedral - Hypnos 164 214 Tom Jones - It's Not Unusual 215 Alan Moore with Tim Perkins - The Highbury Working A Beat Seance 216 Transvision Vamp - Sex Kick 217 Elton John - Tell Me When The Whistle Blows 218 Firebird - Bow bells 219 The Jam - A' Bomb In Wardour Street 220 Caravan  - Waterloo Lily 221 Lord Sutch & Heavy Friends - Flashing Lights 222 David Bowie - Oh! You Pretty Things 223 Hot Chocolate - West End of Park Lane 224 Thames television ident 1984 225 Newtown Neurotics - Living With Unemployment 226 Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up 227 Suede - Metal Mickey 228 Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer 229 Killing Joke - The Gathering 230 Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want 231 Kate Bush - Babooshka 232 Iron Maiden - The Prophecy 233 The Cure - Disintegration 234 The Damned - I Just Can't Be Happy Today 235 WIRE - Silk Skin Paws 236 Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets 237 Souixee & the Banshees - Cascade 238 Jethro Tull - Jeffrey Goes to Leicester Square 239 AC/DC -  Rising Power 240 Alternative TV - Life After Life 241 Napalm Death - Deceiver (Peel Sessions) 242 Electric Light Orchestra - Last Train To London 243 Bucks Fizz - London Town 244 The Sweet - Blockbuster! 245 999 - Bent Cross 246 The Groundhogs - Split, Pt. 1 247 Bow Wow Wow - Go Wild in the Country 248 Blood Ceremony -  Half Moon Street 249 Ming Tea feat. Austin Powers - BBC One 250 Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song 251 Big Audio Dynamite - EMC2 252 Crass - Banned from the Roxy 253 Sleaford Mods - Chaos Down In SoHo 254 Big Ben Chimes of Westminster, London 255 PJ Harvey - A Place Called Home 256 The Ruts - Staring at the rude boys 257 The Times - Whatever Happened To Thames Beat 258 Quincy Jones - London Derriere 259 Lush - Hypocrite 260 PIL - Reggie Song 261 The Style Council - You're The Best Thing 262 UK Subs - Dirty Girls 263 COIL - Slur 264 Frank Zappa - Dead girls of London 265 Iron Maiden - Prowler 266 The Slits - Difficult Fun 267 Killing Joke -  Kings and Queens 268 Simple Minds - Chelsea Girl 269 Motorhead - Bomber 270 XTC - Towers Of London 271 Blitzkrieg  - Hell to pay 272 Gryphon - Opening Move 273 The Challengers - The Streets of London 274 Peggy March - In Der Carnaby Street 275 The Damned - Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde 276 The Pogues - London You're a Lady 277 The Lords Of The New Church - Portobello 278 Rolling Stones - Hot Stuff 279 Joe Jackson - The Evil Eye 280 The Deviants - Garbage 281 Benny Hill Show  - Wild Women 282 Suzi Quatro - Crash 283 Madness - day on the town 284 SHAKESPEAR'S SISTER -  I Don't Care 285 Whitesnake - Wine Women An Song 286 Pink Floyd - Astronomy Domine 287 Rick Astley - Whenever You Need Somebody 288 Bauhaus - In the flat field 289 Dead Can Dance - In Power We Entrust The Love Advocated 290 Paul McCartney -  Old Siam, Sir 291 Lush - De-Luxe 292 AC/DC - let's get it up 293 Sophia Loren & Peter Sellers - Bangers and mash 294 Black Sabbath - Childfren of the grave 295 Psychic TV - The orchids 296 Miracle - The Strife Of Love In A Dream 297 Carter USM - Lean On Me I Won't Fall Over 298 Screaming Lord Sutch - Jack the Ripper 299 WIRE - the 15th 300 Mott the Hoople - Honaloochie Boogie 301 Soft Machine - The Camden Tandem 302 Are You Being Served Theme 303 CATHEDRAL - Serpent Eve 304 Booker T. & The MG's - Carnaby Street 305 Culture Club - It's A Miracle 306 Motorhead - Nothing Up My Sleeve 307 Killing Joke - Money is not our God 308 Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy 309 WIRE - Please take 310 Bananarama - Hey young London 311 The Jam - Carnaby Street 312 Catapilla - Charing Cross   313 The Shadows - Chelsea Boot 314 Ride - Chelsea Girl 315 The Damned  - Grimly Fiendish 316 Marillion - Chelsea Monday 317 Slowdive - Celia's Dream 318 The Clash - Gates of the west 319 Thin Lizzy - Half Caste 320 David Bowie -  I dig everything 321  VUUR - Days Go By - London 322 Elvis Costello - [I Don't Want To Go To] Chelsea 323 Uriah Heep - Walking in your shadow 324 Genesis - Invisible Touch 325 Amy Winehouse - Me & Mr Jones 326 Curve - Fait Accompli   327 Silverfish ‎- Crazy 328 Iron Maiden - Killers 329 Killing Joke -  Ghost Of Ladbroke Grove 330 Sex Pistols - Anarchy In The UK 331 Paradise lost - remembrance 332 The Fall - Leave the Capitol 333 The Kinks - Waterloo Sunset 334 WIRE - Keep exhaling 335 The Peddlers - raining in London 336 Motorhead - damage case 337 10cc - Shock On The Tube (Don't Want Love) 338 Swervedriver - Rave Down 339 Spike Milligan - Tower Bridge 340 Phil Lynott - Solo In Soho 341 Adam and the Ants - Plastic Surgery 342 The Who - Pinball wizard 343 Pulp - Mile end 344 Generation X - Running with the Boss Sound 345 OMD - If You Leave 346 PiL - Public Image 347 Monty Python's Flying Circus TV show - theme song 348 Hall & Oates - London, Luck & Love 349 The Horrors - Three decades 350 Cathedral - Midnight Mountain 351 Killing Joke - glitch 352 Judas Priest - The Ripper 353 Air Raid Siren London Blitz 354 Dragonforce - Fury and the storm 355 Elastica - Connection 356 the Psychedelic Furs - Dumb waiters 357 Samantha Fox - Touch me 358 Wang Chung - Dance hall days 359 Kim Wilde - Water on glass 360 Siouxsie and the Banshees - Overground 361 Atomic Rooster - Tomorrow night 362 Fleetwood Mac - My Heart Beat Like a Hammer 363 Rainbow - Self Portrait 364 Billy Ocean - Love really hurts without you 365 Art of Noise - Beat box (division one) 366 Eurythmics - Never Gonna Cry Again 367 Samson - Grime Crime 368 Go West - we close our eyes 369 Ultravox - Saturday Night In The City Of The Dead 370 King Crimson - 21st Century Schizoid Man 371 Visage - Visage 372 Sandy Denny - Let's Jump The Broomstick 373 Brian Eno - Burning Airlines Give You So Much More 374 Fields Of The Nephilim - Blue water 375 Leftfield - Open Up 376 Blancmange - I've Seen The Word 377 Thomas Dolby - Flying north 378 Sisters of Mercy - Temple of love 379 Royal Orchestra - Royal Entrance Queen Elizabeth II 380 Pink Floyd - Goodbye blue sky 666 David Bowie -  London Bye Ta - Ta 

Play the songs here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_ntP663JhZl-hvn9EwFp9L

[thewarriorandtheking]

Once Upon a Time

This little story was inspired by the prompt from @writersmonth:

Prompt 25. Fairy Tale

I know it’s not August anymore, but it took me this long to get it where I wanted it (I just can’t write fast), and it turned out kind of cute. So I am posting it anyway...😎

This story features a very young Thorin Oakenshield...who must have led a very sheltered life as the future King of Erebor. 

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

Once upon a time, there was a great city under a mountain, and in it there lived a prince. Now, he was a very special prince, and the king took great pains to keep him safe. He decreed that he should not venture out of the city, but always remain under the mountain where he could be well guarded. The palace was large and beautiful, with rooms beyond counting, and the city was grand and orderly, with wide streets and plazas and fountains and many people coming and going. The prince was very happy there and never bored. He had his brother and sister to keep him company, and was kept very busy by his tutors. A curious boy, he was always exploring the halls of the palace, the side streets, the mine tunnels that went on and on. Sometimes he heard men talk about the Wild, the land outside the city, but when he asked if he could go there he was always told ‘When you are older.’

One evening the prince was walking back from his weapons class, swinging his sword, when he saw a group of workmen come out of a door he had never seen open before. The prince waited until they were out of sight, then crept closer. It was a very ordinary sort of door, the type that led to a closet or a boring storage room. He touched it and it swung silently inward. The workers had not closed it properly! He could see a long, low tunnel leading up. The prince thought he had explored every part of the palace, but this was new. He quickly stepped inside, feeling for the latch in the dark. Spotting a still glowing torch on the floor, he waved it to get it blazing again.  

It was a small passage, just three men wide and a man and a half tall, the sides smooth and finished. He followed it a long way, it went up and up, sometimes very steeply, with several changes of direction. The prince began to wonder how long he had been walking, looked back the way he had come, and just at that moment the floor fell away in front of him. He grasped for something to break his fall as he tumbled down a short flight of stairs, then hit a door that gave way at his touch. Suddenly he was lying on something soft and damp, a dim silver light shining in his eyes. The air was sharp, he could smell damp earth and many other things he could not name. He lay still for a long moment, trying to comprehend where he was. It had to be the Wild, but it was stranger than he had ever imagined.

After a moment he sat up and saw a wall of smooth stone in front of him. The door had closed! This was very bad because doors that led to the Wild were invisible when closed. For some you needed a password, for others a key, but if you did not know exactly where the latch was you could never open it. The prince became very afraid. He was outside his city for the first time with no idea where he was! No one knew where he had gone, they might not find him for days. He felt like crying, but then he remembered that princes do not cry. Princes are strong, and decisive, and do not feel sorry for themselves.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A low gravelly voice.

The prince looked around and saw a group of goblins materialize out of the shadows. They came up close around him, poked him with their swords.

“A Dwarfling!” One of the others sniffed. “Not much meat on it, but it will make a meal.”

“What’s it doing here?” Another asked. “Where’d it come from?”

Now you must know that goblins are cruel and wicked creatures. They live underground, the same as the prince’s people, and also mine and forge and can make clever things, but they are lazy and untidy in their ways. They have great love of gold and precious things, preferring to take them from others than to work at finding it themselves. The prince knew about goblins, all children were told the stories. He stayed silent, thinking furiously. He had his sword, but he could not defeat all of them. And if he tried to fight, they would kill him for sure. He had to think of another way to escape.

“It has fancy clothes,” another goblin said. “Maybe it has gold, too.”

“We can’t stop,” said goblin who had first spoken. “Tie it up and bring it along!”

The goblins tied his arms and legs, not very well, one of them slung the prince over his shoulder. They started down the mountain on a narrow path. You must remember, this was the first time the prince had been in the Wild and it was all very strange and new to him. This was the first time he had traveled under the open sky, heard the wind in the trees, seen the slopes of the mountain he had lived under all his life. He had heard about these things, but they were quite different in real life. The goblins seemed to be in a hurry, he saw the sky was turning grey and guessed the sun was soon to rise. The prince worked at his bonds, trying to loosen them, while he listened to their talk.

The goblins were from the Misty Mountains, where a great many of them lived. They were on their way to the Iron Hills on some errand and were not at all happy about it. They grumbled about having to go so far, and didn’t anticipate being well paid for their work. This gave the prince an idea.

“You will have gold, if you take me with you to the Iron Hills,” the prince told them. The goblin carrying him almost dropped him in surprise.

“I thought you gagged that thing!” Said the first goblin, who seemed to be the leader.

“You were the one in such a hurry,” grumbled the other. “Gold, you say?”

“Gold. Silver,” the prince said. “My father will pay a rich reward.”

“The only reward we will get is the loss of our heads,” replied the leader. “Which we will also lose if we are caught on this mountain. Now, gag the Dwarfling and let’s get moving!”

“I want to hear what it has to say,” said another goblin. “Might make this trip worth it.”

The prince looked at the goblins around him. He very much did not want to be eaten, and he had an idea how he might trick them. He could see he had their attention, now he had to come up with a story.

“My father is king in the Iron Hills,” he told them confidently. “I am a prisoner here, to force my father to keep an agreement and to pay tribute. By chance I found a tunnel that led here, but I have no way to get home.”  

The goblins looked at each other. “If your father would pay to get you back, what would the King Under the Mountain pay to keep you, I wonder?” The goblin leader asked.

The prince let his eyes go wide, shaking his head. “You must take me to the Iron Hills! I cannot go back there! My father will pay double!”

“I say we eat him,” said the goblin who had been carrying him.

“Not so fast,” said the leader. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“The sword you took from me,” the prince replied confidently. It had been a gift from the King of the Iron Hills, it was in their style. “And this ring.” He offered them the ring he had received for his eighth birthday.

The leader drew out the sword they had taken from him, another grabbed his ring. They stood examining them closely and talking amongst themselves, their captive momentarily forgotten. The prince had already freed his hands, pretending he was still tied he worked at the ropes on his ankles. As he listened to the goblins arguing he saw two things: the sky was turning pink and there was a wide road of stone just a short distance below him. He was fairly certain he could get to the road before the goblins caught him, but which way should he run?    

The goblin’s voices had been getting louder, the leader wanted to take their captive to the King Under the Mountain, the goblin who had been carrying him was complaining they had nothing to eat for days, another wanted the ring. The prince took out his purse, which he still had because the goblins had been in too much of a hurry to search him. Inside were some gold coins and quite a few gems he had acquired by doing well in his lessons. The prince decided it was now or never. He tossed them into the circle of goblins and saw them go down in a heap, grabbing at the gems, punching and kicking at each other. Quick as he could he slid down the slope to the road, then hesitated. Where was his city?

A big black bird flew right by his head. “This way!” It called to him.

The prince ran after the bird, hearing the shrieks of the angry goblins. He didn’t dare look, just ran as fast as he could. Then he saw a flock of the black birds flying up the road towards him, and right at his pursuers. The prince looked back, the goblins were close behind, flailing at the cloud of black wings that surrounded them.

“Hurry, hurry!” The bird he was following came back and circled around. The prince put his head down and ran, his heart pounding in his chest. As you know, Dwarves are small, but also strong and fast. Over a short distance one can easily outrun a goblin, especially if there was a threat of being eaten.

As the sun was rising the prince ran out of the trees. There before him were the great gates of his city, sunlight just touching the top. They towered over the mountain vale, intricately carved, braziers lit, flanked by huge statues of his ancestors. The prince stopped and stared.

“Have you not seen it before?” Asked a voice at his feet. The prince looked down at the bird he had been following. He saw now it was a raven, wearing a necklace of fine golden rings.

“No. I have never been outside the gates. It’s beautiful,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder, there was no sign of the goblins. “Are we safe?”

“The sun is up,” said the bird, wagging its tail. “Now they will look only for somewhere to hide.”  

The prince could see the road he was on led to the gate. Feeling much relieved, he started walking. The raven kept pace beside him.

“Thank you for your help,” the prince said. He knew that Kings used ravens to send messages, but he had never spoken to one. He guessed by the necklace this was a special bird.  

“It is my honor, your highness,” the bird said. “Though you did most of it yourself.”

“I guess I did,” the prince smiled. He started to feel a bit proud of himself that he had escaped the goblins. “Who do I have to thank, noble bird?”

“I am Carc, chief of the King’s ravens,” the bird replied.

The prince told the raven all that had happened as they walked to the city gate. As he talked the prince began to realize how much trouble he was in. He was not supposed to be outside the city, he had lost his sword, and his ring. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been gone.  

“What is wrong, your highness?” Carc asked.

“I’m in such trouble,” the prince said. “I will be sent to my room for a month!”

“Why would your father do that? These goblins kidnapped you, hoping to hold you for ransom,” replied the bird, blinking his eyes. “If there is fault, it is on those who left the door open for the goblins to find.”

This made the prince laugh. “Clever bird! I name you Carc the Wise, and I will bring you whatever treat you desire!”

“My only desire is that we meet again, your highness,” said Carc, bowing low. “In better circumstances.”    

Upon his return to the palace, the prince did not get sent to his room after all. The story was already spreading through the city of how he had been kidnapped and cleverly made his escape. His father was especially proud, and told the story to everyone he met. The prince got to eat desert for breakfast, and his siblings were very jealous.  

Sometime later, he was able to sneak into his grandfather’s study to give Carc a juicy mouse. When the prince was older, Carc showed him the paths of the mountain, and taught him the ways of the Wild.

But that is another story.

[cosmiclatte28]

6 Shots of Coffee (Jaemin x you + Dreamies)

a/n: I am back! With a sudden wild oneshot. Please be aware that this is purely fan-fiction. Anything happening here is mere pure imagination. I did not intend to connect any disorders with the idols in real life.

Warning : characters with disorders, a lot of dozing off characters, character with slight adhd (i tried my best to picture them correctly but I’m sorry if everything is wrong, i only did a short research). Mentions of orphanage, drunk parents, and a broken family. HAPPY ENDING! 

CHARACTERS : dream (minus Hyuck and Mark), Taeyong, and Yuta also our brave (y/n)! 

here we go, 

If there are three things in life you hate, that will be Jaemin, Jaemin, and oh god another team assignment with Jaemin!

Jaemin has been the most excruciating classmate you ever have! Not only did he tease you about your freakin need of keeping things in their proper place and keeping things spotless, but he also keeps using you to help him pass his classes. Yet no teacher minds your complain, and all the school girls think you're a freak for being mad about sharing a group project with the handsome guy.

No you’re not sick or weird. You just love organizing things and you like clean things a bit too much. Why? Coz you've had some bad memories with dirty things. Okay Jaemin is just another naughty kid in your class who likes to play and have fun with others, but you certainly did not find his jokes funny.

“Come on calm down (y/n)! It's only coffee, we can clean that.” Jaemin tries to laugh it off despite seeing you standing completely frozen in front of him with an empty cup and you with a  brown uniform. Although you clearly see there is a slight worry in his eyes.

You hold yourself back. How come the worst day has to become worse?! You woke up to period cramps, you forgot a homework thanks to late night distracted room cleaning, and as you were about to rush to type your homework in the library, Jaemin decided to meddle and spill his coffee on your white uniform.

A part of you want to scream and yell and pull his hair apart, but you're too tired to talk with Jaemin. Let alone think about Jaemin, there's just so many things you hate related to Jaemin.

Despite him trying his best to apologize and to help you wash your clothes, which is something new… Jaemin never cared if he messed up with you. You ended up slapping his hand away when he wants to drag you to the office to ask a spare uniform.

“Go away! I have to rush,” you push him aside with your shoulder and run to the library. Knowing so well you'll probably get another minus score and a weird look from the library thanks to your stained uniform.

You hate the feeling of sitting down with this coffee stained shirt, and as much as you want to open that shirt and change into something else, you don’t have the energy. So, after sitting down on the table with the library's laptop you stare into the keyboard only to focus more on your uniform and the least wanted thing happens.

You cry. You cry by yourself in the corner of the room and you don’t really mind the stare they give. You just want to end life here, can anyone just stab you? Or can the ground split and swallow you?

There’s another thing you hate other than Jaemin meddling with your ugly life. It's dirt and unorganized objects. Why? Well you were once a very regular kid, always playing in the rain mud and all kinds of sand. You don’t mind having dirt all over your body you know when you go home you can shower. That's until you grow up and notice how your family is different. Your parents look like they are okay, but every night you hear them argue and argue. The argument gets stronger and scarier, they shout, scream, throw things down and you were always awaken to the no longer comfy homey house. You realize one day you woke up to seeing your dad getting drunk, your mother depressed, and the house super dirty like a tornado just hold a party. It’s awful to wake up to the smell of cigar and alcohols instead of bacons and eggs. You had to keep one plate with you or else it will end up like its friends, lifeless, prickly, sharp, on the ground.

Your maid stopped working, you're moved to a new school, this middle school where you meet Jaemin and some other annoying problematic students. Your once colorful life turned dark and gloomy. No longer you woke up to morning kiss and breakfast. You find yourself sitting alone in the dining room, preparing your own sandwich from some cheap dry bread. No more nutella and you're grateful for butter.

You tried to understand, keeping all to yourself as you grow up and noticed your family is broken. You thought everything will get better, one day mom and dad will love each other again and you'll be back with the bright family you love.

Life is not that kind. Life is cruel, on your 14th birthday your dad left for another woman and your mother dropped you off to an orphanage. She said she can no longer pay for your school and living fees. Heck she even had to borrow money to buy you your monthly pads.

The cheerful friendly you turned 180° into a mournful secretive teenager. You hate everyone who looks bright and you hate every single dirt. Seeing unorganized things and dirty objects just remind you of the dark memories you want to forget.

The orphanage found your smart talent and you got a scholarship making you still able to attend the school. The orphanage you live in has a rule where there is a schedule for cleaning up and preparing dish. You meet a similar boy who has the same problem with you; just that he looks like he had overcome his bitterness and chooses to live a happy life. Which you deadly want to do but cannot.

Renjun, is the only person you talk to in that house. The adults taking care over you, still cannot make you talk comfortably with him and you're not planning to do any sooner.

“Hey, it's me. Should we make a letter to the office and go home?” Renjun's soft voice comes to your ear and you look up to him with blood red eyes.

“How long have I been crying?” you sniffle.

He shrugs his shoulder “I just came an hour ago when I noticed you're missing Chemistry class and Jaemin too. I thought he was with you.”

You scowl “Why would I be with Jaemin?”

Renjun scratches his head “I don’t know… you were always assigned a team with him… I thought both of you are rushing a task.”

“I am having a bad day.” You exhale.

Renjun shakes his head “That is more than a bad day. Here, put this on that coffee is hot or cold?” he gives you his school blazer and you gladly put it over your stained uniform.

You sigh, of course Renjun noticed. He is also like you, despise any single speck of dust.

“Jaemin spilled his cold coffee on me. Now I am late to submit my work, I'll never get the essay done and I am skipping classes. GREAT! Looks like I will be kicked out of school next week.”

Renjun shakes his head again “Silly, you're dramatic. They won’t kick you just because of that. What about your achievements?”

You scoff “They can always find another better painter. I could barely tell difference in colors.”

Renjun smiles well that’s what makes you different. The school honors your brilliant talent of drawing although you have a hard time distinguishing colors. But your emotions are well delivered on every picture you paint. That gives honor to the school when the art teacher secretly sent your works to different curators and exhibitions.

“Come, we will go home. I'll make your letter. Can you wait for me in the lobby by yourself?” Renjun smooths your hair away.

You shake your head and clearly looks afraid “Can I join you?”

He nods and lets you go with him, blaming himself for ever offering you that option.

You got home, Renjun fixes your mood by giving you new clothes. Yes, as simple as that, and you’re already less scarier than before. He makes you tea when he saw the circled date on the calendar and drops you some pain killers.

“It's that month, sorry for not noticing had I known, I'd bring you home when I heard Jaemin looking for you around the school.”

You pause from cutting the potatoes, well you need to start cooking dinner for the others. “Jaemin looked around for me?”

Renjun nods “Uh huh that's also how I know something is not right. Jaemin never looked for you except when he needs your score.”

You curl your lips “Weird. He also wanted to bring me to the office, which he never did before.”

Your sudden emotional change is a regular thing to Renjun. Although at first he has to bear with your monthly exploding sensitivity since you're the first teenage girl in this house, Renjun manages to tame you down when he calmly offer you a cup of warm chamomile tea you love.

“Maybe it’s the coffee.” You shrug it off. Come to think of it, you never see the school selling coffee but Jaemin always brings his cup of super dark coffee.

“Oh home early?” Taeyong, the oldest son of the orphanage owner, greets you both. Well Taeyong is like the head matron here, every school letter directed to him and every new kid will meet him.

“It's not her day. I brought her home before she spent another day dozing off in the school's garden.” Renjun whispers to Taeyong and the older just nods his head.

“Oh! Did I mention to you we will have a new family tonight? Please be nice, he comes from this neighborhood and we actually had been waiting for his arrival since last month, but he always escaped before his vise parents want to drop him here.

You grow annoyed at this news. Well you don’t really like having to act kind and good in front of the others. Especially when meeting new members. Taeyong always asked you to at least be welcoming and less patronizing but you cannot keep your resting bitch face to yourself.

“I might as well skip dinner.” You taunt at Taeyong “No way I am acting kind in front of that person when I had a shitty day.”

Taeyong just hums to your threat, it is nothing new. You're a stone heart and he doesn’t want to have to slap you because of your stubbornness.

“I don’t mind. Just try to be welcoming, he had a rough time too.” Taeyong waves his hand and disappears behind his study room.

“I wonder who is going to join us. Our dining table is empty after Mark and Hyuck got adopted.” Renjun is excited to welcome the new family, maybe because he really likes it better here and therefore, he wants to make sure everyone else is welcomed.

Unlike you who still can't swallow the bitter truth. For you, your real family was the best, yet you didn’t know when everything started to fall apart.

The other comes home, you see Jisung, Jeno, and Chenle coming from the backyard and you hide yourself back on your room. Dinner is ready they just have to heat it up. The stew.

You close your window and come back to sit in front of your paper. Trying to remember what project you missed and have to do.

You look around the room, you used to have a bigger room, but after Taeyong knew you cannot stay still when there are mess, he moved you to a smaller room where you cannot store so many things. He said its for your own good. He doesn’t want you to stress yourself and distract your studies just to clean things up.

You feel your stomach rumbling but when you hear the noisy sound downstairs, you remember the new family. Actually, you are curious, so you sneak from your room and take a peek from the walls.

Your mind might be playing tricks on you, you rub your eyes and focus more to the familiar man in the same uniform as yours. You want to doubt it, but when you hear Jisung repeats his name you want to jump away from this house and run far away.

Life must have hated you so much to send Na Jaemin not only to your school but also to your “house".

Although you try to ignore him, your mind wonders what makes him come here. He looks like he is okay, only naughty, but he doesn’t look like an orphan.

“Dinner?” Yuta, Taeyong's younger brother asks you when he was about to go down and greet Jaemin.

You quickly gasp and shake your head before making a quick run to lock yourself in your room.

You try to think of any reason why Jaemin is here… from dinner to nine you cannot think of doing other thing rather than fiddling with your pen as you let your brain wonder and wonder.

Only around twelve did you suddenly jolt and realize you've wasted another night without doing your paper. You hear a step on the squeaky floor, and you have to stay quiet. Taeyong and Yuta wouldn’t like seeing you still awake this late. However, you don’t recognize the footsteps. Must be Jaemin’s.

The next morning, you escape earlier from the house. Leaving before breakfast for the sake of not meeting Jaemin. You're still mad at him and you hate him. You hate him for giving you hard times at school and now at “home".

You were waiting in the class when suddenly Jaemin comes into the class with a nervous face. You wonder did he just see a ghost? Jaemin really looks out of his place. Did he finally realize he is thrown away to the orphanage? Or did he finally realize you're secretly writing foot notes to the teacher that Jaemin is only leeching on your grades? Did he get called by the office?

You try your best to stop distracting your mind and continue working your essay. Thank goodness you can submit the work when the teacher leaves the class, only then did you see Jaemin's frozen state on his chair.

“Jaem?” you surprise yourself too for calling out his name. He also looks surprised.

“Yes?” he puts on his damn sickening pretty smile back like he always did to other students.

“Erase that smile. It's creepy.” You mutter and the other girls in your class is wanting to end you up there and then.

“Sorry, it’s just that… I … I didn’t get my coffee this morning.”

You raise your brow, oh right. Taeyong and Yuta are not giving us caffeine until we are 20.

You raise a brow “And? Can’t you skip once?”

His feet thump on the floor and he looks around nervously “You're right. I- don’t mind me.” He stands up and suddenly leaves you with bigger question mark in your head.

He sure is weird. What’s wrong with skipping one cup of that bitter liquid?

--

“(Y/n)! Come let's go home.” Renjun greets you on the lobby as you wait for the youngers to come too.

“Noona, you should meet Jaemin hyung! He is so sweet last night!” Jisung tugs on your uniform.

You frown and shudder your shoulder “Jisung, I hate that man.”

Jeno just laughs at your words and at Jisung's surprised expression “So, should we wait for him?”

You click your tongue “Actually that weird man left class after the first session and did not come back to class. Maybe he ran away. Let's go before it rains.” You start leaving the lobby, but no one follows you.

“Is it because of us?” Jisung worriedly asks his brothers.

Renjun thinks for a while “You mean what happened this morning?”

Jisung nods. Your ear can still hear them, for they start walking after you too. You have to hold yourself from turning around and asking them what happened this morning that made him weird!

When the five of you enter the house, that's when your brain finally clicked on what Jaemin must be suffering.

There in the middle of the living room, is Jaemin looking so uncomfortable as he forces his hand to write on a paper with a textbook opened by his side, but what comes out of his hand is just scribbles of lines and curves and he looks like he is painting instead of writing an essay.

“So damn hard to be productive!” he suddenly throws his pen and pulls his hair. All five of you are shocked to see this. Even you! You never see this side of Jaemin in school.  He always looks like the charming prince every girl’s crush, but this is definitely not the same man.

His lips are trembling, limbs unable to stop shaking and he looks in pain. And he starts to hit himself as if scolding his body for not cooperating.

You are in awe and you have to quickly usher Jisung and Chenle away.

“Jaemin! Calm down okay.” Jeno and Renjun quickly stand by his side and tries to keep the boy from hitting himself.

You bring Jisung and Chenle to their rooms while your head is quickly thinking of what to do. You sure see he is panicking and he's throwing tantrum. Taeyong and Yuta are not here yet but when you see your reflection on the window with a clean uniform suddenly your mind reminds you of the incident yesterday.

Coffee. Na Jaemin needs coffee. As silly as it sounds, you've read somewhere that coffee can help someone with ADHD or something like that. You're not sure, but you want to give it a chance. You run to your room, break your saving jar and pick out the bills you've been saving.

“Jaemin, how many shots?” you ask him when you pass through him.

Renjun and Jeno look at you with question in their face but Jaemin understands you and holds out a number with his hand.

Your eyes widen but you run to the nearest coffee shop, the one with the brand you always see Jaemin holding.

“Give me americano with six shots of espresso. Cold I don’t know with water or not.” You sound as mad as a hatter, but the barista seems to notice something.

“Are you by any chance taking an order for Jaemin?” he asks you nod your head baffled that he is a regular here until the shift knows his order and name.

“I was confused when the morning shift told me Jaemin skipped his coffee today. Alright i'll make it like how he always orders.” The man with a name tag Mark punches the bill and gives you the amount.

You don’t mind paying such high price for the black bitter drink you never like, as soon as Mark hands you the drink you walk as fast as you can back to the house.

You see Renjun waiting for you in the porch and he looks pale.

“Where did you go?! I was worried.” Renjun almost scolds you for leaving suddenly.

You walk past him “Jaemin! I have your coffee.” You yell at him, who is currently staring on the TV that's off. Jeno is still sitting next to him, afraid that Jaemin will do anything dangerous.

Jaemin's eyes widen as he quickly takes over the drink and gulp it down like his life depends on it.

All three of you wait for him to finish half of his drink and like magic, Jaemin looks calmer.

He closes his eyes and leans on the couch. His head rests on the small pillow Jeno tosses to him and you can see his usual self back.

After ten minutes, he opens his eyes stretches his body and like a robot who has his reset button pressed, Jaemin shoots a “what?” look to the three of you.

“Sorry if I freaked all of you out. I…” he shyly scratches his head “I have a minor ADHD and … coffee seems to be helping me focus and calm down.”

Now everything clicks. You understand why the teacher actually always assigned you with him, because no one else can handle Jaemin as patient as you and you're too blunt to notice he has his own trouble. You understand why he always brings a coffee to the class and why he looks calm when he has them. Unlike yesterday when he spilled it over you, you clearly see a slight terror in his eyes, and he disappeared from class. Maybe he was shy of showing his true self in class. You now know the reason he skipped class today because of the lack of caffeine and you just didn’t know he is also as wrecked as you guys.

That night, Jaemin knocks on your door and invites you to join dinner.

“You skipped dinner last night, I don’t know if it’s because I was there… and yesterday I was really ruining your day. I'm sorry I wasn’t a good friend too at school.” Jaemin speaks rather in a calm tone and you're taken aback he can speak in a soft kind voice and not the high pitch annoying teasing voice you regular get in school.

You're flustered, but you quickly put back your cold face “It's okay. T'was my fault too not looking the way.  Don’t worry I skipped dinner last night coz I am not hungry.” You lied.

No way you were going to spill the truth to him, not when you already know how hard his days are. He was not as bright and happy as he looks like.

“Renjun told me last night everything about you. I am so sorry…I didn’t know my jokes were very painful and disturbing to you. I should’ve stopped but you know I sometimes cannot hold my brain back.” Chuckles Jaemin nervously.

You sigh and place a hand on his shoulder “Life is hard right?” He nods his head and you squeeze his shoulder, “We also find it hard. But at least we're not alone now. We have each other and the others too. I am also sorry for picking on you to the teacher for leeching my score, but I promise I won’t do that again. I'll help you Jaemin.” You smile sincerely to him.

His face brightens “You're the best! I always have hard time focusing! Well coffee helps me, but still it's not healthy.”

You take his hand in yours “Na Jaemin, you're a part of our family now. Since we're family, we will get each other's back! Don’t worry things will be okay and you too will be okay!”

He Smiles and that is a new smile you've ever seen on him. A smile that's pure and true. That shows he too is also a human who can feel pain not just the angelic handsome boy in class.

“We should eat. The others are waiting,” Chenle's appearance in the hallway makes you and Jaemin turn your heads to him.

“She's right. We're family, now family eats dinner, together right? Come on! Taeyong hyung got us some pizzas for your welcome party.” Chenle drags the taller man's hand which automatically pulls you too.

A smile comes to your face when you realize just how perfect this imperfect family is!

Yes you also struggled focusing on a certain job, yes you also hate messy stuffs, yes it's true Renjun took three months to open his mouth and speak complete sentences, it also takes Jeno five months to be true about his feelings, and Jisung plus Chenle? They also have their fish to fry. Now Jaemin, is here with his own battle that will soon be shared within us.

Just like the famous quote, Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind.

Looking around the table, although you really wish you have a sister or a mother figure here, you're more than happy to call the 7 men your brothers and families.

end

please let me know if there are anything I can fix. I am trying a new genre and it’s a bit challenging but I am happy with finishing this. 

Contact or reach me out if you have any curiosity of what happens to the members or maybe you wonder what their problems are. 

Thank you for reading :D 🤗💖

[fangirlinsweden]

Nexus part 5

Part 5:  The Truth and Apologizing

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Secrets, talk about death and loss (think that is all)

Word Count: About 3200 words

Summary:  Y/N is a pain in the ass according to Steve. She is brought on to missions sometimes by Fury when they need help, but she is wild and does not listen to orders. She does what she wants. Now Fury has given her a place in the Avengers. And Steve is not liking it. Having to deal with her every day. He hates her. Or does he? And what is Y/N relationship with Bucky? They seem to get closer and closer.

A/N: This takes place after Avengers: Endgame, but Steve never left. Tony and Nat are still alive.

This is written for Gab’s @buckysmischief Birthday Challenge. My prompt is: “Did you bring us here to die?” “Obviously.” “I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

English is not my native language and I am doing the best I can when it comes to writing.

“I see you,” Steve smirked. “And the way you are acting with Bucky. If you think Hydra will get their Winter Soldier back you are wrong. Bucky is never ever going back to Hydra” You fisted your hands.  “You are not even going to listen to me explain this?” you growled already knowing the answer. “Why listen to more of your lies?” Steve looks you up and down. “I know that you lived across from me in Brooklyn to get close to me, but that backfired when I thought you were spying on me for S.H.I.E.L.D. when you, in fact, were spying for HYDRA. Then you lost Bucky and you had to find a way to get close to him.” You are so mad at that point that you almost hit him. But the sentence where he thought you were spying on him explains why he started avoiding you all those years before. “Joining the team is the perfect cover to get close to Bucky. And now that the two of you are together you think that flirting with me would make me blind to what you are doing.” Steve gives you one final look before he storms out. Apparently finding pictures has been enough proof that Steve needed it. His mind was set and there was nothing you could do at this point. When you walk over to your box you see that Steve had taken two of your favorite photos with him. You want to run after him and get the photos back, but all your energy drains and you end up sitting on the floor. A tear runs down your face and drops down on your hand with your grandmother's ring. It hurt that a man you had seen as a hero your entire childhood up until now thought you were Hydra. At least Bucky knew the truth and deep inside you hoped that that would be enough. To get back from eating breakfast and finding Steve looking through your private things had not been who you had thought this day would be. Apparently yesterday's mission scared Bucky, so he wanted to come clean about the two of you to the entire team. He just wanted to tell Steve first, in private. Bucky had probably been looking for Steve while Steve was looking through your photos. Looking around your room, you did no longer feel at home. You feel violated. Maybe you should move back to your apartment? A picture of your grandmother and grandfather in Central Park caught your eye. You picked it up and knew exactly what to do. After packing up all the pictures and letters Steve had tossed out you closed the lid of the box and walked out of your room. 

One hour later you walked over to the two gravestones that were put up for the four most important people in your life.  “Hello Mom and Dad you said to the gravestone on the left that read:

‘Mary Williamson Y/L/N  Born July 9, 1955 Died November 8, 2004  “A life of beauty and service”

‘James Steven Y/L/N  Born April 4, 1952 Died August 29, 2007  “Brave in spirit, Strong in love”’

“Hello Grandpa and Grandma” you said to the gravestone to the right that read:

‘Lewis Y/L/N  Born May 4, 1920 Died February 5, 2008.  "If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing."’

‘Rebecca “Becca” Barnes Y/L/N  Born September 21, 1922 Died January 10, 2011  "I hate to leave you all behind, but we'll meet again one day."’

You sat down in front of the two graves and felt a kind of peace.  “It all went to hell and I don’t know what to do,” you whisper and feel the tears in your eyes. “I miss you more than you will ever know.” And then you let it all out. 

At the compound Steve had gone to his room for a while before talking to Bucky. Seeing Y/N’s face when he told her he knew she was a member Hydra had put some doubt in his mind, but at the same time there could be no other truth. She had to be Hydra. After a few minutes of peace he went to find Bucky, still holding two of Y/N pictures. Eventually he finds Bucky in the Gym working out. Bucky is spotting Sam who is lifting weights. “Hey, I was looking for you before,” Bucky started to say and was planing on continuing, but something about the look on Steve’s face stopped him. “We need to talk,” Steve says with his arms crossed over his chest and a face that showed no emotions.  “So talk,” Bucky says and looked at Sam. “Not here,” Steve tries.  “Why not?” Sam wonders looking at Steve. “We need to talk about Y/N” Steve is still holding the pictures behind his back. “Whatever you have to say about her you can say here,” Bucky insists and Steve groans. He feels himself get riled up and there is no way to contain the words that he needs to get out. “Y/N is Hydra,” Steve almost yells. There are several bangs around the gym and Sam stands up and crosses his arms. Bucky’s eyes are big. “What did you say?” Sam glares at Steve. “She is Hydra,” Steve gets out again, a bit lower this time. “I have proof.” He hands Bucky the photo’s. Sam pears over at the photos and just shakes his head. “She is not HYDRA,” Bucky roars and Steve takes a step back. He makes a gesture to the pictures in Bucky’s hand. “Your absolute idiot,” Sam shakes his head at Steve. Nat, Wanda, Clint and Tony are walking towards them in the gym looking everything but happy. Steve swallows. “Y/N is my family,” Bucky shoves Steve.  “Just because she has lured you into falling in love with her does..” Steve is interrupted by Nat slapping him in the face. Bucky is read in the face. “I am not in love with Y/N. She is Becca’s granddaughter,” Bucky yells. Steve feels all blood leave his face. What had he done? And why had he not seen that. That explains so many things. Not all, but so much. Bucky drops the photos on the floor and moves towards Steve. “What did you do?” Bucky is standing nose to nose with Steve. The rest is surrounding him.  “And how did you get these photos?” Nat wonders as she picks them up. Steve swallows. “I saw the wooden box in her room and opened it,” Steve whispers. “She found me looking through them and I told her what I thought about her.” Bucky pushes Steve away from him and runs out of the gym. Steve looked after him. “You are an asshole,” Wanda shakes her head. “I could hit you again,” Nat’s eyes are almost black now. Clint has his hand on her shoulder and it is like that is the only thing that is keeping her from hurting him. “You should have come to me,” Tony sighs. “I have known who she is the entire time.” “Then why did you not say anything?” Steve demanded to know. “Because it was her secret,” Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “It is her life and she has to decide when she was ready to share it.” “Exactly,” Sam agrees. “Wait, how many of you knew the truth,” Steve looked at his teammates. “Only Nat and Tony. But the rest of us had our guesses,” Wanda looked at the other who nodded.  “So nobody more than me thought Bucky and Y/N were in a relationship,” Steve was starting to feel more and more bad. “Or that she could be Hydra.” “Nope,” Sam answered. “And you do know that she is friends with about every hero in at least 1000 miles radius?” “Mmmhh,” Steve mutters. That was not something that was on his mind right now. He needed to talk with Bucky and apologize to Y/N. He scratched his neck. “You do realise that most of those people will want to kick you ass when they find out about this,” Sam smirks. Steve swallows and looks around.  “Shit,” He crocs out.   Tony nods and walks away. Nat and Wanda walk away as well, but not before Nat give’s Steve one more of her killer stares. Steve looked at Sam. He had no idea how he would solve things or if he even could solve it. 

You hear someone coming up behind you. It puts you on alert until you hear his voice. “Y/N,” Bucky almost whispers.  “Hey, Bucky,” you turn around and look at him. “You remembered.” Bucky sat down beside you looking at the grave of his sister and her husband and the grave of his nephew with his wife. You had told Bucky that you went to the cemetery when you needed someone to talk to. Even if you were just talking and never got answered it was as you had your parents and grandparents there beside you. “Yeah,” Bucky scratched his neck. “I should have brought flowers.”  “Next time,” you leaned your head against his shoulder. Bucky clears his throat. You knew what was coming next. “Steve..” Bucky started but you lifted a hand. “I know what he told you,” You whispered and felt the tears threatening to start falling again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “I set him straight,” Bucky put his arm around your shoulder. “I still can’t believe my best friend would think something like that.” “Bucky, I really don’t want to talk about this,” You sigh and play with your grandmother's ring. “Sweetheart, we need to talk about it,” Bucky kissed your forehead.  “No, we really do not,” you say firmly. “This is my fault,” Bucky sigh. “No, it’s not. This is Steve’s fault,” You stand up and start pacing. “He could just have asked, not accused. He has been treating me like shit for years now. Just because he had made some assumptions and never got them checked out. This is just the icing on the cake.” Bucky looked up at you and let you rant. Then he tilted his head. “You have feelings for him,” Bucky blurted out. That made you stop and look down at the ground. Not really knowing what to say. “No comment,” was all you could come up with and it made Bucky cuckle.  “Sweetheart,” Bucky stood up and took a hold of your left hand. “I understand if all of this makes you want to stop being an Avenger.” “Stop being an Avenger,” you snort. “No chance in hell will Steve’s behaviour make me want to stop that. I am stronger, smarter and wiser than letting a man chase me away from my life.” Bucky nods and smiles.  “Atta girl,” Bucky pulled you close and hugged you. “Let’s get back to the compound.” You nodded, closed the lid on your wooden box and lifted it. Bucky nodded towards the box and when you nodded he took it under one arm and he put the other arm around you.  “Where is your car?” Bucky wondered. “I got a ride from a friend, so no car,” you said and Bucky lifted a brow. You smiled at him, but did not elaborate.  “Then you can ride back with me,” Bucky concluded and walked over to black BMW. A car you know that Tony owned. You hoped into the front seat and Bucky secured your wooden box in the back seat, before he took the driver seat. “I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Bucky admitted. “But you know that you will have to face Steve at some point.” You sink a bit further down your seat.  “I know,” you sighed. “But I will deal with it.” “Good,” Bucky reached over and took your hand. “Just know I am on your side in this.” That made you smile, then frown. “Whatever he did,” you sit up a bit straighter when the compound came into view. “He is still  your best friend and like a brother to you. I don’t want to do anything to destroy that.” Bucky looked down at your hands for a quick look. “What he did and said to you is not easily forgiven,” Bucky sighed. “Even if I know I will forgive him eventually, does not mean you are less important to me. You are still my family and I want you in my life.” This brings tears to your eyes. Bucky saw you as family. A warm feeling spreads in your body and it makes you smile.  Bucky parked the car in the garage and went out of the car. You sit there for a minute taking a deep breath. Bucky opens your car door and holds out his hand, under the other arm he has your wooden box. “Ready?” his smile makes you feel confident. “Yeah,” You say and take his hand. Together you walk to the living quarters of the compound. 

Steve saw Bucky driving the car into the grounds at the compound and that Y/N was with him. He knew that he needed to talk to them. After a while he heard their voices coming toward him and he got ready to talk to the two of them. He had a whole speech ready to go. But when it was only Y/N that came into the kitchen, no Bucky. She stopped the moment she saw him there, but then she walked over to the fridge and took out two water bottles, without as much as look at him again. Steve cleared his throat but still no reaction from Y/N. “Y/N,” Steve started and his mind was blank. His speech had been to both Bucky and Y/N and now that she was standing here in front of him he had no words. She did not turn but started to look through the pantry. “Y/N,” Steve tried again, but she took out a bar of chocolate and placed it on the counter. It made him irritated that she did not care that he was trying to talk with her. How was he supposed to apologize if she did not even look at him? Before he knew what he was doing he had walked over there and tapped her against the counter. She turned to look at him with a stone face.  “I am trying to talk with you,” Steve almost growled.  “I don’t care what you have to say to me,” Y/N snarled at him. “I think you said enough a couple of hours ago.” “Y/N,” Steve growled this time. Y/N yawned. “Do you really think this caveman behaviour will get me to listen to anything you have to say,” Y/N looked down at her nails. Steve felt himself lose control. “I am the leader of this team,” He bellowed. “You will listen to me.” “All I see is a toddler having a tantrum because he can’t get what he wants,” Y/N sassed and stood on her toes so she was almost eye to eye with the angry Steve. “What the hell is going on in here?” Bucky shouted when he walked into the room. “Steve!” That made Steve take a step back and Y/N took the water and the chocolate and walked over to Bucky. “Y/N, I am trying to apologize,” Steve got out. Y/N looked at him.  “No you are not,” She shook her head. “You are trying to bully me into talking to you and forgiving what you said.” With that she walked away. Steve started to walk after her but Bucky stopped her. “Leave her alone,” Bucky demanded. “I am her Captain,” Steve grunted. “I can’t leave her alone. We need to sort this out so I know she can be professional out in the field.” “I have the utmost respect for her ability to compartmentalise and be an asset out in the field.” Bucky snorted. “And if there is anyone who needs to check his professionalism it is you going through her room and acting like a jerk.” Bucky turned around and walked away. Steve stood there looking after his best friend.  “Fuck,” Steve sighed at the same time as Tony walked into the kitchen. “Did you just say a bad word?” Tony smirked but when he saw Steve’s face the smirk disappeared. “I take it the conversation with Y/N and Bucky did not work so well,” Tony patted Steve’s back. “No,” Steve hung his head. “I think I made it worse.” Tony took out a water bottle from the fridge.  “You know,” Tony started then stopped. Steve looked over at him. “My father once told me that an apology needs to be as loud as the disrespect was.” Then he left the room. “How am I going to be able to do that?” Steve said to the room, but since there was nobody there the only answer he got was silence. Steve goes to his room hoping a good night sleep will give him the answers.

The next morning Steve is not sleepy even a minute and he still has no idea how to fix things. His last resort is to google it. And there it is. The best apology in the world. Flowers. He tried to think of a flower that could help him. Red roses felt wrong, those were romantic and apologizing was not romantic. Sunflowers came to mind. Sunny and happy. Steve ran out of his room and took a car to the nearest flower shop and ordered a large bouquet of sunflowers.  Then he hurried back to the compound and walked right up to Y/N door and started to knock. He heard movement inside and then the door opened to Y/N standing there in only a pair of pj shorts and a tank-top.  “What the hell are you doing here?” She grumbles and Steve just hands her the flowers.  “I wanted to apologize,” Steve scratch his neck. “The flowers are a part of my apology. So hmm.. I am sorry.” She starts to laugh and shake hear head. Steve just looks at her. What is happening? Why is she laughing?

There was a frenetic knocking on your door. You wish that it would just go away, but it seemed to only get louder. Sighing you stand up and walk over to the door. The sight outside your door was not what you had ever thought you would see. Steve in crumpled cloths and a big bouquet of sunflowers.  “What the hell are you doing here?” You ask even if you don’t really want to know. All you wanted to do was yell at him for waking you up. It had been a late night the day before since  Bucky and you had ended up going through all of the pictures in your box and you had told him everything that he had missed that included your family. Steve handed you the bouquet. “I wanted to apologize,” Steve said, but he did not really look apologetic. He looked nervous. “The flowers are a part of my apology. So hmm.. I am sorry.” The look on his face and the flowers, it just got to much. You started to laugh. Was he fucking serious? He thought that could be taken as an sincere apology and flowers.. Nope. You handed the flowers back. “Take those before I stick them somewhere the sun does not shine,” you sass at him and close the door in his face. It was oddly satisfying and you crawl down in your bed again.

Steve stood there with his moth hanging open and the flowers back in his arms. What had just happened? He hears a chuckles from the vent over him. “Barton, get down here,” Steve sighs. Clint jumps down beside hi and pat him on his back.  “Thank you for today's laugh,” Clint smirked and start to walk away. “What did I do wrong?” Steve wondered and Clint shrugs and walk away.  “Clint, please,” Steve walked after him.  “Do you really think that sunflowers is a worthy apology for going through someones personal things and accusing someone of being a member of Hydra?” Clint left Steve standing there. Steve looked down at the flowers in his arms, maybe he needed something more expensive. Something more. Steve could not find the words for what he needed,  but he knew where to find it. Google. That sight seemed to have every answer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[alreadyblondenow]

12:35 am Jaehyunnie time (M)

The whole frat house was going wild because its both Valentines and Jaehyun’s birthday. A special day for everyone specially for you and Jaehyun. He promised ‘Jaehyunnie time’ after exams week and you’re both excited for it, you even bought a nice lingerie as a treat for your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, you got carried away and you drank too much alcohol already. The party started only 4 hours ago but you’re already shit-faced and throwing up to the sink. You drank anything and everything Ten gave you: Vodka, Tequila, beers, and a whole lot of mixed this and that. Now you’re too drunk to even cary yourself and your boyfriend has to cary you in his room.

“Baby I thought we’ll spend the night together?” Jaehyun talks to you while dragging you to his room, grunting because you’re actually heavy.

“Yo Jae! Going to sleep already?” Johnny exclaims, when he saw Jaehyun bringing you upstairs. “The night is still young!”

“Yeah I know, sorry but duty calls. Enjoy the night, I’ll go down if she sobers up”

Jaehyun lays you in bed gently tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable. He removed your shoes and sat next to you, “You’re even more beautiful when you’re sleeping” he placed a soft kiss on your cheek and boops your nose. You felt that someone is messing with your face so with all your energy, you hit Jaehyun on the chest. Not very hard because you’re drunk, but the gesture startled him. “What was that for?” He asked, his voice still so soft and sweet it almost sound like he’s singing.

Given that you’re drunk, you cant recognise your own boyfriend. In your eyes, you’re with a stranger who’s ready to take advantage of you. “I have a boyfriend, I cant cheat on him” pushing him away, Jaehyun was catching your hands trying to make you calm and pinning both of your hands on the bed so you could stop hitting him.

He gets whats happening now, he was smiling like a fool trying not to laugh and ruin the moment. “Oh yeah you have a boyfriend? Is he handsome?” He’s smirking but you cant see it.

You scoffed and grabbed one of his pillows, “Psh! He’s only the most handsome guy in this university. Jung fucking Jaehyun!” you shout with pride making your boyfriend blush and giggle quietly.

“Is he good to you?” He asked again, not sure if he could hold on to his laughter even more. This time, he bravely lays beside you. Hoping you won’t kick him out of his own bed.

“So good! He’s such a gentleman most of the time. Perfect! Just - ugh! The things I want to do to him just gets me really - ugh!” you let out a frustrated groan, venting your rage of frustration to the pillow that you’re holding. Jaehyun almost felt bad for his pillow, “I want to kiss him right now” you pout facing Jaehyun, he wanted to kiss that pout away.

“Tell me more about him” he knew he shouldn’t take advantage of your drunken state, but you were sweet and adorable he couldn’t help it. “May I know the things you want to do with that handsome man you’re talking about? Hmm?” He asked out of curiosity and honestly he just wanted to talk to you more. It doesn’t matter if you’re drunk, he just wanted to spend some more time with you.

You smiled before talking about your boyfriend, making his heart beat fast and ears turn red. You told the ‘stranger’ how you and Jaehyun first met and how his smile instantly made you head over heels to him. How he makes your day better whenever you’re having a shitty one. “Jaehyun made my colorful life even more beautiful” you clear your throat, and talked about the things you planned on doing tonight. Jaehyun laughed at the sudden change of your mood from being sweet to horny.

“I want to ride him tonight because It’s his birthday. I bought this lingerie - which I cant show you, its for Jaehyun’s eyes only.” He chuckled, smiling so bright beside you but you’re to drunk to notice.

“I want to make him cum so many times tonight because he deserves it. I’ll hold his hand the whole night, letting him know I only belong to him and that I’m thankful for another year with him” you felt his hands intertwine with yours. You didn’t nudge him because you knew it’s Jaehyun, talking made you sober up but you still want to play this little game of his so you continued.

“I know its his birthday but, I’m the one who’s gonna blow something tonight” you winked at him hoping he gets what you’re saying which he does.

“Can you please find him? He promised Jaehyunnie time” you whine, and Jaehyun came closer to you hoping you could recognise him now, its a shame that the night didn’t turned out as you both expected, he thought. But it makes him happy that even though you’re drunk as fuck, he’s still the one you think of out of many things.

“But, Im already here baby” he hugged you tight, nuzzling his nose on your cheeks. Making you giggle and give up because your boyfriend is irresistible.

“I know” you dropped the act, making Jaehyun pull away slightly to look at you.

“When did you get sober?” he’s now kissing your lips that tastes like tequila.

“Few minutes ago, talking helped me sober up” you feel his tongue making its way to your mouth, his hands already slipped inside your shirt you didn’t even noticed. “Give me a few minutes more, baby. I promise you’ll never forget this night”

“Okay, Jung fucking Jaehyun can wait” he teased you biting your neck, hands already all over you.

And the night became even more special than expected.

;)

MAIN MASTERLIST

QUESTION? SEND A REQUEST?

[oneletteredwondered]

Wanna fight? Gunna smooch about it? Coward?

Prinxiety make out fic

Happy birthday @just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot !

--

It’s nearly midnight when they start fighting. 

Virgil had been on the couch just messing on his phone for the past few hours, had actually passed out at one point, but woke up at such a time that allowed him no hope of actually going to bed proper. He remained lounging on the couch even after most of the others went to sleep or hibernate or whatever. All except Roman who looks a little worse for wear as he trudges over, most likely overworking himself again, and plops himself right on the open cushion next to Virgil.

A silent wave of his hand and a pad of paper and multicolored pens appear next to Roman as he begins to draw the night away, too many thoughts in his head to fall asleep. Virgil enjoys the silent company for what it is, both doing their own thing without the threat of having to do anything.

They remain like that for an hour or so, every so often glancing at each other just to see if they are still there or awake. Sometimes Virgil will show Roman a random meme that earns him an exhaled puff of laughter, but it’s during one of those random glances that Virgil catches sight of what Roman is drawing so diligently in his sketchbook.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a single raised eyebrow. Roman jumps and stares at him as if not remembering that Virgil could speak.

“Drawing of course!” Roman boasts, awkwardly angling his sketchbook away from Virgil’s prying eyes. Virgil levels him with a deadpan look and quick as can be lurches forward and pulls the book from Roman’s hand. Roman screeches and lunges after him but Virgil is lankier and manages to hold the book away from his grabby hands.

His eyes didn’t deceive him. Roman is drawing kissing. 

To be fair, the sketches are rather good, sloppy in their speed but it makes them feel more emotional in a way with how some of the figures curl around each other.

“Something on your mind Princey?” Virgil teases and relinquishes the book back to it’s proper owner. Roman lets out a very undignified huff and snatches his book to his chest.

“As if it’s any of your misery business,” Roman starts, pauses, and then wails, “But YES.”

Virgil snorts into his hand as Roman throws himself across the arm of the couch, hand to his forehead dramatically.

“It has been ages since my last kiss conquest and I am loathing the time,” He recites as if he practiced the line in the mirror, which Virgil would almost bet money on that he has. He rolls his eyes and kicks Roman lightly.

“I would hardly call it a conquest,” He says with a smirk. Roman mock glares at him and sets aside his sketchbook with another huff, then, like a mature adult, sticks his tongue out at Virgil. Virgil kicks him again just a little harder.

“Besides,” He says with an air of innocence that quickly turns sour. “You’re probably not even that good.” The reaction is instant, Roman’s jaw drops and he lets out an outright offended gasp.

“You need a nap!” Roman chides him and Virgil snickers behind his phone at the reaction. Roman looks positively bristled, arms crossed over his chest.

“I'm a good kisser,” Roman mumbles to himself but Virgil hears it all the same.

“Sure you are,” He taunts. Roman puffs up his cheeks.

“I’m better than you!” He shouts and points an accusatory finger at Virgil. Virgil sneers playfully and smacks the hand away, sitting up a little more from his lazy position. Maybe if they had this conversation years ago, Virgil would be worried about arguing with Roman about anything, but he can see the threat of a smile on Roman's face and knows it’s fine to banter back.

“You doubt me?” Roman asks him then, a hand to his chest to feign distress.

“Hell yeah I do!” Virgil says back right away to goad him. Roman gasps loudly. 

“Fiend! As if you're any better!”

“Better than you!” Virgil echoes Roman’s previous words.

“Is that a challenge!”

“Fucking bring it Princey I'll kick your ass at kissing."

“I will beat you with all of my love!” Roman says back and he's on the edge of bursting into laughter just as Virgil is.

“You wanna fight about it? Gunna smooch me? Coward?”

They've steadily been getting closer and closer to each other, inching bit by bit on the couch until their knees touch, and though he was literally just egging Roman on, the quick kiss catches Virgil entirely off guard. It’s firm, a press of lips just to be there, and Roman pulls back nearly just as quick, both of them wide eyed.

Roman looks just as stunned as if he also didn't expect for him to do that. In the sudden silence Virgil can feel his heart pound hard in his ears. They stare at each other and then Virgil lets out a hysterical giggle he'd be embarrassed to make if Roman didn't make the same noise.

“I uh,” Roman starts but he's smiling. Virgil can feel something wild and fizzy in his chest, sort of like anxiety but more excited.

“Got caught up in the moment?” Roman asks as a way of explanation, giving a sheepish smile. Virgil snorts and turns his head down to hide the bewildered expression on his face, that slowly slips away as he wonders if he should say something, and then if he's waited too long to say something, and then if it's now awkward because he hasn't. He looks over to Roman who is just smiling to himself like a loon, and Virgil talks without thinking.

“It wasn't that good,” He says teasingly with a small smirk and the spark in Roman’s eyes tells him that Roman doesn't take it badly.

“Oh really?” Roman says challengingly, angling back into Virgil's space. Virgil shrugs and leans closer to him, gripping his hoodie to hide his shaking hands.

“I mean, you could do better,” Virgil says, trying to go for casual even if his heart is beating like crazy. He bites the inside of his lip and wonders if he looks as hopeful as he feels. Roman smirks something wicked at him.

“In that case-” and Virgil freezes as Roman puts a hand on his shoulder to push him into the back of the couch so he sits right. He barely registers what's happening when a leg swings over both of his, and Roman is settling on his lap proper. One hand goes to his cheek that warms him to his toes and an arm is thrown over his shoulder to draw him in.

Virgil is a little more prepared for the kiss this time, able to see Roman grin at him before he closes the gap between them. He closes his eyes and allows Roman to press him into the cushion behind him. His hands go to rest on the top of Roman’s legs simply to keep balance, feeling the warmth of Roman through his pants. He lets out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Their lips move together, slowly at first, testing the waters of each other. Gentle and easy, letting the initial nervousness melt away as they get more used to each other. Virgil finds himself relaxing into the couch at the touch.

Then Roman lifts himself a tiny bit and the hand on Virgil's cheek angles his head up to be able to kiss him deeper, lips moving with more urgency. Virgil follows along, heart feeling like it may burst in his chest as he digs his hands harder into Roman's legs. A hand curls into his hair and tugs just enough to send a thrill down his spine.

Roman sighs into the kiss, perhaps a little whiny, and presses into him more and Virgil snaps his hands up to Roman’s back and drags him down to bring them flush together. They can’t very well get much closer but they’re still going to try with the way Roman’s arms circle over his shoulders. Virgil grips at his shirt in return, wanting more but not knowing where to start because he wants to start everywhere.

He lets out a small groan when Roman ventures to poke at his lips with his tongue, asking if that's a more they can do. Virgil would be a fool to deny him in this moment, so he kisses harder, widening his mouth just that little bit that Roman needs to press their tongues together, groaning again when Roman goes right to sucking on it.

Virgil keeps pace with him, licking into Roman’s mouth just as much as his hands wander up and down the Prince’s back, feeling him move and arc into the touch while Roman focuses on stealing his breath away. Hands hold his face to keep him close, not that Virgil would want to go anywhere else. 

He's buzzing inside, feeling like he can run miles with the amount of passion Roman is pouring into him, continuing to press him into the couch. His chest lurches when Roman moans softly and he grips Roman's shirt like a lifeline to keep them both grounded.

It’s then Virgil notices the slight back and forth of Roman’s hips on his lap, almost unconsciously. Virgil trails his hands lower to rest on his waist, feeling the motion, then grabs Roman and guides him into a full rock.

“Shit,” Roman breaks away to curse breathlessly, face red and looking down at Virgil in a daze. Virgil knows he’s not fairing much better despite any possible foundation he wore. He gives a lopsided smile that is returned before Roman leans in for another kiss.

He feels Roman move to push him down into the cushions, but adrenaline kicks in and Virgil shoves off the back, shooting up from his semi slouched position and meets Roman over half way to the kiss, clashing their lips together and pressing their chests flush. Roman lets out a squeak that spurs Virgil further. He angles Roman back, causing both of them to latch their arms around each other so Roman doesn't fall. Roman’s hands are burning on his back where they are splayed out, twisting the fabric of his hoodie, and he can feel Roman's thighs squeeze around his.

There's no more nerves as they kiss, no trepidation or caution. They kiss more openly, allowing tongues to push against each other. Virgil gets Roman to let out a low groan when he sucks on his tongue boldly, the noise once more sending a thrill down his spine. He pulls Roman impossibly closer and moves their kiss towards heady. Virgil feels so alive.

Roman responds eagerly, tugging at Virgil's hair happily and moving his hips back and forth with renewed purpose, finally managing to sit up a bit more so he's not in danger of toppling. He tilts Virgil's head to deepen the kiss and Virgil whimpers. 

They can barely keep still, hands moving all over wherever they can reach. It's almost a jarring pause when Virgil drags Roman’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls back tantalizingly slow. He feels Roman shudder under his hands and nips just that much harder at his lip in response.

They are both panting, lips red with the amount of force they put behind their kisses. Virgil can feel his heart so hard against his ribs he wonders if Roman can feel it too.

Roman swallows hard and Virgil zeros in on the way his throat bobs at the motion.

“Well?” Roman asks breathlessly. Virgil blinks at him trying to get the daze out his head.

“Well what?” He says smartly. Roman smirks infuriatingly, which he shouldn't be able to pull off with his face as red as it is.

“Was that better? You gunna admit I'm a better kisser?” He teases. Virgil snorts and playfully tosses Roman, causing him to stumble off his lap and into the seat next to him.

“You wish,” He says and lets out a very dignified noise of his own when Roman takes the fall to his advantage, grabbing Virgil by his jacket to haul him over and on top of him. Virgil lands with a huff, hands braced on either side of Roman’s head, eyes wide and worried that he might've hurt Roman in his fall. Roman grins cheekily at him though so Virgil glares with no anger at him and slots their legs together comfortably. Once settled Roman fists his jacket to yank him into another burning kiss.

Virgil presses him into the cushions now, one hand going to trail Roman’s side, feeling the muscle there as Roman breathes heavily and arcs into the touch, his other hand remains by Roman's head to keep steady. He grunts when Roman bites his lip, potentially in revenge, and Roman uses the surprise to his advantage, slipping his tongue into Virgil's mouth and maneuvering in such a way that if Virgil was any less proud, would have made him melt, and it partially does, letting himself fall to his elbow by Roman's head.

Two can play that game and he puts a hand on Roman’s hip right where his thigh meets the juncture, and presses him down with a roll of his hips. In the harsh gasp Roman let's out, he curls them tighter, moving his lips more passionately.

Roman throws his head back to breathe but Virgil doesn't care much for it, dipping his head to latch onto Roman’s neck. He pulls skin between his teeth and sucks hard. Roman lets out a whine and writhes under him, gripping at his shoulders and jerking his hips up for friction. Virgil presses down to give it to him and laps at the skin he’s captured.

“Shit Virgil, shit,” Roman manages to say and Virgil smirks into his neck, a thrill going through him at the reaction, and moves up to kiss hard at Roman's pulse point. He groans as Roman pulls his hair and pops off when tugged harder. Roman looks properly disheveled with his eyes hooded and the look he gives fills Virgil with wanting.

They crash their lips together again, arms circling around each other to bring the other as tight as they can. Whatever focus they had before is gone as their mouths move with each other, lips working seamlessly and little flicks on tongue spurring them on for more. It’s Virgil this time who eventually tilts his head to be able to lick into Roman’s mouth more so, whining when Roman sucks at his tongue with no reservation.

They shift their legs as best they can, Virgil bracing himself on his knees as Roman lifts his free leg over Virgil’s back to squeeze him down. With his body partially supported on Roman, Virgil's hands begin to wander. Down Roman’s sides where he can reach, then low across his back feeling some of the heated exposed skin there from where Roman's shirt rid up in their shifting that causes Roman to sigh deeply, and lower still across his rear and his thighs. Virgil grips it tight and bites Roman’s lip.

They're both panting when they pull apart, hips rolling gently just to feel some kind of friction that Virgil can feel the tingles of all along his spine. He dips once he feels less light headed, going to the other side of Roman’s neck and kissing at the skin closer to his jaw, Roman lets his head fall to give him access, digging at his shoulders to keep him there.

Virgil licks at the skin, nipping softly, teasingly, then sucking the skin in and biting down to hold it. Roman once again arcs into him, throwing his arms over Virgil's back and using his leg as leverage to rub at Virgil’s body where he can’t reach. Then the leg caught between Virgil's lifts until it can't anymore, giving Virgil some pressure he didn't have before. He rocks forward and bites harder, Roman giving a small shout at the action.

Virgil releases the now marked skin and moves quickly to kiss him and swallow the noise down. Roman grips and tugs at his clothes harder now, more desperate, kissing more harshly. There’s an ache and their lips will be swollen after this and neither can find the will to care. Not with Virgil's hands on Roman’s stomach warm and firm and Roman’s legs keeping them wrapped up. The pull apart and Roman’s chest heaves with the amount of air he’s taking in.

“You good?” Virgil croaks out cause he has to make sure. He's answered with a bright grin and another kiss that steals his breath away. Roman slows the pace, making their kisses more languid than heated. Carefully Virgil shifts his legs out so he's not kneeling but more so laying on top of Roman with his full weight. 

He’s worried about being heavy but Roman lets out a content sound so he stays there, he slides his hands around to spread across Roman’s back, not gripping any more but keeping him close, the hands now in his hair are not tugging but holding him gently. Even with the pace change it still makes Vigil warm inside.

He moves his lips with Roman’s letting him take the lead of the kiss this time around, and sighing himself when Roman gently brushes their tongues together. The hands in his hair move down his spine to rest on his waist. When they part again, Virgil drops to smush his face into Roman's chest, feeling him breath against his cheek.

“So now how is it?” Roman asks once he's regained energy to talk but still a little winded. Virgil still has enough energy to be a little shit.

“Mmm, I don't know," He lazily lifts to his knees and elbows to smirk at the incredulous expression on Roman's face. "Come back Thursday to try again.” He says. Roman stares dumbly at him and looks at the clock on the wall with a glare.

“That's in seven minutes!” He whisper hisses. Virgil just shrugs from his awkward, but very comfy, position.

“Guess you'll have to wait,” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. Roman growls and throws his arms up.

“Screw Thursday!” He yells and swings his arms over Virgil to haul him back in for another kiss. And Virgil would kiss him back but he’s laughing too hard.

[fishmongeringstudies]

scene fifteen: in moments of deep and debilitating anxiety remember that someone out there is thinking about how to fit a horse-shaped figurine up their ass and that they will probably succeed

in the history of sexuality: volume one michel foucault puts forth the idea that we as a society have gotten bad at dying due to a lack of practice. in the place of death, he posits, we obsess with life. every tedious stage of it, spotlit and burnt into our retinas so that even when we lie awake in bed with our eyes shut, visions of the future stalk through the darkness like specters. we are categorically unable to predict what lies ahead on the yellow brick road and obligated to try. as a result, we have become shrewd, planning creatures.

we have lost our touch with death. we are out of touch with it. we do not die enough, even though everyone you speak to will likely agree that each of us only dies once.

in a half-hearted bid to help its students cope with the fact that the world had been consumed overnight by a pandemic which was steadily eating away at the sanity and sanctity of life as we knew it and everything was fucking terrible, my college came up with a plan wherein instead of four classes in the fall, we would only have to take three. in exchange january would be given up to a four-week speedrun of one more class, so as to complete the holy rectangle. consumed with hubris and distracted by the legend of zelda: breath of the wild, the game which had eaten up the last five months of my life and promised to follow up with the rest of it, i decided to take a philosophy course on personal identity. on the first day of class i logged onto zoom, my personal sleep paralysis demon, at eleven on a monday night to my professor asking us completely seriously: what makes you you?

my toes, i guess? i have ten of them. i mean most people have ten toes, but mine are pretty weird looking. are we done here?

we were not done here. we proceeded to investigate every aspect of the twenty-first century conception of the self, from the lumpy flesh bag which contained our affectionately soft and squishy parts to the memory, the continuous narrative that held all our dimmest and brightest moments together. we doubted each one, flirted with it; then we cast it away. was the self the brain? no. was the self the body? no. was the self the memory, the shreds of past glories, was the self actually a collection of selves? is the you who plucked that goldfish out of the pond at age seven because you thought lungs meant you were invincible the same you who wrung their hands nervously together as they stood in front of the cashier this morning, waiting for the person behind the counter to ring up your groceries?

there was a counter for everything, you see. i know this because i presented a quarter of them. it's fun to shoot things down, less fun to be shot at; having been gunned out of the sky several times in my life i make it a point to keep my eyes trained on the horizon when i am out and about these days. so yes. people are not really. really what? they simply aren't. we have been living in a farce of reality, telling ourselves we matter when we have never been able to articulate with certainty the exact nature of that 'we' to begin with. or should i say me?

one night in late january while lying in bed after a three hour breath of the wild korok hunt, drifting peacefully into the ether, a thought flashed across my mind: WHERE DO PEOPLE GO WHEN THEY FALL ASLEEP.

i bolted upright in bed, heart hammering like there was a hammer in my chest and a little man holding the hammer and that motherfucker was swinging like he had hell to pay.

it turns out my extensive history of making jokes about immortality isn't just a reflection of my overinflated ego. it's a reflection of this:

michel foucault was sometimes criticized for his armchair philosophy style of tackling what were, at heart, deeply empirical human issues. even if the epistemic foundations were sound, there was often a clear disconnect between the ideas he espoused and the communities which they were to be applied to. this is a criticism every philosopher deals with at some point in their life. this is a critique of philosophy as a whole. stop smoking your damn bong and get back out here, skinny academia man. there's a whole world to see.

in season three episode eighteen of the penumbra podcast by sophie takagi kaner and kevin vibert a character named buddy aurinko stops in the middle of a debilitating fit of coughs, and admits in a wet, cracking voice that she does not want to die. 'i don't want to die,' she says to herself, standing in her office and overlooking a heist of astronomical proportions. her heart is made of steel; it pumps gasoline through a body more metal than flesh. she is half human in the most literal sense, with a clockwork soul and a gunmetal smile. in spite of the alarming state of decay the radiation exposure has left her body in, she wants to live. she fights for it. she leaves the heist to her crewmates and escapes to a room that will protect her from shock waves that would otherwise stop her mechanical heart. kicking her heels off and running and stumbling down the hallway, she makes it to safety just in time to hear the explosion go off.

life is a firework show in the sense that we are surrounded by highly-flammable and explosive objects which look nice from afar and are a threat to our safety up close. this analogy made sense when i started typing it but it seems i've come up short. life is a firework show. i like things that eat darkness. i am a firefly. i make fire take flight.

i think michel foucault was right, in some ways. we are living in abundance. i do not mean a physical abundance, a pile of tailored suits at the foot of the bed; i mean an abundance of life. the distribution is disastrously uneven. but the average is high. we emerge into a life which assumes we will stay for a long, long time, which fluffs the pillows and plans the high school graduations and sets aside money in a bank account for our first car, our second apartment, our third lover. we emerge into celebration. happy birthday. cue candles. cue applause.

but on a purely individual level, is it really that bad to be gorilla-glued to life? should we expect the other shoe to drop at thirty instead? what about the mid-life crisis? what about the cat on the windowsill? as death grows to terrify us, so does life. they are two sides of a coin which, when flipped, always lands heads-up. but i propose a counter-argument. i propose joy. joy in standing in the supermarket and running your hands across rows of blushing apples. joy in starting an argument you know you will win. joy in waking up to the shrill screech of your alarm only to discover that today's morning classes have been canceled due to the snow piled up outside your window. we have progressed too far down the yellow brick path to be caught up in false dichotomies. you can love something you fear. you can soak yourself in it, drench yourself in it, tip it down your throat like champagne. flip a coin and it lands both sides up. flip two coins. flip the table and sit on its belly for a while.

are we done here? never. not in a thousand years.

06.04.21

[darkmist111]

Phantom Thieves Play Dungeons and Dragons

The Wander and the Worker

Akira had faced many trials, both legally and spiritually. He had also been a master of organization, stuffing as much activity as he could into a single year.

Yet this challenge nearly brought him to his knees.

“So you only add 2 to armor class?”

“No that's only for medium armor your un-armored right now.”

“Shit I should've picked a race with more dexterity.”

It was like herding cat's, without Morgana’s help.

“You guys ready? It's almost 5.” Akira said know that this group could double a session’s play time.

“Hold on I’m trying to memorize our modifiers.” Ann said squinting as she had forgot her glasses at home.

“Don't worry just remember your crap at everything not dexterity and charisma.” Ryuji said nonchalantly.

The plan was to get all the players to level 2 before they got to the main campaign, so Akira did this little mini session with 2 characters first so the players could slip into their roles.

“Alright are we ready to play?”

Ryuji had finally gotten Ann to stop fusing over her papers.

“As we’ll ever be I guess *sigh* I really hope I don't die at level 1 again.” Ann groaned.

“Hell yeah let's kick some ass!”

“Alright close your eyes and listen.” Akira took a deep breath and his voice changed.

“This is the world of Exceeden”

Akira peaked and caught the grins on his two friends faces.

“Unlike our world with disconnected planets, the world of Exceeden is but one layer stacked in-between other realms, but different from the other realms Exceeden did not occur naturally but was created by 20 core gods. The gods were once one shared in their love of their creation, however what they didn't know was it would grant them more power than even their unparalleled minds could imagine.

Jealousy, anger, spite, and rage broke them apart each believing their creation should go the way they decided and the 20 became 5. 6 of Law, 6 of Chaos, 2 of Good, 2 of Evil, and 4 to keep the balance.

While the realm has no supreme rule the cycles of mortals carry on. Empires rise and fall, stories are told and forgotten, until finally the sands of time cycle towards something or someone that can shatter the heavens despite their humble beginnings.

The year is 997 A.I.(After Invasion) and our story takes place on the continent of Almoria. While not the largest continent it houses a wide array of People and Cultures in no small part due to the many differences environments.

In the far north in the icy tundras Orc and Goliath tribes war against the Tiefling Solos Empire and their Minotaur allies even further north in the Shadow Lands.

Below that are the eternal plans of Sparks where wild magic hum and fae slip into our world. Bands of Centaur and Satyr dance across the fields, unknowingly starting war with the Leonin Clans.

On the east of the Great Sezali Desert a new and ambitious clan of HobGoblins are gathering their forces of Goblin and Bugbear.

This makes the Elven Allied Council to the west nervous and the desert has become a sort of cold war, but also a hive of activity for trade and merchants.

On the West Coast the Aarakocra war against the Triton and the East Coast, the legendary Tortle Cleric Genbu brokers peace between the Locathah and the Grung.

In the Mountains Kobold, Lizardmen and Dragonborn War against a unfathomable threat as the Chromatic dragons and Metal Dragons have united to control the Arcane Canyons.

With the fall of Tyrant Human King Rexanik, many flee to the peaceful mountains city of Eternix. The city, nicknamed the city of small folk, was almost completely Gnomes, Halfling, Dwarfs, as well as the Black Wing Monastery, suddenly has possibly the highest human density in the continent.

Humans have also tried their luck in the chaotic Forest of Nayan only to be never heard from again.

In the south peace is almost a certainty as the brotherhood between the Loxodon and Gith remains just a strong as a century ago. Their city Omniox hold the Verdan trading Guild the only constant in these turbulent times

Not all is so clear though, hidden in the desert are rumors of cults who use arcane, scientific, and religious methods to create inhuman monsters that stalk the night.

However it is that Desert where we start our story in the town of Ixyana. Ixyana is a port town to the sea of sand, willing to offer weary travelers any pleasure they require... for the right price. Ixyana has always been self governed but with escalating tensions between the Elven and HobGoblin armies, the town is being pressured to pick a loyalty. But today neither a Goblin nor Elf is the new stranger in town.”

“Ryuji please introduce your character.”

“I’m just a guy who looks like an average traveler, I’m wearing normal cloths and using a spear like a walking stick, the only unusual thing about me is that have blue skin and white “Hair”. I’m a Fighter but only because you get in fights when you wander as much as I do, but it's clear I’m not formally trained.”

The wanderer enters the town carrying a satchel over his back midday. He makes his way towards a inn looking to rest for the night. He hears a commotion and see several HobGoblin warriors speaking angrily toward each other, before rushing off. The young man enters into a alley to avoid crossing their path, as he steps out he sees another beautiful HobGoblin women in revealing clothes dart out from behind a stack of boxes. Before his eyes she begins to shift form before becoming a striking dark haired Elven women and quickly entering the Inn.

“Well That's a Flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

The man is overcome with curiosity and follows her. He enter the inn and sees the first floor is a diner/bar.

At this time of day not many people are drinking and lunch is already over so the inn is uncrowded.

The blue man sees the former HobGoblin women now Elven sit in the corner of the bar skillfully blending in for those not looking.

As he walks up to her she glances before biting her lip.

“Sorry I’m not working right now.”

You realize from her statement and her outfit that this women is one of the courtesans of the towns most powerful group in place of a formal government, The Desert Respite, worshipers of Bast one of the 20 original Gods and practitioners of the arts of pleasure both of a sexual nature and of entertainment.

“I still can believe your playing a Prostitute.” Ryuji says teasing.

“For your information I’m a high class escort. And let's see if you’ll be laughing in a few minutes.”

“Sorry it's not that I... I just... saw you change.”

The woman tenses her eyes narrowing and grits her teeth.

“So what?”

“Are... Are you a Spirit.”

The women slowly turns her head, seeing the nervous young man though in her eyes he's more of a boy shift his weight nervously.

“Perception check!”

“Roll for it.”

“...!!!! Natural 20!”

“Heh, yeah he's a pretty easy mark.”

“Hey!”

She smirks before tipping her drink back and gesturing to the seat across from her.

“From out of town.”

“Out from... everywhere.”

She changes her posture, trained but attractive.

“The desert must've been quite the ordeal, I didn't notice a Caravan enter town. Is your group somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve been traveling alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes I am quite skilled at traveling, born and raised doing it in fact.”

“Incredible, you must be strong.”

The women bit her lip while the blue skinned man sweat feeling nervous from the shapeshifters forward flirtations.

“You know I have a certain need for a strong man.”

“Role Wisdom Ryuji.”

“What! She hasn't even cast anything.”

“Your mouth was dropped.” Ann teased. “Let's hope your character isn't a simp.”

“No way!”

Ryuji rolled.

“Shit! 6, 7 total.”

“Simp”

“Shut up!”

“What did- What do you need. I’m always looking to help out.”

“You see a girl can only stay in one town for so long before she needs a change of pace. I’m thinking you’ve been to plenty of places, why don't you and I go on adventure.”

The spearman let out a yelp as he felt her leg delicately trace his own.

“And I’ll be sure your thoroughly compensated.”

“Roll Perception against Ann’s Persuasion.”

“Yes!”

“Shit”

Ann rolled and grinned which caused Ryuji to hang his head.

“21 total Persuasion!”

“Goddamnit, 14 total.”

“Yeah she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“*Gulp* There’s no need for that ma’am, I'd be happy to guide you wherever you desire.”

The man saw her smile turn victorious and her leg rubbed a little higher.

“Don’t worry it's no trouble, when we stop for the night I can give you a nice and long compensating.”

_______________________________________

The pair quickly gather their things the shapeshifter, changing again into a stunning Yuan-Ti. They walked through the town. Some men stared at the shabby looking Traveler and the beautiful courtesan, leering at her exposed cleavage, open thighs, and toned belly, others smirked and gave respecting nods. He glared and the former while that latter made him feel like a scumbag.

She insisted they walk on foot so not to draw attention. The man frowned but didn't say anything.

As they walked they chatted.

“My names Zap by the way.”

“Nais of the Desert Respite.”

“So Nais, are you wondering what I am?”

“Probably not as much as your wondering what I am.”

“Well I don't know, I’ve never seen someone change what they look like except my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah, he’s a Genie.”

“...”

“...”

“...You're not joking?”

“Nope. A Lightning Genie to be specific.”

“Insight Check... 11?”

“He seems to be pretty honest.”

“So you can grant wishes?”

“He could, not me. I’m only half genie, my other half is Human from my mom. Dad said my type of people are called Genasi.”

“Where’s you dad now?”

“He’s only allowed to stay in the material plane for 20 years at a time. He left on my 10th birthday, I’m 22, so he’ll be back in 8 years. Though he’ll probably see my mom before me.”

“... You know that is a really weird story right?”

“I actually didn't know until later in life. For a long time it was just the 3 of us, then the 2, now me.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can change into other things, is it magic?”

Nias looked away not wanting to meet Zap’s eyes.

“It's not magic it's just something I’m able to do, as well as my mother and her mother before her. She said that we might be descended from Doppelgängers.”

“That's amazing.” Zap said with awe.

“Perception Check!” Ann yelled out.

“Zap doesn't lie. He's a open book.”

“19!”

“Zap really does think your amazing.”

“Geez he doesn't have to try so hard I already said I’d fuck him.”

“Excuse me! But Zap is a gentleman he doesn't only think about sex.”

“Unlike his player.”