#so i said this was quick but i just spent probably another hour after uploading this tweaking the colours lol

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: hi guys, I'm changing a little my posting method. at first, I was afraid the chapters were too big and decided to divide them in parts and post a new part everyday (as long as there was a part to post), but it kind of affects the reading, so I will be uploading a new complete chapter every tuesday, hope it is better for you!

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2)

Part II – The Lord

The day after The Harvest, when you were designated to work for Lord Heisenberg, was a long one. Not really exhausting as you spent most part of it turning from one leg to the other waiting for someone to activate the bridge to the factory.

You were deadened by a miscellaneous of emotions battling to gain domain over your brain. You couldn’t stop thinking about waving your mother goodbye as the sun conquered the sky, shortly before being surrendered by the stormy clouds.

After the speech at the Chapel, you wanted to wander around a little bit, maybe hunt, thinking that it probably was your last walk on those landscapes, yet, you didn’t want to get late on your first day, so your feet lead the way past Heisenberg’s gate, close to the church. It wasn’t even lunch time when you reached the end of the road, facing the factory chimneys and the hell lot of metal discarded in its front yard.

You had completely no idea how to call someone or if you should, as far as you knew, the lord lived there alone and you didn’t think it would be a great first impression if you simply started yelling his name, so he could do that bridge thing.

Thus, you waited. Placing your bag on the ground, you stood there for what seemed to be two entire hours. Then you got tired and sat, your corselet holding your oxygen levels. After a while even being sat was annoying, your legs tingled and your stomach hurt, once you completely forgot to bring any food with you.

That would be a great time for the Duke to make an entrance. As one of his most loyal clients – maybe you sneak once in a while, claiming possessions of one or two crystals –, sometimes you two shared a meal and Gods, he was a good cook. But it wasn’t his week at the Village and that wasn’t his store’s place anyway.

When the day light began to fade and the clouds grew heavier, you started worrying about getting wet. To divert your mind from that thought, you left all your belongings at the end of the road, not too close to the border, so hopefully they wouldn’t fall in the water below, and explored the ruins, studying the bricks that build those structures, absolutely bored, not even anxious anymore. At that point you could think about a thing or two to say to that idiot Heisenberg.

What would happen if he didn’t open the gate? Could you just walk away and live your life? Well, that didn’t sound like a bad plan, if just you could reach the forest first… The first water drop popped in your hair, the rain it announced didn’t take long to join it and a few moments later you were soaking wet, cold to the bone, contracting every muscle.

Suddenly, as you were about to curse Heisenberg’s name, a gear sound rose, it sounded old, but well-oiled and was really loud, louder than the rain and thunders and made you and the crows jump, they flew, you stayed as there was nowhere to go. Approaching your dank belongings, you saw a firm, modular, sand-coloured bridge forming in front of your eyes. Its movement was smooth comparing to something that big. You were genuinely impressed and would like to ask a few questions about how that works.

This surreal vision absorbed you for a few minutes after it was done, you didn’t feel the rain chastening your skin anymore. To be honest, at that point you realized where you were at and what you had to do, after an entire day in standby.

Your own brain didn’t really wake you up from that hypnosis. Oh, no. What made your heart rate rise again was a sudden, strong and frisky voice coming out of nowhere. You looked around, moving your head way too quick, making a spray of water with your hair and saw no one, but his words were most certainly there, echoing in your mind, making your entire body feel warm.

“C’mon, honey pie, we ain’t got all day.” He said, demanding, and then laughed.

Great, a madman, you thought. You weren’t sure, though, if you blushed intensely due to what he just called you or because every cell of your body felt enraged with that joke, it was you who had been waiting for him, you who would be forever wet, because he left you in the rain. You wanted to walk to that factory and tell it straight to that son of a…

Shortly, you understood. It was a test. You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, which made a humid sound, and walked resiliently to the factory’s gate. He wanted to see if you were a spitfire and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“She walks.” He giggled, the voice of the wind, and then opened the gate.

Was he doing it with his mind? You knew that Lady Beneviento had some sort of effect on people’s brains, hallucinations they said, Lord Moreau could turn into a giant fish, Lady Dimitrescu had impressive long and strong nails that could tear anyone apart. What could Lord Heisenberg do, really? The villagers talked about he being one of the strongest lords, if not the strongest of them all. He had some power over metal, but you didn’t know exactly how it worked.

Anyway, you stepped in his front yard, facing the absurd, yet fascinating sea made of his discarded toys. For Gods’ sake, you even saw a war tank half buried in the dusty soil, you couldn’t even imagine how he had that and why he would so easily neglect it. There were ripped off motorcycles, destroyed cars, metal pieces with a huge variation of sizes and shapes and a ton of mechanical parts just lying there as a good old scrap heap.

Home, you thought sarcastically and smiled. So, when the last factory doors finally spread open to you, you faced the interior with a smile on your face even though you were miserable due to the storm. Carefully, you came inside just to be greeted by a puff of heat and sweet smoke, really welcoming at your state. The warmth certainly came from all the machinery working there somewhere, making a metal orchestra that never shut off. The smoke, well, it was coming from Heisenberg’s lite cigar.

He came from above, as a god like being, building stairs with metal parts right in the mid-air and climbed them down. You had never seem such thing and it was breath-taking; you were hypnotised for a moment there, silently dripping on the grimy ground, actually cleaning it a little.

He had some sort of waddle on his walk, nothing tawdry, though. Karl Heisenberg looked like an authoritative, impulsive and humorous man and he was, above all, having fun with you being there as if you were his new pup and you sure were.

“Oh, look who finally made it!” He greeted, on the ground, standing three steps away from you, the smoke so dense it made your eyes water, yet reassuringly hot with a tobacco scent.

Heisenberg took off his spectacles, just then you realized he was wearing them inside the factory. Besides that, he was dressed exactly the same as the day before, it didn’t seem he’d showered or so. Nonetheless, now you could see his eyes, his multi-coloured greyish blue abysms staring straight at you for sure this time.

All you felt able to do was stare back, almost not blinking, taken by those soft colours on a rough man like him. You thought you would be scared, although, you were honestly intrigued. You noticed another scar crossing his cheeks and nose and wondered how it ended up there, feeling all of a sudden tempted to reach it with your index finger, gently sensing the cicatrized skin.

“Good evening, sir.” You found yourself saying to be polite, breaking the motionless aura that sunk you in contemplation.

It was bizarre, but you weren’t cold anymore nor angry, you had the grip over your own posture again, your corselet helping you to keep your back straight. You were confident.

“Good evening, Y/N.” This you weren’t expecting, almost broke you. Why would he bother to memorise your name?

You remembered what Miranda said about being solicited by one of the lords, that made you shiver, exactly like the one you had before, only this time you could also smell the iron all over, not only taste it. The scent in the closed atmosphere of the factory had a light, almost undistinguished, aroma of the night, the fresh breeze and dry grass, maybe brought by you, however, most of it was rusted metal, motor oil and tobacco. It wasn’t unpleasant, just uncommon to what you were used to.

“Guess you found less transparent clothes.” He said next, circling you, studying you and your reactions.

You noticed he also smelled like the factory as if he was part of it, or it was, indeed, himself. You closed your eyes and the iron taste emphasized, it felt like you were licking a ring, you head spined.

“It is tradition to wear them at The Harvest.” You defended yourself – and your pure intentions.

You don’t know why, but you felt your cheeks burning, actually, parts of your body that would usually pass unnoticed had lite with the tension in the air and you just hoped you could be alone, devouring some food to calm your nerves.

“Horseshit!” Heisenberg raised his voice, coming through his pressed teeth. “They just make you wear those slutty clothes so my sisterAlcina can see all of her new pups’ assets.” Heisenberg mocked, laughing madly.

“Oh.” You couldn’t think of anything better to say, you never thought of that.

At that point, you were thinking about yourself, your dress and how you felt pretty wearing it. Did it count on the selection? You felt slightly ashamed, Heisenberg’s breathing was too close to your left ear, but you wouldn’t dare to move or your noses could collide.

“Surprised?” He questioned, maliciously. You didn’t answer immediately, you were too aware of how your boobs were trying to escape the corselet’s dictatorship. “I asked you…” He bellowed “are you surprised?” he finished in a lower tone.

“Y-yes.” You finally said. “Never thought of it.” You looked at the ground, discovering a puddle where you were standing.

“You sound like an outsider.” He ruminated, more to himself than to you.

“I kind of am.” You confessed, thinking about the cabins. “I am from the cabin people.”

“Hm… Interesting.” He glanced at you, head to toe, you couldn’t help feeling heated as you never felt before. “Sorry about the rain.” Heisenberg shrugged. “I am a busy man.” He justified, mischievously, remembering you of the anger you felt back at the bridge.

The lord left you alone for a second, walking past through a curtain. You followed him into a small improvised office area with photos all over a wall, it pictured the Village, the lords’ lots and Mother Miranda, a big poster of her right in the middle. It had a knife scratch on it. Maybe Heisenberg wasn’t a family’s man after all.

You were regaining your confidence as he was distracted with the pictures – or you thought he was, unable to really see what he was picturing –, you were seeking for a good ambiguous thing to say about waiting so long for that sort of reception, however, he was quicker and made you gasp, almost choke.

“Take ‘em off.” It was an order said firmly. The way he looked at you, as if he was some kind of authority, gave you the chills.

“Them?” You innocently asked, placing a hand on your belly, trying to breathe.

“Your wet clothes.” He explained, pointing to your entire body.

“All my clothes are wet.” You insisted, flushing heavily.

He took his very own overcoat off and handed it to you. You hesitantly accepted it, not knowing exactly what to do with his eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake.” He turned away, chuckling.

You waited half a second to be sure he wasn’t secretly looking, you didn’t know if there were cameras in the room, so you started undressing. It wasn’t a very easy dress to take off, you couldn’t reach the laces on your back, because of that, you had to ask for his help.

“Can’t even take off your own clothes, kitten.” Heisenberg mocked, as his adept hands slowly, playfully, untied the laces.

His touch was warm, he slipped his hand and you felt his calloused fingers on your skin, your body hair immediately responded husking and an electrical current flowed through you, lightening your eyes, reverberating to your core. He also felt that and some other things that made him put away his hips, but once you were facing the entrance, you couldn’t see his reaction and only heard a small movement of boots.

Lastly your dress fell to your feet and you covered yourself with his bulky overcoat, feeling better as you inhaled his aroma so intensely you almost fainted with those mechanic flavours petting your skin and his body warmth heating you.

“Now, enough chit-chat. Your duties.” He broke the silence as you finished tying the fabric belt around your waist.

“Yes, sir.” This time it was him who took a deep breath, seeming a little bothered somehow like he could use some time alone.

He had been a lonely man. You didn’t hear other people, well, living people, in the factory the next days and realised it was only you and him. It must have felt weird having someone around after years of living like an eremite. Even with all the jokes and that cheap charms, the view of him tilted to the investigative board gave you the impression that it was a bit too much having you there all at once and decided to put your rain resentments aside ang give him a chance and some space.

“I need some cleaning. I am expanding some experiments and I need to use a new wing for it, but it’s really messy.” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he had a grin adorning his scarred lips.

“I will do it.” You said, a little disappointed that this was your choir and surprised you were expecting something more… Dangerous? Exciting maybe?

“Of course you will.” He was leaned on the office desk, not even looking at you anymore, suddenly sold out. “One more thing.”

“Yes? What is it, sir?” Heisenberg shook his head making his grizzly hair dance as if getting rid of a thought. It wasn’t clear if he was still having fun or being disturbed by something.

“There is only one bed in this factory.” You turned stone cold with that announcement, abruptly conscious of all the blood running through your veins.

A secluded part of your mind, a usually quiet one, whispered a thought: It would be good to see where his blood is running to.

“Unless you want to sleep in a stretcher.” He added, laughing vigorously, giving you the chills again.

“Oh no, I will take the bed.” The answer came easily as if it was always there.

You took your wet clothes and belongings after he told you how to access the bedroom and you left him alone to it, whatever it was.

[timmytimwriter]

Once Upon A Time...

A/N: Hi! I know I haven’t uploaded anything in a long while, BUT I’ve kept myself busy with writing. I know I had requests I haven’t uploaded yet, and that’s because I’m working on it. Recently, I started watching the Fantastic Beast film series and fell head over heels in love with Theseus Scamander. So, here’s a little mini-series.

As usual, all my Y/N’s are black. Period. If you want a white Y/N, refer to the other gazillion fanfics that fail to be inclusive to black women :) with that out the way, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, just heartbreak :(

Once upon a time, it was Y/N Y/L/N and Theseus Scamander against the world. Having spent nearly their entire life together, nearly everyone expected them to end up together. Hell, even they expected to end up together. And, they almost did. Y/N loved him more than she loved life itself. Theseus did not.

Once upon a time, Y/N was prepared to spend the rest of her life with Theseus. But their fairytale romance didn’t end in a happily ever after.

The small gang had run out of places to hide. Wherever they want, Grindelwald’s supporters seemed to find – and try to kill – them. They had exhausted every hiding spot in the entire continent of Europe, it seemed.

“We can’t just keep running.” Tina fumed after nearly escaping yet another attack. They trudged through the alleys of London. Try as they might, it was hard to stay inconspicuous with such a large group. If it were just Newt, Tina, and Jacob running it’d be easier – but, their ranks had been joined by Yusuf Kama, Nagini, and Theseus Scamander.

“We have to leave Europe. We can’t keep hiding out like animals.” Yusuf said.

“We could always go back to New York?” Jacob halfheartedly suggested. After losing Queenie, everything Jacob did was halfhearted. It was as if Queenie took his very essence with her when she left.

“No, New York would be too obvious. They know who we are, so they must know where we live.” Tina interjected, just as halfheartedly. She had lost her sister to an evil she couldn’t find. All she could do was run; run away from her sister.

Newt noticed her sadness and took her hand in his, offering her a small smile. Theseus watched his little brother and Tina hold hands, which only reminded him of what he had lost: Leta Lestrange.

Theseus’ bitter thoughts were interrupted by his brother. “New York may be too obvious but going to America isn’t such a bad idea…” Newt’s voice trailed off and he tentatively glanced at his older brother, who was lost in his own world.

“Theseus…” Newt softly said. He let go of Tina’s petite hand and walked over to his brother, putting a soft hand on his broad shoulders.

“What?” Theseus saw everyone now looking at him, and he wondered if he missed something important when he was lost in his own head. “Did I miss something?”

Newt took a deep breath. He knew this wasn’t going to end well. “I know a place we can hideout. In America. But you’re not going to like it…”

The day was September 18th, 1927.

The crisp autumn brisk bristled past Y/N as she swiftly walked through a nearly empty park. It was nearly 8AM and, though nearly everyone else in Washington DC was asleep, Y/N Y/L/N had made a point of waking up at 5 in the morning for the sole purpose of getting fresh baked goods from Maryland.

See, her favorite bakery was nearly an hour-long drive from her home and the goods always ran out fast. It had taken her weeks to devise a working and precise plan, but she had finally done it. Now, it was just this eerie park that separated where she parked her car and her apartment that delayed her breakfast.

“If the bread gets cold… after all my hard work… so help me Merlin…” she huffed, hastening her paste. Finally, she found herself in front of her apartment – a stout yet charming brown shoe-box shaped building that was snuggled between what seemed like a billion other buildings that fit the same description. Lucky for her, Y/N lived on the ground floor and only had to climb the front steps and insert her key.

“Home sweet home.” She thought to herself, setting the bag of baked goods on a nearby table. She shrugged off her light coat, lamenting if the food was worth not sleeping in. Lord knows when she may get another opportunity; with the rise of Grindelwald, her work at the ministry had nearly quadrupled.

But it kept her busy. It distracted her from everything ailing her life; how war was imminent, worrying for her family’s safety, worrying for her own safety, worrying for…him.

As much as it pained her, she kept close tabs on him. Whenever a European Auror turned up dead because of Grindelwald or one of his followers, she prayed it wasn’t him. Y/N had never been a religious person; she believed in magic, but that was it. To this day, it still puzzled her how the man who had completely crushed her heart made her believe in the unbelievable.

She shook her head. “Stop thinking about him.” She muttered to herself, taking a deep breath. “Lord knows he’s not thinking about you. Lord knows he was never thinking about you…” She tossed her coat onto the couch, making a mental note to put it away later.

For now, she needed the only thing that would drive him out of her mind: food. Through her heartbreak and depression, there was only one constant in her mind. The one thing that drove her out of bed nearly every day. The one thing that didn’t attempt to get her to “talk about it” or “put herself out there.” The one thing that she loved more than…

“Theseus!”

Lo and behold, standing right there in her petite kitchen was Theseus Scamander. The man who had obliviated her heart.

She nearly fell back in shock, never expecting to see his face again. After all these years… he still looked the same. His eyes were still dark with slight speckles on gold. His auburn hair still had those unruly curls that he hated and often unsuccessfully tried to gel back, but Y/N always loved. Most of her favorite memories with him included him cuddling up to her while she played with his hair.

She narrowed her eyes and peered closer at him, taking in everything that had changed. Yes, he had certainly aged, but he looked thoroughly exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, and small vanishing wounds riddled his body. He looked tired. Defeated. She had never seen that look in him.

He looked like she did when he left her. Heartbroken.

“So sorry to intrude like this, Y/N” his brother, Newt, interjected. Y/N only then realized that there were other people present.

“What the hell is going on?”

Newt provided a quick summarization of what the group had gone through the past couple of days: the fight during Grindelwald’s assembly, Queenie’s betrayal, Credence switching sides, and Leta’s death. At that last comment, Y/N’s eyes instinctively darted to Theseus, who kept his trained on the ground. As a matter of what, he was trying desperately hard to avoid eye contact.

“We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t desperate, Y/N.” Newt said. The Scamander’s and Y/N had a long and complicated history, and Newt hated having to impose this on his old friend. He didn’t like the idea of involving her in an already volatile situation.

Y/N, on the other hand, wouldn’t hear a word otherwise. “Of course, you’re all welcome to stay. I wish you’d come earlier and save yourselves the trouble of running around London seeking refuge.”

Newt gratefully nodded, taking Tina’s hand in his. “Don’t worry, I still remember my way around your flat.” At that, he and his... girlfriend(?) apparated away – probably to another room to get some privacy.

Now Y/N was left alone with a group of people she didn’t know. Well, she knew Theseus – once upon a time – but not as well as she thought she did, obviously.

“Alright, then. Are any of you hurt? Hungry? I’ve got baked goods from the best place in the country.” Y/N pushed further into the kitchen, clutching her bag of baked goods with her. Brushing past Theseus, she caught a sniff of the most comforting and familiar smell she knew. In fact, it was the exact same smell of her Amortentia potion. “I’ve got about a dozen bagels and some doughnuts. Oh, and cookies too. You might be wondering why I have so much food, after all, I’m just one person. And that’s a very funny question…” Y/N blabbered away. As if talking would fill the awkward space.

Because if she fell silent, she’d have to become more aware of her surroundings. That would mean looking at Theseus. Maybe even talking to him. And it would, ultimately, lead to her reliving every wonderfully painful memory she ever shared with him.

“Y/N…? Now, where have I heard that name before?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe from Newt? We went to Hogwarts together for about three years, after all.”

“Only three? Isn’t wizarding school for seven years, or something like that?”

“Yes, but I started school at Uagadou. It’s the wizarding school in Africa – I’m from Senegal, by the way, don’t let the English accent fool you- but then I transferred to Hogwarts in my fourth year…” Y/N trailed off, not fully wanting to finish the story as it didn’t paint her in the best light.

“…After she transfigured into a panther and attacked a kid for teasing her brothers.” Theseus finished. Y/N’s head snapped up, sending her Y/H/C locks flying in disarray, and stared at him. He was still tentatively looking at the ground, but his face held a knowing smile. “And then just a year after starting at Hogwarts, she did the exact same thing to another student.” He slowly raised his head. With his eyes partially hidden behind his disheveled auburn curls, it seemed as if he was staring into her naked soul.

“Magnolia Harper,” Y/N recalled, “She bloody deserved it too.”

“And what exactly did the poor girl do to warrant an animal attack?” Nagini whispered, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Y/N could feel the temperature in her cheeks rising by the second. At that times like this, she was glad her melanin complexion made it difficult for anyone tell she was blushing. The entire story was bloody embarrassing, especially given the situation everything was in right now. She chewed on the bottom of her lip, trying to piece together exactly how to phrase her answer.

Luckily, Theseus came to the rescue. “There was a rumor that she was planning on asking me to the Yule Ball and Y/N got insanely jealous. Pounced on her during Dumbledore’s practice dueling sessions and nearly clawed her entire face off.”

“Oh, so you two were an item. How sweet, young love.” Nagini mulled, smiling at the two. Yusuf stood beside her, solemnly nodding his head.

The pair looked down, the nostalgic smiles slipping from their faces. All the dissipating anger Y/N harbored suddenly came bubbling to the surface, remembering Theseus’ betrayal like a fresh wound. Theseus, on the other hand, felt the guilt and grief wash over him like a Tsunami.

“Not exactly. It turns out I was worried about the wrong girl…”

[kookiesjoonies]

where you belong | myg.

main pairing: idol!yoongi x wife!reader

fic type: one shot

word count: 3.3k

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: the beginnings of oral sex/shower sex, mentions of spitting, nipple play

summary: five vignettes of what being married to yoongi for over three years looks like.

a/n: me: i have the bladder of a squirrel, i’m always getting up to pee. lindy: write a fic like that. and so, i did. enjoy! let me know which vignette was your favorite! also i’ve tried to upload this fic eight million times but it never tags, so. i’m trying again and leaving it up whether it tags or not LOL.

April 12th, 2020. 3:04am.

It seemed like more often than not, you were waking up in the middle of the night with the desperate need to pee. You’d always had the bladder the size of a squirrel, making it difficult for you to get a full night of rest. Every two or four hours, you were awake and trudging your way to the bathroom.

You’d been laying in bed tossing and turning for an hour, trying to get comfortable but finding it more difficult than usual. Lying on your back wasn’t working, so you’d decided to try rolling over and onto your stomach. Which would have worked, except for the fact that you were now pressing on your bladder. With a heavy sigh and a groan, you shoved the covers off of your body and stood up from the bed.

Yoongi, your husband of nearly four years, had been trying his hardest to sleep all night long. But every time you moved or got up, you woke him up too. It was his turn to groan, a loud and frustrated sound that came up from his throat as he dragged the palms of his hands over his face.

“Y/n, please, for the love of God and my sanity, don’t get out of bed again.”

You considered hitting him over the head with a pillow, because did he really think you’d be constantly getting up like this if you could help it?

Your arms crossed over your chest as you peered down at the black haired man below you, “If I didn’t have to get up I wouldn’t, Yoongi.”

“Just squeeze the pee out, Christ.” He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.

He didn’t mean to sound hateful, but he was always such a grump when he was woken up. And you couldn’t really blame him, because you were the same exact way.

Still, it was the middle of the night, and you’d slept poorly so far. His attitude wasn’t helping, and you wanted nothing more than to be away from him.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, albeit dramatically, and made your way out of your master bedroom and down the stairs.

You’d decided to use the powder room off the living room, and sleep on the couch afterwards. If Yoongi wanted peace that badly, you’d give it to him.

Yoongi hadn’t even realized he’d dozed off again. And when he woke up, feeling slightly more rested than usual, he immediately grew suspicious. His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on the nightstand that read 7:14 a.m.

He sighed, relieved. It was his day off, and he was glad he could stay at home and sleep in. And spend the morning with you wrapped up in his arms. He rolled over to pull your body closer to his, cocking an eyebrow when he realized your side of the bed was empty and he’d just been greeted with cold sheets.

Maybe you’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, he thought. He’d given you a few moments to return, and when you didn’t, he huffed and tossed the blankets covering the lower half of his body aside.

He decided to go searching for you, starting in your en-suite bathroom. His eyes scanned the decently sized room, frowning when there was no sign of you. It was still too early for you to willingly be awake, and he knew that, so his next plan of action was to search the kitchen. You were terrible for drinking sodas all throughout the night, which might’ve explained why you were always making trips to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t even make it into the kitchen before he saw you sleeping peacefully on the couch, curled up into a fetal position and emitting tiny snores every few seconds.

He cracked a smile at the sight, but then went to roll his eyes at you.

“Baby,” he whispered, crouching down beside of you to gently shake you awake, “come on, come back to bed.”

The sound of your husband’s sleepy voice pulled you out of your state of unconsciousness, “What time is it?”

“A little past seven.” His hand reached forward to lightly stroke at your frizzed up hair, and you couldn’t help but to lean into his sweet touch.

“But you said you didn’t want me up there.”

“Uhm, no I did not.” Yoongi was quick to be defensive, “I said for you not to get out of bed again, were my exact words. I didn’t mean for you to come down here to sleep.”

“Well, as long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about it. Just go back to sleep.” Even in your half asleep state, you couldn’t help but to argue.

If he didn’t love you so much, he probably would’ve let you have your way. Let you sulk and pout on the couch while he slept soundly upstairs, but he couldn’t do that.

“Dude, you’re so dramatic.” He sighed, scooping your limp body up and into his arms.

You shrieked as he did so, your eyes springing open immediately.

“Yoongs! What are you doing?”

“Taking your ass back to bed where you belong.” He began his ascend with you up the staircase, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Can you take me to the bathroom first? I have to pee.”

“Of course you do.”

April 18th, 2020. 2:53pm.

Lazy Saturdays with Yoongi were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were your favorite.  

There were plenty of chores that needed to be done, plenty of projects outside that needed to be started, and yet the two of you had been planted on the sofa since you’d woken up.

You were lying down with your legs in Yoongi’s lap, watching the cooking channel. And he had his feet propped up on the glass coffee table thumbing through a nonfiction novel. The sunshine poured through the narrow window panes, the scent of the coffee you’d brewed earlier still lingering. Holly was lounging on his bed beside of the fireplace on his back, snoozing with his paws in the air.

“He looks comfortable.” You nodded your head in Holly’s direction, causing Yoongi to look up from his book.

He chuckled lowly, “He’s got it made. He lives in this big house with no responsibilities. All he does is eat and sleep.”

“I mean,” you started, “that’s all I do too, really.”

Yoongi nodded, tapping his fingertips against your kneecap.

“And as long as I can help it, that’s all you’ll have to do. You took care of me for so long, it’s my turn.”  

“You spoil me, Min Yoongi.” You couldn’t stop the smile that cracked its way onto your face.

At the minute, you were enrolled in university and only had another year or so before you’d be graduating. You had every intention of working once you were out of school, but you couldn’t lie, it was nice to know that if you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to. You’d been with Yoongi for so long— since before his debut with BTS.

He’d always promised you that one day he’d be able to provide for you fully, and now, he was doing that tenfold. The two of you were well off now, but in the end, that didn’t really matter. He could be a billionaire, or have one penny to call his own, and you’d still love him all the same.

“Yes, I do spoil you. And I intend to keep doing so, Min Y/n.” He’d abandoned his book, letting it lie on the armrest beside of him.

He lifted one of your legs, pressing tiny pecks against the skin of your calf muscle. You giggled at the tickling feeling, your laughter coming to a quick halt as insecurity suddenly took over. Jerking your leg from his grasp, Yoongi cocked a dark brow at the action.

“I haven’t shaved in like, a month, Yoongs.”

“Are you kidding me?” his eyes rolled and he reached for your leg again, “you know I don’t care about that shit.”

“Yeah, I know. But I do.” You frowned.

“Too bad.” He changed his position so that he was lying in between your legs now, his lips trailing from your knee to the top of your thigh.

“What are you doing?” You bit down on your lower lip to take it in between your teeth, your fingers instinctively curling into your husband’s dark strands of hair.

“Showing you how much I don’t give a shit about some damn leg hair.”

He sucked a purple bruise into your skin, and you couldn’t fight back the moan that left your lips.

Yoongi was quick to push your shorts to the side, his tongue dragging along the folds of your cunt over your cotton panties. The feeling of his teasing had you whimpering, and you were begging for him to give you more— to which he happily complied.

April 30th, 2020. 10:19am.

In theory, Yoongi having a week off from work should be amazing. Your time spent together should be filled with romance, sex, home cooked meals and stereotypical couple shit. Most importantly, the two of you should be over the moon that you were getting such quality time together. And you were... mostly.

But he’d been home for five days already, and you were silently wishing he’d visit the studio at least once— and he was silently wishing you’d take a night to go out with friends. You weren’t used to being in each other’s company for long, thanks to what your husband did for a living, so whenever he had more than a few days home at a time it was always an adjustment.

Yoongi had only been awake for a total of five minutes and you’d already found a way to annoy him, without him having to even lay eyes on you.

He was at the sink, about to brush his teeth when he noticed the cap sitting beside of the toothpaste. He was sure that one day, he would roll his eyes at you so hard that they’d get stuck in the back of his head.

With a huff, he deposited a decent amount of the toothpaste onto his toothbrush and ran water over it before putting it into his mouth. You walked into the bathroom then, your eyes half open as you made your way over to the toilet to pee. Ah, romance at its finest.

“Dude,” Yoongi said, spitting into the sink after he was finished brushing, “why don’t you put the cap back onto the tube of toothpaste?”

You scowled, thinking that he should know damn well you didn’t like to be spoken to before you’d had your caffeine.

“I’ll do that when you start rinsing the sink out and quit leaving your nasty spit in it!”

“My nasty spit?” he scoffed, “I’m sorry who was the one begging me to, and I quote, spit in your mouth, two days ago?”

“Bite me, Min Yoongi.”

You flushed the toilet and bumped his hip with your own to push him out of the way, rubbing soap onto your hands and washing them. It was going to be a long day.

By noon, you were ready to fully divorce him and kick him out of the house.

“Yoongi!” You yelled, standing by the laundry basket in your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest.

His feet carried him swiftly up the stairs as he feared something was wrong, stopping abruptly in his tracks when he saw the way you were staring daggers through him.

“Jesus,” he sighed, “what did I do now?”

You pointed harshly at the pile of dirty clothes next to the hamper, causing the taller man to internally groan at the lecture he knew was coming.

“Two more inches and the clothes would be in the basket. What is so hard about that? Do you live to piss me off? Is that what it is?” You scolded, barely taking a breath between your sentences.

“Mhm,” he nodded, “my only goal in life.”

You were fuming. How could he be such an ass? Throwing your hands up, you moved past him and out of the bedroom.

“Pick them up, or we’re getting a divorce.”

He chuckled, “Whatever you say.”

“Ever heard the term ‘happy wife, happy life?’”

He took short strides forward over to the clothes he’d previously discarded and picked them up, “Nope.”

“Well then,” you watched as he tossed the clothes into their rightful place of the laundry hamper, “I suggest you get familiar with it.”

By the time dinner was over, you’d made promises to take him to divorce court the very next day. He’d placed a single dirty spoon into a sink empty of dishes, and you suddenly understood why so many wives offed their husbands.

May 9th, 2020. 11:05am.

You were late— so fucking late, and you prayed that your mother wouldn’t completely disown you. The two of you’d made plans to meet up for breakfast at 10:30, but you’d just now gotten into the shower. She would never let you live this down. You were always late for everything though, so really, what did she expect?

Washing your hair would’ve taken up too much time, so you’d opted for a quick, ten minute shower and decided that a messy bun would do for the day. You were in the middle of washing your face when you heard the glass door of the shower rattle, alerting you to your husbands newfound presence.

“Morning.” His arms wrapped tightly around your waist from behind, and he began to press light kisses to the side of your neck.

You smiled at the feeling, tilting your head to the side to give him a bit more access.

“Good morning.” You rinsed off your face wash, carefully avoiding your hair and trying your hardest not to get it wet.

Yoongi’s hands found your hips as he pressed his half hardened length against your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling.

“Yoongs, I have to go soon. No funny business. I’m already late.” You tried to protest, but the feeling of his hand traveling down to spread your legs made you whine.

“So? You’re always late. Let me give you a good reason to be, at least.”

His teeth nibbled on your earlobe, all the while his pointer and middle finger had begun to circle over your clit.

Your head dropped back into the crook of his neck at the feeling, and you groaned.

“Fine, fine. But no foreplay, as much as it pains me to say that. Make me cum, then I gotta go.”

“Damn,” he laughed, “you really know how to seduce a guy, you know that?”

“Shut up.” You couldn’t help but to giggle in response, your lips finding his for just a quick second before he had you bent over in front of him.

“If your mom asks, just tell her we were practicing to give her grandchildren.”

The loud smack of his hand coming down against the bare skin of your ass echoed in the room, and you groaned— both because of the stinging sensation his hand caused, and because of his words. Leave it to your husband to say stupid shit like that before he was about to rail you.

Your breakfast date with your mom turned into brunch, and a very uncomfortable one at that. Yoongi had been ruthless with spanking you, and you were now sporting sore spots and welts that made it difficult to sit.

Even though your mom kept asking why you couldn’t seem to sit still and was constantly scolding you for being late, you decided that it was so fucking worth it.

May 20th, 2020. 8:45pm.

It wasn’t even nine and you and Yoongi were already in bed. He was scrolling on his phone beside of you, and you were watching makeup tutorials on the television hung in front of your bed.

You yawned, shifting your attention to your husband and knocking his phone out of his hand, just for the hell of it.

“What the fuck was that for?!” He sounded surprised, and you couldn’t help but to laugh.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, gently kicking his leg with your foot.

“Oh, so that’s the game we’re playing now?” He stared over at you, his lips curving into a wry smirk.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby doll.”

He was on top of you in an instant, straddling your legs as he tickled you. You erupted into an immediate series of giggles, your body squirming underneath him.

“Yoongi!” You squealed, attempting to push his hands away, but it was no use— he had you pinned and completely at his mercy.

“Bet you regret annoying me now, huh?” He asked, his own laughter bellowing out.

“Yes! Yes! Okay, okay! You can stop!” You were nearly out of breath from how hard you were laughing, and Yoongi was sure you’d never looked more stunning.

Your hair was wet from the shower you’d just taken, no makeup on, and you were wearing that damn tattered, worn out T-shirt that you loved so much. You were the very definition of beauty to him, the sight of your toothy smile and sound of your loud laughter only making that fact more and more evident to him.

His tickle assault on your body ceased, and the two of you attempted to catch your breath.

“I’m in love with you, you know that?” Yoongi’s position had changed, and he was now hovering over you and pressing his lips to your jawline.

“I know. And I love you.” You reveled in the feeling, enjoying the familiar comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

“Let me show you how much.”

Before you could protest (not that you actually would), he was making his way down south. He’d bunched your shirt up, letting it rest just above your breasts. He was practically salivating at the sight of your bare chest. You’d been married for so long, and he’d seen you naked more times than he could count, and the sight of your body still amazed him every time.

He pulled a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently. Your fingers carded into his hair, your back arching up and off of the mattress as you pressed into him.

“Yoongs,” you sighed, marveling in the feeling of him palming your other tit with his hand.

He always took his time when it came to your chest, and he always made sure they were bruised and reddened by the time he was done with them. And you had zero complaints with that fact.

After he’d abused your pebbled buds to his satisfaction, he moved to leave a line of wet kisses down your stomach.

When his lips came into contact with cotton fabric just above your belly button, he pulled back with a confused expression adorning his features.

“Granny panties? Really?” He chuckled, pulling at the hem of them and letting it snap against your skin.

You yelped, batting his hand away.

“Shut up, they’re comfortable.”

“I never thought granny panties could look so sexy.” He wiggled his brows, and you rolled your eyes.

“Gotta say, though,” he said, pulling them down your legs, “I think they’d look sexier on the floor.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You laughed, kicking your underwear off of your feet.

“Maybe,” he grinned, his lips quickly finding their way to the insides of your thighs, “but you love me.”

“More than you could ever know, Yoongs,” you smiled, suddenly very aware that the most amazing man in the world was yours, and yours alone, “‘more than you could ever know.”

© kookiesjoonies 2020.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - next chapter

 ☽ ☼ ☾

As he sat at his gate, he watched the other people. Something about airports had always intrigued him, so many people in their own lives, on their own paths all converging to this one place before jetting off once more. 

Lorcan was restless. On the arm of the uncomfortable chair, his fingers tapped out a furious beat. The monotonous drone of the phone line ringing in his ear didn’t help. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. I miss your voice and I need you to pick up so I don’t lose my fucking–

“What, the fuck , do you want?” 

He chuckled, “Good morning to you too, princess.” Inside his chest, his heart fluttered. Fuck, he missed her. He missed both his girls. The minute they’d dropped him off at the airport eight weeks ago, he’d been itching to go home. 

“I told you not to call me that.” There wasn’t any bite to her words and Lorcan knew - hoped - that she was wearing that soft, sleepy smile of hers. 

He hummed, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, “Tell me to stop without smiling and I’ll stop. Easy-peasy, Lochan.” 

Elide just muttered a curse in Blackbeak and sighed as if talking to him was some sort of divine torture, “Why are you calling? It’s not even three yet, Lor.” Instantly, remorse flooded through him. He’d forgotten completely about the time difference and told her as much. “Mmm, it’s fine. Did something happen?” 

“Nah, I just wanted to say hey before my flight. I’m sorry for waking you up,” he said. Lorcan ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’ve… I miss you two.” 

The teasing, light mood dropped a bit. Lorcan could hear her breathing slowly and then she answered, her voice weaker than normal, “I know, Lor.” Her swallow was audible. “We miss you too.” Before he could respond, before he could offer her any sort of fleeting comfort, Elide spoke again, “Hold on one second, ok?” 

She was gone before he could respond. Lorcan could hear something rustling, like someone slipping out of a bed. He froze, hardly daring to breathe. She wouldn’t- Elide and Lorcan both knew better than to have someone over when they had the kid with them. 

There was soft murmuring he couldn’t quite make out and the unmistakable whine of their daughter. Lorcan slumped down in relief, cursing himself for this… jealousy. It wasn’t fair. “Hello?” snapped Stella Luna.

He chuckled, delighted by his child’s greeting, “Hey, Tiny.” 

She gasped and that innocent sound, filled with childlike wonder and elation, soothed his aching heart. “Daddy?” 

“Hi, Stella. I’m sorry I woke you up so early, I wanted to say hey before I get on the plane,” Lorcan explained with a smile. Thinking about Elide that summer had been painful enough, knowing he was so far from her, but it was nothing compared to the agony of missing his daughter. 

“Are you coming home today? ‘Cause I got kindergarten tomorrow, Daddy. Mama said you would take me,” Stella said. 

“Yes, I’m coming home today. I’ll take you to school tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy. I’ve been very busy, you know. Yesterday we went shopping and at Mintage, mama found me a Wednesday Addams lunch box,” Stella regaled, her words dripping with wonder and awe. “I’m so excited ‘acause I love Wednesday Addams, Daddy, did you know? We watched it last night at Fenny’s house ‘acause he let me choose. He said he was sick of the Addams family and that’s why I called him a dummy.” 

He laughed, pausing for a moment to listen to the PA. “Passengers boarding Flight 1203 to Varese, please make your way to gate C49. Passengers in zone one, please line up at the boarding desk.”  

“What was that? It sounded funny, Daddy, like a robot,” Stella said. 

“My plane’s getting ready to take off, Stel, they want everyone to come to the gate,” Lorcan explained. “How was Fen’s?” 

“Oh,” she started, “it was very good, Daddy. After the movie, he taked me to his show an’ I wanted to bring Salem but it’s too loud for him so I sat with Essar and she got me a juice box when I was thirsty. I think it was a secret ‘acause they only give them to me. It was grape which is my favourite, but I didn’t want to finish all of it so Vee drinked it after his show. Then Fenny and me and Con and Vee went to Grampy’s and I fell asleep so Fenny took me home.” 

“Passengers in zone two, please line up at the front desk.” 

Lorcan checked his boarding pass, “Kid, I have to get on my plane now, ok?” 

“Ok,” Stella replied, a little sadly. “I miss you.” 

The corners of his lips turned down. Lorcan hung his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he tried to think of what he could say to comfort his child. Eventually, he said, “I know, Stella Luna. I miss you too. I promise - once I’m home, no more tours, ok? I love you.” 

“Love you too, Daddy,” she chirped, already his happy, bubbly little baby again. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Tiny. Put your mother on for me,” Lorcan said, laughing through the sentence. He could hear Stella Luna hand the phone over to Elide. 

“Yes , you can sleep now,” Elide said with a kiss smacked on Stella’s head. “Lor, you still there?” 

“Yeah, ‘m here. I have to get on the plane now.” 

“Ok. Do you want us to pick you up from the airport?” 

Though it pained him to say it and further delay their reunion, Lorcan said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll be tired and I’ll probably just crash when I get home. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Can’t wait, Salvaterre.” 

He smiled a small smile, one that was only ever for Elide, “Me neither, Lochan.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

He woke up somewhere high above the Cambrian Mountains. For a few moments, Lorcan stared out the small window, groggy and confused. 

It took him a second to remember what was happening and why he was on a plane. When he finally did recall, Lorcan pulled his laptop out of his camera bag and placed it on the desk. The band he’d been working with over the summer had bought him a seat in business class for both his flights home. 

Lorcan shifted in his seat and absentmindedly toyed with the curved barbell that pierced the delicate skin connecting his upper lip to his gum as he waited for his computer to turn on. He leaned down, searching through his bag for the USB that carried every shot he’d taken in concert that summer. 

He found it and sat up straight. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he saw the background of his laptop. He hadn’t changed it in the three years since the photo of Elide tattooing Stella’s name in Ozuye on the outside of his right thumb while he held a sleeping Stella Luna to his chest with his free arm had been taken. The tattoo was his favourite, though it probably tied for first place with the cartoon-inspired Wednesday Addams on his inner left wrist. 

The placement of both designs had been purposeful, so when he was shooting something, he could see them clearly and think about his daughter. He had never met anyone who loved the Addams family more than Stella. 

Lorcan put his headphones on and played a playlist at random. Pink + White played as he opened Photoshop and uploaded a file he hadn’t even looked at yet. The photos weren’t needed for another month, but he would rather get them done now so he could focus on the upcoming studio show. 

He still hadn’t decided what or who his subject would be. Maybe he would take a break from concerts and focus on something else.

For the rest of the flight, he worked to distract himself from the fact that he’d be seeing Elide again. It hardly made any difference, his mind on her like always. Lorcan had been in love with Elide for… forever. He finally realised it, though, a couple weeks before she had their daughter. 

He had wanted… he had wanted a family with her. A real one, where Stella wouldn’t be perpetually split between two homes, but Elide hadn’t wanted that and Lorcan respected her wishes. Maybe it was foolish, but six years seemed like long enough to be pining for someone. 

As Lorcan got lost in the thoughts he spent most of his waking hours repressing, a hissing voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother snapped, Elide Lochan is not ‘someone’ and she is certainly not someone you get over. Ever. Stupid boy.  

His lips twisted with a rueful smile, though the memory of his mother ached and stung. Lorcan swallowed past the painful tightening of his throat and saved what he was working on, electing to watch something he’d downloaded on Netflix until they’d landed in Varese.

The air in Varese was balmy and he couldn’t stand it. Lorcan was seconds away from trying to peel his skin off. He had always hated the heat, but this steaming humidity was his hell. 

When his zone was called to board the flight, Lorcan could hardly keep the grin from his face. The thought of seeing his family, no matter how it hurt him to know Stella would come home with him tomorrow and Elide would stay in her apartment, was a joy nothing else had ever replicated. 

His heart seemed to beat a frantic timpani, each pat-pat saying, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me . 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

There was a crick in her neck. Elide muttered a curse with her eyes shut and reached out to her bedside table, only to feel nothing and hear an innocently delighted giggle. 

She smiled and kept her eyes closed. Slowly, Elide reached out, “I wonder who could be laughing right now. And where could they be!” 

There was that little laugh again, though Elide knew her child was doing her absolute best to stay silent. She heard Salem’s meow of protest and Stella’s sweet shushing. 

Staying silent had never been Stella’s strong suit. Elide continued on, now patting the blankets. “Hmm, I do wonder if they could be hiding beneath these blankets!” As she said ‘blankets’, Elide opened her eyes and ripped the covers away. A quick blur of orange and black flashed past as Stella’s fluffy cat was freed and Salem bounded away. 

Stella Luna’s shrieking laughter filled the room, gloomy from the rain that poured steadily against the large, paned windows. Elide laughed too as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her into her lap, her fingers digging into the soft part between Stella’s ribcage and hip bone. Stella squirmed away, begging her to stop, “No, please, mama, it tickles!” 

Elide chuckled softly and relented, choosing instead to gather Stella up in a long hug. “Oh, good morning, little one. How did you sleep, hmm?” She pulled back and brushed her hand through Stella’s hair. 

“Um, I slept good, mama, but I’m really hungry now, so I would like to have breakfast.” 

“We can do that. What do you want to eat?” 

Stella flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. Though her shape was Elide’s ethereal monolid, the colour of rich browns and deep blacks was all Lorcan. “Pancakes, mama. Can we make them look like bats?” 

Elide snorted and nodded, “Of course we can. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we can make them, ok?” 

The four-year old was off before she could even say yes, hurriedly careening into the bathroom. Her mother laughed again, but the care-free sound bled into a pained groan as she stood up and stretched. Elide really needed to stop crashing in her daughter’s bed. 

Stella hollered back from the toilet, “Mama, can we have chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Elide smiled as she walked through Stella’s room. On the floor, one of Stella’s toys obstructed her path and Elide jammed her toe into a wooden box. She gritted her teeth against the pain and asked, “Will you clean your room today?”

“Uhhh,” Stella contemplated, “I guess. I dunno why , mama, I don’t care if it’s messy, why do you care?” 

“Because your room is messy and you might hurt yourself if you don’t know where something is,” Elide replied steadily. As she pulled on a pair of shorts, she heard little feet race into the kitchen. Elide twisted her hair up and clamped it into place with a hair clip. When she padded into the kitchen, Stella Luna was standing obediently on her stool, her hands clasped like a perfect little child. Elide hooted at the sight, “Oh, you little demon.” 

Stella grinned proudly at the nickname and pushed her wild hair back with both hands. She sighed in annoyance, “Mama, help please. It’s too much.” 

“Of course, witchling,” Elide said. Stella clambered up onto the counter to sit patiently. Elide hummed something soft as she parted her daughter’s hair and weaved two simple pigtails. As she braided, Salem gracefully leapt onto the counter and made himself comfortable in the fruit bowl, resting his chin on his crossed paws like a proper gent. “Better?” 

“Yeah,” Stella chirped as she climbed down and ran to the pantry. She flung the door open, “Mama, is Daddy coming home today?”

“He is. Remember, he called last night, baby,” Elide replied as she pulled out eggs and milk from the fridge. 

“Oh, I thought that was a dream ,” explained Stella. She lugged over the large container of flour, carrying it with both arms and almost tipped over. She decided to put it on the floor and push it to the counter. “I wanna play music!” 

Elide laughed as she picked the flour up and began measuring out the dry ingredients, “Go for it, Stella.” She watched in delight as Stella ran to the record player and sat on the floor in front of it to peruse the stack of records.

A couple moments later, Stella had decided and put the vinyl on. She pranced back over to her stool as music played. “Mama, can I crack a egg, please?” 

When I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante

“Yes, ma’am,” Elide passed her an egg, “Be careful, you remember what to do, right?” 

“Yup!” Stella delicately cracked the egg on the side of the liquid measuring cup and used her thumbs to open it. The yolk and egg white plopped perfectly into the milk and vanilla. She picked up the whisk and mixed it all up. 

Dreaming, dreaming is free

Stella was soon bored and trailed over to the living room. She sat down and started to dance with her frog stuffie, singing along, “I don’t want to live on charity, pleasure’s real or is it fantasy…” Elide grinned at the sight and found the silicone mold in the top drawer.

A few minutes later, Elide slid a stack of bat wing pancakes onto a plate. “Stella? Food’s ready.” 

 “Ok, mama,” Stella said. She skipped to the table and climbed onto her chair. “Can I have maple syrup too?” 

Elide had already grabbed the bottle and grabbed a pair of forks drying in the dish rack. She put the plate down and sat, passing Stella her fork. Stella doused the pancakes in maple syrup and attacked viciously, stuffing an entire pancake into her mouth. Elide laughed loudly, “Baby, eat your food properly. C’mon, you know better.” 

Stella grinned around the sticky-sweet mess and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. Elide took the plate and cut the food up into bite-sized pieces before passing it back. The four-year old abandoned her fork in favour of her wee hands and stuffed as many chocolatey-mapley-buttery pieces as she could into her mouth. 

“Good gods, child,” her mother said. “You’ll choke.” Delight surged through her at the sound of Stella’s gleeful laughter, albeit muffled. She grabbed a napkin and reached out, holding her daughter’s chin hostage as she wiped the mess away. “I am so happy your father is coming back, he’ll finally take you off my hands, you gremlin.” 

Stella gasped loudly and wrenched her chin free, “Mama, can we go to the airplane place? I want to surprise Daddy. Pretty please?” 

She made her eyes big and wide, sticking her bottom lip out. Elide cracked immediately, “I think he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Stella nodded with such vigour Elide half-thought her head would fly off. “We’ll do that later, Stel. Why don’t you finish your breakfast?” 

Stella needed no further prompting. 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

His bag was the second bag out. Lorcan easily slung the black duffel over his shoulder. He made his way out of the baggage claim and around fellow passengers numbly awaiting their belongings. 

Lorcan thought about pausing, his fingers twitching to grab his camera and freeze the moment. There was something slightly surreal about it all. A voice told him to stop, to do it, but the sweet, pure voice of his baby calling him home was louder. 

He was still listening to miss star’s jamzzz and clicked the ball of the piercing in his tongue against his teeth to the beats. I’m Not A Loser by the Descendents’ played at maximum volume as he strode across the scuffed and dingy linoleum. 

Vaguely, he thought he might’ve heard someone calling for him. Pausing, Lorcan half-pulled a headphone off his ear. He looked around, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the sea of strangers. 

“Daddy!” 

“Kid?” 

A wee one shot out through the passing crowd. Her hair, jet black and thick, curled out of her assumedly once-tight and neat braids. Her eyes were thin and dark, so rich and depthless, framed by long lashes. The little lass seemed to have a piece of the sun setting her warm, coppery complexion aglow from beneath. “ *Até , hi-hi!” 

Stella launched herself up and Lorcan dropped his bag to catch her. He held her tight to his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Tiny, Creator above. I missed you so much, my darling moon.” 

“Hi, Daddy,” Stella whispered, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “It’s nice to see you.” 

Lorcan laughed raspily at her formal greeting, “Wow, so fancy, miss Star. ‘It’s nice to see you’, really? You’re killing me, Tiny.” 

She giggled, shaking her head as she pulled back, “No, I’m not fancy, Daddy. I’m tough ,” she snarled, baring her teeth intimidatingly. 

Lorcan laughed again, his head tipping back, “The toughest .” 

Stella beamed and abruptly stopped, an outraged gasp escaping her. She grabbed his face and pulled his head back down. When she felt his stubble, Stella Luna pulled a face, “Daddy, you have to shave. It’s scratchy.” 

“What, I thought I looked nice like this, babe,” he said, shifting her to his side. “It’s that bad?” 

She stared at him for a while before slowly shaking her head, “No… it’s ok, Daddy. Mama likes it like that.” Stella laid her head on his shoulder. Lorcan smiled and held her tightly again, his eyes closed. 

For a long moment, neither said a word, until Stella became restless and started peering out around her. “There’s so many people, Daddy.”

“There is,” he agreed. Lorcan brushed something from her cheek and Stella batted his hand away. “So, you learn to drive while I was away, or something?”

“No! I’m still little , Daddy,” Stella Luna corrected him with a giggle. “Mama drived me.” She pointed vaguely towards the entrance, “Mama’s over there and she said, ‘Stella, hold my hand and stay close ‘till we see your dad, ok?’ but you’re so tall and I sawed your head so I ran and didn’t listen to Mama.” Gasping softly, Stella put her hands over her mouth, “Oh no. Mama! Mama, hello? I am here,” she curled her arm over his shoulder as she craned her head to look around. “Where she go?”

Lorcan looked around as well, loving and hating the way his pulse sped up at the prospect of seeing her . “I don’t know where your ma is, maybe she- oh,” Lorcan cut himself off as he saw a familiar flash of long black hair through the crowd. “There she is.”

Through the throngs of passengers and travelers, Lorcan saw a fair skinned, petite woman. Her hair was dark, streaked with purple, and fell to her hips. She left it be in its natural waves, but had it cut into a blunt, pointed fringe that framed her heart-shaped face. Her round, plush lips were painted deep, nearly black, red. They curled into a teasing grin, “Hey, Salvaterre, I see you’ve finally decided to rejoin the rabble! Was the tour too preppy for you, what with all the first class flights and champagne?” 

He laughed and reached out to flick her nose, “Shut your mouth, Lochan. I’m common folk for life.” Elide laughed and Lorcan smiled, “Fuck, I can’t believe that you two came to pick me up.” He pulled Elide into a hug, something finally settling inside him as he held his girls for the first time in two months. 

“No, no swearing, Daddy,” Stella chastised him, her frown disapproving, “Fuck is a bad word. A very bad word and we’re only allowed to say it when we listen to music.”

Elide laughed and slipped her arm around his waist, “A wretched word, really. It’s like you want our daughter to become a menace to society.” 

“Oh, really? And what if our daughter wants to be a menace to society?” 

Stella Luna nodded, sticking her chin out, “Yeah, what if I want to be a menace to society, mama?”

Elide shook her head at the two of them and narrowed her eyes at him, “This is your doing, you know, Lorcan.” Oh… how his heart stopped as his name tumbled from her lips. Lorcan struggled to breathe for a moment and Elide’s warm grin faltered. “Lor? You alright?” 

“Y-yeah, just jet-lag,” he said quickly. Lorcan averted his eyes from Elide’s concerned gaze. Stella Luna wiggled, whining slightly. When she was set down on her feet, she grabbed Lorcan’s hand in one of hers and Elide’s in the other.

“Let’s go!” she shouted, tugging them along with all her might. At fifteen kilos and a solid one-hundred centimetres, it wasn’t much, but her determination made up for it. Over her head, Elide shot Lorcan a smile and a wink. 

Lorcan rolled his eyes and chuckled. Stella skipped and hopped along to Elide’s car. Lorcan tossed his duffel in the trunk as Elide helped Stella into her booster seat and he walked over to the passenger seat. “Daddy,” Stella said, “did you know my birthday is in two months? That means I’m gonna be five whole years.”

“Wow, you’re going to be so old ,” he said dramatically, smiling in the rearview mirror when Stelle’s jaw dropped open and her eyes widened. 

“I don’t want to be old. Old people are yucky. Like you and mom.” Elide and Lorcan looked at each other and burst into gutsy laughter at their daughter’s words. Stella sniffed primly and turned her face to the side, “It’s not funny to be old. Being old means you die. Do you want to die, Daddy?” 

“If I die, I become a ghost and I’ll haunt people,” he said. 

“Would you haunt me ?” the girl asked, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity. 

Elide huffed a laugh. She turned the car on and smoothly pulled out of her parking spot to the freeway that would take them back to Orynth. “You two are ridiculous. Stella, baby, no one’s haunting you.” 

“Yeah, except for me,” Lorcan ever-so-helpfully stated. 

As Elide exclaimed in annoyance, Stella giggled uncontrollably. The dark haired woman couldn’t help but laugh along and the sound of their laughter soothed the dull ache of missing them. 

☽ ☼ ☾

“ Até, ‘m tired,” said Stella, trailing up to Lorcan. She was all ready for bed, dressed in her Jack Skellington pyjamas. Her dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese had been devoured an hour ago. Lorcan was in Elide’s kitchen, washing the dishes as Elide worked on a sketch and Stella checked her backpack over and over and over again. She was not going to be caught unprepared for her first day of kindergarten. 

He rinsed off the iron skillet and placed it in the dish rack. Lorcan dried his hands and turned to his daughter, who held her hands up expectantly. With a fond smile, Lorcan scooped her up and asked, “Time for bed? Did you brush your teeth yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Daddy, don’t forgot Mr. Ribbit.” Stella said softly, already falling asleep. She clutched at his shoulders, a yawn splitting her little face in half. 

His grin softened and he kissed the top of her head, “Can’t forget your frog, now, can we?” There came a low chuckle from the living room. Elide walked over to them, her pencil stuck in her hair and carrying the fuzzy green animal. She passed the animal to Stella and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lorcan offered her his hand, “Come with us?” 

Elide nodded and slipped her hand in his. They walked to Stella's room together. She breathed evenly and deeply, her eyes closed. Her lashes brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks. Lorcan set her down with care and tucked her blankets around her. “Good night, my darling moon,” he said softly - in his native tongue - and brushed her hair back before it could tickle the tip of her button nose.

“Night-night,” Stella whispered, her eyes cracking open. “Are you gonna come drive me with mama tomorrow to school?” She snuggled into her pile of pillows and held her blanket up for Salem to settle in beside her. The cat curled up against her and purred softly as he flicked his fluffy tail over her protectively.

“Yes, I am.” 

She nodded, “Good. That’s good, Daddy.” 

“Alright, Tiny,” he laughed softly, “go to sleep, yeah? You’ve had a big day.” He kissed her forehead and stood up to let Elide say good night. 

Elide sat down on the edge of the mattress and cupped Stella’s face in her hand, her words soft and too low for Lorcan to hear. She too chuckled and kissed Stella Luna’s cheek, then got up and stepped over to Lorcan. 

They closed the door and silently walked back to the living room. Lorcan sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. Elide curled up in the opposite corner and smiled, “Tired?” 

“Yeah,” he said, dropping his head back against the couch. “Fuck me, I have to go home.” 

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway,” Elide said, her voice measured. 

Lorcan looked at her, but her face was turned to the side. “Are you sure, El? I honestly don’t mind and I haven’t been to my place in a while.” 

She glanced over at him, “No, c’mon, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve never done it.” 

“Done what?” 

Elide shot him a flat look, “Slept in the same bed.” 

Lorcan choked and his eyes widened, “El- what? I was just going to take the–” 

“I swear to Anneith if you say ‘couch’, I’ll strangle you. I’m not making you sleep on my couch when you’ve been gone all summer.” Elide stood up and walked to her bedroom, her hips swinging enticingly. Lorcan quickly looked away. “Besides, my bed is big. I promise I won’t give you my cooties.” 

He snapped his teeth and crossed the room to join her. “Fine. I’ll stay.” 

Elide crossed her arms over her chest and smiled cockily, “I knew you would.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan said, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted into his. They fit perfectly together. They always had. “You’re always right, aren’t you, princess?” 

Elide hid her smile and slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed above his heart. For a long moment, neither said a word. Then, Elide pressed her forehead against him and whispered. She couldn’t speak any louder, fearing that the tears she’d held back for years would finally spill over. “It’s nice to have you home, Lor.” 

“It’s nice to be home,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back. 

“It wasn’t the same without you.” It’s never the same without you.

He closed his eyes, hating the tears that blurred his vision. “Wasn’t the same without you, either, Lochan.”

 ☽ ☼ ☾

an: ahh ! it’s here ! a few things will b different for this wip, so i just want to let u all kno: 

- chapters will b posted once a week on mondays, at 8pm pacific standard time

- there will b flashback chapters !! 

- there will b depictions of recreational drug (marijuana) and alcohol consumption - i will put warnings for these n if there r any other triggers u would like me to warn, pls let me know

- if u want to b added/removed from the tag list, just send me an ask - it is rlly no trouble at all <3

translation: *Até: Father/Dad in Lakota (i headcanon lorcan to be native american - speficially Oglala Lakota. this will b more apparent/relevant in future chapters. i call his tribe 'the ozuye'. 'ozuye' means war-party in lakota)

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. Pink + White - Frank Ocean 2. Dreaming - Blondie 3. I'm Not A Loser - Descendents

@mythicaitt​​ @werewolffprince​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @ladyverena​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​  @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @b00kworm​​ @hizqueen4life​​ @silversprings98​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​ @minaidss​​ @superspiritfestival​​ @sanakapoor​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​  @thegoddessofyou​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​ @claralady​​ @neonhellas​​ @darlinminds​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​ @autophobiaxx​​ @silversprings28​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​ @elriel4life​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​ @jlinez​​ @ladywitchling​​ @mariamuses​ @darklesmylove​ @adelzd-bookblr​

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 15

First

Previous

Next

Ladybug woke up the next morning to her phone going off like an alarm. She groaned and slowly reached to her bedside table, gently nudging away fabrics in search of her phone. She found it, eventually, and tapped her finger on the screen repeatedly in search of the snooze button, but it didn’t seem to be working.

She grumbled to herself, snatching the phone off the table and looking to turn it off…

Only to realize that it was a good hour before she’d set her alarm to go off for her meeting with Audrey Bourgeois. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she watched another round of notifications come in.

Ugh. That’s what she gets for turning her ringer on at night in case her friends had nightmares. She silenced her phone and fell back in her bed.

After ten minutes of staring at the ceiling and attempting to trick her brain into thinking she was asleep, she reluctantly pushed herself out of her bed. Phone in hand and blanket around her shoulders, she shuffled downstairs for a cup of coffee.

She waved to Chloe absently when she saw her in the kitchen making a bowl of cereal and got a hum in response. That was their entire conversation, though. Chloe always seemed to know when exactly it was a good time to tease her or not without Ladybug ever saying a word.

Maybe she should have figured out that Chloe was some kind of minor telepath.

Whatever.

She scrolled through her phone as she waited for her pot of coffee to finish.

The Parisians on TikTok were going wild.

There was a group freaking out about Chat’s account (because it was cute, but also because he might actually be a dog person considering that was the first thing he’d uploaded). Carapace’s video was full of comments analyzing their group dynamic or pitying the people who had been on shift at the time. Rena’s account had thousands of people screaming about having actual information on the miraculous holder’s daily lives for once and people attempting to use the footage to figure out where they were living. Chloe’s video had people speculating on what she would be doing or commenting on their day-to-day outfits.

And Ladybug’s…

It was full of people saying things along the lines of “of course Ladybug would have a lifestyle account”.

Part of her was kind of offended. Sure, her persona was definitely different than her and if she knew a person like ‘Ladybug’ in real life she probably wouldn’t be all that close to them, she’d made it that way on purpose… but still. It kind of hurt.

Then again, there was another part of her that was tempted to sing. Her ruse was working! She had accurately guessed what would be in character for her persona! Nice!

She poured herself a cup of her quickly cooling coffee and headed up to get properly dressed for the day.

Ladybug couldn’t help but be a little anxious as she changed from her red and black pajamas into a completely different red and black ensemble. Her mind wandered to all the messages she was getting about how consistent her persona was.

If she didn’t give her persona any kind of depth, how long would people keep falling for it?

She didn’t know. She was out the door in minutes and heading off to the park where Audrey had wanted to meet, the prototype of the dress she’d made for a ball in the United States in her hands. She had to remind herself constantly that, even if the stuff she’d used for the prototype was just there to simulate the real thing and wasn’t all that expensive, she still needed everything to be intact when she gave it to Audrey.

She was a little distracted during the meeting, her mind on what to do about her persona, so it was a good thing that Audrey’s only complaint was that the prototype fabric was a little coarse. That could be fixed.

The persona thing…? Not so much.

Rena was already suspicious, Ladybug could see it in the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever she let little things slip through.

(Thanks for telling her that everyone has personas, Carapace, now she had to be even more careful.)

She forced herself to relax. There wasn’t anything to gain from worrying about people figuring out just how fake she was outside of a possible akumatization.

No. Instead she would concentrate on something she could fix: Hawkmoth. If she figured out his identity they could beat him, and then she would never have to worry about personas ever again.

The moment she got home she walked over to the conspiracy board. She glared at the millions of closeups of every part of Hawkmoth’s body.

~Want to skip some calculations? Here’s your chance! I nerded out a little, sorry~

Hawkmoth was about 230cm tall in costume. That’s what Rena had found out through calculating his height in comparison to some of Nino’s plates in the photo, but Ladybug had (stupidly) offered to do the math to see how tall he would be without the miraculous stuff...

She knew the man’s shoes gave him a little extra height than most normal shoes would; she’d seen them up close, they were practically heels.

She spent literal hours sitting down with her computer at the kitchen table, a cold look on her face.

(Thank the kwamis for Chloe, because every time someone came near she would quickly come up to play interference. Ladybug didn’t know if she was doing this for their sake or hers, but either way it was appreciated.)

She scrolled through page after page of shoes, trying to find a model that looked close to the fashion disaster Hawkmoth was wearing.

Did she have a theory for the type of shoe they were? Yes. Was she going to just go with that? Of course not. She was Ladybug! Ladybug doesn’t GUESS --!

Maybe she’d been pretending to be Ladybug for too long. She made a mental note to go out with friends as a civilian sometime.

Still, it took until midnight to find a model that was similar enough for her to feel comfortable using it as a base. She printed out the picture and put it beside the picture of Hawkmoth’s shoes and nodded to herself. Great. His shoes added about 3 centimeters to his height.

Now onto the next part of height calculations.

Miraculi gave everyone extra height.

She didn’t know for sure if it was a flat rate or proportional, so she went out on the town, looking for some kind of measuring tape -- the type she used for work wasn’t long enough for a person’s actual height. She managed to find a place unfortunate enough to be open past midnight and she and the person checking out her item shared ‘I wish I was dead’ expressions.

It was here that she dragged everyone out of bed to measure their heights as civilians versus as heroes (without shoes, obviously).

They were clearly very annoyed by this, but it was nearing three o’clock at this point and she had spent an entire day looking at shoes. The look on her face was absolutely murderous. They opted to just quietly do what she said so they could go back to sleep as soon as possible.

5 centimeters. Everyone grew by 5 centimeters.

She wasn’t quite sure why this happened, nor did she really care. It was just important for her calculations.

~Calculations over~

So he was anywhere from 215 to 225 centimeters. Unreasonably tall, really. There could only be a few people of that height in Paris.

After doing some searching she figured out that there were probably about 5 people in all of Paris that were that height.

She just had to… find them? Somehow?

Whatever. She should also do some quick things to distinguish Hawkmoth from the others. She grabbed an extra sheet of printer paper and started writing things down.

A semi-muscular build, possibly bald, stupidhead, terrible fashion sense...

She fell back on the couch for a quick breather.

She was getting a headache. What was it from? The caffeine? Dehydration? Was she clenching her teeth? Who knows.

Ladybug pulled her phone out and checked the time…

Four-thirty.

She had time to finish that sketch for Jagged Stone before their eight o’clock appointment. It would be close, though.

She changed while she waited for her coffee to brew (How many pots had she had since yesterday? Four? Five? Whatever, it was probably fine) and then got to work.

She looked up a while later when Chloe walked down for breakfast. It was seven now, then. She would need to leave soon…

“Kwami, Ladybug, you look awful!”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes falling back to the sketch. It didn’t have enough… yeah, that was the end of the sentence. It was too plain, but she couldn’t seem to --.

She felt hands rest over her cheeks and she looked up to see Chloe standing over her. “You need to sleep.”

“I need to get to an appointment.”

“I WILL use Sticky Situation if I have to.”

Ladybug wasn’t impressed.

“Pollen, buzz on.”

Ladybug blinked at the miraculous holder in front of her and then gasped. Of course! She’d forgotten accessories! No wonder it felt empty!

Kwami, she really was tired, huh?

She put some quick accessories down, careful to make all the items kind of tiny so Jagged wouldn’t be able to tell the ideas weren’t fully fleshed out yet, and then smiled at Chloe as she got up to leave. “Thanks, Queenie. I gotta go, I’ll sleep later.”

“But --!”

She was already gone.

The meeting went well. Yay. She kept her job.

She walked home, happy to just be done with that really long day --.

She randomly chanced a look in the window as she passed and winced when she saw Chloe waiting for her on the couch. She was far too tired to deal with a lecture. She transformed and flew into her room through the window.

… now what? Should she sleep?

Nah. She had patrols that night. Might as well just stay up through it all.

She yawned into her hand and headed down to Rena’s room. She might as well tell her what she’d figured out.

She knocked her head against the wooden door instead of her fist in an attempt to wake herself up a little and smiled when it opened.

“You look…”

“I’ve been told. Anyways, I’ve finished doing math and stuff. Come look.”

Ladybug grabbed Rena’s arm before the other could even say anything and pulled her down to the kitchen where she’d done the calculations.

Rena looked over everything for a few moments before her eyes widened.

“... hey, quick question, why does it say he has a ‘condom-head’?”

That got Ladybug awake. Her eyes found their way to the list of attributes she’d written while sleep-deprived.

Her eyes went wide with horror.

Because there, in handwriting that was definitely hers, were the words ‘stupid-looking condom-head’.

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter One

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au, this is mostly just setting everything up, i’ve got BIG PLANS

word count; 1617

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

** y/g/n = your gamer name

“Okay I’ve died like 18 times now, I think it’s time for me to give up” you said, looking in the monitor to see you friend, and fellow streamer, chucking softly. “C’mon, you’ve just been unlucky, let’s play a few more rounds” Ciri told you as she ran around completing tasks. You peaked down to take a look at the comments, smiling when you saw a lot of them were encouraging you to stay.

“Thanks everyone in the comments, and fine I’ll hang around for a few more” you said with a bright smile. This was the life of being an online gaming streamer. Smiling for the cameras and trying out different games. A lot of the time it was just trying to keep up with what was popular, right now it seemed to be Among Us. The game itself was fun enough, but you grew bored of it quick.

“Ciri, how is it that you’ve gotten imposter like 3 times in a row now” you groaned, shifting your headset a bit as you got ready for another game. “Life of a Witcher my dear y/g/n” she commented back in a fake accent. The two of you spent the next hour playing, it mostly consisted of Ciri whooping your ass. You made sure to thank new subscribers and people who donated as you went along.

“We had almost 20 thousand people tuned in for that one” Ciri told you after the steam had ended, the two of you having your normal video chat wrap up. You weren’t always the popular stream y/n, you started off making less than perfect videos for a handful of people and grew from there. Your channel grew a lot when you found the other girls. You, Ciri, Mimi, Cat and Maia were a group that the internet liked to call the ‘Gamer Gurlzz’. After the five of you started streaming together, viewership increased a lot. You comment section was often filled with a lot of higkey creepy dudes, but they were also the ones that tipped the best. You could handle some weird comments if it got you through college.

“Wow, that’s quite a big jump from last time” you commented with a low whistle, moving to put your gaming equipment away. “I’ll edit the stream so we can each upload it to the YouTube channel too” Ciri said, typing away one her keyboard. You smiled, it was Ciri’s idea to start the Gamer Gurlzz YouTube channel, a place for the five of you to upload edited streams and other extra content. “My dedicated little Witcher” you commented with a bright grin, earning a glare from the girl on the other side of the camera.

“We should start filming more vlog like content for the channel, people seemed to be really into it. They like the whole ‘getting to know us’ aspect of it I guess” Ciri explained, slipping her glasses on as she peered at the screen. You know that without Ciri both you and the other girls wouldn’t be nearly as popular as you are now. She was the brains of all of this, followed the numbers and helped guide your content. “Hmmm, of course they like that” you murmured, grabbing a make-up wipe and beginning to cleanse your face. You like streaming when it just involved gaming, when you just went by the fake name you created for your channel, y/g/n. You didn’t like the idea of random people on the internet knowing more about who you actually were, you wanted to keep some privacy.

“As long as we are careful about it, we should be okay” Ciri said slowly, understanding why you were worried. “I just don’t want people to start showing up where I shop and stuff. Remember how bad it was when someone leaked Maia’s hometown. She could barely leave her apartment without getting swarmed” you shivered, the memory not one you were eager to replicate. “I promise I’ll edit out or blur anything that could be revealing” Ciri said softly, not wanting to put any of her friends in danger.

“Thanks C, you’re really MVP of this team you know” you told her with a smile. Not only was she the most reliable co-worker you had, she was your best friend, you would trust her with anything. “Yeah yeah y/n, now isn’t it late there, go to bed” she urged you, rolling her eyes as she sat back in her chair. You hummed as you checked the clock, time zones made it difficult to set up streaming times with the other girls. “It’s 2am, I probably should head to bed” you said yawning, collecting your hair up in a ponytail. “Night babe, I’ll have it uploaded by the time you wake up” she said, blowing a kiss at the camera before hanging up. Ciri always had a way of making you feel better, like everything would actually be okay. You really trusted her to make sure that it was.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next morning you logged on to see that Ciri had uploaded the video and it had gained quite a few views in the short time it had been up. People were talking about it all over social media, which would be good publicity for your solo stream later today. Picking up your phone you quickly made a quick tweet about the stream to remind everyone:

Morning everyone! Thanks for all the support you showed me and @WithcherCiri last night. I have a solo stream later on today starting at 1pm, I’ll be playing some Genshin Impact and chatting with you all!

After pressing the send button, you set your phone down and hopped into the shower. You liked to alter your appearance a little bit for streams, mainly so that without the hair and make-up you could usually walk around without getting noticed. So far it had worked pretty well, which you were grateful for. After getting ready and slipping into something comfy, you slipped your headset on and began checking your equipment. Your tweet from earlier had gained a lot of positive attention, so you were eager to see how this stream would go.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As it got closer to 1pm you began setting up, checking your lighting and getting ready. After pressing start you waited a few seconds before greeting the viewers with a bright smile and a small wave. “Hey everyone! Thanks for stopping by today” you said cheerfully, reading some of the comments before you started to play. There were a few usernames that always stood out to you, people who had been supporting you since the very beginning that were still around today. One of the ones that never missed a steam and was always active in the chat was someone who went by @gyu_97. You obviously didn’t know who they were, but you were always grateful for people who had been supporting you for a long time.

“Gyu_97 asked if I prefer cats or dogs? Definitely dogs” you said with a laugh, you couldn’t help but search for their comments sometimes. It was almost like seeing a familiar face in the crowd. “why? Oh well, I don’t know, I’ve always really loved big fluffy dogs. They are so warm and cuddly” you said with a giggle, answering a few other questions before turning to the game. You streamed for longer than you usually did, but you couldn’t help it, the crowd was really engaging today and fun to be around. You didn’t have any creeps commenting about your body or anyone talking trash, it was a really positive stream.

“I should probably go make something to eat” you told the camera as it neared 3pm, your stomach grumbling in protest of the lack of food. “I forgot to eat lunch this morning” you explained with a short laugh. “Don’t worry, the girls and I will be on tomorrow night for our regular weekly stream, so you’ll see me there. Thank you everyone for hanging out with me on this long stream today” you ended the video with a smile and a wave. Once the camera was off you collapsed back into your chair, rubbing your shoulders as you relaxed for the first time in two and a half hours.

“Right… food” you mumbled to yourself, standing up and heading toward the kitchen, you could deal with your equipment later on. A lot of people liked to tell you that being a stream online wasn’t a ‘real job’, but they didn’t know the amount of work that went into it. Each stream took up one to two hours of your time on average, and then there was all the time spent setting up and planning what you would play next. It was a full-time job that often had you working long days and sometimes even longer nights. You really didn’t mind, you enjoyed doing it and were thankful for the opportunity to do so. You just hated when people treated it like it was some easy hobby.

The rest of your night was spent editing your earlier stream so Ciri could upload it to YouTube and planning out the rest of your month. You email was a beat you weren’t quite ready to tackle after a long day; you were just eager to go get a bath and lie down for a while. Ever since you turned gaming into a form of income you never really played for pleasure anymore, it was something you really wished could change, but you could never find the energy to do so. Maybe someday you would rediscover the fun you used to have with playing games, but you didn’t see that happening any time soon.

[dhwty-writes]

Dialogue prompt: “you feel so deeply for everyone, let someone feel deeply for you.”

Thank you, lovely person, for this wonderful prompt! I’m sorry this took a while, it got very long. I also just realised as I was uploading this, that the prompt isn’t exactly what you asked for. I hope you like it regardless!

Warnings: None, except for utter dumbassery on these two idiots’ parts

Read on AO3

The room at their inn was infuriatingly quiet, the silence only broken by the scratch of Jaskier's quill. It drove Geralt mad. It drove him mad and yet he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling above the bed.

Not because of the obvious reasons. Not because it was annoying or too loud or anything.

No, it drove him mad, because he lacked the words to fill the silence. Two dozen times Geralt opened his mouth to say something, two dozen times he closed it again.

Then he sat up with a start. "What would you like to do this evening?" he blurted out.

The maddening scratching stopped for a moment, accompanied by a weary sigh. "Gee, Geralt, what kind of question is that?"

"Hmm." Yeah, what kind of question was that? A stupid one, that's what.

"I don't know, sleep?” The scratching started again. “I'm tired." Jaskier yawned to prove his point.

Geralt ground his teeth and turned onto his other side. He had just wanted to do something nice for his bard. But now the opportunity had passed, now he had to work up the courage again. He fell asleep, still ruminating how utterly stupid he had been.

 The thing was, doing something nice for another person wasn't necessarily Geralt's forte. Melitele's tits, even being nice was not his forte! He was a witcher and witchers killed monsters. Niceties and manners had a very low priority in Kaer Morhen’s curriculum.

The other thing was, Jaskier deserved someone being nice to him. He couldn't quite say what it was, but the bard had grown on him over the years. First a slight annoyance and liability, then a reliable travel companion until he felt comfortable calling him his friend. Best friend, even. Which, given that he was his only friend, wasn’t very hard. And now—

Something had changed, something Geralt did not quite dare to name. All he knew was that whenever he looked at his bard, his cheeks and chest grew warm and his stomach and heart did funny things they weren't supposed to.

And that he wanted to do something nice for the bard.

A few weeks after the Question Incident, Geralt had finally worked up the courage to try once more. Given his previous experience, he had decided not to ask the bard again. That way at least, he didn’t run risk to ruin it with his incompetence with words again.

He did, however, hold the belief that words were the key to this tricky situation. Jaskier was a bard, a poet, a minstrel. He liked words. So, Geralt decided to by him a pretty book full of pretty words.

They had managed to arrive in town during market day, which was quite fortunate indeed. Books were pricey, and usually unattainable in the smaller towns. But here he was quick to succeed.

The book was almost comically tiny and abhorrently expensive, but the vendor assured him that it was all the rage in Cidaris at the moment. Even better than that, it was not written by hand, but rather by a very new invention called a ‘printing press’. Needless to say, Geralt was fascinated and excited to have found such a perfect gift for his bard. He slapped down a pouch of coins onto the counter and quickly returned to their inn.

The book was strategically placed onto the rickety desk in the corner and he forced himself to busy himself with his swords as he waited for his friend to return.

It did not take long until Jaskier burst into the room with the usual flurry of words and quickly discarded clothes. Normally, Geralt paid him no mind, but on that day, he was watching him like a hawk. That was how he was fortunate enough to witness the exact moment the bard spotted the book.

Jaskier froze mid-sentence and pointed at it: “What’s this?”

“’S for you,” Geralt mumbled. “I found it.”

He drew closer to the desk and flipped the cover open with two fingers, as far away from the folio as possible. And hissed. Jaskier actually hissed. “What is this?” he demanded again. “And what is it doing here, in our room?”

“A book,” he replied confused. “Poems, they said. ‘S good, they said.”

“Poems!” he exclaimed. “Those aren’t poems, Geralt, those are the uninspired rhymes by a talentless wastrel, who stole my verses! I hope you didn’t spend any money on it, I wouldn’t give a copper for any composition by Valdo Marx.”

Geralt looked at the sword in his lap. ‘Fuck.’

“I’m going to burn it,” Jaskier declared and Geralt leapt to his feet, shouting: “No!”

The rest of their stay in town was spent wrestling the book from his bard, so he couldn’t chuck it into the fireplace before Geralt had a chance to pawn it off again. Somehow, he felt even stupider than the last time.

 ~*~

 Words were off the table, then, so he opted for a more direct-action approach. One of the many things he had learned about the bard in all those years, was that he enjoyed food. Good food, specifically.

They made camp, Geralt decided that Jaskier deserved a nice meal. He went off to hunt and forage, leaving the bard in charge of setting up the camp and caring for Roach. After his initial mistrust of his companion’s animal handling skills, Jaskier had quickly proven himself quite capable. At least more capable than looking for food in the wild.

When he returned an hour and a half later, he was quite proud with himself. He had managed to catch a fat rabbit and found a whole array of mushrooms and berries that would surely please the bard. They were brightly coloured, just as he was.

Smiling broadly and not-humming under his breath—they had talked about that, witchers didn't hum, definitely not—he set about preparing the meal while Jaskier went off to do the laundry in a nearby stream. Fair's fair, after all.

The sun had set and the stew was almost done, when he returned. "That smells—” He wrinkled his nose.

'Oh no,' Geralt thought, icy dread rushing through his veins. That wasn't good. One wasn't supposed to wrinkle their nose when smelling food. Besides, there was nothing to wrinkle one's nose about. The stew smelled delicious.

However, he appeared to have done a grievous mistake, for the displeased expression on Jaskier’s face did not fade. "Geralt," he said warily, "what are you doing?"

"Cooking," he replied, pointing at the pot simmering over the fire. This time, at least, it was Jaskier asking the stupid questions. "Mushrooms and rabbit."

"Mushrooms," Jaskier repeated and pointed at a few leftovers. "Those mushrooms?"

"Hmm." He did not like where this was going.

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier's face fell, an absolutely revolting expression of compassion and bemusement. "Those are poisonous!"

Geralt stared at him. Stared back at the stew. Back at him. The stew. "Fuck."

~*~

 Alright, so what Geralt needed was a fool-proof plan. A witcher-proof plan, rather. I plan he could absolutely not muck up, no matter how hard he tried. It took him a month and a half to come up with one.

Then, he decided it was best to put such delicate matters into someone else’s hands. Hooves, rather.

“Geralt,” Jaskier complained loudly as the heat bore down on them relentlessly. “Please, have some mercy on me. I can’t. I just can’t anymore.” This had been going on for hours. “How long’s it been, Geralt? How long’s it been since we had a rest? Since the sweat dripping from my brow wasn’t watering dried weeds on the road side? Since I had but a sip of water?”

He cast his eyes upwards. “About four hours since you took a morning bath in that stream,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And you’d have something to drink, had you not insisted on upending your water over your head.”

“You’re a cruel man, witcher,” the bard whined. Geralt could hear the pout in his voice. “The reason for my demise, even. My blisters have got blisters, I think my feet are about to fall off. And whose fault will it be? Yours, my friend yours alone—”

Geralt jerked on Roach’s reins; he had heard quite enough of those baseless accusations. The bard, however, didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he just kept on babbling and walking—limping, really. He couldn’t help but smile. “Jaskier,” he said far too fondly as he hopped off the saddle.

He spun around, a confused look on his face. “What?”

“Come here.” He gestured at Roach. “Maybe this’ll give your feet some rest.” In the privacy of his mind, he added: ‘And my ears, as well.’

Eagerly, Jaskier hurried over to him. “Are you being serious?”

He rolled his eyes and laced his fingers together, offering to give him a boost. When Jaskier still didn’t move, he growled: “Come on, before I change my mind.”

“Alright, alright,” the bard mumbled. Shortly after, he was safely in the saddle, grinning from ear to ear, as he patted Roach’s neck. “Gotta admit it,” he said smugly, while Geralt adjusted the stirrups, “I kind of missed this. Thank you, Geralt.”

He mumbled something unintelligible and waved him to be on his way, as he got all of his friend’s useless weight situated on his back. It did not take much urging for the bard to ride ahead and leave Geralt trailing behind.

In all fairness, what happened next was only loosely his fault. Maybe he should have paid better attention to the road. Maybe he should have walked beside Roach, ready to grab her reins if anything went wrong. Maybe.

But he was, after all, only a man. Only a man who was not only confronted with the fact that his bard had a rather lovely bottom, but also that said lovely bottom was right in his line of sight, if he walked behind Roach just so. Information he’d certainly file away again for later, if his bard was dilly-dallying again.

Still, maybe he shouldn’t have let himself be distracted quite as much by the sight. And he probably should have seen the bandits waiting at the side of the road well in advance. He definitely should have realised sooner what exactly was happening and come to Jaskier’s rescue.

Alas, none of that had been the case.

A piercing scream had ripped him out of his silent contemplation and next thing he knew, Roach was gone, Jaskier was lying on the ground and he had four, admittedly not very skilled, crooks to contend with.

Once that was done, he crouched down next to his friend, fretting nervously. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously, skimming his hands all over Jaskier’s body to check for injuries. “Did you break something? Any blood, any pain? How’s your head feeling?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” he insisted, batting the hands away. “Melitele’s tits, Geralt, please tell me I’m not that insufferable.”

He sat back on his haunches, unable to do anything but stare. This was nothing like he had planned.

Jaskier sighed heavily and waved his hand. “Just… go check on your horse.”

Bereft of any other options, that was exactly what he did.

 ~*~

 Autumn was almost upon them and Geralt was running out of options. After the Question Incident, the Book Catastrophe, the Mushrooms and the Wannabe Robbers, a number of other disastrous mishaps had followed, the most prominent among those being the Tavern Brawl, the Brothel Failure, and the Library Ban.

What he had learned during all those horrifying events, was that the only way he could ever even hope to do something nice for his bard was with a town, meticulous planning, and the radical elimination of any and all possible liabilities.

The first two, he had excelled at, this time. There was a town, there was an inn, there was a room they rented for five days. The first three of them, Geralt had spent conspiring with the innkeeper and her wife, who found them and his efforts ‘absolutely adorable’ and who were more than willing to aid him in his ‘display of his undying love’. Both of those were rather weird notions, but Geralt was so close, so close, he had no time to bother with semantics.

It was the fourth day and everything was going perfect. The tub was prepared, the tavern was quiet, the bath salts and scented oils and soaps his bard loved so much bought. And the bard did not suspect a thing.

All that was left to do know was fetch Jaskier and finally, finally do something nice for him.

That last thing was easier than he had anticipated; they practically ran into each other on the way out of the tavern. “Jaskier!” Geralt said.

“Geralt!” Jaskier said.

“I’ve got something for you,” they both said.

Geralt blinked.

Jaskier blinked.

“You go first,” Geralt growled.

“Great!” The bard was bouncing on the balls of his feet. That was never a good sign. He didn’t know, however, how much of a not-good sign it was until Jaskier produced a sheet of paper from his sleeve. “Look! It’s a contract!”

‘Fuck,’ Geralt thought. ‘I should’ve gone first.’ “Shit,” he said. “I can’t take it.”

“What?!” he balked. “What are you talking about, you have to take it! That’s a hundred crowns, Geralt, that’ll last us weeks! I know you’ve been going all stir-crazy these past few days; you’re even more quiet and taciturn than usual.”

That wasn’t exactly untrue. Four days of conspiring had taken their toll. “What’s it about?”

“Oh, just a couple of drowners.”

Geralt growled and snatched the page out of his hand. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he promised and stormed off.

He wasn’t back in an hour. It wasn’t a couple of drowners, either.

Instead, he returned two hours past sundown, drenched in mud, every bone in his body hurting like fuck, the heads of a couple of drowners and a fucking water hag. He hated water hags. Not because they were specifically difficult to kill, but because they just kept lobbing mud at him and that was all he needed for a day to qualify as truly revolting.

He stomped to the house of the alderman, collected the payment and then dragged himself up to their inn room, where he was greeted by a far too cheery bard. “You’re back!” he exclaimed and almost lunged to embrace him, when he spotted the mud and guts all over him. “Eww,” he sneered. “You, my dear witcher, need a bath.”

On any other day, Geralt would have readily agreed. Maybe even on this day. But then, Jaskier declares: “Luckily, our gracious hosts have been so kind to already provide us with one.” He stepped out of the way and, to Geralt’s horror, presented a wooden bathtub with candles and rose petals and a nice embroidered linen sheet to avoid any annoying splinters. “Come here, friend, and take a bath.”

“No, you take a bath,” he blurted before he had even time to think about the words coming out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Jaskier wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I’m not the one smelling like he just got dunked into the swamp and then took a nap in the pigpen. You take a bath, Geralt, or you sleep with Roach tonight!”

Accepting his fat, his shoulders fell. “Fuck.”

 ~*~

 It was almost winter, almost time to separate for months, and Geralt almost admitted defeat. Almost. But, of course, he didn’t even manage that.

Honestly, after nigh nine months of trial and error (mostly error) it shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, that even this final opportunity was a complete and utter failure in regards to his plans. How it still did was beyond him.

The door to their inn room shut behind them with a bang, Jaskier leaning against it to block any means of escape. "Geralt of Rivia," he declared boldly, probably as menacing as he could, "what are you playing at?"

"Hm?" he tried innocently.

"Oh, no,” he laughed throatily and raised an accusatory finger, drawing closer with each word. “Oh no, my friend, don't you 'hm' me. You,” the finger poked into his chest, “are acting weird."

"Hmm."

He huffed. "At least we can agree about that. So. What are you playing at? Because I tell you, this has been going on for months and I can't decide whether you are trying to mock me, insult me, or kill me!"

"None of that," Geralt was quick to assure.

"Well, then, what is it?"

His eyes darted back and forth, desperately searching for a way out of this. But Jaskier was directly in front of him, trapping him against the bed, and still blocking the way to the door. There was nowhere to run, so he decided to go for the truth: "I'm trying to do something nice for you!"

The bard gawked at him. Then, he blurted: "What on earth are you talking about?!"

He didn’t say a thing.

“Geralt!” Jaskier took another step forward and as Geralt’s calves hit the mattress, his knees buckled and he sat down involuntarily.

"I—” He threw up his hands in defeat. How on earth was he supposed to explain all of those confusing things going on inside of him. Before he could come up with a satisfying answer, his mouth started talking on his own: “You care so deeply for everyone, let someone care deeply for you."

Silence fell over the room, as Jaskier kept staring and Geralt kept avoiding his gaze. Then, the bard suddenly crouched down, with the exact same expression he had after The Mushrooms. “Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier said in that soft tone he just couldn't quite understand. 'Fond,' his mind supplied, 'adoring.'

"Please," he begged, hiding his face against the reassuring shoulder of his friend, "this has been hell. I tried everything I could think of, and it all failed. Just tell me. Tell me how I can do something nice for you. I'd do anything, anything at all."

"Anything, you say?" He laughed, a playful undertone sneaking into his voice. "Well then, heroic witcher, I would like a kiss,” he said, accompanied by a wink.

Geralt wasn't thinking. If he had been, he'd probably stopped himself. But since any cerebral activity had ceased to exist, he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to the bard's mouth in a chaste kiss.

It was over almost before it had begun, the bard spluttering with surprise: "I- You- I was joking!"

Oh. Fuck. Well, that certainly was a way to end a year of embarrassments. "I'm sorry," he blurted and backed away, frantically scooting back on the bed, only to be stopped by Jaskier's hands.

“I—umm—shit!” Jaskier cursed; now it was him who was avoiding Geralt’s gaze.

He snorted. No hunched shoulders or ducked head could hide the crimson cheeks of his bard. “You’re blushing.”

“Well, you’re an idiot!” he countered. And, well, Jaskier certainly was not prone to be a liar. “I didn't think you’d actually do it, you daft witcher,” he hissed, before his face grew soft and he smiled again, invitingly. “But I also didn't say you should stop.”

It was a terrible line. It was a terrible line and they both knew it. Evidently, they both didn’t care. As soon as the words had left Jaskier’s mouth, they surged forward. It was surreal, really, to finally be granted permission. To finally be able to taste Jaskier’s lips, to pull him in, close, closer, until he was straddling his thighs. To finally be able to dispose of his doublet, push his hands under his shirt and up his back and—

Breathlessly, Geralt pulled away. “I love you,” he blurted.

Jaskier sighed quietly and smiled. “I know,” he whispered and pecked him on his cheek. “You show it in a thousand little ways, every day.” He pecked him on the other cheek.

“I know,” Geralt replied and kissed him on the mouth. “You tell anyone who would listen.”

He chuckled and kissed him again. “I never dared to dream you’d love me like this,” he murmured against his lips.

“But I do.”

“You know,” Jaskier said, playing with the clasps of his armour, “that was awfully nice of you. But if you’d life to do another nice thing for me, to make up for lost time, so to speak, I’ve got a couple of ideas in my mind.”

Geralt groaned and pull away, flopping backwards onto the bed. “No,” he said stubbornly, shoving at the bard who tried to kiss him again. “Nope, not in a thousand years. That was it, you ruined it. Enough nice things for you.”

“Oh, come on,” Jaskier whined. “It wasn’t that terrible. Cheesy, yes, I’ll accept even tacky, but certainly not tasteless enough to warrant such a cruel punishment.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.

Jaskier crossed his arms and pouted. “Alright, maybe it was,” he conceded.

Geralt huffed his agreement, stretching out his hands for his bard’s hips, already tired of this game.

“Regardless,” a smug grin spread on his face as he shimmied closer, “you love me too much to deny me for long.”

“Yeah.” Geralt smirked as well and put his arms around Jaskier’s neck to pull him in for another kiss. “Yeah, I do.”

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Blended

I was (thankfully) given some time off during this holiday season; which I promptly used to spend time with the family and recharge at home. Also spent time watching various movies during this time and a little LoK story idea came from it.

In my usual writing preference – it’s still a Lin/Tenzin endgame story but – in sort of a modern setting AU, blended family/semi-highschool themed with ages differed a bit (Lin and Tenzin was aged down by around 5 years). Expect it to be tropey and may be a bit of a cliché. This is written on a whim so if it doesn’t make sense…ah well. Haha! May edit this piece later on…

I’m considering this to be a short story, just a little self-indulgent-written-for-fun type of thing. But if other people enjoy it too then that’s such an added bonus so I’m sharing it with you as well. 😊 Let me know what you think since this is somewhat different from my usual style, I guess.

Also – I have misgivings regarding creating OCs so I’m likely to lean on canon characters and take a lot of creative license in developing them for the story.

 ---

Title (tentative):  Blended

Legend of Korra, Lin/Tenzin, Modern AU, no bending

(Not sure if one-shot or will be multi-part yet)

 ---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School

“Thank you for making time to meet today,” The silver-haired lady clasped her hands together on her desk. “I know you must have a packed schedule, but I think it would be good to have the check-in session for your daughter today.”

“Yes, of course – anything for my daughter.” The bald and bearded man threw a look at the door’s window, where he could see his daughter swinging her legs while seated at the corridor.

“Ikki is a bright child and she’s been doing her best to catch up with the class requirements. She excels the most at individual tasks.” The teacher continued to talk a little bit more about the projects that the students have been working on.

Teacher Yue handed the father a folder marked “Ikki”. Tenzin carefully picked it up and looked into the contents, smiling as he saw Ikki’s artworks and class outputs.

“However, I see that she seems to have challenges in adjusting in a large class set-up.” Yue shared. “It’s nothing to worry about though. We’ve had several transferees in the past as well and this is usual; I expect that might take a little bit longer since it’s a transition from homeschooling to a big school.”

Tenzin frowned and he hurt for his daughter. His two children had both been homeschooled until recently.

They also had to experience a lot of upheaval in the past year or so – from the divorce, to being uprooted from their childhood home, moving to a new city, and then going to a new school.

He did notice that while his son was as precocious as ever (maybe owing to his young age?), his daughter had become more subdued since their move.

“What can we do for her?”

“Well, we have a big sister-little sister type of mentorship program.” The teacher pushed forward a brochure and several index cards. “It’s mostly an afterschool interaction activity, we have here several students who have been volunteering. Maybe you’d like to ask Ikki to join?” She pointed at the index cards. “Feel free to select which mentor you think would help her best. We usually ask the parent or the student to select their preferred mentor profile from the roster. We would not want Ikki to feel uncomfortable; you’d know her best than any teacher.”

He nodded. After a few moments perusing the index cards and the brochure and pulled out one from the pile. “Let’s go with this girl.”

Tenzin pointed out to a profile labelled Jinora.

 ---

Jinora, Home

The ten-year old girl has just finished putting hair in a bun when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

“Jinora!” It was her oldest brother. “Mom says I can use the car today – want to leave with us instead of riding the bus?”

“Sure!” She called back, quickly grabbing her backpack. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright!”

Smack!

“Hey! Why did you do that for?”

“Good morning bro!”

Jinora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. That was probably her other brother slapping the arm of the other one.

Even at eighteen and sixteen years old respectively, they tend to act like children occasionally to the consternation of their mother.

She hurried down, knowing that if she did not do so, there would be no pancakes left for her.

Jinora heard her mother’s gruff voice in the dining room. “Bolin! Leave some eggs for your sister!”

“But, Mom,” Bolin spoke through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’m a growing boy. I need this stuff.”

“And Jinora is a growing girl,” Their mother drolly responded, taking a sip of her coffee after putting down the last batch of pancakes on the platter. “There should be enough from everyone.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Jinora immediately sat down and her brother forked two pancakes to her plate. “Thanks, Mako.” She slathered butter all over the cakes then squeezed a load of maple syrup.

She ignored Bolin gagging at her left at the amount of sweetness. She also ignored her mother who was hiding a smile and shaking her head at seeing the display.

In their family, it was only Jinora had a penchant for sweets. Her mother said she likely took after her father in that regard.

Her father…her absentee father…

Jinora shook off her maudlin thoughts when she saw Pabu, Bolin’s pet guinea pig, land on her mother’s shoulder, probably hopping from her brother’s backpack which was hung behind his chair.

Pabu began chewing their mother’s greying hair without warning.

Wheek-wheek-wheek.

“BOLIN!”

“I’m so sorry, Mom! Pabu get down from there – leave mom’s hair alone!”

All in all, it was another morning in their household.

It was noisy and sometimes chaotic, but Jinora would not exchange it for the world.

 ---

Ikki, library

Truth be told, Ikki liked going to school. She even liked her teacher and classmates.

She liked to be busy and the activities were very interesting. Getting homeschooled and only seeing their tutor, nanny and Meelo had become very tedious anyway.

Staying at their old home also reminded her acutely that their mother was not there anymore. She did not understand what happened, but she tried to.

It has been more than a year since their parents sat her and her brother down to explain that they were separating but it did not mean they did not love her and Meelo any less.

At first, she thought it might have been her fault (or maybe Meelo’s fault for that matter, he did fart a lot and that annoyed her terribly). Her dad and mom were quick to quash those theories, however. They spoke of drifting apart, change in priorities and other grown-up things that she supposed she will understand when she gets older.

But for now, she supposed as she opened her notebook on one of the long tables in the library, they would need to get used to their new living arrangement.

It was difficult last year as they were shuttled to and from two households. It also did not help that their mother was starting out with her new venture had been spending less time at her home. On the other hand, Ikki noticed their father spending more time with them, cutting down his work hours. It all came to a head when Pema had said she will be moving to another country to establish her new business. And so, they ended up -.

“Hey, are you Ikki?”

Ikki looked up to see an older girl with dark brown hair in a bun.

She nodded her head yes.

The girl gave her a bright smile and extended her hand.

“I’m Jinora and welcome to Republic City!”

 ---

Lin, Future Industries Head Office

Lin tiredly wiped her glasses clean before putting them on again, rereading her email response for one last time before hitting send.

It had been a long yet productive day. Her team had managed to fulfill all the visual design requirements that were due that day. She reviewed the different files sent to the printers, making sure that the final and correct collaterals were attached.

Her last task was to ensure that the last set of proposals were on-brand and aligned with Future Industries’ visual identity. Once she had provided her comments and revisions needed on the file, she sat back as she waited for the files to be uploaded to their server.

She reached for her cellphone, wanting to check on her kids while waiting. She looked at their family group chat and read messages from the last time she sent one.

 Ohana (Lin repressed the urge to cringe. That was the final time that she would ask Bolin to create their group chat)

Lin: Kids – as mentioned earlier, I’ll be home a bit late. No need to drop by to fetch me; have dinner already and don’t wait up.

Jinora: Mom, I’ll be staying behind after class – I got a mentee! ☺ Mako Bolin can you wait up?

Mako: Jinora Bo has training today; I think we can wait for you.

Bolin: Jinora 👍🏼

Jinora: Mako Bolin thanks! 🙌

Jinora: Mako what will you be doing while waiting? You sure you’ll be okay?

Mako: Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.

Lin scrolled through some more messages. Knowing her eldest, Mako would like skulk off to the library.

Jinora: I met my mentee this afternoon. She’s such a lovely girl.

Lin smiled at this. Her daughter had always been the polite one.

Jinora: Her name’s Ikki and she’s two years younger than me. She said she and her father had first checked out Patola Mountain Primary.

Lin frowned. Patola Primary was far; she went there as a child.

Mako: Kid didn’t like it there?

Jinora: They didn’t have the chance to know. They had to move besause of her father’s job.

Bolin: heeey sorry guys- just about to be done with training. Just gonna shower …unless I just shower at home?

Jinora: Ew, no Bo. Shower first please

Mako: Agree. You’ll stink up the car, bro.

Ding!

Lin drew her attention from her phone as her laptop screen indicated that the files have been uploaded. She hit the send button and packed up for the day.

She was looking forward to spending some quiet time with her kids tonight.

 ---

Bumi, White Lotus Headquarters

Bumi leaned back in his fully ergonomic chair, thinking about how times had changed.

Being in an office was something he balked at when he was younger. But now, after serving a long career in defense and military, he submitted his retirement and come to the aid of his younger brother.

Ah, his only brother – back in the day, he would be hard-pressed to keep contact with his brother.

His brother who took on the role of spearheading their family’s company back when their father died.

His brother who had the task of continuing to revive the company and making sure it keeps up with the times.

His brother, who, despite being the youngest, was tagged by the board of directors as the heir apparent owing to his excellent academic records.

His brother who Bumi had felt envious of at some point. He later on realized that his brother actually missed out on a lot of freedom in his life.

His brother who managed to keep their company part of the Top 100 and make malls relevant again.

His brother who probably made some life decisions for the benefit of their company rather than his own.

His brother who had been through hell and back the past year when he and his much younger wife called it quits. His brother whose ex-wife is now galivanting somewhere in the Fire Nation, expanding a business built on horticulture and floristry.

His brother who, despite making some decisions that Bumi might not agree with, is still family.

And if there was anything that their parents taught them – family is permanent.

The ex-military man took a deep breath, looking at their last family photo. For what it’s worth, he liked to think that their fragmented family had found its way back into each other in their adulthood.

Bumi had to admit that Tenzin did have remarkable business acumen that benefited their company, a conglomerate built on the mall industry. With the fourth industrial revolution at hand and the shift towards virtual and digital, the White Lotus Corporation had been challenged during the last years of their father’s life. Tenzin had worked hard to change the ways of working and the culture in the company.

To do it, he had to make sure that there is a buy-in from the board. Ironically, to bring the company to the current century, he had to abide with one of the most archaic practices – an arranged marriage, a marriage that would serve as a press release to the business world in general, that their company was stable and there to stay.

Bumi had been surprised to get a call from Tenzin back then. He had called to let him know of his impending engagement, seeking support. Bumi had cheered, given his congratulations – but named the wrong bride. He had launched into a long tirade, berating his brother for his choices. Tenzin had shouted back his defense.

He still did not understand why Tenzin acted the way he did. However, he could never regret his niece and nephew which came from this questionable business-like union.

Bloop-bloop-bloop.

Speaking of which…

“Hey Uncle Bumi!”

“Hello there, cloudchild!” Bumi greeted his niece with a nickname his sister Kya came up with, given that the kids were actually born somewhere near the mountains. “How’s the new school?”

“It’s great!” Ikki beamed at him and gushed into a long narrative of what she had been up to in the past days.

Bumi enjoyed video conferencing with his niece and nephew. Granted, Meelo had a short attention span but Ikki had always had the flair for storytelling.

It pleased him to see her spark back. He had heard from his brother and their trusted bodyguard/chauffeur Shung that Ikki had been withdrawn during the first weeks in Republic City. It saddened him to learn that the otherwise bubbly child had been affected in that way.

“…And then, I invited her over! Daddy said it was okay – and she’s sooooo nice. Didjaknow she also knows how to play the piano! We practiced a bit. She’s good even if her family didn’t have a piano, they only had this electronic keyboard but it’s so short. But she did well. She said she had a stepdad and it was totally okay. They’re a happy family. D’you think I’ll have a stepmom too? I think it would be okay if Daddy thinks so and maybe we’ll be a happy family here too and you know I joined this contest in school and I-.”

“Whoa, slow down, kiddo.” Bumi let out his booming laughter. “I didn’t quite catch it – what’s the name of your new friend?” He was heartened that Ikki seemed to have adjusted better now.

“Jinora!” His seven-year-old niece practically chirped the name. “She’s actually here!” Ikki turned to someone from beyond the view of the webcam. “Jin, it’s my Uncle Bumi – I want you to meet him!”

“Um, it’s fine, Ikki.” A calm voice of an older child can be heard. “I can wait here.”

“Nooonseeense.” Bumi could see Ikki pull something, rather someone to the camera. “Uncle Bumi, this is my friend Jinora. Jinora, my Uncle Bumi.” She said by way of introducing them.

Jinora gives a small wave and a soft hello.

Bumi gives them a short bow. “Nice to meet you, Jinora. It’s great to meet the friend of my favorite niece (Ikki ­please don’t tell Korra).”

Ikki gives a delighted clap and proceeds into another lengthy tale on what she and Jinora were working on that day at home.

Bumi smiles back at them, observing the children’s banter as they demonstrate the monologue that Ikki was preparing for. It was amusing.

Heh, they could be cousins.

He recalled when he was young, he, his siblings and even the sisters-who-must-not-be-named would stay over in one house after school to work on school projects. It had been one of the highlights of his childhood. He was glad that his niece would be somewhat experience it; he had been worried a few years back when Tenzin and Pema (primarily Pema) were very protective of their kids. It was to the point that they were both homeschooled and basically kept out of the public eye and the public itself.

It can’t be good for socialization. But what can he say? He didn’t have kids so he probably wouldn’t know what he was talking about, right?

He’s just fun ole Uncle Bumi.

Nonetheless, as he turned his attention back to the two girls, Bumi promised himself that he will always be there for his brother’s kids. It’s the least he could do as their godfather.

 ---

Mako, Republic City High

“I worry about Mom.” Mako picked at his dumplings during lunch time, a stark contrast to his brother who was eating a lot (“Coach said I needed to bulk up!”).

“Why? Has my dad been overworking her?” Asami slipped beside him at their usual lunch table. She brought out her packed lunch of pasta and a bottle of coconut water. “Just let me know and I can try to look into it.” She was, after all, interning at Future Industries in her spare time.

“Now that’s just powerplay.” The exchange student from Ba Sing Se High chortled, taking a sip of his sparkling water. “And that’s a no-no and Auntie will definitely get mad if she hears about that.”

“You would know about powerplay,” Bolin swallowed a mouthful of chicken, pointing his fork at the other boy. “Wasn’t that why you got the last slot in the elective you wanted to take this year?”

“Who? Me?” The other boy dramatically placed a hand on his chest, eyes widening. “You think, I Wu would stoop so low as to manipulate the results of the audition for the voice elective? Don’t you think I have enough talent to get into that class?”

Bolin just snorted into his food and Asami choked on her drink. Wu cracked a smile at their reactions.

“Again, Wu – don’t let Mom hear you call her Auntie.” Mako reiterated for the nth time in their friendship. “She hates it.”

“That’s why I do it.” Wu winked at them.

“Wait, Mako, what were you saying about Mom?” Bolin managed to ask in between bites of food. “Is something wrong? I mean, she’s a little bit run-down but she said it’s just because of the time of the year.” The last quarter of the year, after all, is usually the busiest.

“No, it’s just – well,” Mako sought words to explain it. “I’ll be leaving for college, you’ll be away for training, and okay, Jinora would be there but she’s in middle school now…” He trailed off. With Jinora’s aptitude and interests, Mako would not be surprised if she took on a lot of electives and extra-curricular activities. “Mom works too hard, you know?” He ended lamely.

“She has always looked out for us, but yeah,” A shadow passed over his brother’s face. “Ever since Pa passed away a few years back, she poured much of her energy to ensuring our welfare. She’s barely spent time for herself.”

Mako met Bolin’s now worried eyes.

The brothers knew that their mom had sacrificed a lot for them and Jinora.

When they first met Lin and one-year-old Jinora, she had already been under a lot of duress – taking care of a baby, leaving behind Jinora’s deadbeat dad, settling down in a new neighborhood and restarting a career. It had been two years later when she married their father San, who had been a sergeant at the city’s police station at the time.

And, Mako thought wearily, history has not been kind to Lin Beifong at all. While they did have four years (four wonderful years that Mako will treasure for the rest of his life), their fairytale-like family life came to an abrupt end.

San was involved in an armed bank robbery four years later and had not survived the gunshot wounds – leaving Lin behind with two boys at the brink of puberty and a young daughter.

Bolin and Jinora had been very confused at the time. Mako, already fifteen, had been expecting that he and Bolin would be forced into the system or sent off to their relatives in Ba Sing Se. He felt that Lin would not be in any way obligated to take him and his brother in; they were not blood relatives anyway. They were just stepchildren.

To his stunned astonishment, Lin did neither.  He recalled crying in Lin’s arms that night after his father’s funeral.

She had asked him, with a confused expression, why he was packing. Lin wept alongside him as she explained that Mako and Bolin are her sons and there was no way that she was sending them away.

Since then, Mako made sure to look after his mom the way she looked after them. The brothers’ protectiveness was soon well-known in their neighborhood.

Probably also why no one had expressed any type of interest towards Lin even years after…

Mako reflected that it might have been a good move on their part but now it might have been a little bit selfish.

He and Bolin would now need to rethink their strategy…

After all, their mom Lin deserves all the happiness in the world.

 ---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School – Parking Lot

“Are you sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to have a sleepover?” Tenzin looked over at his daughter, a teasing grin out of place on his face.

“Of course not, Daddy.” Ikki replied indignantly, kicking pebbles as they waited at the parking lot.

“Why can’t you do the project at our house?” He was actually leaning towards allowing Ikki on her first ever sleepover/overnight but he wanted to hear from his daughter.

“We’ll need a big big printer, Daddy.” Ikki raised her arms to show him just how big. “We’ll need to print out my project and Jinora’s mommy has a big printer and lamin-lami-lamintor (“Laminating machine, dear?” Tenzin clarified.) because she frilancets (“Freelances?”).”

“Mmhhmm.” Tenzin looked across the school building, shifting Ikki’s overnight bag on his shoulder.

Ikki timidly approached him the other night, asking if she could spend Friday night and Saturday at her friend Jinora’s house. They had an output required of them of the big sister-little sister program. Tenzin was actually unclear as to what is the specific output that the girls had decided on but it did require a large-scale printer and a laminating machine.

Jinora attempted to explain to him what they were going to do during the last week that they were in his house but he felt out of his depth so he had nodded and let them work on what they needed to.

The father had met Jinora several times already in the past months so he knew the child was in earnest that their intent for the overnight activity would be mainly to finish a project. He also realized (well, Bumi made him realize) that Ikki was old enough for a sleepover (and Pema’s overprotectiveness would be to the detriment of their kids’ development). Additionally, he thought grimly, it would also keep Meelo from wreaking havoc on the work area of the girls.

Nonetheless, he took up Jinora’s mom’s offer to meet up for snacks before she takes the kids home. This would give him a chance to meet the mom, discuss some ground rules and as well thank the mom privately for letting Jinora help Ikki come out of her shell during her first months in Republic City Primary. Jinora did say that her pa and mom used to do the same before she spends the night over at her other friends – the parents meet up, share a small meal, get to know each other. Tenzin thought this was a good parenting tactic; it would definitely assuage his fears as well.

But now, said mom was late.

Jinora had hurried to them, dragging with her a large cartolina and illustration board. She explained that her mom’s work meeting overran and if it would be okay if she rode with them? Her mom will be meeting them at the local diner instead, so they don’t get caught up in traffic.

Tenzin could feel his impatience growing.

So far, this woman was not making a good impression on him.

How on earth she produced a lovely daughter like Jinora was beyond him.

 ---

Lin, Narook’s

Damn Sato, Lin ground her teeth as she finally parked her car into the last parking space in front of Narook’s. Of all the days for a meeting to go over time, it has to be today when she had explicitly asked to leave early to fetch her daughter.

Jinora had provided her enough context to know that making a good impression with Ikki’s dad was important to her daughter.

Lin heard that the dad was some big shot divorced corporate guy, who, she thought, was a bit paranoid about his kids’ safety.

Lin acted as an arts club moderator so she was regularly present at the Republic City High, which gave her chances to meet Ikki whenever she drops by the primary school to fetch Jinora.

The girl was a sweet child – energetic and delightful once she felt comfortable enough with you. It had come to her attention, in the short conversations with the kid, that she was not allowed to go out and play with other kids in their old neighborhood so she was very much excited to have a new friend outside of her class and her family.

When Jinora mentioned their culminating project and their dilemma on the timeline and materials, Lin suggested that they take the project home to work on.

The crestfallen expression of Ikki as she stated that her dad would not allow her pushed Lin to share that she’s willing to talk to the dad to help convince him to give his permission.

The infectious smile that burst on Ikki’s face was enough to convince Lin that she made the right decision.

Now, however, as she entered the diner, spotting her daughter at the corner booth, she froze and started to doubt all her life decisions that led to this moment.

Wondering and questioning the universe what had she done in her past life for her to deserve this.

Across Jinora, beside the talkative Ikki, sat Tenzin – her former boyfriend and Jinora’s father.

 ---

Note: Soooo hmmmmmm. What do you think?

[deardragonbook]

Editing and Levels of Editing

Before I begin, I wrote this whole thing out this morning, pressed save as draft and guess what post did not save as a draft? Yeah. So if it feels a bit more dry or to the point than my usual posts, I apologize. And if you prefer it like that, tell me, because I’m great at accidentally losing drafts! 

This post isn’t about how I edit (I’m sure I’ll do that eventually), it’s more about how much I edit and specifically how that changes depending on what I’m writing. 

So I measure how much I edit by drafts a lot of the time, but that isn’t entirely accurate because there are drafts and then are drafts. When I’m writing a book, I write a first draft, I write it carelessly and without looking back, then I start over for my second draft. That’s what I’m going to refer to as a solid draft, when I write the whole thing out again. 

For my third draft onwards I’ll usually be editing the second draft, editing could involve cutting out whole paragraphs and writing them again, but I’m not starting from zero. This is what I will call a soft draft. 

Now, organized from most to least drafts: 

1.- A to be sold book. At this time, that’s just Dear Dragon and the next books coming up in that series. People pay money to read this, so it has to be good. And what each person considers good can be relative, for me, it’s generally around seven to nine drafts. Two solid drafts and the rest soft drafts. My first book took me about twoooo yeeeears (voice full of hesitation), technically three but with long hiatuses in between and… it’s a mystery for the ages, I’ll be honest. The point is, lots of editing, lots of work. Obviously you aren’t going to put as much time into every work you do. 

2.- A not be sold book. So, because I’m one hundred per cent incapable of doing a single project at a time, sometime after my beta readers received Dear Dragon, I started to write another shorter novel, it was an idea I’d had running through my head for about two years or so, and I just wanted it out. 

I knew this wasn’t going to be anywhere near the quality of Dear Dragon, if only because I was nowhere near as in love with the idea. So as to not put pressure on myself I thought, I’ll upload it to Wattpad, it’s a social media site for writing, maybe I can get my writing noticed a bit before publishing my actual novel… 

I’ll do a post about the different social media sites and being an author on social media at a later date. Once I feel like I know what I have to say because… I have a lot to say. 

But anyway, it’s going to be free, but it’s still a proper little stand alone micro-novel. How many drafts? Three. In my case, three. It was a solid first draft, solid second and soft third draft. It took me about a year with long hiatuses in between because as said previously, it just wasn’t high on my priority list. 

It’s complete from today (if I’m doing the maths right because I don’t publish these on the same day I write them)! Check it out. 

I recommend binging it because that’s how you get the most out of the small details. 

3.- Chaptered stories that don’t stand alone. I actually have two stories that fit into this category: Oppida Institute for Reformation and Love, Coffee and Dragons. They are both prequel series to my main book series Dear Dragon. 

Now, I do less editing in these then I will a not for sale novel, BUT, I do a lot more plot related editing. What do I mean by that? I spent a lot of time double checking timelines, maps, general continuity. See, because this takes place before the main series, a lot of it affects the main series, so I have to be cautious not to make any mistakes. 

In both I do a solid first draft and a soft draft, in this soft draft I mainly work on catching any grammar mistake, touch up on fluidity and double check timelines and maps. 

For Love, Coffee and Dragons I write my first draft in word and then edit it another day in Hemingway. 

For Oppida Institute for Reformation I will export it from word to my iPad, edit it by hand and then go to Hemingway to pass those edits on. This means I read through my draft about three times instead of two. Mainly because the plot elements affect the main series more than Love, Coffee and dragons which is, what I call an emotional support story (I’ll probably do a post about what I mean by that… later). 

These both probably take me a couple of weeks for each Act, which will be somewhere between five and fifteen chapters. I upload each chapter once a week so. That works well. 

4.- One-Shots. I do plenty of quick one-shots, Market Day or Photos that follow my book’s main character as a child. Night Out which follows one of the old kings. And every article up on my web. 

Because everything I just mentioned is in the universe of Dear Dragon (beginning to think I need to branch out a bit) my editing is mostly double checking everything is properly placed on the timeline (guess I should do a post about how I write and keep track of the timelines, huh?). I revise grammar but don’t tend to go over fluidity as much as the other stories. 

Because there one-shots are usually low stakes and more just an exploration of something simple, such as the terrifying feeling of not knowing where your parents are at the market, they usually are written and edited the same day or not long after. 

5.- Blog Posts. So, this. Before here I used to do some writing tip posts on my site, I also have my personal tumblr where I usually ramble on about existentialism and whatever comes to mind. For these posts I write them (solid first draft) and then I read them over, add in links, make things bold and try to catch as many typos as possible. I probably don’t catch all of them and often click edit if I spot one. 

But that’s fine, because I’m trying to upload one a day, so it’s not supposed to be this high quality experience. It’s just me trying to share the most useful bits and bobs from my own experience. 

This takes me probably an hour or so depending a lot on the article. 

So, did you get anything out of this post? I’d not heard anybody talk about the difference in effort you put into different works and thought it might be interesting, but in retrospect maybe nobody talks about it because it’s precisely the opposite. You tell me! Feedback and criticism helps me know what I should be putting more time into. 

[dusk-writes]

eyy friends, I just uploaded chapter 6 of my big wolfstar fic just in time for Moony’s bday today– and this chapter just happens to contain a flashback to Remus’s 18th, so I’ve decided to post that section here as well! I hope you enjoy this little scene; I think it works pretty well as a standalone c:

———

On a clear moonless night in March of seventh year, Sirius finds Remus atop the astronomy tower, gazing out over the grounds. There’s a half-spent joint hanging loosely from his fingers, his soft curls and the lines of his scars silvered by the starlight. He looks strangely ageless, like an ancient marble statue, perfection set in stone and made all the more beautiful for all the scars of ages past…

‘Looking for me?’ Sirius asks softly.

Remus twitches, the way he does when he has failed to notice Sirius approaching (not common, considering his acute sense of smell, but in this case the pungent smoke has probably masked Sirius’s scent). He lifts the joint to his chapped lips, and draws in a deep breath, the glow of the smouldering tip reflecting golden in his irises. He holds the breath, then lets the smoke out in a thin jet that is rapidly whisked away to nothing by a chill gust of wind. ‘Yes, I regularly come up here to look for my mates,’ he answers dryly.

Remus takes another pull on his joint, then offers it to Sirius, who accepts it delicately between his fingers. ‘Perhaps I just wanted to have a smoke in peace,’ Remus murmurs, watching with a strange intensity as Sirius places the unlit end between his lips.

‘Mmh, nah… you’d have picked a better place to hide if you didn’t want to be found.’

Silence settles over them, only the soft whistling of the wind over the castle rooftops beneath them. Sirius draws in a deep breath of his own, the musky smell of the weed at odds with the frosty night air. He passes the joint back to Remus, who leans against the parapet, gazing up at the sky. ‘…What about you, then?’

‘Maybe I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.’

Remus hesitates– it’s not yet midnight, a fact which Sirius expects him to point out (thereby forcing Sirius to defend it)– but the comment never comes, and instead Remus just quirks an eyebrow at him with a stilted sort of nonchalance and says, ‘You couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour?’

‘We’re both awake either way, so why bother?’

Remus shrugs, and looks back out over the grounds, his brows drawn together and his mouth clamped tightly shut, shoulders tense.

‘I made you something,’ Sirius says awkwardly, unsure what’s going on with Remus. 'I know you don’t like expensive things, so I thought…’ Remus emits a strangled choked sound, and Sirius shifts uncomfortably. 'Er, well, it’s nothing much, so…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Remus whispers. 'I just don’t… I’m not really in the mood, I guess.’

Sirius reaches out, half of a mind to take Remus’s hand, but Remus shifts, pulling the hand inwards. Sirius lets his own arm drop, instead turning to lean his shoulder against the parapet. ‘Talk to me, Moons.’

‘Honestly… I’m not sure what there is to celebrate.’ Remus slides down the low wall until he’s sat slouched against it, and Sirius sits next to him, their shoulders bumping together. ‘This is… it’s going to sound bad,’ Remus mumbles, his shoulders hunched.

‘Try me.’

Remus huffs out a breath, but continues. ‘In just a few months, we’ll all leave here, and… you and James, you’ve got so much ahead of you to look forward to, and even Peter has his family’s apothecary business to go into. But for me– coming here, to Hogwarts, it’s the closest I’ll ever have to a normal life. After this is over… I’m just another fucking werewolf.’

‘Bloody hell, Moony,’ he growls; 'you can’t honestly think that we’ll just abandon you as soon as we’ve left school.’

‘Well… no. But there’s a war on, and James has got Lily, and you–’

‘I’m going to stop you right there, Remus,’ he says flatly, and Remus blinks up at him, startled at the lack of nickname. 'I can’t speak for James or Peter, but I didn’t break the fucking law just for a lark– Padfoot is all for you, and always has been, and will be for as long as you want me there. This–’ (he gestures at himself) ‘–is forever, and I really do mean that.’ This time, Sirius doesn’t hesitate to place his hand over Remus’s, twining their fingers together, and in a moment of boldness he finds the strength to say what he’s never dared to before– ‘I swore to myself that you’d never spend another full moon alone, not as long as it’s within my power to help.’

Remus’s eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. He has scars on his face and a nose that’s too large and crooked for most people to consider properly attractive and his curls are a mess where he’s been pulling on them and he never seems to know what to do with his long lanky limbs… and he is the most gorgeous person Sirius could possibly imagine. Remus Lupin looks at him in utter disbelief, and Sirius only wishes Remus could see himself the way Sirius does: Beautiful, you’re fucking beautiful as the moon itself.

‘…Sirius, I– but what if you find someone? Who you… want to be with, I mean. Not just as a quick hookup, but…’ Remus shakes his head, huffs out a shaky breath that might almost have qualified as a laugh but seems rather closer to a sob. ‘When you find your own Lily Evans– the person you want to spend the rest of your life with– you needn’t hold yourself to that.’

Sod off, Lupin, Sirius wants to scream, it’s you, it’s always been you– but he doesn’t; he bites it back, as it wouldn’t be right to push that sort of thing on Remus. He knows that Remus fancies blokes, but it is quite obvious that Remus does not fancy him (plenty of other people fancy Sirius, but Remus has seen his darkest twisted secrets and someone as good as Remus couldn’t possibly want someone so messed up). No, Sirius cannot risk their friendship on an unwanted and unrequited declaration of love.

‘…Then I suppose they’d just have to get used to you, Loops, because I’m still never going to go back on my word, no matter what sort of twisted hypothetical situation you try to throw at me.’ Sirius takes a deep breath, then levels his gaze at Remus. ‘Unless you can honestly tell me you want me gone– tell me to fuck off and really mean it. But don’t insult me by suggesting that I don’t understand what I’m offering, or whatever the fuck else you seem to think.’

Remus hears the challenge in his voice, the sharp edge to his words, and glances at him guiltily. ‘…Of course not,’ he croaks. ‘I… didn’t mean to suggest that you’d ever… that you’re not…’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry.’

Sirius feels the flash of anger and frustration melt away into nothing, vanishing as quickly as they’d come. ‘Don’t be,’ he says, leaning into Remus’s side and sliding an arm around his shoulders. ‘Only… you of all people should know that dogs are very loyal creatures. And I really do mean every word of it.’ Sirius rubs his hand in a slow circle over Remus’s back, and leans forward to look him in the eyes. ‘This was my choice, Remus Lupin, and I’ve never once regretted it.’ And I never will.

Remus gazes at him, wide-eyed, the joint between his fingers long since fizzled out.

‘And… look, now it’s past midnight. So, once again, happy birthday you daft tosser.’

Remus can’t help but smile at that. ‘You said you… made me something?’

Sirius smiles, and pulls the box from the pocket of his robe. ‘All by myself,’ he says proudly.

Remus takes the box and opens it, revealing an assortment of chocolates, moulded into various star shapes. ‘Oh! They look wonderful, Sirius– this can’t have been easy.’

‘Well, the outside is just that Honeydukes 70% you like; I only melted it down and reshaped it to make these.’

‘But… there’s a filling?’

‘All different flavours,’ Sirius says with relish, and he grins and shakes his head as Remus lifts the box to his face. 'You won’t be able to smell what’s inside, though– that’s what makes this my Siriusly Special Starlight Surprise box.’

Remus’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You’re right… that’s impressive.’

‘I wanted to show you without Prongs or Wormy around,’ Sirius admits. 'I didn’t want to risk anyone else stealing one, since they’re all specially made for you.’

‘Oh,’ Remus says again, a little breathlessly, his gaze returning magnetically to the box. His long fingers skim delicately over the edges of the chocolates, before selecting one at random, bringing it to his lips. His tongue flicks out, eyes bright with curiosity when he still can’t detect the mystery flavour. He bites down, and lets out a soft moan. ‘Ohh…’

Sirius watches, practically vibrating with excitement and nerves; his whole body feels warm and tingly, his heart racing and his cheeks flushed, and he bites down on the knuckle of his index finger to stop himself blurting out something foolish, pestering Remus with half a dozen questions all at once (which flavour did he get? is it all right? is making your definitely-platonic best mate custom chocolates for his birthday Too Much? what if Remus reads too much into it and gets uncomfortable sleeping in the same dorm with a bloke who might sometimes think about what it would be like to kiss him, or other things even more unspeakable? or worse, what if Remus does think about those things too but then they try something and Sirius cocks it up? and on and on and on) and Sirius has to stop himself from reaching out and snatching the box back, chucking it off the tower and into the lake far below.

Remus stares at him, with a heated sort of fascination. ‘Did you… really come up with this all on your own? The recipes for the fillings, and whatever you’ve done to suppress the smell, and…’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius says, attempting a casual smile. 'So you like it? What flavour did you get?’

‘Sirius… this is…’ Remus is, for once, at a loss for words, and for the briefest split second Sirius thinks he might just lean in and press their lips together, let Sirius taste its remnants on his own tongue– but then Remus shakes his head, and the moment is lost. ‘It’s fucking fantastic, as you bloody well know; I’ve never had anything else like it. It’s… magical.’

‘Well, yes,’ Sirius deadpans. 'We are wizards, after all.’

Remus rolls his eyes. ‘Oh sod off, you know what I mean. In a metaphorical sense.’

And of course Sirius does know, because he has felt it too. ‘Like stepping into the Great Hall for the first time,’ he supplies, remembering the first time he’d looked up at the lofty ceiling alight with hundreds of floating candles, the stars beyond much brighter than they ever were in London…

‘Exactly.’ Remus smiles, soft and fond. 'And the flavour was a bit spicy; definitely cinnamon, and… something I’ve tasted in the Potters’ cooking.’

Sirius grins. ‘Full marks, Mr Lupin.’

‘And you said they’re all unique?’ Remus’s eyes stray back to the box, which Sirius reaches over to snap closed.

‘Moony, you fiend, they’re meant to be savoured, not gobbled up all at once!’ He clasps his hand solidly over Remus’s, to ensure it can’t get up to any mischief. ‘…And yes, they’re all different, so you have a lot more to look forward to, but only if you take them one at a time.’

‘All right,’ Remus laughs, setting the box carefully aside. ‘How did you do it? Where did you find the time, or…’

‘Trade secret, Moonshine.’ Sirius bumps their shoulders together. 'It’s like what they say about the Muggle Magic– a Magician never reveals his secrets.’ He gives Remus’s fingers a squeeze. 'If you’re that fond of them, though… perhaps they’ll make an encore performance next year.’

Remus relaxes with a sigh, leaning into him. ‘You really mean it, then?’

‘I love running with you on the moons, Remus Moony Lupin. I can’t imagine anything that could ever change that.’ Sirius brushes his thumb over Remus’s bony knuckles, the small scar curving across one of them, down the back of one long finger– Remus has the loveliest hands– and Sirius decides to throw caution to the winds. 'Live with me,’ he blurts out.

‘Erm– sorry?’

‘After graduation,’ Sirius elaborates. 'My Uncle Alphard left me his flat in London– it’s a nice place; I went to see it after I got the letter.’ Sirius shifts so he can look at Remus. 'At first I thought…’ He gives his head a small shake, shrugs off the truth of how much he wants Remus there, the two of them close. 'Well, it’d be big enough for all four of us, yeah? Prongs said he liked the sound of it.’

For a split second, Remus looks oddly crestfallen, but it’s gone so quickly Sirius thinks he must have imagined it. 'I suppose it’ll be a bit soon for him to move in with Lily,’ Remus says.

Sirius snorts, a wry smile twisting his mouth. 'If she’s not grown sick of him by then, you mean. Still dunno what got into her head, asking him out in the first place…’

Remus snickers at that, his breath clouding on the cold night air. 'Thought she’d broken his brain when she did,’ he says, and laughs out loud when Sirius imitates the panicked look that had come over James’s face– like a deer in headlights, they’d ribbed him after the fact. It had been the last week of term before winter hols, and Lily had approached him in the common room and asked him out to a Hogsmeade date (sometime during the break, after the majority of the students had gone home, since they were both staying and it would be nice to have the village to themselves) and James had hardly slept the night before– but of course it had gone perfectly once James got over his anxiety and remembered that he and Lily had been friendly for months by that point, ever since they began working together in their duties as Head Boy and Girl…

Sirius shakes his head, and pulls Remus into a friendly one-armed hug (he is very careful not to exceed the bounds of what would be considered ‘friendly’, careful not to overstep and make Remus uncomfortable). ‘…Anyway, think about it, will you? Alphard’s flat has got more space than I’d ever need for myself, and I’d miss having you lot around… and it’s properly mine so none of us would have to pay any rent, and… we’ll be able to plan the moons, just like we do here. We’ll find someplace we can all run together, and it’ll be bloody brilliant.’

Remus smiles faintly, and hums as he settles back against Sirius’s side– and despite the fact that they’re on top of the astronomy tower past midnight in the chill Scottish spring, Sirius suddenly feels very warm.

‘…So you don’t need to worry about the future, Re,’ he continues, trying to think of anything but the solid warmth of Remus against him, the brush of soft tawny curls against his cheek. 'It’ll be okay.’ He can’t actually promise that, of course– not with the war looming over them, increasingly impossible to ignore– but Sirius is confident that they’ll work something out. If they could design and create the Map with no outside help, and become Animagi at fifteen, they can manage this, too. 'As long as we all stick together, we’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah,’ Remus murmurs. 'I’ll think about it.’ He gives Sirius’s fingers a squeeze. 'Thanks, Pads. For everything.’

Sirius squeezes back, and thinks that nothing he does could ever be enough. He wishes he could give Remus the whole world, every star in the sky.

———

read the rest of chase the stars here!! it’s a (very long) slowburn wolfstar-raising-Harry fic, with plenty more Marauders Era flashbacks like this one as well :D

[blackberrydothings]

Duke Thomas vs the non-verbal vocabulary

Duke Week (but like a week later) of @duketectivecomics day 6: All in the Batfamily.

Summary: When Duke joined the family he knew he would have to learn lots of things, including survival skills and where Alfred hides the cookies. He never thought that he would need to master the unspoken language that lies under every action of the bats.

Or

Duke finds himself trying to understand his new family’s ways of communication, until he starts doing the same.

Notes: sorry for being late!  wanted to make this fic without dialogue but gave up at the first try. If u see any mistake, u can go ahead and tell me, my English is far from perfect. Well, that’s all, thanks for reading! (I don’t own any of these characters, they belong to dc comics and that stuff)

….

The sun is setting when Duke arrives at the cave after a long but quiet day, his body aching for a nap or one of Alfred’s meals, whatever comes first. 

If it weren’t for the blue light coming from the computer and the sound of typing he would have thought that the place was empty. But Duke can distinguish Bruce profile from where he stands, taking off his helmet. The older man is sitting without his cowl, his posture the one of someone who is trying not to fall asleep. The bags under his eyes a confirmation that Duke does not need. 

“Long day in Wayne Enterprises?” He tries as an attempt at small conversation. As usual, it does not work. Bruce gives him a side glance and murmurs something to himself, not bothering to clarify what it was. Even so, he notices the man relaxing a little in his presence, which Duke counts as a win. 

He knows that he can’t fool anyone (much less the Batman) but he takes longer to put his things aside, pretending that he has to stay in the cave a little more time than necessary. When there is not any excuse left, he heads towards the exit. Bruce has not spoken or abandoned his position in front of the computer yet, an open case in front of his eyes. 

“Have you ever thought about going on patrols during the day? You know, for a better sleep schedule.” Duke asks, fully aware of the answer and when Bruce gives him a grunt, he has to suppress a laugh.

He is too far away to listen when in a low voice, the man answers: “It would ruin the aesthetic.”

….

Alfred, as the omnipotent force that Duke has started to think that he is, is there when someone from the family needs him. But even so, he is always surprised to find the man in the kitchen making him breakfast. 

Duke is usually already on his senses at six in the morning, and a few minutes later he is going downstairs, more often than not passing by one of the other bats, still dressed up and yawning. When he arrives at his destination, Alfred is there with a relaxed pose, like waiting for him. 

“Morning, Alf” Duke says while offering his help, just for the man to deny it. It takes a few seconds to be ready but then Duke is drinking his hot chocolate with a smile on his face. 

“Did you sleep well, Master Duke?” Alfred asks while sitting down at his side. It is a rare sight, given the fact that the man is always doing something, and Duke is secretly proud to be able to see him like that, when there are no immediate worries or tasks. 

“As good as one can ask for.” Duke shrugs and then adds “Eight full hours tho.”

“Four more than the average in this house.” The man says, and Duke is not sure if it is the morning or the words itselves, but he laughs. 

The silence that follows is comfortable, and neither of them has a wish to interrupt it. They keep each other company until Duke finishes his breakfast, and when he has to go, Alfred stands up offering a warm smile, before he also starts with his day. 

….

Duke hates nightmares. 

Yes, he fights criminals on a daily basis, he knows pretty well how to manage Two-Face or the Penguin, but nightmares are another type of monster all together. And he hates them. 

They often start as good dreams, the kind of dreams that makes you want to stay asleep, but also the kind of ones where you do not want to realise it is not real. And that does not help Duke when they transform into madness and chaos. When the images of a happy childhood become the picture of a broken family, and the laughs coming from his parents stop fitting them. 

But there is something that Duke hates more than nightmares: waking up from them. Waking up, alone in a bed that is not the one from his home, is just a reminder that there is nothing untrue about his dreams. That he has his parents, but that their minds had gone far away. 

He adjusts in his bed while trying to suppress a sob when he realises that he is not alone this time. Duke should be surprised that Dick is laying on top of his mattress like it is his own, but he is not. In fact, it is more of a common occurrence around the Manor to find more than one bat sleeping in a single space (yes, that includes Bruce); but them appearing in the middle of the night to Duke’s, well, that’s not as common. 

“Couldn’t sleep, yours was closer, I hope you don’t mind” Dick’s eyes remain closed but he speaks in a voice that is too clear to be sleepy. Duke knows he is lying, his rooms are not even on the same floor, but decides not to comment on it. 

“Sure” he answers, and something in the back of his mind relaxes. He might not know if Dick really wanted company or if he has some older-brother-sense that warns him when someone needs him, but he is not complaining. 

Duke’s nightmares won’t go, but he has a family. He is not alone.  

….

Wayne Manor has a library big enough to entertain yourself for months, and Duke has spent several hours on its quietness. But there are days, just like this one, when he prefers to go to the public one, where the things do not seem so immaculate and he is not afraid of stepping on something. 

As almost everything in Gotham, the public library is old, with high ceilings and large corridors that Duke is pretty sure could lead to the underground if he gets too distracted. Dirt gathers on top of the shelves with books never touched, and the light coming from the large windows gives an ethereal aura to the place. 

Duke has been looking for something to read for the last hour, four books placed on one of the tables near his bag, but none of them caught his attention for more than a few minutes. He is already sitting down with a fifth on his hand when he notices a movement at his right. A figure that Duke recognizes appears with their own books and takes a place next to him. 

Jason looks extremely calm when he nods towards Duke as a greeting, like he belongs in the library and its silence more than anywhere else. It is an interesting sight to contrast with his usual booming and alert self.

They stay like that a few more moments, until Duke groans tiredly when the fifth book ends up being as boring as the other four. He is ready to get up once more when he hears a soft laugh coming from Jason. As soon as Duke looks at him he realises that his brother is offering him a book from his pile, a face that might say “I dare you”. Duke is not someone who would back out from an unspoken dare, so he takes it. 

It is apparently an old collection of poems, the cover is worn out and some of the pages have notes in a neat handwriting that must be Jason’s. If it weren’t because he was the one who offered it, Duke would feel like he is intruding. He starts reading. 

Duke spends the rest of the afternoon in the library, with a silent companion. 

….

It is three in the afternoon and the cave is empty. 

Duke has been looking at the ceiling for the last half an hour while trying to tie up the loose ends of a case that had gone cold a week ago. He got it yesterday morning when the Police Department desisted from keeping an investigation, probably remembering that they could send it to one of the bats. 

He has the feeling that helping in cold cases happened more often in the daytime than in the night, where the Police Department (and Gordon) were already used to having the extra help, or were already resigned to it. There are a limited number of times of the Batman appearing in the middle of a crime scene before you get used to it, after all. 

At least three other files were gathered beside him in the pile of “solved”, and its results were already sent to the Police Department (and to the batcomputer record). It was the fourth case that was starting to give him a headache. A young man had been found dead in his home by heart attack, no history of any heart disease in his family. The only clue is a combination of substances that were not part of any known drug. 

Duke hears the steps of someone coming down to the cave, and by the way they move he can bet it is Tim. He looks towards the sound and confirms his suspicions, he catches the grunt that comes from his brother as a greeting before he sits down in front of the computer. He is ready to focus again on his task when Tim speaks, on a tired yet alert voice. 

“Why did you upload this to the computer?” Tim is pointing at the list of substances that Duke looked for just a few minutes ago. Without result.

“A cold case.” 

Tim mutters something under his breath and starts typing with quick movements. The silence seems to be filled with it for the next minutes, while Duke keeps an interested eye on his file. Confusion is shown on his face when, with his powers help, he identifies something flying towards him. He catches the pencil that Tim sends his way with his right hand, and watches it intensely.  

“You know, if you wanted my attention you could have just said something.” Duke comments when he does not find any other reason why Tim would throw him a pencil. His brother, once more, mutters something while asking for Duke to get closer with a movement of his hand. 

When he does it, Duke notices that three files are open on the computer: Duke’s current case, the components of a pill that he does not identify and a new tab in which Tim seems to be working on. He also notes that some of the substances of his case appear on the other two. 

“Okay, I am getting it, but how did you…?”

“Last night patrol, some new drug in town. Apparently it is getting popular between university students that want to keep awake for finals.” Tim answers with a shrug, and before he gets to drink more of the coffee he has on the table, Duke takes it. “Hey, I am helping you.”

“Well, I am returning the favor. Go to sleep, Tim.”

Tim complains about betrayal and annoying members of his family. Duke does not care, he has time to insist, his case is solved after all. 

….

Duke likes Steph. 

When he joined the family, she was the easiest to get along. The majority of them acted nice, but they were also pretty much disinterested, not even batting an eye towards him. It took Duke a long time to realise that sometimes the bats were just like that: silent. Steph, on the other hand, always had something to say, and for Duke that was the little bit of normalcy that he needed. 

He might never admit it, but he suspects that the other reason they got along from the beginning was because neither of them was sure of their places in the family. Yes, for sure they belonged to it, but for completely different reasons they were at the edge of it. 

So, already gotten used to her randomness, it was not even weird when she offered to go on a daytime patrol with him. Duke liked the company, so he accepted, and every once in a while since then he finds himself with the voice of a purple vigilante on his coms. 

“No, don’t take the avenue. It is going to be crowded.” Duke warns when Steph informs him of an armed robbery on Gotham City Bank. 

“Crowded? Of what?” her voice comes muffled by her mask and the white noise. 

“Of people? And their vehicles?” Duke says in his most obvious voice, and then he realises. Without even trying to suppress the smile, he clarifies “You know, people are outside now, going to work and stuff, it is the middle of the day.” Steph does not answer. 

When the day is getting over they sit on a rooftop enjoying the view of a safer Gotham, even when they both know that the night will be as dangerous as always. Steph has been complaining about how impossible it is to hide in the daytime, and Duke has been trying to explain to her how that is kind of the point. 

Duke likes Steph, and loves listening to her speak, but as any other bat, the things that she does not fully say are the one that he appreciates the most. 

….

The sun has setted a few minutes ago and not many people are still in the Manor. Duke has been moving from doing his homework and watching the movie that is being played on the TV. Now that he thinks about it, he should turn off the thing.

He gets startled when Cass appears from the darkness itself and sits down next to him. He has been getting used to her sudden entrances since they started working together more often with the Outsiders, but he was pretty sure that she was not even in the house. 

“How…? Weren’t you on patrol?”

“Changed day with Tim” she says, without further explanation, looking at the papers in his hand and then at the movie, she keeps silent while the screen shows the image of a vast space “What is that?”

“Hmn, that’s Star Trek. This is my math homework.” 

“Star Trek?” she asks while spelling the words with her hands, then just using sign language adds “A space travel documentary?”

“No, no. It’s a movie, a really impressive one. It’s about a futuristic society where…” Duke starts explaining but thinks better of it “But not as impressive now that we have a Superman. You never watched it?”

Cass denies it with her head, and Duke starts telling her the basics while she gets comfortable by his side. She seems confused by some of the things he enthusiastically describes, but she listens nonetheless. A few minutes later they are both watching the movie, homework forgotten. At some given moment Cass nudges him. 

“Other day, you dance. With me.”

Duke smiles, he would like that. 

….

Silence fills his room and Duke is ready to turn off the light and call it a day when he hears the knocks on his door. Damian does not even wait for his response and opens it. 

“Thomas” he says, and his voice sounds mildly annoyed “I am in need of your assistance.”

Duke gives him a questioning look. Damian is not dressed for patrol, and if Duke is not wrong, this has to be his free night. So saying he is surprised by the request is an understatement. But the kid does not explain, instead he turns around and goes back to the corridor. Duke gets up and follows him.

Damian is already going downstairs when Duke gets to him. It must be a weird sight, he thinks, a child all formally dressed at ten in the evening, while the teenager is in his pajamas trying to suppress a yawn. But Duke does not have time to share his thoughts when they arrive at their destination. 

Damian opens the door to one of the many rooms of the Manor, and waits for Duke to enter. If it weren’t because he is pretty sure that the kid at least estimates him, he would be worried. The only two things in the room are an easel and a stool. Damian gets closer to them, and Duke once more follows. 

Now that he sees the easel better, he can discern a pencil drawing on a white canvas. It looks extremely similar to the outside of the Manor. Damian seems relaxed by his side but he can tell that the kid is nervous. Of what, Duke is not sure. 

“Did you draw it? Because it looks amazing.” Damian unsurprisingly does not answer, but he looks to truly relax this time, and Duke is tempted to assure him once more, even when he knows that the kid would dismiss him. Dick older brother’s vibes must be getting to him. 

“It is not finished. I still have to paint it.” Damian clarifies, then, like it hurts him like hell, adds “Your help with the lighting would be… appreciated.” 

It is not a request, more of an obligation, but Duke still acts surprised for a few seconds. He looks again at the painting, he is not sure of being able to tell how the lights actually work, but Damian still looks interested in his opinion. So he explains, he shows all the points where it can come, and how that would affect the whole picture. Duke must admit that he feels pretty dumb doing it, he might have light related powers but he has no idea how to paint, but still, he finishes his overview. 

Damian seems to be in deep thinking for a few seconds, then he nods towards Duke and gives a glance to the door. Of course.

“Your presence is not required anymore” the younger one says. 

“Yeah, almost didn’t notice” Duke murmurs while heading to the door, but thinks that he was able to catch the shadow of a smile on the kid’s face. That will have to be enough. 

….

It was half past six in the morning and Duke was tired. No, he was exhausted. 

Yesterday was a long day, without even counting the meta that has been trying to destroy the Gotham City Museum. Duke has been falling behind with his schoolwork, and the attack has not helped him. Besides, he did not remember about the delivery of an essay for his literature class until midnight, when he started to write it. Not being able to fall asleep before five in the morning was what Duke would put in the cons of being a vigilante. Having to wake up early on the morning was a con of being a daytime vigilante. Both of those things happening on the same day was what he would call a fucking bad day. 

Duke is yawning while he goes downstairs, already suited up and hoping that all of Gotham’s rogues had a night as long as his and won’t be going around the city. For the first time in weeks he is considering drinking coffee instead of his usual chocolate, maybe Alfred actually knows a way of making it tastier. 

He is arriving at the kitchen when he feels it, not because of some bat-sense, but because he hears the loud voices. He opens the door and knows it: Duke lied, the bats are not silent. They can be difficult to read, they might not be good at explaining their feelings, but silent can’t be a word to describe them when they are together. They are loud and dramatic. Duke loves it, but not when he had a long night. Just like today. 

They are all here, still suited up and with sleep deprived faces. Jason’s helmet is on the floor near the door, and the man himself has one arm up in the air grasping a mobile phone, the other holding Dick back, who seems to be trying to get his device again. Both of them are mocking the other with high pitched voices that do not really fit them. Duke is pretty sure that they would have tackled one another if it weren’t for Bruce, standing in the middle of the pair, each hand on their shoulders, but not really doing something to help any side. He has a small but genuine smile on his face. 

Cass is suppressing a yawn while she eats pancakes, she is listening attentively to Steph, who is doing wide gestures to tell a story about an old lady that tried to convince her to date  her nephew. Steph has bags under her eyes and a band-aid on her jaw that seems to be from last night, but still explains the story as it is the most interesting thing of the week. Duke makes a reminder of asking later. 

Damian is sitting in front of Cass with a similar expression. He has Alfred (the cat) on his lap, and Duke can see that he is still wearing his suit pants under a two sizes bigger hoodie that probably belongs to Jason. His cape and domino mask are on a pile at his feet painted with a weird substance that Duke prefers not to know. He looks half annoyed and half amused. 

Duke notices that for the first time Tim looks to be drinking an orange juice instead of a coffee, being the only one not suited nor ready to fall asleep. Tim, of all people. Behind him Alfred is making something (Duke bets that more pancakes), and seems to be the only one to spot him on the door. They exchange a smile (well, the old man gives a smile, Duke a panicked expression), before he resolves that he can get breakfast in some place in the city. Having had a long day and night means that he does not have to put up with all his family this early in the morning, he decides. Duke is going backwards when he hears Damian’s voice.

“Thomas is here” he announces. Damn kid. 

They all stop mid-action and look at him. Bruce clears his throat and gives a step back, probably wanting to come back to his professional persona and failing when he almost trips with his cape. That gets a snicker from all of them, except for Jason who laughs freely. Bruce, with his most poker face, pretends nothing happened. Duke is tempted to remind him that he already knows his not Batman self.  

“You must start your patrol on Gotham Harbor” he reports “We got information that a new drug shipment will arrive in less than an hour, Black Mask henchmen will be there. They will not expect someone in broad daylight.” 

“We found some clues leading to a recently abandoned Scarecrow’s hideout, he might attack before sunset.” Steph adds, pointing at her and Dick with her finger. 

“Poison Ivy is trying some new substance” Damian warns while giving a side glance to his cape. “Might want to prove it.”

Duke looks at them with his most deadpan expression, his body is aching for a rest that he will not get. Well, there it goes his quiet day without rogues. He groans in frustration. 

Everyone understands. 

[angelicmichael]

Is this love, part two

Xavier Plympton x serial killer! Reader

Summary: Reader is in inner turmoil once again and it starts to put a strain of her and Xavier’s relationship.

Words: 3.7K+

A/N: it feels so good to be uploading again 😭 sorry this took me so long to write! This starts out really dark, gets fluffy in the middle and angst in the end.

Warnings: Basically the same as the first chapter. Descriptions of violence and wanting to murder, but the murder isn’t actually described. Light touching but it’s definetly not smut by any means 😳

Previous Chapter

The past couple of days had simultaneously been the worst and the best week of your life. Admittedly the memories of it were particularly foggy due to how much weed you and Xavier smoked but some scenes seemed to linger in the back of your mind.

Most of the memories you still had were of you and Xavier being cramped close together in the Vanta-C, basically repeating the night of which you two had first met. The sweet parts consisted of you two sharing kisses, cuddling and being attached to the hip - but it got to a point quickly where you needed to take a break.

You felt entirely guilty for doing so and it wasn’t because you nessacarily wanted too but it had gotten to the point where it was what you needed to do.

Just because you were now head over heels in love didn’t mean the urge to kill went away; if anything it grew stronger.

Well, the urge to kill Xavier anyway completly diminished. The way you had become utterly infatuated with him made it impossible to think about killing Xavier; in fact, even you couldn’t even really picture doing it anymore without almost bringing yourself to tears.

However, whenever you weren’t high as a kite and you could actually think coherent thoughts - all that remained was dark urges and impulses. The urge to kill hadn’t left you, it was completely foolish to think that it would have just because you fell in love for the first time.

Coming to terms with that you would never be normal was starting to destroy you. You knew that Xavier’s perception of you was far from reality, to him you were this sweet, loving, innocent girl who needed protecting when really.. it was the opposite. You were the monster. You really were the wolf in sheep’s clothing, you were the one who made men bleed out slowly and relished in their pain and suffering.. and up until you met Xavier you weren’t ashamed of that part of you. However, now it was suddenly your dirty secret and it made you incredibly uncomfterable.

You wanted nothing more to just be another typical woman, worrying about what man they would be sleeping with next instead of worrying who your next victim would be. You wanted nothing more than your future to be spent with Xavier in bliss; being a housewife, having a couple children in the suburbs was something you craved for yourself so fucking badly you could almost taste it. But instead, you just tasted the metallic sweet taste of blood from biting your tongue so fucking hard.

You would try your damn hardest to have that future if that’s what made Xavier happy. Fuck, you would do anything for him.. execpt stop killing of course. You wanted to stop, you really did but you couldn’t. You were already pushing your limits when you met Xavier, and now you were over the fucking edge.

It had been about a week since you met Xavier, and you managed to go this far without killing anyone but today was the breaking point, you were planning to keep brushing it off but Xavier was starting to notice. It was nearly like a damn addict having withdrawals, you were visibly tense - your jaw was constantly clenched and the rest of your body was in a constant state of being rigid. Irritability was another frequent symptom you felt, you started to snap at Xavier for things that didn’t even fucking make sense.

You knew you were running out of time before you would snap and accidently hurt Xavier once even smoking weed didn’t work to distract you from how badly you wanted to fucking kill.

So here you were; you and Xavier were always together, you basically lived with him now so you managed to make up a bullshit excuse to get away. About how one of your friends was really sad and needed you tonight - and of course he bought it.

You parked the Vanta C a couple blocks away; your game plan was different this time. You weren’t planning on taking your next victim ‘home’ to try and seduce them, you just needed a fast fix.

You already decided the death of whomever happened to cross paths with you would be a quick one, painful sure, but relatively fast nonetheless. It would happen here - in the dark alleyway of which you currently stood in. You didn’t have any plans of what to do with the body afterwards; which was unlike you but at this point you could barely think coherent enough thoughts to even focus enough on the task that you had your mind set on doing.

You stopped thinking entirely when you saw a shadowed figure turn the corner and enter the alleyway. No thoughts entered your mind as you could only act on what you felt and truly craved to do.

~

Only a hour had passed; it was passed midnight but also not quite yet in the early hours of morning. The sky was still painted a dark black, with the stars and the moon being your light source as you made your way back to your boyfriends van.

Taking a life definetly relieved some tension from you, but you felt fucking awful. It wasn’t that you felt bad for killing someone, you felt awful for lying to Xavier and using his fucking car for your dirty work.

You felt depressed; and for some reason this made you careless.

You had enough sense to bring your knife back with you atleast. You drove back quickly to Xavier’s apartment, hoping to just slip back into bed beside him without him questioning why you were back so quickly.

You really should’ve taken your time but for some reason; you just wanted tonight’s events to be over and done with. It wasn’t anything for you to be proud of anymore; it was now something you were starting to hate about yourself.

As you stepped out of the van and went to up to Xavier’s apartment; you couldn’t help but think how there was no denying how Xavier was starting to change you. How did it even make sense that a boy you just met a week ago was starting to make you feel love? It wasn’t only that but it nearly made you sick how in love you were with Xavier already - it was almost as if he had you under a spell. He made you want to be better, to become a version of yourself you weren’t even sure exsisted - a version that wasn’t a killer.

You entered the apartment as slowly as you possibly could - shutting the door achingly slow - praying he was still asleep. You tiptoed across the apartment as you dropped your keys also painfully slowly onto the counter before you started to walk toward the bedroom door.

You noted how the light looked to be off inside of his bedroom, thank god. You opened the door and you got ready for bed as humanely quiet as possible.

You slipped into the bed, Xavier was already on one side - as if he was anticipating your return and he left room for you. You couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness of the gesture as you pulled the partially warm covers over your body, and sank into the mattress.

You turned over to go to sleep and as you shut your eyes - you were so close to being able to achieve your goal of not waking up Xavier - until you felt it. A warm hand ran lovingly accross your back, letting you know that Xavier was very much awake. You bit your tongue and couldn’t help but clench your eyes shut with frustration briefly.

“(y/n)”? Xavier spoke.

His voice was low and gravely, and as you rolled over to face him you noticed how his eyes barely even appeared to be open - his once baby blue eyes appeared black; colorless because of how dark the room was.

You couldn’t help but smirk as Xavier sleepily outstretched his arms to bring you in closer - and you happily did so. You shimmied yourself just enough so that Xavier could wrap a arm around you, and even entangled your legs together. You heard him kick the blanket off since it seemed to be getting in his way of getting closer to you - which made you giggle. He put his head on top of yours, his chin resting on top of your head.

You closed your eyes; fully in bliss and drinking him in. His scent, his warmth, everything about him. You were at such peace to the point where you almost forgot of today’s events until your heard the soft rumble of Xavier’s voice once again.

He took his head off of yours and scooted back just a bit - just enough so that your foreheads were almost touching.

“Where were you”? You heard him ask.

You swallowed before answering, your voice wavering as you spoke.

“At my friends house, like I told you. Remember”? Your words came out as a whisper but you spoke fast and quick. You know it seemed too well rehearsed, and Xavier wasn’t going to buy it. You were only gone a hour anyway and you told him you wouldn’t be back until tommorow.

Just through the darkness you could see the corners of his mouth upturn, he was starting to smile.

“You don’t smell like you were at your friends house”. Xavier said with a laugh and you brushed it off with a giggle but when in reality; your blood ran cold.

It was no wonder that you didn’t smell fantastic; After all you did change into pajamas but into the appropriate bottoms - you took your bra off and figured that you could still wear the shirt you were wearing ealier to bed.. apparently that was a big fucking mistake. Also the fact that your hair wasn’t exactly at its prime peak of being clean - it contained sweat from ealier and, probably even droplets of blood honestly.

“What is that supposed to mean”? You retorted playfully. Your noses about a mere inch apart.

“It means that you smell like you’ve been rolling around in the dirt outside”. Xavier mumbled and quickly pecked you on the lips.

You tried to keep kissing him - dumbly assuming that his intentions were to make out with you but you were left feeling dumbfounded and unsatisfied as you felt him quickly pull away. Xavier’s voice, soft and gravely quietly spoke - his lips were barely apart from yours; as if he was trying to tease and taunt you from how close he remained.

“Go shower and when you come back.. Maybe I’ll have a surprise waiting for you”. Xavier quickly kissed you one last time before he scooted farther way, untangling his legs from yours before he rolled onto his back. You huffed in protest as you sat up in the bed.

“Shower? Xavier it’s fucking midnight”! You retorted, a quick glance at the red beside clock Xavier kept confirmed your suspicions of how late it was.

“You better hurry then babe. Don’t keep me waiting”. Xavier taunted as you let out another exasperated noise.

You slowly and painfully peeled yourself off of the bed as you dragged yourself over to the bathroom; ready to take a world record breaking fast shower.

~

You contemplated if it was really necessary to put clothes on at all after your shower. You knew Xavier wouldn’t mind if you came out of the bathroom stark naked but for the sole reason of not wanting to feel too exposed, you settled on some nice lingerie.

Putting on lingerie this late at night definetly felt odd but you tried to shake the feeling off as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

It took you a minuete for your eyes to adjust to the darkness - your sure you looked stupid as you stood there squinting - but you soon came to realize that he had fucking fell asleep. You would be lying if you said you weren’t dissapointed or upset, but you figured he was just tired. There was no reason for Xavier to be acting distant, right?

Slipping into more comfortable pajamas, you slid into bed once again next to Xavier and drifted off quickly into sleep.

~

The first thing you noticed when you woke up besides how good it felt to finally not be so tense; was that the bed was empty. And cold. You tried to search out Xavier’s body but you couldn’t find it, and with a defeated huff you sat up.

It was easy to tell where Xavier went. The bedroom door was left slightly ajar and you could see a dim light coming from it, most likely from the living room. You couldn’t hear exact words but you could hear a low rumbling sound as if someone was talking - he was watching tv.

To confirm your suspicions you got up stood in the doorway, opening the doorway just enough to poke your head out and yell at the bastard to come back to bed.

He sat on the small couch that was placed in front of the TV. You contemplated calling out his name to make your prescence known but something made you wait, and your glad you did.

Xavier was watching the news, some early morning talk show. They were currently discussing breaking news and a mass warning; telling people to keep their doors locked and be on the lookout for suspicious activity due to a murder that had occurred last night.

You felt a shiver run through your body, the case on the television was starting to sound way too familiar to you. You walked back into the living room slowly, not wanting to startle Xavier.

You went to go sit in his lap, he greeted you with a lazy “Hey babe”, and kissed you on the side of your mouth before giving the screen his undivided attention, and to be fair; you choose to do the same.

Sure enough; the woman on the screen seemed to describe the murder you committed last night perfectly. Almost too perfectly, and the fact that Xavier was attentively listening to this was starting to make you feel gross, and paranoid. Even though the killer still remained anonymous you felt as if someone was reading your diary out loud like they were seeing a private part of your life that no one else was supposed to have access to but yourself. You felt exposed, and you fucking hated it.

You had to distract Xavier, that was clear so you did it the easiest way you know how. You turned your head and stared at him for a second, admiring his beauty before you gently placed a hand on his soft cheek - turning it gently so that he was actually staring at you. He looked surprised, his eyebrows slightly knitted together but he didn’t dare say anything.

You leaned in swiftly, catching his lips with yours as you started to melt into the kiss and into him. You shifted your legs so that you straddle him, and you left his hands softly go to your back. You felt his hands gradually go lower, and lower until you felt the slight coolness of his hands on your skin as he slipped his hands your shirt.

You knew the windows were open and that everyone could probably see how cozy you and Xavier were getting but you figured that this was currently the least of your worries since that the damn reporter had spilled all your secrets. None of the bodies from your previous murders had been found, this was the first time you were getting press coverage and you were livid. You needed something to take your frustration out on, and you needed it now. The killer was still anonymous; it wasn’t like you were getting credit for it - and that’s what pissed you off more than anything.

You stopped kissing Xavier for a split second, just enough to grab the tv remote that was by Xavier’s thigh to turn the damn tv off. You turned back to him and watched how Xavier first looked completely pissed but then he smirked. You brought yourself in close to him once more and you felt his hands immeaditly slide under your shirt again, his hands this time on your side near your hips instead of your back. You felt his hands travel south but as you two kissed you but Xavier’s lip playfully before you felt him draw away from you. The making out and the light touching seemed to be working as a perfect distraction, like how you thought it would until.. it didn’t. He was the first to pull away. You felt hurt and confused at first while you waited for him to say something.

“I’m not stupid”. Xavier stated, acting as if he was too nervous to meet your eyes - and when he did all you saw was uncertainty, nervousness and a bit of fear which made your stomach churn. You quickly realized where this conversation was going so you awkwardly pulled your shirt down and pulled yourself off of his lap, opting to sit next to him instead.

“Xavier, I never said you were. Where is this coming from”? You asked.

“(Y/n), I need you to tell me the truth. Where were you last night”? Xavier asked, his cercealan blue eyes seemed to shimmer as you quickly realized he had tears in his eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you knew you absolutely could not tell the truth; no matter how much you truly wanted too. You had to play it cool.

“Xavier i swear to god I was at my friends house. Please believe me-“

“Then tell me why you happen to go missing at the exact time that man was murdered last night”?!

Xavier said, his voice rough and rugged with anger. His facial expressions and his voice were telltale signs of how mad he was, his eyes wide and his eyebrows slightly furrowed down.

“I know that wasn’t a coincidence. And I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t see that red stain on your shirt last night”. Xavier finished.

You took a quick breath and replied so quickly that you didn’t really have time to think about what you were saying.

“Do you even know what your accusing me of, Xavier? Did you really think I’m a fucking killer, do you know how absurd that is”? You said, your voice high pitched as you continued to try and persuade Xavier with your well written lie.

Tears stung your eyes, and you figured there was no use in holding them in. You couldn’t lose Xavier, you just couldn’t. He had to believe your lie, there was no other way. You sniffled as Xavier chose to stay quiet you decided to throw him more evidence for your ‘non killer I’m innocent’ claims.

“The red stain on my shirt was spaghetti sauce, me and my friend got high last night and we decided to make spaghetti last minuete. I didn’t tell you cause I knew it would sound fucking crazy... And I smelt so awful because we had to go find somewhere outside to go smoke”. You said.

You tried to meet Xavier’s eyes but he continued to stare at the ground. He slowly looked up at you, a tear or two running down from his eye to the bottom of his jawline. You wanted nothing more than to wipe it off, to tell him that everything would be okay but you couldn’t. You were too much at a risk already of losing him to take the chance of setting him off on top of it. Xavier kept staring at you, not daring to say a word. You slowly spoke up,

“Xavier..” you felt brave so you leaned forward slightly; waiting for him to make any sudden movements to get up or turn away from you but he didn’t. You kept going until you were close enough to choose to touch him if you wanted, and you couldn’t help but notice how tears continued to gently fall down his cheeks.

You brought your hand up slowly; again waiting for him to flinch but he let you gently brush his tears away. You felt his hand grab yours and made you cup his cheek; and that’s when he fully broke down - the tears that were once lightly falling were now cascading, and his breathing became labored from how instensly he was crying and you couldn’t help but wrap both of your arms around him and just hold him.

You blinked back the tears, knowing it was more important to comfort Xavier than to show him you were hurting as well. You gently stroked his back as you felt your shoulder grow wet with his tears. It was hard at first to even hear his voice through all the sobbing but you made out a few words.

“(Y/n), I’m so sorry”. You could feel the sobs continue to wreck through his body as you basically held him, and you felt horrible. Suddenly you felt Xavier separate a bit from you, enough to look at you in the eyes. You were still embraced, but now holding each other’s arms a bit more loosely.

“Xav, it’s okay-“

“No it’s not. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, but we can make it through this. Me and a couple of friends are going to camp redwood for the summer, to get away from this crazy killer but babe? Come with me please”? Xavier asked you.

The sadness and misery you had felt a mere seconds ago but it seemed to immeaditly dissipate. You didn’t have to contemplate or think about it at all; the words flew out of your mouth.

“Yes, Xavier! I’d love too”! You said with a wide grin.

You wrapped your hands around his shoulders and engulfed him in a deep hug. You didn’t even consider how odd it must’ve looked to him how fast your mood changed. You were just truly greatful that you weren’t losing Xavier.

You still seemed to have him pinned under your claws.. and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t be able to find any victims at camp redwood, there would be plentiful. It would be as easy as finding fish in water. The difficult part? Keeping your dirty secret hidden from the one you loved most.

Taglist: @nj01 @mina672 @guiltyfiend @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @9layerdevilsfoodcake

[marvelfansince08love]

The Pleasure is all mine  Chapter 3 - Part 2

Word Count: 1831

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader.

Setting: Continuation from chapter 3 part 1.

Warnings: Pure Fluff to be honest. 

A/N: As if I’ve uploaded another chapter in the space of three days, is this the new me?... probably not. I hope you enjoy the chapter! I had to do a little bit of research for this one. Attempted to proofread however fell asleep after doing a 12 hour shift - go me! so I do apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I spent way too long trying to make the format perfect but alas Tumblr wants to see me suffer.

Your comments/ feedback brings happiness to this potato trash! 🖤

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @iamheartless @deadly-darling​ @gaylorrds 

I do not own the gif below!

Chapter 3 - Part 2  

Holy shit!

"I'm sorry, I thought for a second there you said you were a con artist. I didn't realise we were in a movie" I say sarcastically. Her lip quirks up slightly but her eyes stay locked with mine.

 "You can't be serious! Is that why Debbie was shot at?!" 

 "A group called Python have been collecting Breitling Chronomat watches worth over 8million a piece in exchange for 18k white gold #rings with over 250 brilliant-cut diamonds in each one. In shorter terms they are worth more than the watches to these guys, apparently the ringleader has ancestors who inherited these rings which were stolen and auctioned off. It's known that at least four of those rings are based right here in New York in our very own Cartier store. We scanned them, made some of our own. it was supposed to be a simple exchange but something went wrong. A gun was pulled - the poor kid was only young, I guess he panicked. Probably didn't want to go back to his boss and explain how he lost the entire set of watches worth more than his life as well as being outwitted by a woman. She was lucky he was such a crap shot" 

I gape at her in utter shock. 

"I think, I need a glass of wine" I whisper mainly to myself, but Lou hears and goes to stand. I watch her carefully, taking in her rigid posture her eyes darting back towards me as she heads to the kitchen.

 Probably to make sure I don't run out on her again.  

She walks back over with a big glass of white and places it in front of me, instead of sitting back on the edge of the sofa occupied by Debbie she perches on the edge of the table, so we're knee to knee. She reaches forward and takes hold of my hands keeping them in-between both of hers. 

"I know this is a lot to take in and trust me, that job was dangerous, and we don't normally work that way. It won't be happening again, but I at least owe you an explanation. I understand if after this you never want to see me again, I totally deserve that after putting you through this" her hands tightening around mine, I finally look up and see her eyebrows pinched in a frown, her eyes glossed over. 

I gently remove my hands from hers and take a big gulp from my glass before putting it down and reaching over to cup her jawline. My thumb caresses her cheek, she leans into my touch just a fraction - her eyes closed.

"You promise me that in future you tell me exactly what's going on. No secrets Lou, I don't want this sort of thing dropping on me again because if that's the case I'm afraid I can't be with... around you" my words strong and clear - completely the opposite to how I'm really feeling - scared and unsure. Her eyes open showing me those beautiful crystal blues, with a small smile on those delicious lips.

 "Okay"

 I grin.

 "Okay"

 *** 

After what seems like hours of talking, we finally reached an understanding. With all the serious talk over with, we gradually move on to lighter topics - mainly Lou asking about me. 

"So, you are telling me you decided to become a Nurse after your brother ripped the arm off your most precious teddy, if that doesn't scream childhood trauma" she smirks teasing me. I blush at her smirk and gently shove at her arm which causes her to stumble back slightly making her laugh.

 "Yes! I ended up stitching him back up and nursing him back to health, thank you very much" I laugh along with her, we hear Debbie stir from the sofa across the room. We both turn to look at her resting peacefully and with no signs of fever.

 We chuckle quietly before a yawn escapes me. Lou sees me yawn before standing up and put her hands out for me to take.

 "Come on you can crash here tonight, I'm sorry I didn't realise how late it was. Fuck! you've been on shift as well, I'm an awful person"

 "It's okay Lou I'm used to it but seriously I can go home, I'll get a cab" she's already shaking her head at my proposition.

 "Not happening, its 2 in the morning Y/N you can sleep in my bed"

 I raise an eyebrow at that.

 "Don't worry we're both adults here I'm sure we can share a bed without ripping each other’s clothes off Y/N"

 "Who says I want to rip your clothes off Miller"

 She smirks devilishly and steps into my space, making me walk backwards until my back hits a wall. She places her hands on either side of my head and leans in close until her nose brushes lightly against mine, her lips almost brushing against mine. My breath hitches, my eyes drawing to her lips.

 "Cheek - but we both know this isn't the time or the place" there's an agonising pause and then:

 "It really isn't, so could you horny lesbians take it to a private room away from my poor innocent ears. Hearing this is worse than being shot at"

 We both jump apart and turn towards Debbie who is now sat up taking her next dose of medication. I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I can't believe we almost got caught like some horny teenagers.

 "Is the offer for the bed still available" I say quietly into Lou's ear who seems to be preoccupied staring Debbie down.

 "Of course, first floor, second door on the left"

 I say a quick thanks before sliding away from Lou's side and towards the stairs.

 "Good night Y/N thank you again" Debbie teases all while staring straight back at Lou with a grin. I blush even harder if that's even possible before muttering a good night while taking the stairs two at a time.

 ***

 Once I've washed my face in the ensuite bathroom I turn towards the large bed in the middle of the room; Lou's bed. Before I can think more about the bed arrangement, Lou appears against the door frame of the room.

 "You can borrow some clothes if you like? I have some shorts and oversized shirts"

 "That would be great actually" I stand awkwardly by the bed, watching as Lou goes towards a table of draws. She passes me the pieces of clothing and stands with her arms crossed.

 I raise an eyebrow and twirl my finger around indicating for her to turn around. Her hands come up in mocking surrender before turning around with a wide grin.

 "Are you always this cheeky or do I get special treatment"

 Her shoulders shaking indicating her laughter.

 "Only for you, love"  

 I grin softly and quickly change into the clothes I've been given. The shorts stop mid-thigh while the old band t-shirt flows just above the knee. I decide last minute to abandon the shorts seeing no use for them.

 Besides the shirt covers what it needs to and showing a little bit of leg never hurt no one.  

 "You can turn around now"

 With her hands still up she turns back around, once she sees me standing there her hands drop to her side, her eyes dropping to the bottom of my feet and slowly making their way up - taking in my form. Her eyes darken, I see her swallow hard before she shakes her head.

 "So, I normally take the left side as it's closer to the door. You're welcome to the right side of the bed though"

 "Shouldn't one of us stay with Debbie? I don't feel comfortable leaving her by herself"

 "Don't worry Tammy came down just after you left, she's going to stay with her. I did try to get her to go back up, but she refuses to leave her side. I'm surprised she even let us keep her away for so long"

 "Oh, oh"

 "Yeah" she says with a smirk amused by my realisation.

 You couldn't have gotten it more wrong, nice move L/N.

 "We should get to bed, I'm sorry again for keeping you up. I promise I'll make it up to you" she says, making her way to her side of the bed. I reluctantly make my way to the other side and slowly make myself comfortable lying on my back facing the ceiling. I feel Lou shift around trying to get comfortable, from the corner of my eye I notice her lying towards me the soft glow from the streetlights lighting up her face - just enough to see those crystal blue eyes and that signature smirk.

 "So, do you want me to stack a few pillows in a line between us or I could make us a fort"

 I chuckle quietly before turning onto my side so we're facing each other. Her hand reaches forward, her fingertips brush gently across my cheek; brushing my hair out of my face.

 "So beautiful" she whispers. I bite my lip gently and drop my gaze - suddenly feeling very shy.

 "Downstairs before - if we weren't interrupted do you think you would have done it"

She smirks softly, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

 "Would have done what, love?"

I roll my eyes playfully knowing she's making me say it.

 "Kissed me"

 Her playful demeanour changes to something more serious.

 "Is that what you want Y/N, for me to kiss you?" There's a pause while I debate my answer.

 "Yes"

 Before I have a chance to continue Lou leans forward, her hand still resting gently against my jawline and brushes her lips against mine before pressing firmer deepening the kiss. Her lips are soft, the taste of cherries and wine. I moan softly at the feel of her lips against mine but before I can take it any further Lou pulls away reluctantly. I look at her in confusion, suddenly scared that I might have taken it too far. She leans her forehead against mine and presses a light kiss to my nose before brushing against it with her own lightly.

 "As much as I would love to continue this, I really want to take you out on a date"

 "A date?"

 "Yes, it's when two people who really like each other..."

 "I know what a date is, smartass" I chuckle at her playfulness and her stupid grin.

 "So, will you? Go on a date with me"

 "Yes, I'll go on a date with you" with a big grin I lean forward and kiss her cheek softly. She smiles a proper smile before putting her arm around my waist - pulling me closer. Her lips brushing against my forehead.

 "Good night Y/N"

 "Good night Lou, sweet dreams"

 Closing my eyes, I drift into a deep sleep, thinking about those soft lips and crystal blue eyes.

[kairos-in-wonderland]

Day 2: Knights in Shining Armour

Right, today’s submission is going to be shorter than yesterday’s 😂 This is actually based on a wip I’m writing (but I have a habit of not writing in chronological order so it’s not being uploaded anywhere) and I thought it would be perfect for day 2, I hope y’all enjoy it!

Pairing: OC/Gwaine

Trigger warnings: violence, attempted kidnapping, strangling (only for a moment)

 .

The princess entered the tavern in one of Camelot’s border villages, taking a glance around at the patrons before taking a seat in the corner of the room. She’d been there not much less than an hour, eating and relaxing after the long ride – but then a man approached her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She surveyed him out of the corner of her eye, there was a silver snake emblem on his shirt and her pulse immediately quickened. He was one of Cenred’s knights.

“Well, well, well…” he started, leaning on the table, “If it isn’t the little princess of Camelot, fancy seeing you all the way out here.”

“Well, it is part of my kingdom,” she muttered, “but I don’t believe that you live in Camelot,” the princess stood, finally turning to face him, “so, what is one of Cenred’s knights doing this side of the border?”

“Well, I was just here for a drink – but now I’ve got a much better idea,” he said, reaching to touch her face. She slapped it away and reached for her dagger, “ah, you think you can put up a fight?”

“I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon, of course I can put up a fight,” she smirked – the knight drew her sword and she ducked under it, using her dagger to slice across the inside of his arm. The princess managed to disarm him and they continued to fight, but the knight managed to catch her off guard. He took the dagger from her and pinned her against the table with it against her neck.

“Looks like Uther didn’t train you too well,” the knight laughed, just as another man walked towards them.

“Need some help?” he asked, looking to the princess.

“Back off,” the knight muttered; he switched the hand he was holding the dagger in, strangling the princess as he went to slash at the newcomer. But the man was too quick, before the blade even got close to him he had punched the knight square in the face, knocking him back so hard that he knocked himself out on the table behind him. The princess coughed hoarsely as she sat up, clutching her throat.

“I think you’ll be wanting this back,” the man commented, handing her the dagger.

“Yes, and it seems I owe you my life. Thank you,” she said, getting off the table. It was at this point that she finally got a look at him – deep brown hair that flowed down by his shoulders and hazel eyes that shone gold in the light of the candles. He had a sharp jaw line that was speckled with stubble, causing the princess’ pulse to quicken, “I’d buy you a drink but I should be heading home,” he grinned at her and took the knight’s sword.

“Allow me to escort you out then?” he suggested, and she smiled back as they left the tavern together. As they approached her horse, she turned to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “What was that for?”

“For saving my life,” she said, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Gwaine, and you are?”

“Acelina.”

“That man in there, he kept calling you ‘princess’, are you?”

“Yes,” she nodded sheepishly, “and he’s a Knight of Essetir, that’s why he attacked me. My father is an enemy of Cenred’s, it would’ve been good leverage. So, thank you, Gwaine.”

“Perhaps you would let me join you on your ride back home?”

“Have you nothing better to do?” she laughed, and he smiled.

“Nothing better than escorting a beautiful girl to her home,” he smirked, and the princess flushed pink.

“I bet you flirt with every girl you see, Gwaine.”

“No, just you.”

“Alright,” she gave a nervous laugh and nodded before mounting her horse, “I’d appreciate your company, the ride back to the castle takes two days at best.”

“Well then,” he mounted his horse, right next to her own stallion, “let’s hope I can keep you entertained.”

Acelina couldn’t help but grin as she rode towards Camelot with Gwaine, him regaling her with stories of his exploits across the five kingdoms. It was a comforting feeling, having him there with her when they had to camp for the night in the forest of Ascetir, “So, Gwaine, where are you from?”

“Caerleon’s kingdom, my father was one of his knights.”

“You’re of noble birth then?” the princess felt a glimmer of hope at the thought.

“Technically. But I don’t like it. Caerleon didn’t give any help to my mother once she was widowed, left her penniless with a baby and no husband – he has the title but he’s not noble in anyway.”

��When did your father die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Early enough that I don’t remember a thing about him.”

“I understand, my mother died giving birth to me and my brother. I have this feeling of her, but my father never speaks of her,” she sighed, staring into the flames, “you should get some sleep, I’ll be on watch for now.”

“Okay then, goodnight my lady,” he joked, laying against a tree with his jacket draped over his torso. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he fell asleep – there was something about him that intrigued her, something that she couldn’t quite understand. Acelina spent the few hours of her watch making shapes in the fire, muttering spells under her breath to create different animals in the flames.

When Acelina woke the next day, she realised that Gwaine’s jacket had been draped over her during the night, and she smiled softly as she looked around for him. She couldn’t find him at first but as she cast her eyes to the side she saw him walking towards her, shirt in hand and shaking out his damp hair, “Sorry, went to quickly wash in the stream,” he shoved his shirt on and Acelina stood to hand him his jacket, “you were shivering while you slept, didn’t want you to be cold.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, blushing slightly as she looked up into his eyes. They kept eye contact for a few moments until she nervously cleared her throat and reached for her bag, “uh, have you fed the horses?”

“Yeah, while you were sleeping, thought you’d be eager to get home.”

“Do you honestly think your company is that unpleasant?” she joked, but he looked uneasy, “It’s not, I enjoy your company Gwaine.”

“You’ve only just met me,” he sighed, and she took a step towards him, “I can be a lot to deal with.”

“Well, I like what I’ve seen so far,” she assured him, tentatively reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I think, if you’d let me, I’d like to get to know you properly.”

“Really?” he laughed nervously, and she nodded, “I think you’d be the first,” there was a moment of eye contact, both of them unsure, before Gwaine leaned down to kiss her. Acelina responded eagerly and moved her arms to rest on his shoulders as his hands moved to her waist. When they finally moved apart it was with a deep breath and unmovable grins on each of their faces.

“Now I’m actually kinda glad that knight tried to kidnap me,” Acelina laughed, smiling up at Gwaine, “otherwise I probably wouldn’t have seen you in the tavern.”

“Well, I have to admit, that was a pretty great ‘thank you’ for saving your life,” he smirked, and she slapped his arm, “come on. As much as I’d love to stay here with you, your father will be expecting you home soon. I don’t think we want it to get to the point where he sends out a search party.”

“Okay, we’re just at the edge of the forest so it should only take a couple hours to reach the lower town,” she sighed, and they set about packing up and then riding back to Camelot. Gwaine stopped and dismounted his horse as the castle got closer, “you’re not coming with me to the castle?”

“I don’t think that your father would appreciate you being with a commoner,” he sighed, and she got off her stallion to go over to him.

“Do you really dislike nobility that much?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“I dislike people who think nobility just comes from the title, that those without a title can’t be noble in the deeds they do,” he explained, taking her hands in his, “You, Acelina, are not like that – you have a good heart. And beautiful eyes,” she laughed and shook her head at him.

“So, I take it that you don’t usually tell people about your father?”

“I’m surprised I even told you,” he admitted, “there’s just something about you that I knew I could trust. I’d like to see you again though.”

“Well, my father likes to send me to the different villages within Camelot quite often, especially in areas that are by his enemies’ borders. I’m expected to instil their loyalty to him, make sure that, if a man like Cenred decides to try and take Camelot’s land, they will only pledge allegiance to him. If you write to me about where you are then I can try to meet you at the closest village to where you are.”

“That sounds perfect,” he grinned, pressing a long, soft kiss to her lips, “I think I’ll travel to Howden, maybe you can meet me there soon?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she assured him, stroking his cheek before getting back on her stallion, “just a thought… Address your letters to Mirabelle, she’s my maid. It’d be a bit suspicious if I was getting letters from someone who isn’t some kind of knight or prince, he cares a lot more about titles than I do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, my lady,” he grinned, kissing her hand before she rode off towards the castle.

 .

Once again, please let me know if I’ve missed anything that could potentially be a trigger and I’ll add it to the tags. Happy Camelove! 🥰💜💙

[mecomptane]

MQ: Barnabas of the Adrestia

Part one of... many. So many. Oh no.

Also, my italics for Greek and/or emphasis no longer exist, so that’s great. 10/10. Might try uploading to dreamwidth first from now on, and then copying/linking in to here.

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“Kephallonia is… here?”

Barnabas leaned over from the wheel, turning so that his good eye focused on where Kassandra was pointing. “Hm? Aye, that’s Kephallonia--and just to the north, there, that’s Ithaka!”

“I know Ithaka,” Kassandra retorted, toeing the island painted on the deck of the Adrestia idly. “I’ve looked at it almost every day.”

The real Ithaka--and Kephallonia--were well behind them, bare specks on the horizon. She’d spent the first few hours since departing sitting on the stern bench, watching over her shoulder as the land she’d spent the last twenty plus years on slipped away. They weren’t home, not really: not Ithaka where she’d honed her hunting skills, and not even Kephallonia, though all the friends left to her in the world lived there.

But a job was a job, and between the plague slowly spreading over the islands and the sudden hush of contracts that came in the wake of facing off against the only other mercenary on the island in spectacularly violent--and public--fashion, there wasn’t much work or coin coming her way any time soon. Kassandra sighed and scuffed her toe against the painted map again, slowly cataloguing the different lands and waters, so carefully rendered. So many places to see, so many people to meet, armies to fight… and somehow, with all those people and across all those lands, Elpeanor managed to find her. Decided to hire her.

To kill the Wolf of Sparta.

Nikolaos hadn’t been a young man when Kassandra was growing up, a General of Sparta and one of the greatest warriors the city had seen since the death of King Leonidas. He’d gained fame within Sparta for his tactics and skillful maneuvering, and renown through the rest of the Peloponnese for his treatment of enemies and allies alike. Not merciful--he was Spartan, after all--but a certain amount of respect. Other generals might take prisoners as slaves; Nikolaos was more likely to ransom them back to their cities or, if seriously injured, grant them an honourable death.

“It’s so isolated,” Kassandra remarked, still staring at the map. “But I can see the coast of the Peloponnese from my house.” House, shack, hut. It was newly built a hundred years ago and left to ruin sometime after; she’d claimed it and fixed it up, but it wasn’t any sort of luxurious.

Barnabas laughed at her, gesturing to the map as he turned back to the helm. “You can? You must have the sight of the gods, then!”

“Or maybe I just have two working eyes,” she snarked back. Sight of the gods, right.

But Barnabas laughed again; did nothing upset this man? “Or perhaps four eyes; I see you talking with that eagle of yours!”

The eagle in question--proud, defiant, and a mother hen in turns--was perched on the wooden screen that shielded part of the stern bench, alternating between watching the sea and watching Kassandra and Barnabas. Kassandra clicked her tongue to get his attention; Ikaros shrilled at her, fluffed his feathers, and turned back to the sea.

She sighed at him; her oldest friend was an eagle. A stubborn eagle, at that. “The only thing we talk about is him taking off to hunt and me scolding him when he shows up just in time to annoy me.”

Kassandra looked up just in time to see Barnabas shaking his head, his whole body shuddering. “Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

“You talk about your Ikaros like my old friend talks about his wife.”

She snorted. “You live with someone long enough, I suppose it all starts to sound the same.”

One of the skeleton crew below called out for Barnabas and instructions; as the old captain saw to his people and ship, Kassandra lounged back against the bench, tilting her head towards the sun.

They were heading for Megaris, which Barnabas assured her was the current major battleground in the war between Athens and Sparta. Elpeanor had said that Nikolaos would be there, but she trusted the old seaman over some shady mainlander who let his guards get killed as a test to see her skills. Or however he reasoned it; she didn’t want to ask, because that meant interacting with him more. Whether he was hiding out on Kephallonia to avoid Nikolaos and the bounty he’d put on the Wolf’s head was Elpeanor’s way of avoiding some consequence, or if he was on Kephallonia for another reason and wanting Nikolaos killed was incidental, she didn’t know that, either.

Kassandra shifted, pulling out the old broken spear her mater had given her, so long ago. She’d never taken a bounty contract before--the closest was hunting down a handful of local thieves (who were a drachmae a dozen on Kephallonia; the island wasn’t entirely made up of criminals, but it was probably a fifty-fifty split between law abiding citizens and those who just did not care). The contract to kill Nikolaos was more an excuse to get off the island that’d been her home since she was eight, see more of the world, make a name for herself. That didn’t mean she didn’t intend to uphold her end, and to do that… sword, short sword, spear, bow and arrows would all work, but using the broken spear wouldn’t just be effective. It would be poetic justice.

The man who married Leonidas’ daughter, killed by Leonidas’ own broken spear. One of the kings had sent Spartans to recover the spear from Thermopylae at the same time as they recovered Leonidas’ body for a burial with honours, and it had been given to Myrrine after the internment. Or, knowing the woman, she had demanded the last relic of her father to be handed over immediately, and everyone who stood in her way suffered for it.

Kassandra ran a finger down the edge of the spear’s blade, testing the sharpness and checking for rust. None, as normal. As much as she liked to think it was all the maintenance and care she paid to the old weapon, the metal shone in a way that she’d never seen before and no matter what she stabbed or threw the spear into the edge never dulled. Good for a quick kill, then, and that’s what this would have to be: a quick kill. Stealthy, maybe. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that between Nikolaus’ skills and the Spartan army, there was only one way she could really hope to complete the contract: a proper assassination.

“What are you frowning about, o mighty misthios?” Barnabas’ voice broke her from her thoughts.

She startled upwards, coming to her feet and not-so-accidentally treading on the painted islands in the process. “Barnabas! Don’t startle me like that.”

“Eh, I know you wouldn’t hurt this poor old, one-eyed man,” he shrugged off her annoyance. “I need to go below; do you know how to handle a ship?”

That brought her up short. “Do I know how to… what?”

He waved her forward to the helm. “Come, come, let me teach you quickly. We have another day of sailing before we make it to Megaris, more than enough time for lessons!”

She reached out to grab the old wood, worn smooth by many hands over the years. “What am I--what do you want me to do?”

“Keep her on the same heading, there--no, no, sun just slightly behind and to the right, we want to head east-south-east,” he instructed. “There we go! See? I knew you’d be a natural!”

Kassandra flexed her fingers, checking her grip. “And I just… stand here?”

“Exactly! Any questions?”

“Yes: why are you trusting me with this?”

He laughed and patted her shoulder. Flinched slightly away when his hand contacted the hard lines of metal and buckles that were hidden by the Shroud of Penelope Kassandra had wrapped around her shoulders and head. “Well, obviously you have sailed before! How else would you get from the mainland to Kephallonia?”

She tried not to stiffen or show another reaction, but from the corner of her eye she could see Barnabas looking at her worriedly. “Me? From the mainland?”

“From the Peloponnese, somewhere, probably,” Barnabas confirmed, would-be casually. “You sail as long as I have to as many places as I have, and you can pick out details like that, too. A bit of an accent, and a way of framing your sentences that sounds more like Lakonian or Messenian, maybe Arkadian. But most of the time you sound Kephallonian! If that’s why you’re worried, the accent of your latest home comes through clearly.”

She shook her head at him. “Kephallonia isn’t my home.”

“Even after… however long you’ve lived there?”

“No,” Kassandra confirmed. Even with Marcos and Phoibe and the few other people who were almost friends, almost family. “No, not Kephallonia.”

Barnabas hummed, apparently having forgotten being called away. “Then… wherever you were from before? Is that your home?”

She couldn’t help herself; she snorted. In her mind’s eye she could easily picture the spear, Myrrine, Nikolaos, the masked men, baby Alexios, the mountain. “I might have been born in Sparta, but I was never really Spartan.”

“Spartan?” Barnabas asked, surprise lacing his words. “And you’re looking for the Wolf of Sparta?”

Kassandra nodded; Barnabas had said he took no side in this war, even having been an Athenian captain, once upon a time. Still, Kephallonia supported Athens, and so far most of public opinion--that Kassandra had heard, anyway--swayed in favour of Athens, too. It would make sense for her to be after a Spartan General if she had been from Athens or somewhere that was firmly part of or on the side of the Delian League. She could see why Barnabas would be surprised.

“I am,” she confirmed, her lips curling upwards. Not a smile, not a sneer; she wasn’t sure what she was feeling about this, but it wasn’t anything good. “I’m going to track Nikolaos down, and before I kill him I am going to get some answers.”

“Answers?” Barnabas parroted.

She nodded, shortly. “Answers. When I was eight, the oracle said that my baby brother--who was in perfect health--would bring about the fall of Sparta if he was allowed to live. Mater fought against the order, but we were all brought up Mount Taygetos and---and Alexios was thrown off the mountain cliff.”

Barnabas hadn’t completely retracted his hand before from her shoulder; he rested it again against the shroud, patting gently. “That must have been difficult to witness, Kassandra. I am sorry. ...but what does that have to do with the Wolf?”

“He was there,” she answered after a minute. She had to refocus; Barnabas had actually sounded sincere. When was the last time someone had actually meant what they said to her? “He was there, he let them kill Alexios… and when I fought back, pushed the priest who had thrown Alexios off and killed him…. Nikolaos threw me off Mount Taygetos, too.”

She could feel Barnabas withdrawing, air abruptly sucked through clenched teeth. “And you survived?”

“I did,” she nodded. “That’s the night that Ikaros found me.”

“So you’ve known him for a long, long time,” Barnabas surmised, looking up at the eagle. Ikaros’ attention was focused wholly on them; she’d noticed the minute he’d zeroed in on them, but the predatory gaze had long been comforting. “But you know what happened then. What answers are you looking for?”

Kassandra shrugged, careful to not jostle her hands and change their heading. “Just one answer, I guess,” she conceded. “I want to ask him… I want to know why, when the priests said that Alexios would bring us to ruin, when they told him to kill me in return for the life of one of their own…

“I want to know why he sided with them over his own children.”