#sorry to interrupt your nostalgia trip

[allhailthe70shousewife]

[nytb]

White Never Suited You

Click Here first <3

Nostalgia was never this sour. Y/N's arrival in Germany came at a cost - her short lived love story left behind in Ibiza - everything was bound to change.

The cold breeze that gazed Y/N's skin, the empty apartment she once shared with Laura, all the memories started to kick in. This time, the memories tasted sour; feelings of sadness and anger burning deep in her stomach. The heartache shifted - it was no longer just about Barcelona.

Behind the scenes, preseason hit the Catalonian hard. Her physical state was out of this world, but her focus - nonexistent.

The lack of commitment Y/N showed wasn't well perceived by the German club, they had put their ass on the line for her; now she had to deliver.

Doubting Y/N's professionalism backfired quickly - the Germans lifted their first trophy after beating Arsenal in their preseason tournament. A victory that was taken as a symbol of how Eintracht Frankfurt, they were ready to compete for big things; European trophies.

What they failed to see? Her quick trips to the land of the sun - Y/N took every opportunity to see her Catalan love.

For the most part, said trips didn't affect Y/N's performances. Eintracht Frankfurt was second in the German league, top of their group in the Champions league. The best part? Y/N was the top goalscorer in both competitions and her best friend - Laura Freigang - followed suit, topping the assists she delivered game after game.

Y/N was ruling the world - in an Eintracht Frankfurt shirt - something that a while back was implausible.

Quickly enough, cracks started to show as the Catalonians relationship created its own foundation - it soon crumbled. The fear of commitment hidden in Alexia's eyes; who would have thought that such heartbreak would follow.

The daily FaceTime calls became weekly check ins. Their night time rituals were nonexistent. The constant holiday planning out the window. Having a tight schedule might have been a good excuse - but not for Y/N - the Catalan star was adamant in keeping her relationship, their break up was inconceivable.

Missing Alexia lead Y/N to Barcelona; an impromptu trip, an unannounced one.

Showing up to the Ciutat Deportiva an hour after training ended, Alexia was surely still there - the woman always put an extra shift in.

Seeing her practice free kicks, going on solo runs towards goal, Alexia was in her element. The sparkle in her eyes, Y/N was smitten once again.

"Didn't see you there" Alexia approached her lover "Gimmie 10, I'll get cleaned up" Little did she remember, Y/N loved Alexia in all states, sweat included. Quietly, she made her way into the locker room, following Alexia, making sure nobody else was on site.

The sight of her body, all the curves shining, her hair wet and loose. Y/N was turned on - who wouldn't be - drenching herself in water, Alexia's shower no longer mattered. Now, it was just them, standing together, holding each other.

Magical moments followed, even Alexia's fear of commitment wasn't enough to stop her - the love they felt for each other was undeniable.

A connection people would die for. A relationship that was soft and rough at the same time. Calm with it's own storms. Caring and forgiving. A relationship people dreamed of.

Interrupting the fun - Patri walked in before Y/N's hunger for Alexia could be soothed. "Sorry Sorry" the midfielder excused herself "Wait, Y/N?" now she was confused.

Y/N's old teammates knew that Alexia had something going on, but they were sure that this Catalan love story had ended back in Ibiza. They might have been inseparable during their holiday, but Alexia was never a fan of long distance relationships and everyone knew that.

Not wanting to put salt in the wound, they stopped talking to Y/N - Imagine your exes friends reaching out 24/7, not fun huh? - so they didn't. They kept their distance, watching from afar. They imagined that Y/N's heart would be torn to pieces, but that moment - it was unexplainable.

"Who else would it be?" Y/N laughed, oblivious of the situation. Behind her, Alexia looked at Patri with pleading eyes, hoping that her teammate wouldn't blab, wouldn't sell her out - and a loyal soldier she stayed, betraying Y/N in the process - laughing at Y/N's question, diffusing the situation.

Not thinking much of it, their evening plans continued. A romantic dinner in Y/N's favorite restaurant. Luckily for Alexia, she hadn't stepped foot in that place with her new side piece.

Talking of a possible future, Y/N filled Alexia in; Fc Barcelona were moving to sign her once the season ended. The lack of a clinical winger showed and Y/N was the perfect fit.

Not sure of Alexia's feelings on the matter, Y/N inquired "I don't get it? Aren't you happy that I might be back soon?" a possibility that months ago, Alexia would have died to hear, but now: it sounded like a nightmare.

"I am, I..I didn't expect it" she answered, showing uncertainty, she still tried to hide it "I guess white never suited you" she laughed it off.

Playing the whole thing down, dinner went as planned. Making out in the uber on their way to Alexia's place, time hadn't stopped for them.

Alexia had ran to the bathroom to freshen up, but Y/N; she made her way to the bedroom and what she saw was unforgivable.

Alexia's side piece laying there, wearing lingerie, posing with rose petals around her. It was Y/N's nightmare. A woman she once described as the love of her life - betraying her - in the worse way possible.

In the other room, Alexia wasn't aware of the situation, a surprise for both parties; a parting gift from Patri. She was the only one that knew of Alexia's side piece surprise, yet she kept it secret. Betraying Y/N had a limit and Alexia reached it. Patri couldn't - wouldn't - allow her captains betrayal to go any further.

Running out of the apartment, quietly, Y/N made her way to Patri's apartment. She couldn't see the full picture, but surely - her friend turned sister - would be in her corner. Little did Y/N know, Patri showed no surprise when she broke the news to the midfielder.

Feeling betrayed from all angles, Y/N was out for revenge. What minutes before felt like heartache turned to anger and who better to relieve it than Mapi.

Alexia's best friend, a person that Y/N found attractive from the moment she laid eyes on her. Leon was the only person that made Alexia feel insecure when it came to the Catalonians relationship - the only person that could break them.

That night, anger won. Y/N's hunger for revenge, biting down on the defenders shoulders as Leon pleased the Catalonian to no end. Leaving scars behind that only Alexia would recognize, scars that Y/N had once left on her body.

Revenge was sweet, until the sun came up.

In Mapis bedroom, the defender didn't question her luck. She had lusted over Y/N since she met the Catalonian - who wouldn't.

Quietly putting her clothes back on, Y/N didn't realize that the defender was awake. Was it regret that she felt? Maybe.

Y/N was unreachable, whatever the defender had tried in the past had failed - and as usual - the defender was quick to put 1 and 1 together.

This unbelievable night was only revenge to Y/N. Mapi's dream was only a means to an end for the Frankfurt star; hurt Alexia in any way possible.

[tanith-rhea]

That I may be weak with you

"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test." - Alain de Botton Dorothea Delilah Darcy is a woman in her mid to late twenties, struggling to find her place in the world. A recent job opportunity as a guidance counsellor at Nevermore Academy seems like a godsend, and she could not miss it for the life of her. Still, perhaps more problems will arise than she expected. Between bubbly, extroverted students and an uncharacteristically reactive principal, she'll be forced to overcome the limitations of her abilities or separate herself entirely from the place she'll grow to call home.

Author's note: this is... something that I'm willing to share at the moment. I hope you like it, it certainly is more of an indulgence on my part than anything else. This and Honey, You're a Keeper are what's keeping me sane lately (although more fantasizing about both the stories than writing them)

Chapter One

"There are times when I am convinced I am unfit for any human relationship" — Franz Kafka

You never thought you would someday get the chance to go to Nevermore. Being home-schooled was very common for kids in your community, and the boarding high school experience seemed to you like one of those unachievable dreams you only read about in the countless novels in your library.

You ended up not going, of course. At least not as a student. Now you approached the Nevermore gates in a car driven by a charming middle-aged man responsible for maintaining the campus surroundings nifty and, apparently, chauffeuring new professors.

A soft drizzle cast everything in a foggish autumnal setting. The term would begin in a week, so true autumn wasn't very far away, but the contrast with your parents' house was welcomed; it reminded you of Belfast, only warmer and sealess.

"What do you think, Ser Barnabas?" you petted the dark-grey tabby in your lap, "Will they be able to help us?"

"What was that, Miss?" the driver asked amicably.

"Oh! Nothing, Mr Duch, sorry to disturb you."

"Nonsense, girl, you've been nothing but nice the entire trip," he turned the car left and you saw the castle beyond the trees "We're here."

Nevermore Academy was a castle-like boarding school for teenage outcasts to learn how to control and develop their powers as well as a myriad of other subjects. You would do something along those lines, you would help them with their troubles. As it appears, their count had gone up considerably since last semester.

The building itself was a gorgeous piece of architecture. You remembered studying similar structures while going over the Gothic movement in college almost seven years ago but looking at pictures was never the same as visiting a cathedral. It certainly was not the same as stepping out of the car to a fairy-tale courtyard and mystical-looking archways. The grandiosity of the place brought you the nostalgia of reading The Secret Garden for the first time; childish curiosity meets fantastical hidden marvel.

"Everything was strange and silent and she seemed to be hundreds of miles away from anyone..."

"But somehow she did not feel lonely at all," someone interrupted your mumbling in a soft, amicable tone.

A tall blond approached you by the car, dressed in a long-sleeved, cream-coloured dress. She was easily a foot taller than you and quite intimidating, but contrary to her height, her warm blue eyes only invited you in. You felt a surge of emotion in your chest and slightly panicked at the thought of having an episode then and there, and out of nowhere too. You were certain no one was touching you, and you knew none of the people around you personally.

"Are you all right?" the beautiful woman asked, and a small crease appeared between her brows. She went to touch your arm, but you quickly composed yourself and stepped away to deposit Ser Barnabas on the ground.

"I'm quite all right, yes!" you tried to smile, "I was only surprised you knew Ms Hogson's words."

"Hardly an uncommon read," Ser Barnabas went to her and walked between her legs, rubbing on her quite uncharacteristically.

"But you knew them exactly, Pride and Prejudice is not an uncommon read and yet most people won't be able to quote it if asked."

"Quite the debater, I see, but you do have a point," she arched one perfectly designed eyebrow at you "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy, I'm Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore Academy," she held her hand out to you and of course you were being unnecessarily prickly to the one person that could fire you and send you away at any time.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry!" you hastily recovered from your previous scare, putting on a well-practised mask of serenity, "We only talked through e-mails so I'm afraid I didn't recognize you," you took her hand confidently "I didn't realise you would be meeting me quite so soon."

"I prefer to give the tour myself to any new staff member. I believe it to be a good bonding opportunity," she smiled easily. She was so effortlessly gracious, you had to admit leadership suited her like her obviously tailored dress.

You tugged on your glove ends to distract yourself from her overwhelming warmth and turned to look at the kind gentleman that brought you there, "Mr Duch, could you open the truck for me? I'd like to bring my things along to save time."

"Oh, don't worry, darling. I'll ask some of the staff to do that for you. You can go, Mr Duch, and have a rest before getting back to work, I believe Philomena made hot chocolate about half an hour ago and there still might have some."

"Thank you, principal, have a good day," the man left through a side pathway and quickly was out of view beyond the archways.

You were left with the imposing figure, and there wasn't much you could do aside from accompanying her. Somehow, she made you more nervous than you anticipated. Meeting new people was always a complicated ordeal, but with Principal Weems the hairs on your arms seemed more charged than usual as if her energy already knew you, which was impossible.

Ser Barnabas, the traitor, was nowhere to be seen. After nuzzling her ankles, he just skipped away to explore. You were relieved she didn't seem to realize or mind your cat's affections, after all, pets could not be prohibited but it didn't mean other co-workers or your boss had to like yours.

"I'll show you your private accommodations and we'll have a look around the school. Your office is near the astronomy tower, just before the Desdemona Hall communal area."

Your rooms consisted of a large bedroom and office area with an adjoining bathroom equipped with a bathtub and separate shower space. It was similar to what your last place of employment offered, but the stone walls and gothic feel were an entirely different level of appeal.

The principal showed you the dining area, the quad — which was a pentagon — the teacher's breakroom and your own classroom. The rest she said you'd be quickly acquainted with during the next few weeks. She explained some basic rules of the academy and advised you to be cautious of students trying to trick you into giving them a Jericho pass, especially Ophelia Hall girls. You found it all quite simple to understand, but that was only when you could actually concentrate on what the woman was telling you and not the movement of her lips forming words.

She had a very articulate way of expressing herself, something expected from someone in such a position of power, but it was understandably charming accompanied by her melodic accent, low voice and powerful stance. She commanded discipline by simply being.

"I hope to see you very soon, Miss Darcy," the woman concluded with a winning smile, "Dinner is served at seven-thirty, as I already told you. If you would like to dine out, please notify Mr Duch before five and transportation back is on you," she nodded one final time before turning on her heels and walking down the corridor.

You surveyed your office once more. Now that you were alone, a sense of calm finally made its way to your bones. Being near other people wasn't unpleasant most of the time, but the principal seemed to have a particularly powerful presence and keeping yourself in check all the time while paying attention to her was exhausting. Not that you paid all that much attention to her, instead just ogling like a creep.

Your files were already organized in the first drawer of your desk; all the documents you sent through e-mails to the school board were printed and put together in a leather cover binder. Very aesthetically pleasing and organized. You loved whoever did that for taking their time to sort through everything so carefully.

Leaving the office behind, you went back to your rooms for a shower and change of clothes. Ser Barnabas somehow was inside, sleeping atop a suitcase as if he was protecting your belongings.

"Someone had a busy hour," you scratched behind his ear and he stretched, meowing for being woken up.

You unpacked and put your things away in drawers and armoires, leaving Ser Barnabas' teacup by the enormous arched window overlooking the quad for him to hydrate whenever he deemed necessary — sometimes you were convinced he drank mentally because the water would disappear and he would be sleeping in the exact same position as the one before you left — before having a long-awaited shower.

You didn't go to dinner that day, deciding on a series of one-person games of draughts before bed.

[ventafaxine]

ps: Them Changes chapter 7 is out...

Joe could have been obsessed with Guinevere Beck. Instead, the universe introduced him to Rhys Montrose...

Chapter 1

When Guinevere Beck entered his bookstore, Joe Goldberg felt his heart fill with a terrifying sense of nostalgia. The young woman did not only push the door of his store but also triggered the alarm in the backdoor of his subconscious. A fragile part of his mind where memories of an unstable mother, threatening father figures, and unfaithful lovers had never been processed. The first encounter of what could have been a passionate love story in another universe came at the wrong time in theirs. And before he knew it, Joe was going back to his bad behaviors. [Well, hello there. Who are you? Based on your vibe, a…]

“Sorry to disturb you but do you, by any chance, have a section dedicated to memoirs?”

Brought back to reality, Joe blinked several times. [Was I really…stalking that woman?] Disturbed by his wrongdoing, the bookseller pulled himself together to focus on his interrupting client, a cheerful blond man with piercing blue eyes. Wearing a fake smile, Joe broke him down. [According to his accent and high spirits, I owe my non-descent into hell to a British man. And not any kind: a wealthy British man, judging by his taste for books. I mean, who reads biographies?]

“Of course. Follow me.”

Unsurprisingly, the section in question was unoccupied. [I have my answer: nobody reads biographies.] In ten years, Joe had only put a foot in this area twice. The year Becoming had been released, Ethan had dedicated a table to Michelle Obama at the store entrance. The remaining copies had been placed on the infamous “celebrity authors” bookshelf.

“There it is.”

Presenting the small collection of books, Joe took the opportunity to check between the shelves, unconsciously searching for any sign of the mysterious woman. [She’s probably a student. Which author could she be reading? Faulkner? Stephen King? Paula F…]

“Thank you very much.”

The accent of his interlocutor tickled his curiosity, distracting Joe from his growing obsession.

“British?”

“What’s that?”

“Your…accent.”

The man laughed a little. [Definitely too joyous to be American.]

“Yes. I come from London. I’m here with a few friends for the holidays.”

London. As a man of letters, Joe had always wanted to take a trip in the Big Smoke. Explore the archive room of the British Library, visit the Charles Dickens Museum, watch The Winter’s Tale at the Shakespeare’s Globe. If he was complexly honest with himself — which he was not, most of the time — the bookworm would have acknowledged that his interest in the capital went back to his childhood, fueled by his mother’s broken promises when hope was all they had left. “One day, I’ll take you to the London Eye, Joseph. We’ll eat fish and chips near the Thames!”. His inner child wanted to know more about the British client while the persistent feeling of nostalgia wondered where the previous woman had gone, urging him to end this conversation to find out.

“I hope you’ll have a nice stay then.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. Say, do you have any book recommendations?”

[Not a biography.] His senses still focused on searching for the girl whom he lost track, Joe — who was at least trying to be a bookstore manager attentive to the needs of his customers — asked absently:

“What are you interested in?”

“Among other things, absent-minded bookseller.”

Continue reading

[minhosimthings]

Hold me Without Hurting Me

Chapter 5: Marigold and Maladies

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, nothing much but it's a bumpy story., Reader kinda has a breakdown in this cause she has a fear of thunderstorms

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Anemoia is a word which means to have nostalgia for a home. And that's how you felt right now, going through the streets of Washington DC. You never realised how beautiful Seattle actually was, before now. How could you though? Having spent all of your time in America stuck in your hotel room, not having a chance to escape, thanks to your workaholic mind. But as you looked out the window of the car you were riding in, you realised how serene it felt. You had read earlier from a Wikipedia page, that Seattle had been one of the fastest growing cities in all of America and you had expected it to be the normal grey city, filled with sweaty office workers will dull faces, and the usual cranky old people moving here and there. What you didn't expect to see however, were bright New York-esque signs, kids and adults skateboarding all over the streets, laughing as they tripped and fell down, bright farmer's markets, sports centres, from where you could hear the noises of balls bouncing, and most importantly, the numerous flower shops littering the streets, making them light up like the stars light up the night sky, with aster and marigold in every single corner.

"Admiring the view, my yarrow?" Jay spoke up, not looking up from the magazine he was reading, sitting next to you in the car. You frowned at him and didn't say anything, not wanting to cause a fight, which you knew you would lose. "Are you not talking to me now, babe?" Jay looked up at you and inched closer. "We're supposed to be a couple, Y/N. Act like it." He whispered into your ear, making sure the driver of the limo didn't hear anything. You froze up on your seat, feeling his husky voice near your ear, and his hot breath hit your skin like an avalanche. "I'm sorry babe." You immediately got into character, "Where are we going by the way?" Jay smiled at your question. "You'll see." He winked at you, making you internally gag. He had forced you to come out with him on a 'date', so as to make your relationship more believable, the reason being to tempt the paps. You figured that out from the very vague answer he gave which consisted of the words, 'news', 'paps' and 'lawyer'.

"Jay just tell me where we're going you know I'm impatient." You whined, crossing your arms, "I swear to God if you're taking me to an opera house-" "We're not going to an opera house." Jay stated, looking out the window. You took a second to admire his sharp jawline, as he raised his chin. "We're going to a museum. And before you interrupt-" he turned his head back to your opening mouth, "-yes we're going to The Seattle Art Museum." Your mouth dropped at his words. Going to an art museum in America was one of the major things on your bucket list. And going to The Seattle Art Museum, which consisted of some of the greatest American works of art?

"Oh wow." You said, yawning, "great place for a date Jay, very romantic." You tempted him, making your tone sarcastic. In reality you were over the moon to go to the museum, but you wanted to see whether Jay actually remembered anything from your teenage years. "Oh shut up." Jay said, checking his watch, "We all know you're obsessed with art history. You wouldn't stop talking about it when we were kids remember? The meaning of The Girl With The Pearl Earring is still etched in my brain Y/N." Your heart slightly jumped a bit at his sentence but you barely had time to say anything in return, as the car had stopped in front of a magnificent building, with a painting of a man in black on it.

Your car door opened, and you stepped out, still staring open mouthed at the building. Jay looked at you from behind, taking note of the fact that you didn't notice him opening the car door for you. "My lady." He extended his arm to you, which you took, while internally cringing. "Jay can we stick to one nickname please?" You asked, entering the gate of the museum and immediately being hit with the smell of perfume. "Why should I?" Jay laughed, "Cause your single ass can't handle all the love?" You rolled your eyes and went to the front counter, to pay for the tickets. "Two tickets please." You said to the smiling lady, clad in uniform, "And put it on this card." "Baby I'll pay this time." Jay slapped away your hand which was extending your credit card. The lady at the counter looked at your with curious eyes, as she slowly took Jay's black card, inserting it into card machine and handing you two blue coloured tickets with a robotised, 'enjoy your visit'.

"Jay I could have paid you know? I'm rich too." You scoffed as you entered the main hall. Jay didn't say anything instead choosing to stare at the map of the building which he had gotten at the front desk. "Should we head to the libraries first?" He squinted at the map. Struggling to keep your laughter in, you reached into your bag and pulled out something, giving it to Jay. "Here dumbass." You gave him the glasses, "Still haven't left the habit of leaving your glasses at home, Mr Four Eyes?" Jay blinked at you slowly and took the glasses, swiftly putting them on. "How the fuck did you get my glasses?" He quizzed you, once he out the map back into his pocket and climbed up the escalator. "Your assistant gave them to me, right before we left." You stated simply to which Jay replied with a simple 'Ah'.

"Woah Jay look!" You excitedly pointed towards a painting, and rushed towards it. The museum was fairly empty today, so no one saw you rushing up to a painting like a child going up to his mother. "Jay oh my god is this an original?" You read the marking below the painting, which read, 'Judgement of Paris'.

You stared up at the magnificent painting. Three naked people along with a knight and his squire stood in a gloomy scene, with a tiny cupid peaking in from the far left of the scene. Quite a chaotic painting, you thought, even though you had analysed this painting atleast more than a thousand times. "Isn't that by that man- what's his name." Jay came up to you, also looking at the painting. He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Lucas Chranach The Elder? That's his painting." You looked at him with widened eyes. "Since when do you know so much about paintings?" Jay shrugged his shoulders and instead moved on to the next painting, with you following behind, still looking intently at The Judgement Of Paris.

"Ma'am please save me this girl is so pretty what do I say." You were sitting on the rooftop of the museum, sipping some cool wine and enjoying the flowing breeze as Jay sat in front of you, immersed in a pamphlet of the museum. You tried not to stare at his adorable face, the way he scrunched his face up and read the information written on the green piece of paper. As if to provide a miracle, Jungwon had called you, panicking about talking to Jay's apparently amazing secretary, who he was currently eating ice cream with. "Jungwon calm down." You tried hard not to giggle, "Hand the phone to Jay's secretary once." Jay looked up at the sound of his name. "Hey Kayla, it's Kayla right?" You spoke into the phone with a smile on your face, which Jay couldn't help but adore (although he tried very hard). The way your eyes lit up at every word you said to Kayla, the way you mischievously giggled when you told her what Jungwon was allergic to, the way you absent-mindedly brushed your hair behind your ears, it was like April coming early.

"Expect your secretary to be absent for a few days Jay." You put the phone down and put on a proud face. "Is she going to date your secretary?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You shrugged your shoulders, with a little "Maybe!" "Good." Jay stated, looking at the skyline, "I've been telling her to take a break. She works too hard."

"Oh shit." You gasped out. The sky had been cloudy all day, but you never expected it to burst out this suddenly. "Come on." Jay got up from his seat, "let's get inside." The rain started pouring faster and harder as you rushed to the metal door, and tried to open it. "Fuck." You cursed under your breath, "Fuck Jay it's stuck." Jay bumped you aside gently and tried to open it, but his efforts went to vain. "Did-" he looked at you, "Did they lock it?" You glanced at the stuck doorknob. There had been no one on the rooftop except for you two, so it was a very plausible explanation for them to have locked it. "Maybe they-" "Mr Park! Miss Yang!" You heard a voice call out from the other side of the door. "Yes we're here!" Jay shouted back, putting his hand on the door. "Sir, Ma'am please hold on! The doorknob is stuck! We'll get you out in no time!"

"Great!" You threw your hand up, shouting your words so as to be heard under the pitter patterof the rain. "Now what do we- AH!" Thunder had just erupted across the atmosphere bringing with it, lightning which painted the sky with dandelions. "Oh shit." You mumbled under your breath, covering up your ears tightly, keeping the tears in your eyes. "Oh no no no this can't be happening." Heavy breaths started to engulf you, and you felt suffocated as your vision starting to blur. "Y/N?" Jay said, uneasily, "Y/N hey hey hey look at me. It's just thunder." He rubbed circled onto your back and whispered calming words into your ear as you tried hard to ignore the booming sound of the earth. "Jay-" "Yeah I'm here I'm here calm down shh."

Thankfully, before you could collapse onto the ground and melt into a puddle, you heard a clicking sound. The door had opened up to reveal two workers of the museum clad in black suits, quickly ushering you and Jay in, and handing you both towels. "Thank you." Jah thanked them absent-mindedly, his attention still on your shivering body. "Sir we apologise deeply for this." One of the workers bowed deeply. Jay brushed the apology aside however. "Forget about that. Where can we sit her down please?" He supported you onto him, and you accepted the favour, putting your weight onto his. "This way Sir."

"That was the worst thing I've done in my entire life." You sighed out, with Jay's jacket tightly wrapped around you. The rain was still pouring hard, and as you were halfway to your hotel, you noticed that all the flower shops were still open, the owners getting drenched in the rain, with tarpaulin covering their flowers. "Worse than breaking up with Ricky on graduation day?" Jay chuckled. You slapped his arm tightly and scoffed. "His ass couldn't handle this beautiful body." "So you did fuck him! Bitch, you told me you were a virgin!" Jay pointed a finger at you accusingly. "You actually believed that? Damn you're gullible." You snorted. "Oh we're here." Jay panted through a fit of laughter as you arrived at the hotel, to find Jungwon and Kayla waiting and looking very worried, and fiddling with their fingers.

"Miss Yang!" "Mr Park!" Both of them called out at the same time, running up to you and Jay, as you got out of the car and swiftly moved into the hotel, not wanting to get more wet. "Ma'am do you want to head up to your room or do you have any more discussions with Mr Park?" Jungwon meekly asked, trotting behind you. "Jay, darling, do you have anything else to say?" You asked Jay, throwing him off guard. He stared at you with a puzzling look, before quickly realising why, as he looked over your right shoulder. Camera men. News reporters. Hell even anchors were there. "No baby." He quickly came up to you, and wrapped his hand around your waist, "You should go up and rest babe, you're gonna catch a cold." You simply hummed and smiled and were about to go when- "Y/N kiss me." Jay whispered into your ear, making you freeze. Of course you wanted to sell the notion that you were actually dating Jay and this wasn't just some deal, but you didn't think that Jay would take it to the level of kissing each other in public.

Hesitant, you came forward and quickly pecked him on his lips, feeling the soft touch of them, which was rightly shown by the pinkness. You swore you could taste your own lipbalm. "See you tomorrow babe!" You shouted loudly as you went into the elevator, with a very confused Jungwon following you.

"Ma'am so you're dating Mr Park now." Jungwon asked shyly as you stepped out the bathroom in your robe. You sighed heavily and reached forward for your glass of wine. "Yep." You swirled the blood red contents in the glass around. "Unfortunately for me I am and this stupid first date just had to go wrong didn't it?" You leaned back on the sofa, "Jungwon I have the worst luck in the world." To your surprise Jungwon chuckled and leant back too. "Kayla told me she likes cat today. And I am literally allergic to cats. I don't think this entire dating thing is for me, Ma'am. And quite frankly I don't think it's for you either." You smiled widely and laughed out loud with Jungwon, both of you basking in the glory of non existent love lives, wondering only what Cupid would bring next.

[thegloweringcastle]

Part Two - 365 Days Later

@the-lonelybarricade​, remember how HOURS AGO I said it would be posted soon? Lol well it’s finally here. Sorry it took so long 🫣

Also, when you told me that your favorite romcom was About Time it took all of my willpower to not start over and write it as a feysand au because ITS MY FAVORITE TOO!! Gets me in my feels every time and I love it. Suffice to say, I will continue to work on it for my own enjoyment because it is a need, not a want.

I hope that you enjoy this next chapter as much as the last!

@acotargiftexchange​

warnings: none(?)

word count: ~3.3k

Feyre’s second arrival in Velaris sparked the same giddiness and awe as her first trip. And this time, she was looking forward to more than just the winding river and picturesque mountains. This time, she was anxious to see the man who had consumed her every thought for the past three hundred and sixty five days.

The air was crisp with seasalt and snow, and the setting sun poured over the city like chilled honey. Holiday decorations of all kinds lined the streets, and people smiled at each other as they passed. As Feyre made her way to the fabric shop on the corner, she decided she would gladly live in a place like this.

Someday, she promised herself.

She lugged the canvas - wrapped in layers upon layers of protective foam and paper - all the way from the train station to the shop on the corner, and when she opened the door, the scent of jasmine washed over her like a wave of nostalgia; a dream from so long ago it was nearly fantastical, nearly too good to be true.

But there he was, sitting on a stool behind the front counter, his violet eyes flashing over the pages of an old cracked paperback dwarfed by one single hand.

He only looked up when the door shut.

Feyre smirked. “Hello, prick.”

His grin was even brighter than she remembered.

***

Rhysand would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Feyre over the past year. There and then gone, that short time they spent together had been like a spell cast on him. He couldn’t think about any woman - anyone - but her. And then, when it had gotten later and later into the day with still no sign of her, Rhys had been worried. Until she appeared in the wink of an eye, standing in the doorway of his mother’s shop; that was when Rhys’ best dreams had come true.

“What?” She said, after he had been silent for one heartbeat too long. “Did you think I would go back on our deal?”

“Not at all, darling.” He stood and stepped from behind the counter to greet her. “I just lost track of the days.” Liar. He had multiple countdowns going on his calendar and cellphone.

“I present to you a Feyre Archeron original.” Archeron. Rhys liked the sound of it. He even believed it would sound rather nice with his own name. Archeron - Moreno. Yes, he could get used to it.

She hefted a large, flat cardboard box onto the counter and slid it across to him like in a drug deal.

“Can I open it -”

“Rhysand!”

Feyre raised a single, thin brow at him.

“One second Fey-”

“Rhysand, sweetie, have you seen my chalk?”

Rhys turned just in time to see his mom slip around the corner from the back of the shop where her work room was located.

“I thought I set it on the…” Her gaze landed on Feyre, then the box, then back on Feyre. “Hello dear! Is Rhysie here treating you well? I’m happy to help you if there’s something in particular you’re looking for.”

Rhys appreciated the effort Feyre put towards not laughing. Still, her mouth hitched up in a smile as she spoke. “Oh that’s okay ma’am. I was just delivering a gift to Rhysie here.”

“Oh, well go ahead and open it! Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Sorry, mom. Top secret.” He ignored the flush creeping up his neck and instead moved around the counter to stand beside Feyre. “Ma, I don’t believe you’ve met Feyre. Feyre, this is my mother and the owner of this shop. Mom, this is Feyre Archeron, world renowned artist with a surprisingly accurate aim.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, miss...” Feyre stuck her hand out but was instead pulled into a hug.

“Please, call me Zyra. You must be the lovely girl Rhys won’t stop talking about! I have to know, did you really-”

“Okay!” Rhys clapped his hands once and grabbed his coat from the rack. “Feyre needs help with a project, so we’ll be very busy the rest of the evening. Will you be okay on your own in the shop for a while?”

“Bah,” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m just doing finishing touches on Emerie and Mor’s gowns for their engagement party. You kids go have fun - and stay warm!”

After another round of hugs and, much to Rhys’ embarrassment, cheek kisses, they were out of the shop and strolling down the sidewalk. For a few long minutes, Rhys was too mortified to look at Feyre. When he did, her eyes seemed to hold more moisture than before.

“You’re mom is…” Her voice seemed more strained than usual. “She is very kind.”

Rhys didn’t know what to say to that. The plain, honest truth? Yes, and she’s saved my life by saving the lives of those I love. She’s saved my life by loving me. Acknowledge it without seeming clingy? Yes, she is. She’s a spitfire; it’s where my cousin and sister get it from.

But while Rhys was caught up in his head, Feyre had already moved on.

“I know what I would like you to do for me as part of our deal.”

This was something he could handle. “Oh? I’m intrigued.”

“I have one last portfolio to submit to get my degree in the spring. The theme is ‘dark’, and I was hoping you could give me a tour of the ‘Star Light City’.” She gestured to one of the banners, embroidered with the city’s nickname, hanging below a garland-clad lamppost.

“Feyre darling, it would be my honor.” Rhys offered his elbow, and his heart sped up when she took it. “I know just the place to begin.”

***

For what felt like the millionth time, Feyre stopped them to take photos. She seemed enamored with the river, entranced by the colorful streets and smiling people, and even more taken with the stars beginning to peek through in the quickly darkening sky. Every single thing Rhysand saw as a normal part of life, Feyre saw as a work of art. And he loved it. Indeed, he too liked to take a moment and appreciate the beauty of the world around him; he certainly wouldn’t take it for granted. But watching her fall in love with the sight of ice formations along the riverbank or the individuals walking through the city at night brought more joy to Rhys than anything in the world.

He heard the shutter click once, twice, three times more. Rhys wondered what that was like, to experience the whole world through paint and charcoal and camera lenses. Was it as lonely as it looked?

He turned and leaned against the rail they stood at, angling his head to look at Feyre. “Is it difficult to love art?”

Feyre let the camera down to hang from the strap around her neck and looked at Rhys. “What do you mean? Art’s probably my favorite thing in the world.” She glanced downwards, shy. “Or at least, one of my favorite things.”

Rhys shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it ever make you feel… disconnected?”

Feyre shook her head, her cheeks - rosy from the cold - tightening in a smile. “Not really,” She turned and mimicked his position. “Art, for me, is a way to connect with everyone. All these people around us have lives of their own, stories that nobody knows. Art is like skimming the surface of those stories; making new friends everywhere, if only for a brief time.” She shrugged. “Besides, even when it does make me feel lonely, it’s never as lonely as life without art.”

“How often does it make you feel lonely?”

She paused, held her breath, scanned the building in front of them. Rhys imagined she was searching for words, filing through her thoughts like one would a catalog. “If I am feeling lonely, it is not usually because of art.”

As Rhys tried to think of a response to that, Feyre lifted the camera back up to her face and snapped a picture of him.

She hit a button and looked at the digital screen, her face creasing into a frown. “Oh darn,” She drawled. “Your face got in the way. That’s too bad, it would have been really good otherwise.”

Rhys let out a deep, rumbling laugh, and Feyre’s returning smile was better than any photograph, disrupted or not. “I think you would get along with my sister and cousin quite well.”

***

Ice skating was one of the many childhood experiences that Feyre had never had. Rhysand made it look easy enough, gliding around on shiny blades and slick ice, but after she had tightened her shoes and stood from the bench, she realized she was not as physically fit as she originally thought.

The outdoor rink was small and empty, save for the two of them and a group of teenagers messing around at one end, which made Feyre far less self conscious and a far lower risk to her surroundings.

“Have you got it alright?” Rhys swooped in front of her, ice shavings flying through the air as he slid to a stop.

“Yes, but-” She was breathless. “How do you expect me to take pictures? I really shouldn’t be doing this with a camera.” She reached her arms out, grabbing for Rhys as she began to move without actually moving. She flailed a bit more, but he settled her by resting her hands on his shoulders and mirroring her.

“Alright, you hang on tight, and after we get going maybe you can start getting some shots. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” She gasped. “But I swear by the cauldron, if you let me fall and my camera breaks-”

“I’ll buy you a new one and carry you to the hospital. I promise.” His grin was sly, but his eyes were soft. Far more lively than the replicas she had tried so hard to paint in the months since she’d seen him.

She moved to take a picture of them, but realized too many photos of him might seem… odd. He didn’t need to know she had been thinking about him, and only him, for the past year. His head already had trouble fitting through the door. So, Feyre ended up getting a photo of their shadows intertwining on the surface of the ice. And she didn’t think it turned out too bad.

“Keep your eyes on something that’s not moving to help your balance.” His words were practically a direct order for Feyre to get lost in his gaze. She felt better that he was staring at her too. “Have you ever been ice skating before?”

“Nope,” Her ankles wobbled. It took more strength than she thought. “My parents… I never got the chance.” They hit a rough patch of ice, and their momentum nearly took them out.

“Easy,” His deep voice slid down her spine, chilling her with white hot sparks. He leaned in closer, and she found she didn’t mind the invasion of space. Feyre had fallen against Rhysand’s chest where the scent of jasmine engulfed her senses; a knot of anxiety unwound in her stomach, the pressure in her neck eased. “You okay? Your parents clearly did you a disservice by never taking you skating. A wipeout like that could have ended very badly for both of us, and then who would have carried you so valiantly through the snow and to the hospital?”

“Ah, well,” She shifted her weight. “I’m sure you would have found a way to manage.” She pushed one foot back, copying Rhys’ movements, and then the other. She started moving, wobbling like a newborn foal the whole way.

Rhys whooped, the sound echoing through the park. “You’re doing it!” He began to slip one hand from hers. “Think we could go side by side? Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Feyre clung to him like he was a lifeline. “Rhys, I don't think that’s a good idea! Rhysand!”

“Don’t worry darling, I’ve got you.” He swept around to stand behind her, and it almost would have been romantic if he weren’t holding her hands like an adult helping a baby learn to walk. Feyre, however, couldn’t find it in herself to care, and was far more concerned about not falling while carrying an expensive piece of art equipment.

Before she knew it, she was no longer shuffling along the ice like a penguin, but rather gliding in short bursts, clinging to only one of Rhys’ hands as they went.

“There you go, you’ve got it!” The sentence was a jinx. Feyre looked away from the ground to meet his eyes, pushed off with the wrong foot, and promptly fell down, pulling Rhys with her.

Her breath left her with an oof as he landed half-atop her, before turning into a laugh.

His laugh froze in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“The real question: is the camera okay? If the camera is okay, then I am okay.” She sat up, inspecting the lens, different buttons and dials, and screen. “Yes,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Everything's good. Honestly I’m surprised it took me that long to go down.” She readjusted her hat but made no move to stand, her unsteady legs appreciating the break.

“I’m not. You’re a natural! I hope you’re ready to go to the Olympics with me.”

When he angled his head down to meet her gaze, the world gave Feyre the perfect birthday gift; it handed her the highlight of her portfolio on a silver platter. The loose ice shavings suspended in his hair looked like stars, his black hair as dark as midnight, and it all blended perfectly into the backdrop of the night sky.

“Don’t move,” She raised her camera up, lining everything up just so, so that it looked as if Rhys and the night were one. Really, after getting to know him, she wouldn’t have found it hard to believe if they were. “Perfect.”

“Yep,” He leaned back on the cold, snow coated ice. “I know I am.”

She rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the spirit realm. “Har-har. You’re hilarious.” But still, she laid down beside him, staring up at the endless sea of stars.

It was a while until Rhys broke the silence, his words an ax to ice. “Can I ask you why you’re here alone on your birthday?”

He remembered? She didn’t think he would remember the small mention she made last year of her birthday trip. “I don’t…” He waited patiently while she searched for the words. “My sisters - Elain and Nesta - and I, do not always get along. And because my birthday is so close to the holidays, it requires either a lot of traveling or one long stay away from their homes, neither of which are options they’re fond of. They were both able to escape our hometown - I wasn’t - and they have their lives set up nicely elsewhere. I can’t really blame them.” She never really acknowledged how wrong it was until she said the words out loud, and even then, she could see the logic of it all.

“‘Escape’? I’m going to go out on a limb and bet none of you like your hometown. If you hate it so much, why do you stay?”

She shrugged. “A few reasons. Partially because of school, partially because I can’t afford anywhere else.”

“What about your parents? Extended family? Couldn’t they help?”

“Um, no, and… “ She didn’t know how to say it. She didn’t know if she should say it. So she deflected. “Not to sound snotty or anything but why do you care so much?” She tried to soften the sentence with an easy laugh.

“Everyone deserves to be happy with their lives.” He shrugged. “Didn’t mean to pry though. Sorry.”

She changed the subject. “What about you?” She rolled her head to the side so she could see him. “What are you doing now? You said last time you graduated in the spring.”

He actually blushed. Almost as brightly as when Feyre met his mom. “I was actually planning to run in the next election. About two years from now.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “That’s amazing, Rhys.”

Again, he shrugged. “Calm down now, I haven’t won yet.”

“Emphasis on the ‘yet’. You’ll do great.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” He chuckled. “But I highly doubt that the citizens will vote for a young adult fresh out of university.”

“Rhysand Moreno,” Feyre sat up, tugging Rhys with her. “You are simultaneously the most arrogant prick I have ever met in my entire life, but you also have a heart bigger than the moon. You have everything it takes to be an elected government official, more specifically a good, kind government official.” She glared at his impish grin. “What are you smiling at?”

“Feyre darling, your lips are blue.” He brought his hand up and brushed one, bare thumb across her mouth. Feyre didn’t know how his hands weren’t freezing, all she knew was that the bitter cold was suddenly not so bitter. “Come on,” He helped her stand. “Let’s get some hot tea.”

***

Flames danced around the fireplace in the hotel lobby, licking and jumping at the garland strung from the mantelpiece and casting wild shadows across the hardwood floors.

Rhys stared into his cup, swirling the last dregs of his tea around the bottom. “You know, it’s too bad you’re not staying for New Year’s.

“What, you don’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight?” He had to admit, she was getting good at replicating his smirk.

“No, it’s not that.” It was just that there was no one else he wanted to kiss. “You see, here in Velaris, we have something better than fireworks. I think you would enjoy it. Especially as an artist.”

Feyre raised a skeptical brow. “I have trouble believing there is such a thing as something better than New Year’s fireworks.”

“Hmm,” He looked at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes. “Perhaps you’ll just have to visit on New Year’s Eve and find out.”

“I suppose so.” She set her teacup down on a coaster, and Rhys didn’t miss the questioning look she sent its way. “Tell you what, Rhys. I will arrive on New Year’s Eve and stay the night so you can show me this proclaimed ‘better than fireworks’ display,” she cleared her throat. “evenifitsjustsoicansayyourewrong.” She fanned herself. “Sorry, frog in my throat. Anyways, I will come for New Year’s, and in exchange you will let me spend some more time with you and your mother.”

That was… not at all what he expected her to ask for. It definitely wasn’t what he wanted her to ask for. When he brought his focus back to her, he realized she was shy, maybe even a little sad. And for the first time since their conversation at the ice-rink, he wondered how lonely her life away from Velaris was like.

“Feyre darling, are you trying to make another deal with me?” Her cheeks flushed; there was his answer. “If so, I am more than happy to agree to it.”

Their handshake was firm, and Feyre’s touch warmed Rhys to his very bones. “I just hope I can make it the extra ten days without you, darling.”

It wasn’t until Feyre was on the train early the next morning that she found the gift and card inside her purse. The letter, a greeting card with Van Gogh’s Sunflowers covering the front, was a simple birthday wish. What made it special was the person it was from and the number they left. Despite the struggles her following year brought, Feyre could safely say that it was one of the better years she had had in a long, long time. If you were to ask her, she would say there was no correlation between that fact and the messages she often received. You wouldn’t have to be a genius to know she was lying.

[moonlight-drawn-by-dawn]

This was going to be the next chapter of Madrugada but [transparency]

See note at bottom if interested

There was only one day left for the bittersweet trip in England, and Nisha had so much to do. She promised Maria they would have one last hangout before she took the train back to Italy, and also said she would see Richard for old times' sake to exchange addresses. The very least Nisha could do to ground her nostalgia for her old life was to write to her loved ones.

That morning, Arturo decided to head back to the town shops for some last-minute supplies for his movie and allowed Nisha to get her dress from Mrs. Davies' shop by herself.

"Stay on your best behavior."

He didn't have to tell her that, but she supposed it was his only way to threaten her without sounding hostile. Nisha wasn't going to jeopardize being on Arturo's bad side again now that they were going to be alone in Italy, especially knowing that no one would be able to help her out of that situation.

Nisha beamed when she tried on her new dress. It was perfect for the summertime, and it was going to fit so much better than her old outfits. It was a pretty lilac cotton fabric with pastel floral patterns. The style was similar to a milkmaid dress with a matching corset vest to go with it. It actuated her curves in a modest way, showing how she was a budding woman while ensuring no eyes would leer at her.

Cognac eyes beamed with glee as she twirled around the mirror. It was the perfect dress for her, and she couldn't hold any more excitement without showing it to anyone else.

Without much thought, Nisha ran out of the dressing room in the back of the shop, hoping Mrs.Davies would be the first one to see the masterpiece she had created for the young girl.

"Mrs.Davies, I can't thank you enough for such a pret-", Nisha froze a few feet from the counter as she saw another person with the dressmaker.

A very handsome person.

Cheeks became a rosy hue against her dusky skin as she diverted her gaze away in embarrassment. Her hands fell to her sides, letting go of her dress as sweat started to coat her palms.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, I'll just change and be on my way."

"It is a very pretty dress. On a very pretty girl."

Timid eyes looked up to the source of the tantalizing deep voice. Nisha couldn't control her gaze, looking towards the man standing in front of the counter with his entire body facing her.

A soft laugh came from Mrs.Davies, who had never witnessed Nisha ever becoming speechless before.

"T-Thank you." His face seemed familiar, having a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His heart-shaped lips spread in a pleasant smile as his thick brows creased together. He leaned on the counter, at ease from Nisha's situation.

The stranger held his gaze on her form for a moment longer before turning back to the dressmaker. "Well, seeing just how talented your work is, I'll write up a contract for you. By the end of the week, we can call ourselves partners."

There was a cavalier ambiance about this man despite his pristine look. Heat flushed Nisha's face as the man threw a quick grin her way.

"Oh, why thank you, Mr.Fox." Mrs.Davies gave her hand to seal the verbal agreement, her face full of shock from the sudden turn of events. She was going back and forth with Mr.Fox for months about this arrangement.

A small smile grew on beestung lips before turning to change and leave.

Back to the silk winter dress Arturo bought for her in Italy, Nisha watched Mrs. Davies wrap the dress in a box, old nimble fingers trembling while tying the ribbon.

"Nisha, I can't thank you enough."

"Hmm?" The young girl looked up at Richard's mother with an open gaze, "I haven't really done much."

"No, dear, you did quite a lot. I was having trouble with that bloke on whether he wanted to work with me or not, and after seeing you, he made up his mind." Soft fingers rested over Nisha's hand, "If I had only known, I would've brought you back from Italy myself and made my life a bit easier." The laughter didn't match the panicked expression on Mrs.Davies' face knowing how terrible it sounded once out of her mouth.

If Nisha was alarmed by the comment, it did not show on her face, "I'm glad to have helped. You do make beautiful dresses, and I'm very thankful you made me a new one."

She would've mentioned Madame Giuliani to Mrs. Davies, but Nisha wasn't sure if they shared similar fashion tastes. One catered to regal clients, while the other was a small shop for the common folk.

"I wish you well on the business and hope to see you soon!" Wild curls bounced as Nisha exited the shop, ready to meet Arturo at the post office.

She hugged the big box close to her chest, wishing more than anything she could show her father how pretty she looked. Grimness passed through her like a sharp chill, once again reminding her that she was willingly stepping foot back into the world of hell Arturo created for her.

Unfortunately, it was the only way to retrieve her father, but once they were reunited, Nisha would tow them on the first train out of Florence.

"A blooming rose amidst the snow, quite an enchanting vision indeed."

Her footsteps slowed, seeing the familiar man from the dress shop, Mr.Fox.

Smoke slowly released from his pink lips as he watched her wide eyes filled with sudden panic. A smirk tugged on his lips, "Don't be afraid, darling. I only wanted to see you." The cigar remained between his fingers, unapologetic for the grey air and smell it permeated in her vicinity.

As he took a step closer to her cowered form, Nisha took one back.

If this was Arturo, he would continue this tango until she was trapped between him and the wall. He would take joy from her fear.

But Mr.Fox was not Arturo Gasparini. When he noticed her stance, he stayed in place. The playful gleam in his eyes died, realizing she did not take his words and actions as lightly as he meant for them to be.

"I'm sorry. It was not my intention to frighten you. Tease, perhaps, but not scare away." One hand went into his pocket while the other lifted to his lip to smoke the cigar.

This was the first time a man ever apologized to Nisha for approaching her without a warrant. She stood half a foot away from Mr.Fox as she studied his expression. He seemed sincere with his intention, and from the way he was in the shop, probably didn't hide his true nature from others easily.

"It's alright. I'm sorry if I seem a bit timid." Nisha's face was quick to burn red, watching Mr.Fox's eyes glow in glee once more. They were a beautiful shade of pale green, like a pasture or riverside in the summer.

"Nonsense! It would be more worrying if you were too eager to accept me. Not many women hold the same caution you do."

He finally walked closer to Nisha, only putting his hand out for her to shake, "Charles Fox, at your service, madam."

Tentatively, the young girl gave her hand to shake. His grip was firm but not forceful. His head bent over to give her hand a quick kiss. It wasn't uncomfortable or long, but gentlemanly, similar to those she read in one of Maria's romance books.

"I've heard that name before." Nisha thought long and hard to figure out the connection, but Charles gave himself away too easily. "If I do say so myself, you perhaps saw some of my work before? I'm an artist specializing in realism that is Monet-inspired."

Nisha's tongue darted out slightly over the corner of her upper lip as she racked her brain before remembering one of his pieces she had seen before.

"Yes! I have seen your work before. It was a painting of a lady at the edge of a bridge."

Pride exuded from Charles at the recognition, "That's one of my earliest works. Glad to have met a fan."

"Of course! I remember when I first saw it years ago, I would always stop by the museum after school and stare at it. Although it's mostly the hues of grays, the painting is vibrant. I, I felt sadness as the woman looks into the river under the bridge. The hopelessness would always overtake me. You inspired me to draw much more."

There was nothing Nisha wanted to do more than run away, but it was too late now. The Charles Fox held onto her hand, watching as she babbled like a lovesick fan. She was, in fact, a lovesick fan, but most were wise to hide it. She wished the earth would swallow her whole and wipe her existence from his memory.

But as the past six months have shown her, things will never go her way.

Instead of his chesire grin dimming as Nisha expected, Mr.Fox's eyes glowed in a way the young girl couldn't recognize at all. His soft lips kissed her tawny knuckles one last time before slyly intertwining them together. "Come, darling, let's have some tea at the quaint shop nearby as you continue to gush about me, and I get lost in your eyes."

Giddiness filled Nisha as she matched her stride with the strapping artist. At that moment, Charles Fox was the only person on her mind, with all other worries withering away with the melting snow.

~

Hi all, I hope everyone is doing well. As stated above, this was intended to be the beginning of Madrugada's newest chapter [I wrote this well back in April] but alas life has decided to take me in a different direction 🥲 Since the beginning of this year, things have not fared well for me personally or medically, with the latter still snowballing in ways I never see coming. I have had so much trouble writing this year; I would come up with an idea [whether it is for a current story or a new idea] and then when it's time to write something happens. Either I can't write because of situations, or I just freeze up to write. I have been questioning myself alot in terms of my writing abilities, and whether my stories are even worth writing. I am not saying this for anyone's pity, I'm just saying what constantly goes through my mind. I've pretty much lost hope; it's scary, but a canon event.

I don't want to give up, though. Part of me still wants to fight, so I am. I'm going to start with Madrugada. After having months to think it over, I am redoing parts of the story layout. Basically, I will make the story into 2 parts. I don't know if I want to delete what I have on Ao3 rn, or keep it up.

I definitely never expected myself to make a post like this, but here I am. I do want to thank those who have read and enjoyed what I wrote. I'm honored you would find joy in my writing. I am sorry for not finishing up my stories, but I've desperately wanted to.

[tonytonwy]

a change in ritual

kita s. x f!reader

summary: where you reminisce on your exchange in Japan and how you inevitably fell in love with Kita Shinsuke.

Somewhere in the world, early in the morning.

"Jeez y/n, you really need a good routine!" Your friend scolds you as you huff, just making it in time before the doors shut. You lower the volume on your phone; ABBA's great singing become background noise as your friend makes her usual disappointed face. You really needed to stop waking up in the last ten minutes of the morning before you had to run, you were in your last year of high school for god sakes. "Have you ever actually had a planned routine in the morning?"

Her question is as sarcastic as ever, rightfully annoyed with the amount of times you've slept in but it immediately reminds you of a certain boy with silver hair, soft brown eyes and dewy skin, a devoted grandma who adored you as if you were her own blood, a time where you were young and stupid, however not stupid enough to kiss a boy.

"I'll have you know," you say with pride and fondness, "during my exchange in Japan, I had a really good routine over there."

"Right, the same exchange trip where you fell in love?" Her smile is smug and you act like you've been metaphorically shot. It was an amazing experiences with a lot of a small regrets. I wish I had done that, this, and more. You got over those regrets with time however, the small mourning of an experience you could've had comes every now and then. Even after three years, you can say confidently you've never truly forgotten those bittersweet memories.

"And I hate that I ever told you that." Your friend laughs loudly in the compact train, ignoring every glare towards you two.

"Tell me the story again, I seriously love making fun of your boring, awful, no-fun choices."

Somewhere in Hyōgo prefecture, late in the evening.

"Has yer routine ever been drastically changed?" Kita looks to orange sky filled with purple hues, deep in thought over Aran's question as they walk together. Their walks became less talking and more 'interviewing Kita Shinsuke', which he didn't mind, it was great bonding. "Because I feel like nothing could change yer ritual."

Kita gives a small smile, nostalgia filling his head.

"Yes," Kita adjusts his bag, trying to hide the smallest blush on his cheeks, "in the second year of middle school, my routine was quite different to now."

After being with Mr Perfect for three years, Aran could read him a bit better now.

"Tell me," Aran leans in, "did something magical happen in middle school to our captain?"

"Something like that, it was all due to my grandma really." Kita says fondly, "like always."

Somewhere in Hyōgo prefecture, three years ago, February.

You were meant to stay with a loving couple whose son was in Tokyo studying. Keyword; meant to. However, as the gods would intend, things changed, and quickly. 2 days into the exchange and their son decided to move back after hating Tokyo and with no space left, they asked Granny Yumie if she could take you for 6 months. With the programs' and your permission of course, and you were 14, you weren't going to speak up about an issue at all.

"Naturally, 14 is the age of cowards." You glare as your friend interrupts your story before shutting up again.

You felt indebted to Yumie as she gave a big smile and welcomed you into her home as if you were another Kita. You remember meeting Shinsuke perfectly, in the most awkward, 14-year old way. It was a Sunday morning when you entered the old yet cozy house, nervously walking in your 'Anpan Man' socks.

You bump into him as you try to find your room, meeting at a corner. Your foreheads colliding as you drop your bags and you rub your forehead. You were similar heights back then, however you can't help but wonder if he's grown much, is he still a similar height? taller than you? maybe even shorter?

"We love short kings."

"Shut up!"

"I'm so sorry," he appears to have forgotten his pain as his intense eyes just bore into yours, hints of worriedness and embarrassment in them. As his face leans in, you can't help but feel more bashful as you see those brown eyes stare at you, or more like at the red spot on your forehead.

"No, no, it's my fault!" You say in English, too worried to speak Japanese. You scramble back up before he softly moves your hair out of your face however stops and gives a small glance.

"May I?" you can only nod, closing your eyes as he softly touches the bump forming. You don't know where this prince came from but you weren't sure if your heart could handle living him. You both jolt as Yumie appears, right next to you.

"Ah, Shin-chan, yer back already," Yumie says cheerfully, "I see ya met y/n-chan."

"Yes, we've had a small accident though," he's still touching your head and you only hope your face isn't too red for him to notice.

"Ah, colliding heads already? Here I thought ya two would along great." She says while giving a small laugh, also moving your hair away to check the bump.

"I'm fine honestly, some ice and it'll go away." You say while giving a sheepish smile, you didn't want be a bother.

"Water?" They both say, confused before you now feel your face noticeably heat up as you messed up. You quickly realize had forgotten the word for ice in Japanese.

"Ah, cold water?" you question, feeling like an idiot. You see how Shinsuke gives a small smile, humour in his eyes over your cute mistake.

"Ah, Ice, Kōri." His English pronunciation is essentially perfect and you feel a sense of relief as at least you had him as a helper in case you didn't understand something.

"Please write a fanfic over your life."

"The Suzuki's are gettin' an exchange student today, she's meant to arrive soon."

Kita himself remembers the day you arrive perfectly. He was walking with his grandma and his sister around the fruit produce section in the grocery store. He nods at his grandma's words, she always knew the latest information in the town.

"Ah, an exchange student comin' to Hyōgo?" His sister ponders, twirling her hair, her confidence growing as a new high school student at Fueneku. "That's strange."

"Well, speak of the devil," his eyes whip to where his grandma is pointing at, you with the Suzuki's, smiling and bowing as they buy food. You're wearing a loose t-shirt with a black puffer jacket, jeans and some black boots. Your hair is slightly damp and cheeks flushed with the sudden rain that arrived to the town.

He was not one to stare but he can't help it, it's not because you're a foreigner. He honestly is not sure why his eyes can't leave you but your smile must be one of the reasons as you give a big smile to the host family. The Suzuki's laugh at something you say, making you blush profusely, you must've messed up a Japanese word, Kita stupidly wonders what you could've said that was so funny.

"Did you find out what she said?"

"Apparently when they asked her what activities she wanted to do, she said Baikingu instead of Saikuringu."

"Well, she sure is pretty, right Granny?" His sister subtly points to her brother as both women look at his 'awed' face. Yumie nods, giving a big smile, she knew that look from anywhere. That was the same look her husband gave to her when they first met, the glance her son gave to her now daughter-in-law. She felt blessed by the gods to witness her grandson's lovestruck moment as Shinsuke slightly clenches his fists.

He had seen pretty girls, on television, in his middle school, even his classmates. But, there was just something about the air around you that made Kita want to know you better.

He wonders if you're going to be in his class.

"Why dontcha' talk to her Shin-chan?" Yumie lightly pushes her grandson, who fumbles before walking back behind Yumie, as if hiding behind his tiny grandma would hide his slightly pink cheeks.

"m' okay."

"Is that all?" Aran asks, clearly not impressed with the story.

"There is more," Kita says, trying to exactly remember everything in chronological order.

"I'm Kita Yurie, but feel free to call me Yuri. I'm 15 and my English isn't the best but I will try my best to make ya feel at home!" Kita mentally checks his sister's introduction; friendly, good information and cheerful ending. He just needed to do something similar or better.

"I'm Kita Shinsuke, I am 13, turning 14. My English is good so if ya have any questions, please ask me," he bows and feels his eyebrow slightly twitch when Yurie snorts.

"I'm Shōsuke! But ya can call me Shō, I'm 8! I think yer cute!" Kita chokes on his spit for a quick second, as does Yurie. You seem to understand what cute is in Japanese as you give an embarrassed laugh to his little brother's introduction.

"Love triangle?" You can only glare at your stupid friend and her stupid comments.

"You're disgusting."

"Thank you for the great introductions, uhm," you look to the ground before staring back at everyone, however your eye-contact with Shinsuke only lasting less than a second before you pull. You felt nervous, his gaze was quite intense and while you knew it wasn't a glare, you were scared to mess up your introduction.

"I'm l/n y/n, I'm turning 14 and thank you so much for everything. please treat me nicely," you bow and feel your breathe quicken with anxiety.

"Great introduction" Kita's voice cracks and he has a composed face but he wants to die as Yurie starts laughing. However, you just give him a smile, eyes grateful for his compliment.

"Oh my god, I can already hear yer sister's evil laugh."

"I know, it stays in yer head."

"Thank you, Shinsuke." You bow, your face heating up as you quickly realize you called him by his name and this is your 'first time' meeting. Kita tries to not blush as well, wondering if you did that on purpose.

It's Monday morning when Yurie lightly wakes you up, you barely slept from excitement of starting middle school in Japan. You check yourself out in Yurie’s long mirror; the sailor uniform, fresh and ironed perfectly. You walk to the dining room where everyone is having breakfast.

“Ah, sorry,” you sit down, next to Yurie and Shinsuke, who just shrug nonchalantly. You notice how upright he sits, and you subconsciously straighten your back.

“Don’t worry, dear. Sleep well?” Granny Yumie passes you plates of food, miso, rice, egg, and more. It’s almost overwhelming how much food she has given you but you notice how Shōsuke gobbles down his food, before his older brother tells him off.

“Uh, I was a bit excited so I’m not sure if I slept enough.” You yawn and she gives a small laugh, you notice how Kita is staring at you, like he wants to ask you something.

“Do ya like the miso?” You nod to Yurie, who gives a smug look to Shinsuke. You bring the warm miso to your face, inhaling the strong smell and steam. He quietly eats his natto, he wonders if he should cook miso soup more often.

“It smells delicious,” you notice the white blocks and Shinsuke smiles as he sees yours eyes brighten. “Oh my god, I love tofu.”

“I’ll show ya around Fueneko, it’s not too big so I don’t think you’ll get lost.” You slightly jolt as he talks, his voice somewhat deep with sleep and a morning fruitiness that makes you feel warm. The uniform pants are big on him, he still needs to grow into it but the white sleeves are rolled up, revealing lean muscle of a new teenager. You wonder if he plays any sports, what’s the uniform like on him, could you watch any of his games?

“Are we in the same class?,” you say while eating the soft, cushiony egg, “I would love to have a friend in my first class.”

“Let’s hope,” his soft smile reminds you of the rice paddies on a sunny day.

The three of you walk quietly, Yurie in the middle as she asks you a million questions about your country, culture, and customs. You try to answer the best way however she would occasionally correct your Japanese, Shinsuke seems content with just listening.

“Well, this is my stop,” you look in awe at the highschool, the metal gates thick and slightly old. “If Shin-chan does anything disrespectful, immediately tell me!”

Shinsuke gives a deadpan stare to his sister, who just laughs. He was used to his sister’s teasing by now, it was nothing new. However, it annoyed him when you were there to witness his pain.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you say while laughing, waving bye to Yurie.

You both walk, together but there is an air of awkwardness, a tension that isn’t quite describable. You’re not sure what to say, to ask or to do however, you decide to mutter something, anything at this point.

"What songs do you like?"

“Do you have any worries?”

You both stare at each other for a second before you both laugh, walking past the river, full of rain water and ducks enjoying the rare February sun.

“Sorry,” he says instinctively, he should’ve guessed you were going to say something

“No, it’s completely fine! Honestly, please feel more relaxed around me, Kita.” He lets his shoulder down, not realising how tense he was before. You avoid a puddle, slightly going in his way. “So, what songs do you like?”

He’s never really thought of it, music. He knows his grandma loves singing a few songs while cleaning but it felt more like white noise than anything else.

"I listen to anythin’ on the radio but I really like 'Sukiyaki' by Kyu Sakamoto." It was one of the most famous songs in Japan, he couldn’t go wrong with that answer.

"Is it an old song?" He feels his cheeks slightly heat up in embarrassment, ah, he forgot how ancient it was.

"Yeah, do ya dislike old songs?" You shake your head violently, giving a worried face.

"I love old songs! Have you heard of ABBA?" He shakes his head in subtle regret, his grandma liked a few of their songs but he had never actually heard one of their songs.

You get your headphones out, hesitantly passing it to Kita. "Would you like to listen to one of their songs? I promise it's good."

He hopes you don't notice the slight shake in his hands when you pass it to him. You hope he doesn't notice your loud heartbeat and red face as your fingers slightly touch with his.

He likes the guitar at the beginning, the singer's voice is soothing against the piano. He thinks the scenery of Hyogo fits the song, cheerful with a soft piano, it seems like a song his Grandma would like. He suddenly wishes he knew an instrument, do you play any instruments? Would he be more cool in your eyes if he played the guitar?

You side-eye him, wondering if this song was good enough to show him. He looks at stoic as ever but as the singer reaches a high pitch, you see his eyes slightly shine.

Ah, so he can make those faces as well.

Kita Shinsuke was never incredibly fond of music but as the beat drops, he feels the need to sing. He sees how you can't help yourself as you softly sing the lyrics while nodding your head, staring at the scenery of Hyōgo. Your hands tightly holding your school bag, however your fingers playing the notes.

He thinks you're gorgeous.

He feels his own head bobbing to the beat, his fingers moving with the clear piano's beats and his heart slightly beating faster as he has this quiet realization.

"This is my favourite part," you say as the song comes to and end and the piano's tune becomes louder. He can't help but smile at your goofiness as you act you're the one playing piano. His head nods along, staring at Fueneko Middle School from afar, he feels a sense of disappoint begin in his stomach, he swears the walk is usually longer.

"Did you like it?" Your voice is uneasy, you knew ABBA wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but you had hope that Kita somehow likes them.

He's so close to saying something stupid like I like your voice singing it or I like it but your imaginary piano skills more or simply you're pretty, your smile, cheeks, laugh are so pretty, it beats any song.

But Kita isn't stupid, he's a rational 13-year old boy.

"Pretty." You were unaware of Kita’s 14-year-old heartbeat thumping, however he was just as oblivious to your red ears. You almost forget he's talking about the song and not you.

Okay, he's a bit stupid sometimes.

"Okay, it's your turn now, tell me a song," you lean to him, showing your phone. He freaks out, in all honesty, he has zero knowledge of music and wonders how he can surprise you. You try to not overthink your choices, were you leaning too much? Was he uncomfortable? Maybe he wanted you to go away before his friend came?

“Kita!” You both turn, seeing a boy with a shaved head, waving his arm frantically while jogging towards you guys. He’s tall and got a big smile to his face and while he is classically handsome, you immediately think, but Kita is more handsome.

“Who’s he?”

“My captain,�� you nod your head, “I play volleyball.”

“Ah, how cool.” Your compliment makes him want to play a match just so you can see how cool he looks, he wants to receive a hard spike. Kita knew that the process was more important that results but he wanted to show you his hard work. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this proud over a simple compliment. Kita Shinsuke was confident, but not an attention seeker ever.

However, he really wants your attention on him.

Your head already imagines it, Kita in his uniform, waving at you from the court. You try to not romanticise the idea of it, of living with a handsome boy who’s your age, but it’s kind-of impossible.

You feel excited for the next few months.

He feels lucky, that he’s the one to show everything about Japan.

Present time

“Wow," Aran sounds shocked, "I can't believe ya experienced that, I’m kinda jealous."

"It was," he almost struggles to find the correct word, "simply amazin’, it's very nostalgic talkin’ about her."

"Yeah, what did it feel like? Being with her?" This conversation disproves every ‘Kita is a robot’ theory as Aran notices Kita’s eye crinkle with something new, different, maybe some sadness? Aran isn’t too sure himself.

"It just felt good, as if all the perseverance, and diligence I had done were accomplished with just talking to her. Helpin’ her felt like I had done all my chores and ticked all my checklists."

“It sounds like right person, wrong time. But damn, not even a subtle confession?" Aran whistles, it was a bit of a disappointing story, after all, from all the J-dramas he’s watched with his mum, the confession scene is one of the most anticipated and adored moments of a show.

"No," Kita plays with the strap of his gym bag, "unfortunately not."

"Well" Aran puts a hand on Kita’s shoulders, “you never know when she’ll appear!”

Kita smiles, looking at the sunset go down, he wonders if his sister still has your information. While he agreed with Inarizaki’s flag, we don’t need the memories; for looking forward, with your head up high into the future was always the best choice.

He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories he had with you.

"I still can't believe you didn't kiss him!" Your friend groans, as if she didn't know the outcome of the story you've told her like 10 times already. "Surely more stuff happened, right?"

"What do you mean by that?" You ask, feeling your heart race and face warm up.

"Not like that idiot!" Your friend laughs again, "you've only told me this story though, and you lived with him for 6 months."

"Ah," your smile is dead giveaway and before she can ask any questions, you look away, "Yeah, I have more stories."

"Well, come on," you guys walk out of the station, the cold air hitting your faces. The tip of your nose immediately being covered by your scarf.

"I need to be drunk to tell you more stories," your friend laughs before lightly pushing you. You were grateful she wasn't too pushy about Kita, after all, talking about him felt like an intimate story in itself. He wasn't someone you wanted to brag about nor bring the spotlight to. He was someone you whispered about, as if afraid to forget the memories with him, someone you held close to your heart despite the fact it has been 4 years. You thought that memories were something that everyone needed; it’s a reminder of hard times, unforgettable moments and unique experiences.

"Well, give me a hint, feed my imagination a bit."

"Mhmm, well I could tell you about when we fell into a lake together," you see how her face drops, "or when stayed up late and just looked at the stars, or maybe-"

"Okay, how does this Friday sound?"

note: AH I LOVE THIS MAN smmmm, i have so many ideas for this trope or au, maybe other characters, i wanna thank for the amazing inspo from a great mutual:))) who wants to remain anonymous but you know who you are.

[ramzawrites]

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt. 

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1   Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her. 

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself. 

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone. 

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.” 

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs. 

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too. 

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation. 

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached. 

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.” 

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?” 

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table. 

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells. 

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively. 

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard. 

"...Yeah." 

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole. 

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk. 

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision. 

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside. 

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand. 

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise." 

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment. 

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead. 

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply. 

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements." 

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass. 

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that." 

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief. 

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine. 

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed. 

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling." 

Oh shut the fuck up. 

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times. 

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path. 

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking. 

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud. 

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak." 

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin. 

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons." 

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was. 

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago. 

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?" 

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough." 

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist. 

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon. 

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear. 

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place. 

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips. 

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply. 

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket. 

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands. 

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now." 

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave. 

"See you tomorrow at dawn." 

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.

[nashibirne]

Hey lovely! Sorry I missed your milestone post! Firstly CONGRATS! You deserve it and so much more!!! 💖 As there's a milestone celebration in my house today, what about celebrating a milestone anniversary with Henry? I'm all up in my sappy romantic feels 🥺💖 LUV YA x

I'm still answering the asks I got for my milestone celebration 🥳 So today I have another prompt based one-shot for you!

Thank you so much for your ask, Lauren and for your sweet words! I hope you still crave a little fluffy romance because that's what I tried to put into words, but most of all I hope you're going to like and enjoy this and you find yourself represented in my story.

Nostalgia

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Lauren

Words: ~ 1.3 k

Summary: It's your wedding anniversary but you have to work and that sucks, doesn't it?

Warnings: RPF, fluff

UNBETA'ED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Disclaimer/credits: I neither own Henry Cavill nor do I know him. This is pure fiction. Pics for the header from Pinterest

My Masterlist

And now... enjoy the ride!

******

It could have been a great day, a perfect day. A trip to Plymouth, a major task your boss entrusted you with, a really important article you were about to write for the lifestyle and culture ressort you'd joined only a few weeks ago as deputy editor. If only it hadn't been exactly this day, the day of your five years anniversary with your beloved husband.

You leaned back in your seat with a sigh, closing your eyes, the rattling sound of the train that was taking you to Devon soothing your nerves a little.

Henry had been nothing but understanding when you told him you would be away for your anniversary. He had been disappointed for sure, you were easily able to tell by the look in his eyes, but he was the most supportive partner you could ever imagine and so he was genuinely happy for you that you were given this great opportunity.

"It's going to be fun, darling. You'll spend a whole day in a theme park and get paid for it," he had said with a grin. "We can celebrate our anniversary the next day, it's not a problem."

Of course he was right, it was no big deal, whether you had a romantic anniversary dinner today or tomorrow made no real difference, but you couldn't help the feeling of missing something tonight.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for being so unprofessional and ungrateful. Get your act together, you thought and that's what you did. You did your job and it turned out soon that Henry was right, it was a fun day.

The theme park that was about to be opened the following weekend, was called Nostalgia and it was really great. Old-fashioned and high-tech at the same time, the magic of the-good-old-days combined with the thrill of modern rides. You and the other journalists who got invited to the exclusive pre-opening had such a good time, trying all the fairground attractions -the rollercoasters, tilt-a-whirls, a log flume, a beautiful vintage horse-carousel, different chairoplanes and a more funny than spooky ghost train. You watched some shows, from stunt action to musical performances, and enjoyed some delicious treats at the candy booths. The only downer was the fact that the huge, historic ferris-wheel hadn't been opened yet. It was so beautiful, a real eyecatcher, being the geographical center of the park as well as the visual highlight.

When you and your colleagues were waiting for the shuttle busses to bring you back to the train station at the end of this exciting day, you were already busy with writing the article in your head. Unfortunately you were interrupted, when the park director approached you, glancing at your name badge.

"Mrs Cavill, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you please accompany me?"

You looked at him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing to worry about, just a tiny problem with your accreditation. A formality. We just need you to sign some paperwork, so if you'd follow me to my office…?"

"But the bus," you said in a weak attempt to avoid any complications.

"There's plenty of time," the man answered with a friendly smile. "Please." He gestured to you to follow him and you gave in with a sigh.

When the ferris wheel came into sight you stared at it in amazement. It was beautifully illuminated by thousands of little lights that created a very romantic atmosphere, and to your big surprise it was even slowly turning.

"I thought the ferris wheel hadn't been opened yet?"

The director turned to you with a conspiratorial smile.

"Well, we may have given a special permit to someone to use it exclusively tonight."

"Really?" You were confused by his words and he grinned, pointing at something. When your gaze followed the direction of his gesture you gasped, covering your mouth with your hands. Henry was standing by the entrance of the ferris wheel, wearing a tuxedo, his hair neatly done, his blue eyes shining bright, smiling lovingly at you.

It took you some seconds to recover from this welcome shock, but when you were able to breathe and think again, you started to run straight into the arms of your beloved husband. He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground with ease, before putting you down again to press a sweet kiss on your brown hair.

"Happy anniversary, darling."

His whispered words that resonated softly in your ear, sent pleasant shivers down your spine. You looked up, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your lips met and the kiss was brief but deep and passionate, your tongues tasting desire and anticipation in each other's mouths.

"Happy anniversary, baby", you answered with an ecstatic smile, still equally surprised and confused, "but what are you doing here?"

"Whisking you away for a ride on the big wheel, of course," he said with a grin and you couldn't help but laugh out loud with happiness and excitement.

"How the heck did you manage to do that?" You hugged him, snuggling up against his broad chest, inhaling his scent that was so fresh and tangy. Henry wrapped his arms around your petite body, making you feel safe and sound.

"That has to remain my little secret, darling," he smirked and you chuckled at his attempt to wink at you.

"So hop on, my lady."

Henry bowed down before you, gesturing expansively in the direction of the gondola, being the dorky guy he just was and who you loved so much.

When you entered the little cab you were truly amazed. It was furnished with two upholstered benches and a small table, but what made your heart skip a beat and your eyes go wide was the fact that it was decorated with so much loving care. There was an elegant white cloth on the table, candles that illuminated the tiny space, crystal champagne flutes and a huge bottle of Moët & Chandon, strawberries, filled chocolates and the little truffles you liked so much.

You sat down and Henry took the seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you close.

"This is incredible, baby. Such a great surprise," you told him with a grateful smile, visibly touched.

"I'm glad you like it, baby girl."

He kissed you and you laughed out loud in unison, when the wheel started moving, causing the gondola to rock slowly, making you and Henry bump into each other.

Besides the jerky start the ride was very smooth and the wheel kept on turning slowly while you and Henry enjoyed the fantastic few over the park, the delicious treats and the sparkling champagne, cuddled up to each other, sharing uncountable loving glances and kisses.

Just when you thought the night couldn't get any better, the cab stopped at the peak and music started to play softly from invisible speakers. You realized immediately that it was Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen. Your song. The song he had kissed you to for the first time. The song you had danced to on your wedding day, surrounded by your families and friends but still feeling like being the only two people on the planet. The song you had made love to so many times.

You beamed at your husband, unable to say anything, tears welling up in your blue eyes, Henry loved so much. You cupped his face with your small hands and kissed him tenderly, your lips expressing your happiness and gratitude better than a thousand words could have. After making out for a while, completely lost in the moment, Henry pulled away, leaving you breathless and aroused. He raked something out of his pocket and placed it on the table right in front of you, covering it with his hand.

"What's that?" You wanted to know. "Another surprise?"

"An additional one," he grinned, lifting his arm, revealing a plastic card.

"Is that a key card?"

"It is," Henry nodded. "The key to an exclusive suite in the best hotel in town. We'll go there tonight and we won't leave it all weekend."

"Really?" You teased him with a cheeky smile. "What are we going to do in there all this time?"

"I'll show you," he said with a smirk, slipping his hand under your skirt, sounding the bell for the smuttiest weekend you'd ever experienced.

**********

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke @littleone65 @coloraturadiva @cynic-spirit @captainbucky-yt

[allhailthe70shousewife]

Imagine how busy and stressed out the Hamberder/Diet Coke/ketchup/diaper change Major Domo at Mar-a-Lago is today.

[a-dragons-journal]

I remember a teacher asking me why I couldn't get published in high school when the author of Inheritance Cycle was, and A. he was 15 when he did the first draft of the first book, he was 18 when it got published and B. his parents owned a publishing company, hence he got to skip getting an agent, submitting a manuscript, etc. But in my mind that series is associated with my freshman literature teacher saying I'd be published if I "just tried" and calling me lazy, pathetic and uncreative.

Okay, I want to open this response by saying: I hear you, I totally understand, and I'm sorry you went through this.

But... genuinely, why do you think it is appropriate to approach a group of strangers having a conversation about liking a book series and interject to say "well I have trauma about it and hate it!"

What were you trying, or expecting, to accomplish with this ask? To make us stop talking about the series? If we were in a small group of friends, that might be totally reasonable; as it is, this is a public space, and the most you reasonably have the right to ask is for me to tag posts about it so you can blacklist them. (Either way, you should directly, politely ask if that's what you want; interjecting like this just comes off as vaguely guilt-trippy and also doesn't actually communicate your desire clearly.) To vent about negative feelings that came up because of our posts? That's a totally reasonable desire, but not appropriate for the inbox of the person(s) involved in the conversation. The solution to that is to vent about it in a space where the people involved aren't present, so you're not vaguing us to our faces. Again, it just comes off as trying to guilt-trip me for talking about a thing I like because you don't like it - even though I genuinely doubt that's what you were trying to do.

I am not a free vent box. I am a person. Put yourself in my shoes for a moment - if you'd been chatting with a gaggle of folks about a piece of fiction you like and have nostalgia about, and then suddenly a random stranger walked up and announced, "well, I hate it and it's associated with trauma for me!", how would you feel? Guilty for bringing up their trauma without knowing? Irritated that they're interrupting a conversation about you liking something specifically to shit on that thing? Uncomfortable trying to continue a conversation that up until that point you were enjoying?

People are allowed to enjoy things that you don't like or have bad associations with. I trust that you probably understand that consciously, but I say it out loud to point out that this is a chance to apply that truth - it means that they're entitled to talk about those things in a public forum without having their conversation derailed to talk about your issues with the series. I understand that you probably didn't think about any of this when you sent this ask; I'm just asking you to think about it in the future and not do it again. Vent to a different group of people, or to a therapist if you have one, blacklist tags or block accounts as you need or want to, and please don't do this to people.

[ventafaxine]

Them Changes, part 3

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x Rhys Montrose

Summary: Joe could have been obsessed with Guinevere Beck. Instead, the universe introduced him to Rhys Montrose.

First chapter:

When Guinevere Beck entered his bookstore, Joe Goldberg felt his heart fill with a terrifying sense of nostalgia. The young woman did not only push the door of his store but also triggered the alarm in the backdoor of his subconscious. A fragile part of his mind where memories of an unstable mother, threatening father figures, and unfaithful lovers had never been processed. The first encounter of what could have been a passionate love story in another universe came at the wrong time in theirs. And before he knew it, Joe was going back to his bad behaviors. [Well, hello there. Who are you? Based on your vibe, a…]

“Sorry to disturb you but do you, by any chance, have a section dedicated to memoirs?”

Brought back to reality, Joe blinked several times. [Was I really…stalking that woman?] Disturbed by his wrongdoing, the bookseller pulled himself together to focus on his interrupting client, a cheerful blond man with piercing blue eyes. Wearing a fake smile, Joe broke him down. [According to his accent and high spirits, I owe my non-descent into hell to a British man. And not any kind: a wealthy British man, judging by his taste for books. I mean, who reads biographies?]

“Of course. Follow me.”

Unsurprisingly, the section in question was unoccupied. [I have my answer: nobody reads biographies.] In ten years, Joe had only put a foot in this area twice. The year Becoming had been released, Ethan had dedicated a table to Michelle Obama at the store entrance. The remaining copies had been placed on the infamous “celebrity authors” bookshelf.

“There it is.”

Presenting the small collection of books, Joe took the opportunity to check between the shelves, unconsciously searching for any sign of the mysterious woman. [She’s probably a student. Which author could she be reading? Faulkner? Stephen King? Paula F…]

“Thank you very much.”

The accent of his interlocutor tickled his curiosity, distracting Joe from his growing obsession.

“British?”

“What’s that?”

“Your…accent.”

The man laughed a little. [Definitely too joyous to be American.]

“Yes. I come from London. I’m here with a few friends for the holidays.”

London. As a man of letters, Joe had always wanted to take a trip in the Big Smoke. Explore the archive room of the British Library, visit the Charles Dickens Museum, watch The Winter’s Tale at the Shakespeare’s Globe. If he was complexly honest with himself — which he was not, most of the time — the bookworm would have acknowledged that his interest in the capital went back to his childhood, fueled by his mother’s broken promises when hope was all they had left. “One day, I’ll take you to the London Eye, Joseph. We’ll eat fish and chips near the Thames!”. His inner child wanted to know more about the British client while the persistent feeling of nostalgia wondered where the previous woman had gone, urging him to end this conversation to find out.

“I hope you’ll have a nice stay then.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. Say, do you have any book recommendations?”

[Not a biography.] His senses still focused on searching for the girl whom he lost track, Joe — who was at least trying to be a bookstore manager attentive to the needs of his customers — asked absently:

“What are you interested in?”

“Among other things, absent-minded bookseller.”

Continue reading

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 3/?

 A/N: Hey everyone, sorry this took so long!! This chapter was kinda hard to write, I felt like there wasn’t much that I could add but I did my best! I wanna get to Bucky as much as you all do! 😭😩

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies​

Word Count: 2098

​Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~

Warnings: none

Chapter Summary: You and Steve run from HYDRA

Chapter 3: TOMORROW ISN’T PROMISED TO ANYBODY

I enter a shopping mall where I buy a hoodie for myself and a jacket, glasses and a hat for Rogers using cash. I pass by JD sports and see some Supra Vaders I know the Captain will just love so I go in and grab a pair, and get a pair of Nike Dunk Sky His for myself. I leave and meet him where he waits, away from any crowds and we put on our simple yet effective disguises.

“First rule of going on the run, is don’t run. Walk,” I say, recalling my operations training.

“If I run in these shoes they’re gonna fall off.”

I smirk. “Sorry, thought you’d be bigger.”

Ignoring my innuendo, Steve huffs. “They’re ridiculous, why can’t I lace them up?”

“It’s a fashion statement.” I glance at a map as we pass by. “Apple store’s upstairs.” We ride the escalator and enter the store.

Finding an empty laptop, I get to work. “The drive has a Level 6 homing program so as soon as we boot up, SHIELD will know exactly where we are.”

“How much time will we have?” he asks, surveying the area not so subtly.

“About 9 minutes from…” I insert the drive. “now.” I enter the coding commands to unlock the intel but something inverts each one… now comes in my training from the Academy of Science and Technology. “Fury was right about that ship. Somebody’s trying to hide something.” As I look through the coding script my inputs are rewritten to counter the commands. “This drive is protected by some sort of AI.”

“Like Stark’s robot voice? Can you override it?”

I raise a brow as I type away. “The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly. I’m gonna try running a tracer. This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out its origin.” The map tracks a location and pinpoints it as we are approached by a store employee.

“Can I help you guys with anything?”

I react quickly and give him my best charming smile. “Oh, no. My fiancé was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations,” I giggle, placing my hands on Rogers’ shoulders.

“Right,” he adds awkwardly. “We’re gettin’ married.”

“Congratulations! Where are you guys thinkin’ about goin’?”

I go back to the laptop and the state has been pinpointed.

“New Jersey,” the Captain reads aloud.

“Huh,” the employee lets out, surprised. “I have the exact same glasses,” he says after a pause.

“Wow, you two are practically twins,” I remark as I type away.

“Yeah, I wish!” he chuckles. “Specimen. Uh, if you guys need anything… I’ve been Aaron.”

“Thank you,” Rogers rushes out. “You said 9 minutes,” he checks his watch. “Come on.”

I shush him. “Relax… I’m working.” The screen reads Wheaton, New Jersey. “Done.” I look up at him and he has a frown on his face. “You know it?”

“I used to. Let’s go.” He pulls the hard drive out of the laptop and we walk out of the store. “Standard tac team. Two behind, two across,” he turns to face forward. “two comin’ straight at us. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro.”

As he speaks I roll my eyes, this guy was definitely not meant for the spy world. “Put your arm around me and laugh at something I said,” I say.

“What?” he sounds utterly confused.

“Do it.” I feel his arm rest on my shoulder and he gives the most awkward laugh I have ever heard come from a person. “See, Captain? No need to make such a scene.” We work our way to the escalator and I spot Rumlow on the escalator coming up. I turn to look up at Rogers. “Kiss me.”

“What?” he says again, flustered.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“Yes they do!” he whispers.

I put my hand to the back of his neck and push him towards me so our lips meet and I feel his hand fall on my waist. I open my eyes and pull away slowly after enough time has passed.

“You still uncomfortable?” I ask turning and walking down the escalator.

“That’s not exactly a word I would use,” he murmurs and quiets down as we get to the parking lot.

“We could get bus tickets to New Jersey, think I’ve got enough cash for the trip,” I suggest.

“Keep a look out,” he says approaching a truck as I frown but do as he says. In no time I hear the start of an engine and whirl to look at him. “Come on, we don’t have all day,” he says smugly.

I get into the passenger’s side and he starts to drive to the Garden State.

“Can’t believe Captain America can steal cars…” I say striking up a conversation.

He chuckles. “Kind of a necessary skill when you’re fighting a World War and you’re in enemy territory.”

I hum and he glances at me. “And it’s not stealing if we give it back so get your feet off the dash.”

“Bossy,” I remark but do as he says. “I like that,”

There’s a pink tint to his cheeks and his jaw clenches but he doesn’t say anything.

“So I have a question for you…” I start with a raised brow. “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, although no answer is an answer in itself so-“

“Get to it, L/N,” he interrupts authoritatively.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” I smirk.

“That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that!” I laugh.

“Well it kinda sounds like that’s what you’re saying.”

“I was just… wondering if you’ve had practice… since going… into the ice,” for a super secret agent, that answer lacked finesse. “It’s just, I don’t know how you did it in 1945 but guys normally move their mouths for a long kiss like that,” I shrug.

“I don’t need practice.”

“Everyone needs practice.”

“It was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, not dead.”

“Oh?” I say, curiosity piqued. “Who’s been kissing Captain America then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Someone special?”

He chuckles. “It might come as a surprise to you but it’s hard to find someone with shared life experience,” he says sarcastically.

“That’s okay, you just make stuff up.”

“What, like you?” I know he doesn’t intend for it to sound mean so I shrug it off.

“Not everyone can handle the truth, can they? I wouldn’t mind a few white lies to keep something good going… and you don’t need shared life experience, right? Not really… there’s that whole opposites attract notion, after all.”

“But it’s good to have someone who understands what you’re going through, right?”

I shrug… sometimes not knowing is better. Safer. “Maybe. But in this occupation…” I sigh. “Well I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

“You’ve – you never had someone?” Looks like I threw him for a loop.

Shaking my head I turn to look out my window at the trees we pass by. “I don’t hate love or anything… it’s just dangerous to love someone like… us. Isn’t it? They’d either get hurt by people we go after or… ya know, if we don’t come back… it hurts them too.”

“But tomorrow isn’t promised to anybody,” he reasons. “So why deprive yourself of something as great as love on the off chance you die?”

“Because it’s easier.”

“For who?”

“Why the interest Rogers? You wanna fill that spot? Play a little house? Imagine we don’t have to save the world from domestic terrorists?”

He hums at my decision to not answer the question. “No, that’s not what I need right now.”

“And what do you need?”

“Just…” he sighs. “a friend.”

Of course. “Well, there’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers…”

“Maybe we could start with not calling each other our last names?” he offers.

I smile. “Maybe.”

We arrive at the location the tracer indicated as the sun is setting.

Camp Lehigh is on a sign but it seems to be long abandoned.

“The file came from these coordinates,” I say as I pick the lock on the chained fence.

“So did I…” Steve says looking up at the sign in nostalgia. “This camp is where I was trained.”

“Change much?”

“A little…”

I wonder around, scanning the area for any thing to indicate a power source. “This is a dead end. Zero heat signatures, zero waves. Not even radio. Whoever created the file must have used a router to throw people off.” I tuck the scanner in my back pocket and the Captain looks up at me then shifts his gaze to behind me, frowning. “What is it?”

He starts walking and I follow. “Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks. This building’s in the wrong place.” He breaks the lock with his shield and we enter as it leads us underground.

I turn on the lights and it reveals the insignia painted on the wall. “This was SHIELD. The early days, after it evolved from the Strategic Scientific Reserve,” I say, recognizing the outdated logo.

We wander around, finding a wall of three portraits. “The three founders.” He looks at me. “What? The history is one of the things they teach at the academies. Colonel Philips, Howard Stark and Margaret Carter.”

“There are academies?”

“Three. Very tough admission.”

Rogers spots something and looks closer. “If you’re already working in a secret office…” he pushes the shelves apart. “Why do you need to hide the elevator?”

Using my SHIELD issued code breaking device I type in the code for the elevator which takes us down even further to a room of computers, monitors and servers.

“This can’t be right… this equipment is ancient how could it be used to make the files?”

There was one place that looked like it came from this century and I decide to take a risk and plug in the usb drive. The servers whir and more lights come on.

“Initiate system?” a computerized voice says.

Yes, I type. “Creepy.” As we wait for the system to boot up I smirk. “Shall we play a game?” I laugh at myself. “It’s from a movie that was really pop-“

“I know,” he interrupts. “I saw it.”

A camera moves to Rogers and a voice recites his name and year of birth. Then it turns to me and does the same.

“Is this the AI that was blocking my commands back at the mall?” I say looking closer.

“I may not be the man I was back when the Captain took me in 1945 but I am.” A photo appears on one of the other screens.

“You know this… thing?”

“Arnim Zola was a German Scientist who worked for the Red Skull.”

“He’s been dead for years,” I add, remember something of the history lessons.

“First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive.” The robot voice recounts his end of life story and how he uploaded his consciousness into databanks.

“How did you get here?”

“By invitation.”

“It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value. Always thought they shoulda just locked them all up… we probably wouldn’t be in this mess if they did.”

“HYDRA would have died with the Red Skull.”

“Cut off one head… two more shall take its place,” I recite their mantra aloud.

“When history did not cooperate… history was changed.” A flurry of photos of the Winter Soldier in the back ground of significant political events appear on the screens.

“That’s impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you,” I say, moving closer.

“Accidents would happen.” News of Howard and Maria Stark’s car accident shows up next.

Rogers punches the screen as Zola provokes him.

Does that mean…? I don’t finish the thought as the mad scientist explains what the drive contains.

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” I ask.

The doors begin to close as Steve is too late to throw his shield. A beeping comes from my communicator, detecting something. “Steve, we got a bogey. Short range ballistic 30 seconds tops.”

“Who fired it?”

“SHIELD.” I pull out the drive and Steve pulls a grate from the floor. I jump in and he follows, putting the shield up above us as rubble rains down on us. He strains against the weight of it all and the debris settles.

💖💖

Thank you for reading!

I'll be gone until Monday again but I'll try to write on my phone!! I have literally never been so busy throughout this summer until now!

Chapter 4

[marvels-writings]

Nostalgia before War

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) Masterlist

Series Masterlist

| Preview | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 |

A/N: This series will hopefuly have regular updates now, sorry for the delay with this one. this is like a fluffy break before the angst in the next parts

The comforting nostalgia of your room surrounded you, your fingers playing with Wanda's in silence. She didn't say anything, wanting to stay in the quiet you'd created just for yourselves. But a knock sounded at the door anyway, interrupting the silence.

"Coming?" Natasha asked, opening the door and giving both of you a small smile. You gave her a tight smile and nodded, getting off your bed. Wanda followed your motions, at your heels as you followed your mom out of the room.

Your hand slipped from hers as you walked towards the elevator. The silence blanketing you wasn't one of comfort, it was rather of awkwardness. The sarcastic quips and the small talk from Natasha weren't there, rather just the sound of your footsteps.

Hesitantly, you slipped your hand into hers, trying to provide whatever comfort you could. The tension left her shoulders as she shot you a quick smile. Holding her hand was something you did whenever you were nervous, or scared, now it seemed like you were the one comforting her.

Her hand slipped from yours as you walked outside, refusing to show any vulnerability to the rest of the team. A small sigh left your lips at the action, smiling at them while walking into the room. Your smile wasn't returned by anyone, a grim silence surrounding the rest of the room.

Frowning, you made your way into the kitchen, seeing as it was the only empty spot in the otherwise full room. The rest of them stood in their chosen spots, looking around nervously. They watched as Wanda followed you, taking your hand nervously while standing behind the counter. . A secret hung over them, daring to be spilled by any of them.

"Is there a plan?" You asked, breaking the silence in the room. Steve nodded near the far end, sighing and nodding for Vision to speak. He hesitated, moving towards both of you in the kitchen. Setting his hands on the countertop, he let the silence linger for another moment before revealing the secret they were all keeping.

"We're going to take out the stone."

"What?" You snapped, your eyebrows furrowing together. Wanda squeezed your hand gently before moving her thumb in a calming motion across your hand. You bit your lip tightly, waiting for her to speak before your anger got the best of you.

"You didn't let me finish," Vision said, fidgeting a little. "Dr. Banner is going to be operating Wakanda."

Wanda squeezed your hand again before you could speak. Your head snapped to face her, seeing the worry written clearly across her face. She wasn't looking at you, rather staring at Vision curiously. The muscle in her jaw tensed, she bit her lip tightly.

"What's in Wakanda?" She asked, her voice constrained, as if she wanted to ask more questions but held them to herself. The vision opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words, turning around to Bruce to explain for him.

"The tools I need to take out the mind stone." He began, toying with his ripped sleeves. "And keep Vision alive."

You turned to face Wanda, watching her clench her jaw tightly. Fear showed plainly on her face, her wide eyes, her pursed lips, how tightly she was squeezing your hand. But she nodded, almost as if she was giving her approval for this to happen.

The rest of the team nodded in response, moving towards the exit and the jet. Natasha gave you and Wanda a nervous look. You tried to give her a reassuring smile even though you didn't know what was going to happen.

"Let's move," Steve announced, leading you towards the jet.

The air in the jet was almost suffocating with silence. The team littered throughout it, almost brooding as they stared at the grounds. All of them knew of the fight to come, but none were brave enough to talk about it. Wanda on the other hand had tried to talk to Vision about all of this, about losing the infinity stone.

The android didn't make matters better, telling her that she would have to destroy the infinity stone, even if they didn't get it out in time. It made her all the more upset as she toyed with your fingers in a different corner of the jet.

You racked your brain for something to say, to start the most simple conversation. Nothing came up, some lame jokes came to mind but you doubted now was the time for them. Looking around, you tried to remember something funny enough or important enough to talk about that happened.

A grin quickly covered your face when you remembered the perfect thing.

"Hey, Wands." You called, bringing her attention up to you. She stopped playing with your fingers, all of her focus on what you were about to say.

"I think this is the same jet where you kissed me for the first time." You whispered, grinning even wider when her face turned a light pink at the memory. She hid her face into your shoulder, recalling the incident with far too much detail.

"Y/n," Wanda whined, slightly muffled by your shirt. Despite her upset antics, you could almost feel her smiling into your shoulder. The memory wasn't a sad one, rather an embarrassing one for the witch nestled in your shoulder. The grin never left your face as you recalled it, turning to whisper in her ear.

"I can't believe you were so scared of my mom." You whispered, your hand winding out of hers to rest on her waist. Her other hand still found yours, twisting the rings on your fingers. She mumbled for you to stop, but had no intention of making you do so.

"You can't blame me," She murmured into your shoulder, recalling the incident. You really couldn't blame her, you knew your mom could be intimidating and often even scary when she wanted to. You don't blame either of them for the incident, but you could still find it hilarious.

"I can't," You whispered, kissing the top of her hairline. "But it was hilarious."

A grin covered Wanda's face as you recalled the entire incident. Everything from the glares Natasha shot at Wanda in the jet, to the pink blush of her cheeks. It had been just after your first date with her, neither of you was brave enough to tell Natasha yet. She knew you were (your sexuality), but dating was still something new to tell her.

But she was a spy, she found out and tried to confront you in the jet. Which had just happened to be where you were kissing Wanda for the first time. The next events went by rather quickly, Wanda sprinting out of the jet, her face as red as a tomato.

Wanda didn't know how much you'd laughed with your mom after she left. She didn't know about the conversation you'd had with your mom either. The conversation about Natasha being skeptical about Wanda and almost trying to get you not to date her.

You'd never told Wanda that you'd defended her in front of your mother. Natasha was being protective over you, even more so since the witch had fought against them, against her before. She still got nightmares of what Wanda had shown her.

But she'd given her a chance, eventually finding herself smiling whenever you were with Wanda. She saw the way you cared for each other, and it was everything she'd hoped for you. Even now, there was a small smile on her face as she watched you whisper to Wanda as she cuddled into your side.

The corner you held to yourselves in the jet was like a small universe you'd created for yourselves. Where the rest of the team, the trip to Wakanda, the battle ahead, none of it existed. For those few moments, it was just the two of you that mattered.

But like all things, it would end.

The battle would have to be fought, but none of you could tell what was coming.

A/N: You really don't know what's coming ;)

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