#sorry to say i have a pretty restricted cast and it needs to stay that way for plot

[mammoth-clangen]

Love love LOVE this story and the refs of the big cats! Definitely going to be making my own kindred or sounder (my friends are going to hate my new hyperfixation lol)

Woohoo!! Tysm :D

Please tag me if you do end up making OCs, I'd love to see what you come up with!

Also attaching this because it may be helpful, especially re: the last post about how to differentiate Ice Fangs and Fleet Fangs uvu

Art by Mauricio Antón for this paper

[tenthgrove]

Can I request a yandere poly! La Squadra with a darling that gains a dangerous stand? Maybe they felt they were in danger enough that it just suddenly manifests?

Panic Response

La Squadra (Poly) x Reader (GN), Yandere, SFW

Risotto doesn't like sitting out, but he knows it's probably the best thing he can do in this situation. He can't see you right now, crowded out of view by the four men desperately vying for your attention, as well as trying to get rid of each other.

He cannot make out a word that Illuso, Melone, Sorbet or Gelato are saying, though they all seem to be doing their best to comfort you so he won't intervene. Slightly clearer is Prosciutto behind them, chastising each of the men for their tactless manner in consoling you. Behind him, is Formaggio clearly contemplating whether to join in, Ghiaccio staring on in utter bewilderment and Pesci crying almost as loud as you are.

Risotto does feel bad. Seeing you so distraught really does wound his soul, but he knew days like this would be inevitable if he were ever to obtain you for him and his team. You will calm down eventually, and then they can start to explain their real intentions to you.

Perhaps it would be best to make them leave you alone for a minute.

"Hush sweetheart, don't cry. You'll feel better with some water," Gelato coos. Sorbet reaches out to pet you, but you bat him away.

"Don't be foolish. They aren't going to take water from us. You saw how they reacted last time we tried to get them to drink something we poured out for them," Melone reminds him. Gelato tuts angrily.

"Let me be alone with them for a minute, I'll calm them down!" Illuso suggests, like anyone's actually going to let that happen. "You never let me be alone with them, so you don't know until you try!"

"We are not doing that!" Prosciutto interjects.

"Illuso does have a point though," Risotto says, stepping forward. He locks with one of your eyes through a gap in the crowd, red and tear-stained. "Not about him specifically, but this may be easier if it's just one or two of us alone with them. I think someone ought to take them into a different room."

Everyone turns to you.

"What do you think sweetheart? Do you want to come up with us, or is there someone else you'd prefer?" Gelato offers. You shake your head.

"Wanna stay here," you sob weakly.

"How about we go to my room for a bit?" Prosciutto offers, stepping forward. "You liked it before, didn't you?"

"No! Leave me alone!" you whine more loudly. This isn't good. Risotto needs to put a stop to this before you lash out.

"Hey," he addresses you. Your eyes snap up in fear. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to take you into my office and then the others won't disturb you. I'll carry you, okay?"

"N-no," you protest, trying to back up further against the end of the corridor. "Don't!"

"Shh," Risotto hushes you. He reaches for your sides to lift you.

"I SAID GO AWAY!"

There's a jet of light, and the next thing Risotto knows he's being thrown back by the most brilliant stand he's ever seen.

____________

Formaggio- You have to hand it to him, he might not be known as the smartest guy in the squad but he does know how to react quickly. He jets forward to pull Risotto from the stand's grip, rapidly shrinking himself with Little Feet to slip back past the stand and towards you. He knows this stand probably isn't under your control yet so you could be in danger as well. Priority 1 is defending you.

Illuso- Not to be outdone by Formaggio's heroism, Illuso charges at your stand with Man in the Mirror and casts it into the mirror world (lucky Sorbet did get you that glass of water, otherwise he wouldn't have had a point of entry). It can't hurt anyone there, and will eventually demanifest once you calm down. The initial emergency is over, and La Squadra can focus on what to do next.

Prosciutto- Everyone agrees pretty quickly that they need to get you somewhere quiet to calm down, and after how you reacted to Risotto, it's probably best someone else does it. When Prosciutto gently leads you away to his bedroom, you're too tired to protest but still terrified. He assures you they aren't angry with you and can explain what happened once your ready. He lets you sleep alone in his bed.

Pesci- Fra said not to bother you while you sleep, but nobody is letting Pesci get a word in as they discuss down in the meeting room what to do about your stand, so he doesn't know what else he can do. Hearing his voice outside the bedroom door, you are relieved. Pesci is quite possibly the only one you completely trust not to hurt you. You let him in, and he reiterates Prosciutto's earlier promise. You ask him what the others have decided yet. He says they still don't know.

Melone- By the next morning, La Squadra still isn't sure how they're going to manage an unwilling lover with a dangerous stand, but they have agreed it's only right for you to receive an explanation for what you saw and for that they send Melone. Melone gives you a crash course on the nature of stands, why yours probably emerged and the fact each of them have their own. He assures you they don't view you having a stand as a bad thing, but it does create problems. He advises you not to attempt to bring it out again as it (truthfully) could hurt you. He hopes that will be enough to keep you secure for now.

Ghiaccio- He doesn't share it with the others, but this whole mess takes him back. He recalls how unfamiliar with stands he was when he joined the team, practically a child, and how White Album's great power caused a similar chaos for the team. Sure, your situation is different because you're here against your will, but quite frankly Ghiaccio agrees with Pesci that the others aren't respecting your boundaries enough. Maybe if they showed you the same understanding they showed him, you might come around. He'll bring it up with Risotto.

Risotto- It's rare, but Risotto doesn't know what to think. Of course he still loves you and of course there's no way he's abandoning the team's pursuit of you as a lover, but this development could cause some serious problems for the team, and you. Worst comes to the worst, they may even have to restrain you in the basement until your fight wears down enough to stop being a danger to them. Risotto would hate to do that to you. Pesci and Ghiaccio think they should try and make a deal with you. Maybe that's not the worst idea.

Sorbet and Gelato- It's them Risotto sends. They've always taken good care of you, and he rightly trusts them for this important task. Sorbet and Gelato begin by telling you how awesome it is that you have a stand; generally trying to get you excited by the possibility of learning to use it. They then move on to what happened, how scared you must have felt to react like that and how sorry all of them, including Risotto, are. Then they tell you Risotto is willing for you to go on as before. No extra security, no new restrictions on your freedom, and definitely no punishments. The squad has come to the realisation that if you're going to trust them, they have to trust you back, and therefore, they want to offer you this chance. If your stand comes out accidentally they won't be angry as long as you tell them, and if not, you'll get to learn to use it soon enough. Perhaps this is the first step towards peace between you.

[vs-redemption]

From Cindy: This is the fifth out of seven pieces I wrote for a week long event on Discord. Happy reading!

Hawks Week Day Five: Angels or Demons

(Angel!Hawks x GN!Reader)

Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Six

Being a guardian angel was difficult. Even though humans were born innocent, and even though people could try their best to make all the right decisions, the world was still full of dark temptations and strange morally grey situations that could cast even the strongest of souls into doubt. The responsibility of protecting someone both physically and spiritually from those evils was a heavy one, and because of that Keigo Takami felt thankful to have been assigned to you.

Deep down he knew that no mortal was perfect, but he liked to think that you were. You’d never given him much trouble, and he rarely had to intervene in your life aside from small things here or there. At times he’d visit you in your sleep to bring you dreams that would help you work through small problems in your life, and there’d been a handful of cases where he’d had to whisper a bit of advice in your ear to persuade you away from a particularly mischievous idea. Other than that though you did pretty well on your own, and Keigo found he was grateful for that. After all, it wasn’t like he could actually manipulate your actions or control what you did. He could only present alternate options and hope that you chose them.

The one thing that made being a guardian angel so difficult for Keigo was the restrictions on himself. He was allowed to stay by your side and subtly guide you, but under no circumstance was he allowed to show himself to you or explicitly drop hints that he was there. Any angel that was found guilty of breaking these rules was stripped of their powers and sentenced to a mortal life on earth, which didn’t seem so bad until you added on the caveat that your soul would be forever condemned to damnation. It was such a harsh punishment, and Keigo wished every day that you were one of those particularly perceptive humans that somehow figured out there was a presence watching over them with hardly any outside prompting at all.

Thankfully it wasn’t strictly against the rules for angels to get attached to their humans, but if anyone found out the way Keigo felt about you he’d be ridiculed for sure. He couldn’t help it though. You made him so proud every day, and he wished he could talk to you or even just reveal himself for a second just for the small pleasure of knowing that you knew he existed. The temptation to do so had crossed his mind more than once, especially in those times when he could tell you’d had a particularly bad day and were desperately wishing for something to cheer you up. Seeing you suffer was like torture for Keigo, and he knew he’d do anything to make you smile if he had permission to do so.

It wasn’t anything especially significant that finally caused Keigo to reach his breaking point. He’d just endured too many days of hearing your sad sighs and seeing you shed unnecessary tears. He cared about you so much and everything had just built up until it didn’t make sense for him to continue denying his need to be there for you in a more tangible way. At the end of the day, he was your guardian angel. Of course he should be willing to give up everything if it meant securing your happiness.

Shutting off his powers and stepping into reality was easier than he’d expected. All it took was a conscious decision on his part, and it made him wonder how more angels hadn’t fallen victim to the same fate he’d just secured for himself. He’d chosen a public setting to introduce himself so as not to startle you, but he could tell as soon as his eyes met yours on the street that you knew something was different about him. He knew his trademark wings were gone forever now, but the golden color of his eyes and perhaps just his aura itself made him come off as unique from other people to you. His mind scrambled for something to say, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. He knew everything about you, but in your eyes he was a perfect stranger. When you opened your lips to greet him first, he felt his now mortal heart start to race inside his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, heat raising to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… you seem very familiar. Have we met before?” Happy tears threaten to spill from Keigo’s eyes at your words. For the first time since you were born, you were looking and speaking directly to him. It was everything he’d ever wished for. He lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“I’m not sure,” he says, figuring that was the easiest answer. He sticks out his hand and flashes a genuine smile. “But if not, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Keigo.” You reach out and take his hand into yours, giving it a shake while telling him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” You tilt your head, apparently trying to make your mind up about something. It was strange for Keigo not to be able to tell what you were thinking at all. “I know this is totally random, but I can’t shake the feeling like I know you from somewhere. It’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t try to figure it out. I was about to go grab a coffee if you’d like to join me?” The offer was like music to his ears and he quickly agrees. He follows your lead as you head to the nearest café, feeling reassured with every step that he’d made the right choice. The smile on your face was for him, and he was more determined than ever to keep it there.

[iridescent-petrichor]

we’ll meet again, chapter six

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: not really? it just follows the plot of Apocalypse from here on out

Words: 1.5K

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

1983.

It had been almost ten years since you last saw Peter. You kept planning to take a trip down to visit him, but every time you thought you’d be able to make time, you had to help Hank or Charles out with something involving the now growing school. A ton of kids were staying there now, and it never felt like an appropriate time to leave for a vacation.

Eventually, you stopped thinking of him as often. You stopped wondering how he was doing, stopped wondering how his sister was doing. Sometimes weeks or even months would go by without you thinking of Peter at all, and the realization scared you less and less the more it happened. Maybe you were finally moving on from your childhood crush and best friend.

  You stood next to Hank, watching Charles anxiously as he searched for Erik Lehnsherr. The red glow of the mutants shown on Cerebro illuminated all around the room, casting a scarlet gleam on you and everyone else.

“Hello, old friend.” All heads snapped to the professor as he spoke to Erik. You looked from him to Hank, a mixture of fear and hope in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry.” Frowning, you turned back to Charles. “I feel your pain, and your loss.”

His face hardened, all of you waiting with bated breath for his next words.

“What happened to them, it was terribly wrong.” A tear falling from his eye was the only indication of his emotions. “But come back to us, I can help you.”

He paused once more, briefly.

“Think of your wife, think of your daughter. What would they have wanted?”

He stopped for a long time, shock slowly growing over his face, brows furrowing.

“Hank… He’s not alone.” Your eyes widened, glancing towards Hank. He didn’t look towards you, however, his gaze was fixed on Cerebro. The machinery was going wild, numbers jumping all over the place.

“Hey, Ch-Charles wait,” Hank said, trying to get Cerebro under control. Charles sat stock still, staring at seemingly nothing.

“Oh my god…” He muttered; eyes fixated on the wall as if watching a movie you couldn’t see.

All of a sudden, the red glow of the mutants began being covered by a film of purple. It slowly ate away, covering the whole room. You jumped back, eyes darting all around. What the fuck was going on?

“Charles. Charles, get out! Charles?” Hank’s plea fell on deaf ears as he tried to get Charles out of Cerebro, to safety.

“I’ve never felt power like this before.” Charles’ voice sent a chill down your spine, knowing what he was capable of.

“Charles- Charles, get out of there.” Hank’s voice was quieter now, trying to calm him into leaving.

“What’s going on, what’s happening?” Moira’s voice cut in. You glanced at her before Hank continued to speak.

“I-I think… Someone’s taken over Cerebro. They’ve taken control of it.” Your blood went cold, taking a hesitant step away from the machinery.

“To do what?” Raven asked.

Hank turned back to her, fear in his eyes. “To connect.”

The three of you stood there, trying to figure out what you could possibly do to help, when Hank reached for Cerebro, flinching back when it sparked, and Charles began to scream in pain.

Raven ran to his side, “Hank do something!”

He looked around for a moment before using his strength to smash and pry open the panel that held the wires. “It won’t shut down!”

“Alex, Y/N!” Charles yelled, having managed to get back his own mind. “Destroy it. Destroy everything- destroy Cerebro!” He gave Alex one final look before muttering, “wreak havoc.”

You watched as Alex wound up and exploded the pulse of energy from his chest, following suit with your own power. You ripped off the gloves you wore to restrict your powers, using all of your energy to focus the fire on the walls of the room. Alex raised his arm, shooting energy from that as well. The panels of the wall began falling until eventually it was all crashing down. The two of you stopped, and as soon as Hank ripped the helmet off of Charles, he and Alex were wheeling him out of the room behind you, Raven, and Moira.

“Charles.” Hank knelt down once the doors to Cerebro shut, checking over the unresponsive professor. “Charles, are you okay?”

Before he could even attempt to answer, you heard a warping sound behind you. Spinning around, you found a purple portal beginning to close as five mutants walked out, one of which was-

“Erik.” Raven’s voice was quiet in disbelief.

Erik, however, didn’t pay her any mind. He raised his arm, bringing the wheelchair Charles sat in across the room towards him.

“Charles!” She called out, attempting to run after him before he flew across the room. It was useless, but Alex continued to run ahead of the group.

“Alex-” Hank started.

“Hey!” He yelled, not slowing down even as the purple portal appeared once again. “Hey, asshole!”

“All will be revealed, my child.” The head mutant spoke, his voice echoing around your head.

That’s when Hank began to run, as well. “Hey! No!”

Your eyes widened, watching Alex in fear. “Alex!”

All warnings you and Hank would try to call out went ignored as Alex had already begun to unleash a pulse of energy towards where the portal once stood. It burst right through the door, the explosion making you jump back, shielding your eyes from the flash of light.

  In an instant, you felt a wave of all too familiar nausea. You blinked, adjusting to the sudden change in your surroundings. You were no longer standing in the mansion, but out on the grass, watching the explosion from the outside. You froze, knowing a very certain mutant that had the power to pull this off.

Just the thought crossed your mind, a hand fell on your shoulder.

“Wow.” Peter’s exhausted voice came from behind you, making you spin around.

“Peter!” You gasped, throwing your arms around him and enveloping him in a tight hug. He looked… nice. His hair was shorter and definitely more silver. He definitely began leaning more into the silver part of himself with a similar silver leather jacket that he used to own over a band tee, but now sporting metallic jeans and dirty gray sneakers.

“Wait where- where did you-” Hank interrupted, still clearly getting used to the movement. You pulled away from Peter, looking between the two men.

“I was looking for the professor, I thought he lived here.”

“They took him.” You all but whispered. Peter glanced at you, wrapping an arm around you when he realized how shaken you actually were.

You stood there, looking at the school with a massive pit in your stomach when you noticed the hush that grew over the crowd.

Everyone was looking at Raven, in awe at seeing her in her natural form. She slowly turned to Hank, who was no longer facing you and Peter.

“They look up to you.” He spoke. “Right now, they need you.”

“That’s not what they need.” Quiet gasps fell over the crowd when she changed back into her human form.

The crowd’s attention was pulled away once more to see a car pulling up. Peter craned his neck to see the car, arm still wrapped around you. Upon seeing Scott in the car, you realized with a painful jolt that you couldn’t see Alex in the crowd.

Scott ran up to the group, stopping in front of you and Peter. “What happened? Where’s Alex?” He looked to you for answers, not at all reassured by the pained expression on your face. “Where’s my brother?” He repeated, directing it towards Peter this time.

“Pretty sure I got everybody.” He shrugged, glancing around once for good measure. When he looked down at you, however, he began to doubt himself.

“Alex was closest to the blast.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, tears stinging your eyes. Peter pulled you closer, bringing you into a hug in an attempt to comfort you.

Scott began running towards the rubble of the school, Jean and Kurt following close behind him. You watched the two from afar, seeing Scott fall to his knees and Jean go to his side immediately.

The sound of helicopter blades whirring shifted the focus from Scott mourning the loss of his brother. A speaker played a looped message simply saying, “please remain calm. Medical assistance is on the way.”

“Pete?” You looked up at him, brows furrowed. He moved his goggles down from on top of his head over his eyes.

“This normal?” He asked, giving you a look. You simply shook your head before looking back to the helicopter as it landed on the grass some feet away from you.

Moira, who you forgot was still here, began walking towards them after the men in the helicopter got out. “Hey! Moira MacTaggert, CIA, thank god you’re here!”

As the final guy got out of the helicopter and started walking towards you, you had a really bad feeling. He took off his sunglasses, looking over the group of mutants around you, when Raven yelled behind you.

“Wait!”

Peter spun around, confused. You, however, didn’t take your eyes off the man as he yelled for his people to fire.

Before you could even react, a blast flew over everyone, and everything went dark.

[minniepetals]

honeylove

— summary: sometimes it may feel as if you are punished for loving each other but no matter what happens, they will always make it better.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / mafia!au

— word count: 5.6k

— warnings: gang violence, hurt/comfort

"You couldn't kill me if you tried for a thousand years."

Sitting on a wooden chair with ropes tied around him and hands restricted behind his back, Jungkook mimics the laugh of a villain, one that makes him feel so amused as he stares at the enemy boss that stands just a few feet away, angry at the fact that he isn't getting anywhere even with the continuous torture he's laid upon the youngest mafia boss of Bangtan.

Jungkook's lips are cut, he can taste the blood from inside and out and his buttocks ache from sitting so long. But he can hold on, he's Jeon Jungkook, youngest heir of the seven whom he loves just as equally as he loves the pretty one that's previously stolen their hearts.

"No, I can't." The man looks away for a moment and his lips are drawn into a small smirk as he hears footsteps making its way towards them. Jungkook watches, curious as to what other plans he has up his sleeves to try and hurt him even more but the second a familiar sound of a whimper leaves the lips of the captured victim that is brought in by the enemy's two guards, Jungkook's smile is immediate to fall.

"But I can try and kill her." Your eyes are bloodshot red from crying, fear, afraid, lips bright red, and your body trembles as they force you down on your knees. He cringes at the way you fall, a harsh thud, and he already wishes death upon the enemies. The man takes a handful of your hair, forcing you to look up and you scream in pain. "And it'd be the easiest thing in the world."

It's his turn to laugh. 

"J-Jungkook."

Your eyes are begging for him to do something, to save you, but both of you know none of you can escape the place alive without any weapons and help. And that is what pains Jungkook even more.

"I'll tell you what," the man decides, "I'll let you watch the whole thing, that way the two of you can still see each other until her last moments."

His eyes darken as he looks back up, the playful glint entirely gone as if it was never there in the first place and you visibly shiver. "Don't you dare," he growls, voice so deep you can hardly believe it's Jungkook.

The Jungkook you know is sweet and soft. He's kind and gentle, always going out of his way to show that he loves you and the other six that should be on their way. His eyes hold a whole world of galaxy, all the sparkling stars, eyes you always find yourself staring at for the longest time.

But the Jungkook here is an entirely different persona. He is the Jungkook that his enemies and comrades know of, the one who walks into the world of shadows as if he owns the whole system. A professional criminal, the youngest mafia who rules along with his six other boyfriends. This Jungkook will not hesitate to point a gun at someone who's said the wrong thing or ticked him off in the slightest way.

You've never seen him in this way, not ever this dark and dangerous. They've always been wary of showing you this side of themselves and you understand why. It scares you a little but you have every bit of hope and knowledge that they will never hurt you.

Because it isn't you Jungkook is angry at.

"What are you going to do, huh?" With every little teasing he wants to show Jungkook, you pay the price and get hurt each time. "You can't save her now."

"Please, please don't."

He's never begged and you've never seen Jungkook's eyes grow so fearful and afraid as he stares at you, tears glistening at his waterline while his body twists and jerks, wanting every part of him to grow so strong he can break past the ropes that are trapping him.

But he can't and Jungkook only begs some more.

"Don't hurt her. Hurt me. If there is anyone you should kill, it should be me. She hasn't done anything to you, her life isn't worth the kill, I'm more worthy so kill me instead."

You know it's just his way of trying to stall, to try and convince the enemy to let you go so you aren't phased by his words. But it does hurt a little, not of the words he's saying about you but of him wanting himself dead in your place.

"I will do anything, just please, don't hurt her."

"How precious." But the boss only laughs with amusement as he watches Jungkook bark out pleads that are music to his ears. He's got one of the ruthless most successful mafioso to beg to him and there is no way he will not take advantage of that. "Can I ask you a question, Jungkook?" He lets you go and you can see a little spark of relief leaving your boyfriend's eyes as the man walks up to him instead.

"Why her? Hm?" The cigar between his lips leaves him as he puffs out rings of smoke right upon Jungkook's face. "Why love a girl who knows nothing about this life? You could've gone on just fine with your other six. You needed one more? Six wasn't enough?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Jungkook deadpans.

Another moment of laughter leaves him. "Because, little criminal," he drops his smoke on the floor to crush it against his shoe, "if it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be in here," he takes a step back, "tortured, hurt," closer and closer until he stands beside you again, pulling at your hair to tilt your head back and you can smell the cigarettes from his lip, "killed." Laughters again and again, ringing into the room.

"This is all your fault."

And as you cry in pain and agony at the things he does to you, Jungkook has to watch every little thing while his heart tears apart and screams leaves his lips.

When the others finally arrive, it is a little too late but they came.

They came.

So the second Jungkook is released from the ropes, he doesn't care to get revenge on the boss just yet. For he runs and trips and falls to where you lay as Yoongi holds you. He rips you out of his hyung's hold, too afraid and fearful for the fact that you may be gone and it would be his fault for allowing you to go through the torture, for bringing you into his world.

"Baby," he repeats over and over, not bothering to care one bit about him crying out in public where everyone else can see his weakness because you're in his arms, still holding onto life. "Please, please." He doesn't know what he's begging for. Maybe for you to be alright, for you to live. Maybe it's in the way he hopes you will still love him, them, despite all of this.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers against your hair as he holds you tight against his chest.

Namjoon has to forcibly pull him away from you so that you can be seen by Seokjin and still he cries, barely able to stand on his own as the images of you flash in his mind.

.

.

You live, but is constrained to a wheelchair and you can't really work your hands so everything has to be done for you.

From eating to walking. From bathing to laying on a bed.

You hate every moment of it and the pain only reminds you of what you had to go through.

But seeing Jungkook beating himself up for the outcome of your situation, you try to make the best out of it because you know he is hurting and blaming himself.

"When we said to let us take care of you, this wasn't what we meant."

"I know," you place your hand over Taehyung's, letting it press a little as a way of showing you that you're squeezing it for comfort. "I will heal."

"You can't walk anymore."

"There are people in this world who had to live with it since the beginning of their lives," you tell him. "They were never given the privilege to walk on the grass, feel the earth, run and skip, and even though I will miss it, it's okay, I've lived that life. Now, this is my life."

Everything in your eyes is beautiful, and sometimes they just wish they can have the pairs of eyes you have, the kind of thoughts you hold, and the soft heart you were gifted with. But they don't and here they are, watching you with regret for breaking the promise they vowed to you, to always protect you.

"It didn't have to be your life."

Your heart breaks and you know where Jungkook is coming from, why he's saying it, but the meaning behind it hurts and your voice breaks a little as you tell him, "I chose to love you. I chose to be a part of this life and I'm choosing to stay despite everything. Because I love you."

"Maybe you chose wrong."

Your heart falls.

"Jungkook—"

"Are you saying I should just leave?"

"No, baby—"

"Jungkook." You want an answer from him, not anyone else. And as you stare at the way his back is faced towards you, you can only imagine what is going on in his head.

When he says nothing even after a while, you let out a sigh that trembles out of your lips and when your hands hurry to try and excuse yourself, your breath hitches from the sharp pain and you're quick to realize once again that your hands are also hurting.

"Careful, please," Hoseok begs when he crouches in front of you to inspect your hands. You ignore him to look at Jungkook who's still silent even as the rest of them has rushed to make sure you were alright.

And that is what hurts you even more. More than the legs you can no longer use, more than the throbbing pain of your fingers, more than any other pain afflicted upon your body. Your heart hurts so much more so when you cast your eyes to the floor, trying to blink the tears away, Hoseok gets the signal and reluctantly wheels you out of the living room.

You don't fall asleep when the night arrives.

Because even though you lie in between the arms of your lovers, the dark scares you, the nightmares that are inevitable to come, so you force yourself awake, not wanting sleep to ever come your way because you are so afraid.

You're afraid that if you let your eyes close, you will drift off and meet the man that almost took your life away in your dreams. You don't want to remember it, to remember everything that had already happened.

His laugh still rings in your ear and each time it does, you tremble a little more, clinging onto whoever is nearer and they hold you steady because they aren't able to fall asleep if you can't.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" You ask Jimin as you cling onto him while he holds you. Yoongi is behind you, holding you just as securely.

"Why aren't you?" Jimin asks.

"I don't like nightmares," you whimper.

"And we won't fall asleep until you do. Who else will hold you if not us?" Yoongi says and you nod, kissing Jimin right on his chest.

"I love you."

Love.

Love is sweet and precious and strong. Like them.

"You have to eat."

You ignore Seokjin's concerns to continue staring at a blank space as your head falls into a mind of its own. "Does Jungkook hate me?"

"Oh, Y/N." He lets the spoon fall into the bowl of porridge, letting it sit aside just for the moment because you need comfort and validation right now. He takes you out of the wheelchair to let you sit on his lap instead, holding you close. "Jungkook doesn't hate you, little one."

Your lips quiver because it's a little hard to believe that at the moment. "Then why won't he look my way?"

Seokjin's quiet for a few seconds trying to come up with an answer but he doesn't know. "I know this is tough for you but what happened in there, baby?"

You lean into his touch, his strong hold, and sniffle a cry. "Before he did anything to me, he told Jungkook that if it wasn't for loving me, I would have never been in such a position," you say, "that it was all Jungkook's fault."

"Well, there you have it."

"But it isn't fair," you cry, "Does he really want me to leave?"

"I'll talk to him, babygirl."

But for now, he holds you there as you cry for the event that made Jungkook act so cold and distant towards you. And with the way you hold onto him so tightly, as if you are afraid he too will not want you, Seokjin's heart aches. If there is ever a problem that occurs between two, the others get affected as well and he hopes that Jungkook will at least hear him out.

He finds the maknae in the training room a while later with hand wraps on and taking his anger and frustration out on the punching bag.

"Jungkook."

Seokjin knows the young one hears him but he decides to continue punching.

"You're hurting her, you know," he says, "Is this what you really want?" There is no answer because Jungkook knows what he's doing and he doesn't feel like stopping anytime soon. "You can't just keep ignoring the problem."

"I'm not."

"Ignoring Y/N is ignoring the problem."

"I'm not ignoring anything." He's a little more aggressive, a sign that tells Seokjin he doesn't want to talk about it but the older one knows it can't keep going on like this.

"So this is your way of saying you no longer want Y/N in our lives?"

"Can't you see?" He punches the bag harshly one last time before turning to his hyung. "If she stays, who knows what other horrible things are going to happen to her."

"We'll protect her—"

"That's what we said the last time and now what? She's stuck in a wheelchair barely able to do anything for herself."

"I know you're angry but—"

"I had to watch it all, hyung!" He snaps and there is a small line of tears that begins to grow as Jungkook remembers the event that is still so clear in his mind. "I had to watch him hurt her, break her legs, and even as she cried for help and mercy, I couldn't do anything." He's so afraid. So afraid of what would have happened if the others hadn't arrived.

Would he have to also see your eyes slowly lose its light? Know that the last thing you saw before your death was the breaking of his promise to you? That he promised nothing would happen to you but he failed to keep it?

You could have died, just barely holding onto life in that cold, dark room.

"I couldn't do anything," Jungkook says again but his voice is much softer, the fear and guilt eating him up alive. "I couldn't do anything, hyung."

There comes a time when Jungkook reaches his breaking point and Seokjin's there to hold him steady so that he doesn't completely fall apart.

Jungkook knows that what he's doing is hurting you. You call out to him whenever you can, eyes trailing after him as he chooses to ignore you and leave whenever you're in the room. He sees the way your eyes fall with disappointment and hurt without actually seeing you, he can see it in his mind. He hears you late at night as you hold onto the others and they try their best to comfort you through the nightmares that drive your insomnia.

He wants to make it better, but he fears that if he tries, a similar event like that will happen all over again and Jungkook knows he will not be able to bear it if a second time ever occurs.

"I know babyboy, I know you think this is the best decision for Y/N, to let her go, but you can't think this way." He holds him, placing a gentle kiss atop his head because when the maknae cries, it hurts them most. "Our enemies know Y/N, if we let her go, what will happen if she isn't guarded and they capture her again? It will be a repeat of the event but she won't have any hope left."

"She didn't have it then."

"No," he shakes his head. "She had you, you were her hope. Because she knows that as long as we love her, we will always protect her no matter what. Because even though everything was hurting and he was slowly trying to kill her, she had that hope to hold onto, knowing the rest of us would come to the rescue. She may not be able to walk anymore, but do you know what she told me when we were in the room with the other medics and I had to do everything I could to save her?"

"What?"

"J-Jin...Jin...-"

Never once had you ever thought you would ever be the one to end up on the receiving end of Seokjin's healing hands, but here you are, crying out for his name as if he is an angel.

"Shh, babygirl, save your breath," Seokjin tells you but your lips quiver as your trembling hand holds out for him weakly. He takes the hand, not ever able to reject you, and holds you steady. "You're going to be alright."

"Promise me...promise me something."

Your brows are creased and your voice is low but he hears you. "Anything."

"No matter what happens, whether I will ever walk again or not, please don't stop protecting me. Please don't leave me."

"Oh, baby," he squeezes your hand gently, "why would we ever leave you?"

"Some of you are going to think that it's for the best but no matter what happens," more tears escape your eyes as you hold onto him, not caring for the other two medics who can hear and see everything, "being by your sides will be the best protection you can give me and I will go through this all over again if someone asks me."

"No, Y/N—"

"I love you," you vow, "so promise me."

"We can't leave her," Seokjin tells the man that he holds in his arms, slowly crumbling down, "you can't leave her."

When Jungkook goes to take a stroll in the garden and sees you, you're in your wheelchair with your bodyguard Doyoung behind you, pushing you to wherever you want. A blanket lays on your lap, indicating the time of the season when Spring has yet to come.

"Oh wait, Doyoung, stop here for a second." He obeys your command for you to take the time to admire the budding flowers. "Do you see this? They're blooming!"

He smiles a little at the sight. You've always had the tendency to make friends with their inferiors in and out of the house. That's why everyone likes you and would want nothing harmful to be cursed upon you. Yet there you are, stuck in a wheelchair for the remainder of your life, smiling and going along to what life planned for you as if nothing was different.

But he knows it's different, you just don't like to dwell on the sadness and would rather look at everything with sunshine and rainbows.

Sometimes it isn't always the best, sometimes he wishes you would just be true and give in to the fear and let them hold you.

"I should tell Jungkook, he—" You pause and his heart drops at the way you hesitate, understanding why you can't go on.

It was him who got you the seeds to plant the flowers for them to bloom for when Spring arrives. The two of you picked them out together, promising one another that if the flowers began to bloom, you'd watch it together. But after the incident, it's always been you seeking Jungkook while he hides away, not wanting anything to do with you.

Truth is, he's still afraid, but what Jungkook wants more than anything is to see that precious smile of yours again.

You're too sweet for the world, too pure and precious and he wants nothing bad to ever happen to you, yet there he was standing in the garden with you oblivious to his presence, thinking bad on every little moment from the time the enemy brought you down to him.

Your screams still echo in his ears. They ring and ring like an ongoing nightmare, as if he is to be punished for not being able to keep his promise to you.

He doesn't want anything bad to happen again, and fears that while he remains selfish and holds onto you rather than letting you go, more darkness will follow you around. His world was never safe from the beginning but they fell so hard for you they threw away all logics and held onto the one thing that is the light in the shadow world where they belong.

But the longer he stares, the more his brain tries to see the logic and rightful way to go about this, the harder it is for him to process how he will be if you are gone. Everything's been better since you fatefully walked into their lives and now here you are, in a wheelchair. Because of him.

But if there is anything Jungkook should know, it is that he is someone who always gets what he wants.

And right now, just as the first moment his eyes caught your beautiful figure, all he wants is you.

But is it right? To be selfish and let you stay in this world that is so dangerous and dark?

He doesn't know, but he finds himself walking towards you, catching Doyoung's eyes and silently beckoning him to leave before calling out for you since what feels like forever.

"Y/N."

You're surprised, of course you are. Your breath hitches at his call, eyes widening at his presence, and he sees the way your hand retraces from the flowers to lay on your lap. Your fingers fiddle with one another, a nervous habit of yours, but you don't look away from his piercing gaze as if you are afraid this is just a hallucination, an illusion..a dream.

He levels himself to you with one knee on the cold hard pavement. "Why are you crying?"

You hadn't realized but when you go to touch your cheek and feel it damped, a few more tears slip away. "I-I don't know," you say and his brows furrow. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Jungkook's heart aches at the sight, the pain in your voice, and he wraps his arms around your torso to lean in and burrow his face against your thigh. "I should be apologizing."

"I miss you," you confess.

He nods. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm scared."

"It's okay," you say, "I am too but I'm also brave, Jungkook, braver than the girl you first met."

"You're hurt," he points out. "The things you went through, you..- now you're in a wheelchair chair and I couldn't—"

"Stop, please don't blame yourself." You take his head, cupping his face with eyes filled with tears to force him to look back at you. "You and I both know nothing could be done at that moment. Even if you were to escape those ropes, he would have definitely just shot me right then and there without hesitation. It could have gone so much worse, you could have lost me completely, but you didn't and I'm relieved that he only took away my ability to walk, not leave this Earth forever."

"Why..-" Jungkook lets out a little sigh of exasperation as he looks up again. "How can you look at things like this? Make it seem so much better than the actual situation you're facing?"

"Because I'm right and you know it."

"Even so," he takes your hands to hold them together in a gentle manner and kisses them, the same hands that were touched by the enemy where your fingers are scarred from the event that still terrifies the two of you. "You didn't deserve this."

"I know but it's okay," you squeeze his hands with a tight smile on your face. "I'm alive and living and I'm here and I'm yours."

You always make the best out of the worst things, like when you changed them for the better and he knows him and the guys will never want to ever let go of someone like you—no, not someone like you—you, just you. No duplication, no imitation.

You. Y/N. Their one and only babygirl whom they love more than anything in the world.

"You're mine," he nods and kisses your hand again. "Ours."

He holds your face with his large hands, brushing away the soft tears that have been left to stain your precious cheeks, and gently swipes around your eyes to make sure the remaining tears are gone as well. He doesn't have to say that he loves you, because actions speak louder than words and when Jungkook leans up to press his lips against yours, the dance of your lips are the silent vows of love that isn't needed to be said.

.

.

You wake up to find Jimin staring at you, his lips so plump and perfect, the right amount of seduction without actually seducing but that's Jimin for you. He smiles as if admiring the view in front of him but you're confused because there isn't anything else but you in front of him.

"What?" You ask, voice croaky from having just woken up.

"You slept well last night, pretty one," he says and you gasp.

You did. You slept very well that night and Jimin didn't have to wake you nor stay awake with you because of your fears and the nightmares eating you up.

You actually slept well.

"I actually had a dream!" You squeal with excitement, quick to try and jump on top of him but the pain shoots up from your right leg and you wince, catching the attention of everyone almost instantly.

"Y/N-"

"What's wrong-?"

"You have to be careful, babygirl," Jimin chides as he sits up from the bed to uncover the blanket from your body in order to check on your leg. "It isn't going to heal properly anymore, remember?"

That alone ruins your mood and you bite your lower lip, pouting. "Hurts," you say and Seokjin coos.

"It's going to be alright, little one, but you have to be careful like Jimin said, okay?"

It's annoying, having nothing to rely on except others to help you with your everyday life. But you can't really complain. After all, you've told Jungkook that it was better than receiving death and if he hears that you have a hard time adjusting to this life, he will only feel bad and blame himself all over again.

You cannot have that.

So you nod and let them take care of you.

"I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to hide your slight disappointment of always having to be cared for but with your lips quivering and the tears watering against your waterline, you can never hide anything from them.

And so that sets off another set of panic.

"Hey, no, no, no, baby," Hoseok quickly coax as he cups your face in his hands to catch the tears before they can fall. They know far too well that it isn't from the pain of your legs after Seokjin made sure of it. "Don't cry, my baby."

You sniffle, shoving his hands away gently to wipe your own tears but he doesn't let you. "I'm so pathetic."

Chorus of no's are immediate to echo into the room and it's kind of fascinating because you know they are completely different people once they are in front of others.

"You can't look down on yourself, honey, you're in no position to refuse help at this moment," Namjoon tells you and you know it's true but it's a little hard to accept the truth.

You wish you can just avoid this and walk out but you can't. You can't use your legs.

"I know but..-" You try to keep the frustration subtle in front of Jungkook, took a moment to breathe and calm yourself and that's when he leans in to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

"It's okay baby," he says, "I know." He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I understand baby, you don't have to hide it, I know it's frustrating so you don't have to try and be strong. It's okay to be weak."

Your brows furrow. "But I'm always weak."

"What?" Yoongi chuckles. "Then tell me how a weak person can face us each day without flinching away."

"That's because you love me," you pout.

"That's right, but that's only because of what you've done," he says, patting you gently on your head. "Before we even fell in love with you, you knew what you were getting into, softening our hearts. And that takes a lot of guts to do."

"It was new," Taehyung recalls. "We've always been used to everyone fearing us, trembling at our presence and not even daring to look our way. And then when you came around, you treated us as equal individuals, gifting us with that precious smile of yours."

"You've always taken good care of us, Y/N."

"I don't," you deny, "I don't do much."

Jimin shakes his head lightly. "You're the light of our world and that is the most important job," he smiles, "as ours."

You look away to the floor, huffing. "It isn't enough."

"No, no, please don't say that," Seokjin says and Jungkook goes to hold your face with his hand.

When he forces you to look up and your eyes meet, there is a palpable silence that passes by as his eyes force him to see the visions between the you now in front of him, and the you then that cried out for his help back in that dark room. He shakes away the images and leans in to rest his forehead against yours with a sigh.

"Your love is the most precious gift that has been given unto us and we will never take that for granted. We love you, Y/N, more than the word love itself, more than anything." He kisses the tip of your nose. "More than the tears that tries to tear us apart." He kisses both your eyes. "More than words can ever convey." He kisses your forehead. "And your love," he leans back to so that you can see that the others share the same thoughts, "we are lucky to even receive this love."

Jungkook guides your legs slowly towards him, gently bending one of them with soft touches and leans down to deliver one last kiss on your knee. "So thank you," he smiles softly though a single tear slips from his eye, "thank you for allowing us to love you, to protect you. Thank you for being ours even at your worst times."

You may not think that your love is not enough compared to theirs but to them, your love is the best thing that has happened to them.

And even if things may not be great physically, you have them. Them who will stop at nothing to do anything for you if you say so. Them who always make it better whenever you don't feel well.

Even when you catch a fever a day later and refuse to tell them, believing you've already bothered them enough. Because no matter how you try to hide anything, they will always figure it out with a simple look.

"Baby," Namjoon's brows furrow as he crouches in front of you and holds your face, confirming his beliefs. He lets out a light sigh. "You have a fever, little one."

You move his hand away with some bit of effort, pouting. "It's okay, you have things to take care of."

Your voice is scratchy and he stands to pick you up from the wheelchair, ignoring your little protests. "Shh, baby," he hushes. "You're right, I do have things to take care of and that is you."

He walks back into the room not a moment too soon, allowing the rest to look up with slight confusing glances on their faces.

"Something wrong?" Taehyung asks.

"The little one has a fever."

"No, it's—"

"If you think we're going to let anyone else take care of you, you're wrong, baby," Yoongi says, cutting you off with a frown. "You're already in pain and now you're going through another burden."

"Come here," Hoseok offers and Namjoon hands you over to him with no protest, to which Hoseok lays you back down on the bed with him beside you. Jimin helps to pull the covers up to your neck and because you're too tired and weak, you don't protest. "Don't worry, love, we'll make it better."

And they do, that always do.

[fanfictionfansmiction]

Interruptions

George reader insert modern au. Basically George has been your barista for months and you bump into him at the club but something gets in the way. Word count: 2533

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“Admit it! You’re in love,” Lavender extended the vowels like chewing gum, “don’t look at me like that! You haven’t stopped talking about him all week!” She buzzed with excitement, that finally her loveless roommate had a crush. She could barely contain the gasp that too anyone else would seem completely over dramatic but for Lavender this was tame. She eyed me knowingly as she reapplied her burgundy lipstick. Just as I was about to break and admit my crush Luna floated in draping her paper white arms delicately over Lavenders deep brown exposed shoulders. Luna planted a kiss on her cheek leaving a shiny residue of her sparkling lip gloss and then she gave me one to. In her hand she had a large glass of shimmering champagne that she somehow managed not to spill a drop of.

“What’s the crack girls?” She asked looking at Lavender. All Lavender gave her was a look. Unsurprisingly that was all it took. A wild grin grew on her face. The excitement of love! They would say and start giggling. I loved all of it really, but I had to keep my cool.

“I have absolutely no idea what she’s told you Luna but it’s not true! You know what she’s like,” I side eye Lavender who had resumed her knowing look, “I don’t even know the guys name! Yes, he gave me a free coffee one time but that was it! A gesture of goodwill, please can we drop it.” I plead dramatically.

“A free coffee! When’s the wedding?” Luna started.

“I was thinking a winter wedding.” Lavender finished.

My cheeks were burning, and I couldn’t stop myself from throwing my head into my hands. Shaking my head. God why are feelings so embarrassing.

“Right young lady,” Lavender said sternly, “I can’t have you feeling sorry for yourself. We are going out and we are going to have fun. So, for the moment you’re just going to have to get over the mortifying ordeal of feeling fuzzy feelings for someone you barely know! Here take this.” Lavender hands me a plastic shot glass of a green liquid that smelt like apple. I peered up and looked at my friends. A smile gave me away and then we drank.

We had made it from the flat, to the pub and now we were in line for the club. All of us dressed up and feeling very much like the most beautiful, funny, intelligent and wonderful people to ever grace the earth. Luna brought along some old school friends who had names I probably had been told but I was shooting blanks. She had her arm slung around the waist of a strong looking girl, face splattered with freckles and fiery ginger hair. Nattering with Lavender a girl with wild curly hair and hands somehow still covered in ink. We weren’t too far from being let in, each of us clinging to our ID’s and laughing about something stupid that happened earlier in the night. I kept fidgeting. Looking around and chewing on my fingernail.

“What’s up your arse?” The ginger girl asked me.

“Oh, she’s just in love.” Lavender said stretching the vowels a little further this time.

I slapped her bare arm, shooting her a look that I hoped would put this conversation to bed. She was about to open her mouth again.

“If you drop this conversation right now and for the rest of the night, I will buy everyone a shot.” They considered it and then all of them nodded and quickly changed the subject.

“Ginny why are you complaining?” I heard Luna whine.

“Because my brothers are out tonight and I’m pretty sure they’re already in the club.” She stamped her foot like a younger sibling does. I had to stifle my laugh because I could see my younger sister doing the same thing.

When we got inside, we weren’t cold and shivering anymore. The air was thick and the wooden floor disgustingly sticking. The girl with the large hair whose name I learned (Hermione) checks in her wool coat and Ginny’s denim jacket.

I make a bee line to the long bar that stands away from the crowded dance floor. The line was almost too long for me to care but I did promise shots and I am a girl of my word. I was quickly wishing I were more covered up. All the crowds pushing and shoving me. Being jabbed by sequins and zips. Not incredibly fun.

I found myself pushed up against someone much taller than me. Wearing faded jeans and a strange graphic t shirt. That’s all I could see from my restricted viewpoint. But then he looks down at me. A face full of freckles and orange hair illuminated by the changing lights. My barista. His brown eyes look down at me and I almost expect him to recognise me, but he doesn’t. His smile is wrong, not enough teeth and he’s missing a dimple. Not my barista. My face must show my disappointment because he starts to stay something. Which I can’t hear so he leans down. Hot breathe on my already sweaty neck.

“Don’t look so disappointed love, you aren’t my type either.” He chuckles. Then I look at him and feel the urge to explain. So, I plant a hand on his neck that must still be cold because he shivers and I talk in his ear.

“Sorry, you look like someone I know. But you aren’t the right one.” I say shrugging. Before he can respond I’m called forward to the front of the line. I’ve upped my order to two shots a person. They give me a silly circular tray that I am determined to defend. When I reach my friends, I have successfully kept everything together.

A chorus of yay and yeahs squeal over the thudding music. The shots are gone before I know it and Hermione only took one, so I have her other one and I’m ready to dance. That’s when I see the guy who’s not my barista again, it seems like he’s about to approach me until he looks beyond me and I can’t help but turn to see at who he’s poking his tongue out. He must be Ginny’s brother. He decides that whatever he was going say is worth it because he saunters over. Definitely not my barista. A wild look in his eyes and a wide grin.

“Hello again love.” He mouths. “I think you might know my brother.” He says. “Do you go to his coffee shop?” He asks. I nod. Then somehow his grin grows wider. Before I could ask if his brother is here, he disappears into the crowd dancing. I shake it off because I’m here to dance. I take Lavender by the hand and spin her around. We dance like an old married couple in a kitchen singing songs to each other. I’m having fun and I feel light. Someone catches Lavenders eye, and she sways over to them. She is going to have a fun night.

So, I go to dance with Luna, but I see that her and Ginny are closer than I knew so I decide to let them have their fun. I notice Hermione having fun and I decide to join her. We jump around in a circle and laugh together. She says she’s spotted her boyfriend and they need to have a conversation. I follow her eyeline to see someone who looks like Ginny and my barista. How many of them are there? I shrug again. Must be time for another drink. This time at the bar I see my barista. Black jeans instead of blue and a mustard colour crew neck. I look up at him to see if he sees me too. He’s not but his face is flushed pink and he’s chewing on his lip like his life depends on it. Why didn’t I read his name tag? I’m in that coffee shop every morning and evening why haven’t I learned his name? He quickly looks down at me like he’s checking I’m looking at him. Now the pink is a little darker. He looks down at me now smiling. That’s my barista. All teeth and a single dimple that casts a little shadow on his face. Now my cheeks are burning red. It’s my turn to look away. He bumps into me purposely and I look up at him. He bends down slightly to talk into my ear. The hair stands up on the back of my neck.

“Caramel latte with almond milk, right?” He asks, he voice deep and struggling to be heard over the music. It’s my turn to talk in her ear. I place my hand on his neck to steady myself.

“And you’re my barista.” I say.

He pulls away to look at me but keeps my hand there. He asks, “Your barista?”

I take a shaky breath in deciding how to play this. I’ll be someone I never am, someone who says what she means.

I tilt my head, “Yes. My barista.” He chokes on something and coughs a little.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks but he doesn’t wait for me to answer. He orders me a drink and leads me to smoking area where we share one chair. It’s still cold outside and my body heat seems to be running out of me. He drapes his arm around my shoulder rubbing his red hands up and down my arm. I turn to look at him and I realise I’m basically sat in his lap. I look up and we’re basically nose to nose. Looking away I down my drink which makes him laugh. A low rumble that I can feel in his chest.

“So do I get to know you name?” I ask.

“George.” He smiles at me, the light from the club dancing over his face. I go to ask if he needs mine but then he says it. As though he’s been waiting to say for months. It makes me blush like he said something inappropriate. It sounded like he did. So, I begin to question if it was my name he said.

“You know my name?” I ask a little breathless and beginning to feel the heat re-enter my body.

“Of course,” he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, “prettiest girl to come into the shop and the best tipper I’ve noticed. My brother said he ran into you at the bar. He sent me there to wait for you. I was beginning to feel a little ridiculous. Until I saw you staring at me.” He laughs quietly like we’re alone.

“I was making sure it was you.” I say in a hushed tone reserved for museums.

“How’d you know?” He asks edging closer so our noses bump.

“Well you’re the prettiest barista in town. Your brother doesn’t compare.” I say. Just as I feel us edging closer and his lips brushing mine someone clears their throat in front of us. I slump my head onto his shoulder and George looks at the person.

“What Gin?” He asks in a huff.

“There’s a girl emergency and she is needed.” Ginny says strongly like she’s asking for her toys back. George groans like he’s not done with me. I sigh because I know I’m needed but I’m also not finished with him.

“I have to go. If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say kissing his cheek and push his hair out of his eyes.

“I hope you know you don’t have to pay for coffee anymore.” He shouts after me.

After finding Lavender weeping in the toilets I do my best to carry her back to our flat. Where I take her makeup off, brush her teeth and carry her to bed.

“Night Lav.” She whines in response. I switch off her light and close the door.

I wake up before Lavender and as I wander out the door in clothes, I’ve thrown on I see the rest of the girls laying across the sofa and the floor. The plan is to get everyone coffee. I don’t expect to see George in the shop but he’s not working. He’s in the queue looking as bad as I feel. When he sees me, he flushes red and doesn’t know where to look. Suddenly I feel just as shy, but I go next to him anyway. He looks down at me and then wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head.

“What are we getting?” He asks.

He pays for the drinks and brings them back to the flat me, not letting go of my hand as we walk. Ginny groans when she sees her brother causing Lavender to peak out of her door wrapped up in her duvet.

I give everyone their orders and make toast for them all. George and I laugh when Luna makes a quick exit to the bathroom. I cover his ears and he cover’s mine. So we don’t hear her bring up last night in the toilet. Slowly all the girls shower and collect their stuff to begin the walk home. Lavender manages to cry through the full story of what happened last night, blowing her nose dramatically as she does. I rub her leg and tell her men are stupid. George agrees making us another hot drink.

Lavender’s phone rings and she scurries back to her room. For the second time in twenty-four hours me and George and alone together again. Standing in the kitchen. Closer than you would stand to a friend. I don’t know what to say. So, I just look at him. He looks at me. I hug him, holding him close. Close enough to smell the coffee beans and to feel his heart racing. The TV still on the music channel begins to play a mushy love song I never learned. I move my arm to rest on his lower back and take his hand with the other. We sway in the small poorly lit kitchen. Laughing as we stand on each other’s feet. Still we dance together in the kitchen like an old married couple. Until the song changes to something I didn’t know you could slow dance to.

The TV goes on standby and now we’re just holding each other in the kitchen. His hand brushes through my knotted hair which makes us laugh. I rest my hand on his neck which makes his face soften. He says my name again like a wish I know will come true. I wait for him to kiss me or to say something to acknowledge how strangely familiar this all feels. Then his phone dings. He groans again. Cursing under his breath.

“It’s Fred, Mum’s expecting me for dinner.” He looks at me with pained eyes, “I have to go.” I whine. This time Fred kisses me delicately like he knows if he kissed me harder, he wouldn’t be able to leave. I give him my number before he leaves, promising that next time we won’t get interrupted.

[anonil88]

Wandavision Ep. 9 (series finale) liveblog

Obviously there are spoilers below read at your own wishes im including a gif to give you more time to scroll away

The picture is the family together in fight stance omg omg let me hit play

We back right where we left off.

Yea she wants to absorb your power sis, nah fuck that Agatha you can fuck right off.

I can see the cgi in the window and car.

Oh fuck this white mother fucker. Vision please come save your wife. Ayyy my guy!

I mean is he her ex? Or just her exes body.

Multi boss battle time!

This has to be Peter from X-men just being manipulated.

Wanda really did create an entire man the only thing missing is the body.

Um we are missing a few scenes here. When did they capture Jimmy?

You handcuffed a magician? Stupid.

Cliff? Who's that?

So they are about to have a boss battle amongst civilians lmfao. They probably won't even notice what's happening.

On the nose entry of the Darkhold.

It's not her destiny to destroy the world at all. Even in the comics she fights and fights that destiny time and time again.

Oh no, angry puppets. Run Wanda run!

Mrs? Ralph is that you?

Oh it is Ralph they casted Evan Peters to tease us all about x-men im guessing.

That is fucked up to tease us with that.... I'm just saying that is fucked up.

She doesn't even know how she has done this, she really thought she was doing the right thing.

Ugh this feels like when grief gets overwhelming.

No WANDA NOOO, oh shit she really doesn't know how to control it fully at all.

Get out everyone get out!

Wtf is Agatha planning?

Oh no Vis! His soul, if only he gets closer to her.

No the boys....if only she could find a way to tether them to her and not the world she created.

She is going to try and suck wanda dry oh my lord.

Haha family stance too cute. A family that fights together, stays together? Maybe.

Ooo are together gonna fuse?

She is a hero and learning very very fast.

Ayyy boys

Monica lets goo! Take that Hayward.

Hayward is an entire bitch. Fuck him.

Oh they are gonna have a logic battle or a battle of the brains. Exactly you are both vision now kith.

Who will this new vision be? Not quite how I expected it to happen with an awakening but yay, the rebirth of vision!

But, will he stay alive at the end of this? This new vision not Wanda's remade husband.

Let's go red wiggly woos and nightmares. Destroy you with your worst fears or your regrets.

Dammit.

A witchhunt really?

No wanda not like this. Agatha is a liar and has shown that why would you trust her?

We all thought vision would die but what if it's Wanda? Oh no.

Me to Agatha Harkness:

Oh? Did she unknowingly cast another spell?

Ah ha that's why she was hitting the barrier so wanda is a visual learner.

I hope she gets that Darkhold book and reads it.

She is writing her own damn story. I know that's right.

COME ON CROWN

COME THROUGH OUTFIT

Ngl you can see they ran out if cgi budget this episode BUT I love this cute redone style of the comic book outfit. The new ones not the old ones.

Also she doesn't need you, she has a guy named Dr. Strange that she can call.

Awe this is so sweet but I know that this will end. I love that we see her vision and her boys happy all together because we do not get to see that in the comics really like all at the same time.

They are now friends in the comics that share kids, yaknow divorced parents that stay friends but can't make a relationship work.

At least for a couple moments we get a happy power family in house 2800, that get some last sweet beautiful moments.

They will live forever in her heart.....and cough eventually reincarnated cough. Their sound are very real.

I hope she saves that photo at least.

She healed and found out more about herself and who she loved, thats beautiful.

So he's not gonna tell her that he gave her vision the other back?

Awwww they are so in love and marvel doesn't even let them be happy in the comics.

I mean you literally will say hello again his body with his memories is flying outside right now.

Aww vision.

Emo wanda has returned in aesthetic. Starts playing BMTH or PTV

She's like I'm sorry, oh and she said it.

Oooo with the hood and cape on yesss. She is pretty much a rejected member of society and "herodom" now who runs off to discover herself after a really fucked up situation and then a messy engagement similar to comics. Kind of like how Peter is set up to be in the mid credit scene at the end of far from home.

Wanda really said:

Midcredit scene reaction!!

Is Jimmy gonna be director?

Coronet?

Yes a skrull! Talos heard? How? Yay Monica is going to space like she always wanted!!

AN END CREDIT SCENE!!!!!

Thats the lake from the other movie right? Uh all these wait is Thor around? Oh wonderful I love this oh yes give me Wanda educating herself with this book. And she has learned sustained working projections without creating another hex, I love that for her. Two places at once. WE GOING TO THE MULTIVERSE, which i don't think she will be a villain for.

For a finale this was just okay like not great but good enough to pass because after all this is Marvel not Starz or HBO (GOT aside). I understand now why the executive or was it director said this would be a dissapointment. A lot of people had so many theories running but even with my own theories i haven't been conflating them as definites. The only one i did was Monica's scientist and now Pietro being just Ralph revealed. After seeing last weeks episode I just said imma just fully enjoy this last episode and didn't pay mind to many of the new theories.

Anyways I'm not super disappointed this was just an okay finale. So was Legends of Tomorrow's last season finale which I still found some enjoyment in. But, I'm not as excited for Falcon and the Winter Soldier because I can tell from this episode we are going back into movie marvel action with little depth.

I really enjoy the non-officially but official MCU shows like Jessica Jones or Agents of Shield because they often do both. The depth and the action which this show did with a much larger budget. I get there are probably plot holes in this episode for time or filming restriction reasons but still like dang it. Well this has been fun thanks for whoever reads these haha.

[kirschkid]

Misha Collins - StageIt 22.11.20

First of all, let me tell you that for me Misha is the sweetest and greatest person on earth. I'm really happy I was there, watching him talk about Spn and Castiel. So I want to give you some of that joy, I hope I get everything right. Here it is:

Misha at the beginning of the panel: "So strange not to be able to see your smiling faces." His last shooting on the show was a while ago, so Misha thought he had mourn but "... watching that last episode was quite an emotional experience for me! Kinda took me out for a good couple of days. Just because it... for me personal it represents the end of a chapter of my life. And yet I do have that feeling that this supernatural fandom isn't going anywhere. That somehow we are going to be able to stick together... "

I saw some of the other online panels and everybody had selected questions to answer. When the chat is just rushing through, this totally makes sense.  But still, Misha trying to read the chat so he could answer was the sweetest!

Question: "We know Jack brought Cas back but we didn't get to see how that played out. What do you think happened and what is he up to?"

Misha: "There was a different ending originally to supernatural that covid restrictions made impossible to shoot. I think we are not supposed to talk about what that ending was going to be. But it was very cool but it involved bringing back lots of lots of cast members from over the years and big crowd scenes..." "... so in the original ideation of the ending Cas hadn't gone to rebuild heaven. There was a different conclusion for him. So I actually did not read the last two episodes before they aired. Because I just wanted to go on a journey as an audience member and watch the episodes not knowing how the story would unfold exactly. I knew a little bit of what Cas's and Jack's fate were... in the abstract just from conversations, but because I wasn't in it I don't know what the answer is." Misha goes on a bit about the way Jack is but it's not really going anywhere. So sorry I cut it here.

Question: "What qualities does Castiel has that are qualities of Misha?"

Misha: "I think there are a lot of them. And I think that that's because over time the character melded with me. And I with him to an extend." (He had a little but a very cute smile on his face, saying that!)   "When the show started Castiel was just this like... he was a soldier, he was a warrior and he was just bound in determined to serve the interests of heaven. And over time we got to see him unfurl as a bit of a fish out of water who didn't quite feel like he fit in with either angels or humanity. Felt like a little bit of an outsider and I think that that is something that I have felt for much of my life." (Can somebody tell me how it can be, that a person like Misha Collins ever has to feel that way?! Sorry... just had to say that.) "He became frankly like softer, more sensitive and he tried to do the right thing. Tried to be a good person. These are qualities that I have. But you know I don't think of myself like a hardened warrior. And I think that that's how Cas was written at the very beginning." Misha goes on about the fact, that not only him but also Jared and Jensen over the years formed the characters they played with their own personality.  

Question: "What is the one thing you will take with you from Castiel?"

Misha told us that he discussed this with Jared and Jensen recently, that  "the characters really became kind of a part of us." when you play a character for so long. Misha: "When I was watching Dean's death scene I cried. But I was really crying because it was like that's Cas's friend Dean dying. It's a weird thing on an emotional level to have a blurring of the lines between yourself and your character. And I think that that happened to all of us. And it is just because we inhabited them for so long. The characters became facets of ourselves. I literally feel like I will take the character away. You know what I mean?! He is always going to be with me. He is going to be an aspect of my being, forever. Which is strange... yeah... I don't know." Again he goes one a little bit.

Again the topic of how the show was meant to end came up. Misha was considering the idea of telling us, even if he wasn't supposed to. (Not sure if he was kidding or truly trying to figure that out. You know, it's Misha!) Misha: "I tell you... we saw a version of Sam and Deans heaven that was populated with all these people from their past. All of the characters from the show that we have come to love, that Sam and Dean have come to love over the years. They were there in this version of heaven."

Misha talked about Castiels outfit for quite a while. Telling us that they changed it from time to time without really mentioning it. It felt like he had thought about this for a while. And let me tell you,- he has some of the trenchcoats in his wardrobe at home.

Question: "How did you prepare for emotional scenes?"

Misha: He told us how he needs to stay away from people to get in the right mindset. And for the love confession and death scene, he sat down in a corner, and one of the crewmembers, without Misha asking, shield him from people.

Question: "How did you feel when you read the script on how Castiel dies?"

Misha: "I knew that this ending was coming for a long time because I was talking to Bob Berens, the writer, about it. And I was really happy with it, you know. That was sort of the ending that I wanted for Cas and so when I read the script I was really happy that it had made it to be page. It felt like it was a little risky and a little brave for the show to do. And I was happy to be a part of that! And happy to be able to have that character express love like that. So I was happy with it." He took a moment before he continued " I have seen some people complaining about this is playing into the bury the gays trope." He was really careful talking about this, telling us that he didn't think that that's what was happened with Castiels 'ending'. And that so much good came out of this declaration. "This declaration ended up literally saving the world."

Question: "What was your favorite moment of the finale?"

Misha: "My favorite moment of the finale was Dean's death scene. I just thought it was really masterfully executed. Excellent performance from both Jared and Jensen in that scene. It made me cry so that's pretty good."

Question: "Do you think Cas and the other angels got their wings back?"

Misha: "Great question! Yeah, probably. I mean if we were rebuilding heaven we have Jack on our side who is now the new god why can't we finally have our wings back?! What a long and miserable experience that was of not having wings. Cas was so powerful when he started. He could like snap his fingers and teleport anywhere in the world and time travel!"

Question: "What job, non-hunter, would Cas be good at?"

Misha: "Cas would be a great security guard because he never sleeps. So he could just stand there and he doesn't seem to get bored" Misha thinks Cas wouldn't be a great teacher, architect, or artist. But he could see him as a cook.

Question: "In your opinion what color are Castiels wings?"

Misha: "I... shit! I don't know... I always thought they were black but now that you say that we only saw the shadows of them. Ah! They are rainbow-colored!"

Question: "What was your favorite version of Castiel to play?"

Misha: "I had the most fun playing Lucifer..." "I really loved playing the human version of Cas..." "Overall just regular Cas was my favorite." "I'm gonna say Cas-Cas was my favorite."

At the end Misha told us something very important: "I hope you all stay safe and take care of each other. Stay sane it's a hard time right now." "One of the nice things about this supernatural community is that we have all done a good job over the years of taking care of each other so I hope you know that there are people here you can reach out to and there is a community of support. And I appreciate you all!"

-----

So, that's it. It isn't every single word but I hope you enjoy it!

[firebrands]

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance) | ironbat

Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark, T, 5.3k of Tony & Bruce in boarding school together (Note: underage drinking and kissing) | on ao3 | for @talktonytome hehehe enjoy!

***

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

 “I agree that it would be beneficial to you to be educated among peers of your—or close to your caliber,” Alfred intoned, as Bruce browsed through brochures of private boarding schools.

“Not that your tutelage has been in any way inadequate,” Bruce said. “But I think I need to learn how to interact with these… people.”

There was a small smile on Alfred’s lips, and he nodded.

 The same knowing smile is on Alfred’s lips now as he places the last of Bruce’s bags in his room.

Bruce takes a deep breath before turning to face the boy who inhabits the room across his. “I’m Bruce Wayne,” he says, trying to smile.

Tony reaches out and shakes Bruce’s hand.

“This is Alfred,” Bruce says.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs. “Are all butlers like, required to be British?”

Bruce almost asks, oh, you have one too? Because it’s a relief to know that he shares that with someone. But it strikes him as gauche to ask. His mother would not have approved.

So instead, Bruce stares at Tony for a moment, then looks to Alfred helplessly.

“Well, I shall be off, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, disregarding Bruce’s silent plea. “Don’t forget to write.”

“I shan’t,” Bruce says, frowning. “Of course not.”

Alfred squeezes Bruce’s shoulder briefly, then walks out of Bruce’s room and down the hall.

Bruce purses his lips.

“So where are you from?” Tony asks, walking towards Bruce’s room. Bruce has to fight back the urge to block his entrance, instead standing stiffly in the doorway.

Tony slips past him easily and begins to walk around Bruce’s room, bare save for the three bags he’s brought. The boarding school didn’t allow for extravagance, and all Bruce thought to bring were clothes and some of his favorite fountain pens. Alfred had insisted on packing beddings (and he was right to do so; the sheets looked itchy).

“Gotham,” Bruce answers, watching Tony warily as he sits down on Bruce’s bed. Bruce sits on the chair by the desk.

“Never been,” Tony says, inspecting his nails. “Nice there?”

“Nice enough,” Bruce says, thinking of the country club and the large greenhouse his mother had commissioned, in the middle of the city. The yearning feeling that rises out of him takes him by surprise.

“Well,” Bruce says, casting his gaze around the room helplessly. “Where are you from?”

“New York,” Tony says. “My dad’s Howard Stark.”

Bruce has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at how gauche Tony sounds. Of course. Now it all makes sense: Tony’s ostentatious watch, the polo, the way he just reeks wealth. How nouveau riche.

“Ah,” Bruce says, because he’s met people like Tony before. “Stark Industries, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, excitement causing him to lean forward towards Bruce. “He builds the coolest stuff.”

“And you, too,” Bruce says, remembering a Popular Mechanics magazine that his father’s secretary had laid out on his father’s desk. He remembers now, a much younger Tony Stark, holding up some kind of circuitry. Bruce looks at Tony’s hands, notices how he has some fingers bandaged up. Inexplicably, Bruce wants to reach out and inspect them closely. Wants to hold Tony’s hand.

Bruce’s words have the opposite effect on Tony, who shrinks back a little. “Yeah, I guess.”

Bruce furrows his brow. “Are you building anything now?”

“Yeah!” Tony says, jumping up. “Wanna see?”

“Sure,” Bruce says. “But I’d like to unpack first.”

Tony tuts. “Your bags will unpack themselves. Come on!”

He takes Bruce’s hand in his and Bruce tries not to flinch at the contact. He lets Tony drag him to his room and Bruce stops at the door.

“A bit of a mess, sorry,” Tony says, not sounding apologetic at the least. Bruce takes everything in: the computers, the tangles of wiring, the explosion of clothes on Tony’s bed.

“I thought we were only allowed to move in today,” Bruce says.

“Yeah but who cares about rules,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “I came in last week.”

“Why?” Bruce asks—it explodes out of him, really. He can’t fathom why anyone would choose to move out of their homes into such a solitary space.

Tony shrugs, and Bruce can already tell from how Tony avoids his eyes, that there’s more to it. It sparks something in him, a deep curiosity.

“So I’ve been thinking of how to build a robot,” Tony says, holding up a circuit board and some sketches.

The math makes Bruce’s vision swim as he takes it in.

“I’m still figuring out the code,” Tony adds, more to himself than to Bruce. “Do you like robots?”

“Not really,” Bruce says. “But I want to know more.” He’s surprised by how much he means it. It’s interesting, and he can’t place if he means it because he wants to spend more time with Tony or learn mechanical engineering from a fourteen year old.

***

Bruce wakes up with a start. Someone’s knocking on his door, soft, urgent raps, belying the fear of getting caught as well as the need to be heard.

Bruce rubs his eyes as he cracks open the door, and yelps as it’s pushed open. Tony claps his hand over Bruce’s mouth.

“Shh,” Tony whispers, shutting the door behind him. “Just me.”

“What are you doing?” Bruce tries to say, but it’s muffled by Tony’s palm.

Bruce frowns and sticks out his tongue.

“Ugh!” Tony squawks, wrenching his hand away. “Gross!”

“What are you doing here?” Bruce hisses.

“Look at the moon!” Tony says, oblivious to Bruce’s ire. His palms are pressed flat against Bruce’s desk as he leans forward, face pressed against Bruce’s window.

The sight makes the confusion melt away into fondness. It’s horrifying.

Bruce huffs out a breath and checks the clock. “It’s two in the morning.”

“It’s a harvest moon,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder at Bruce. “It’s pretty.”

Bruce fights down the urge to say, you’re prettier.

“Have you slept at all or have you been gazing at the moon all this time?” He asks, instead.

Tony laughs, and turns to look back outside. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Bruce walks toward him tentatively. “I resent that,” he murmurs. “I’m offended on behalf of the sleeping public.”

Tony shifts and makes space for Bruce, and Bruce hefts himself up to sit on the desk, leaning against the window as he looks at the moon.

“Okay. I guess it looks nice.” The moon is high in the sky, so bright that Bruce can see the campus in full. Tony tilts his head up some more, the roof of the building obscuring it a bit. He moves again, rests his hand on top of Bruce’s thigh.

It sends a shiver up Bruce’s spine. He looks down at Tony’s hand, warmth seeping through his pajamas.

Tony seems to notice, then looks down at his hand as well.

Their gazes meet.

Bruce can distinctly feel the moment his pace picks up speed.

Tony doesn’t look particularly handsome, not right now; there are circles under his eyes and his hair's a mess without the usual product.

Tony smiles, then seems to catch himself and bites his lip.

Bruce feels his face heat, then he looks away, down back at the quad.

“Hey,” he breathes out, and he can’t figure out why he’s whispering, but he knows too, that he’s ruining it by speaking. “I think someone’s sneaking out of the dorm.”

Tony’s gaze snaps to the window, and he presses himself up against it to follow Bruce’s line of sight.

***

A year later, it still makes no sense that they’re friends. Jacob Astor had greeted him when they’d seen each other in class—he’d formed his own group with Oliver Queen and Matthew Vanderbilt.

Bruce had met all of them before, back when they had parties in the Manor. He’d stayed in communication with Ollie, at the very least, who did ask him, “Bruce, why don’t you sit with us for lunch?” But Bruce had looked at Tony, seated at their usual table, and it wasn’t pity that made him say, “oh, I said I’d eat with Tony today.”

Tony, who had his own set of friends, too—sons of self-made men who spent their money sending their children to exclusive and private boarding schools like Roxbury, who tried to hide the stench of their beginnings by perfuming their offspring.

Tony isn’t any different, he’s pretentious and loud and gauche to a degree that makes Bruce laugh instead of sneer. “You’re ridiculous,” Bruce says, every time, and he’s explained why one shouldn’t have to talk about how much their father makes in polite company that Tony’s gotten a bit of a handle on himself.

In turn, Tony’s taught Bruce to “let loose,” which is a very thinly-veiled way of saying that Tony breaks all possible school rules and drags Bruce along with him.

When they’re called to the headmaster’s office, Bruce has his hands folded behind his back as he explains exactly why they were caught sneaking around the restricted books section. He very pointedly does not say “my father will hear about this,” which is a line Tony had used the first time they were caught (they had organized a betting game for the annual intramurals). Instead, Bruce says, “We apologize, sir. We shall not do it again.”

“But why did you do it in the first place, Mr. Wayne?” the headmaster asks, sighing. Bruce can’t say that someone in class had dared Tony to steal a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Tony very subtly kicks Bruce’s foot, as if in reminder.

“I lost my pen,” Bruce says.

“In the restricted area of the library,” the headmaster states, rather than asks.

“Oh, no, sir. Not at all. But I know I did lose it in the library, and I had to check every corner for it.”

“At midnight?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“And Mr. Stark?”

Tony straightens up at the mention of his name. “I—two pairs of eyes are better than one?” He hazards. “And I couldn’t bear to see Bruce suffering any longer.”

Bruce glances at Tony, but keeps his face neutral. Tony, completely useless as he is in these situations, is visibility biting back a smile.

The headmaster sighs. “Take better care of your possessions, Mr. Wayne,” he says. “And Mr. Stark, take better care to advise your peers against breaking curfew, rather than encouraging it.”

“On my honor,” Tony says, laying it on thick. Bruce closes his eyes, unable to stop himself from rolling them.

“I hope I don’t need to summon you here again. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Thank you sir,” Bruce says, bowing slightly. “We’ll be better.”

Bruce just shuts the door to the headmaster’s office before Tony erupts into laughter. “We’ll be better,” he repeats, clapping Bruce on the back. He knows Bruce meant, better at not getting caught.

***

“Brucie,” Tony sings, as he throws the door to Bruce’s room open. “I have a surprise for you!”

Bruce slowly lowers his head to rest on the psychology book he’s reading. “I’m busy,” he says, voice muffled by the pages.

“Well stop being busy and mind me,” Tony says imperiously. He rests his hip against Bruce’s desk, and Bruce shuts his eyes when he realizes that Tony’s—Tony’s general crotch area is right in front of him.

Tony takes Bruce’s chin in his hands and tilts Bruce’s head up. “Come on Bruce,” he says, and the movement does something funny to Bruce’s insides that makes him keep his eyes shut. At the same time, he can’t help but feel that Tony knows this; Tony’s always so tactile, and Bruce is pretty sure he’s shown his hand on how he isn’t.

“What is it,” Bruce says, opening his eyes and looking at Tony.

Tony has a mischievous grin on his face, so Bruce knows it’s trouble. For the past two years, it’s always this face that preceded it. Bruce searches Tony’s face, then sees that he has his other hand behind his back.

“Reinforcements,” Tony says, and extends his arm with a flourish. In hand is a bottle of whisky.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce asks, already turning to look back at his book. At this point, they both know Bruce will fold, but this courtship is part of the process.

“Fun, Bruce,” Tony says, kneeling down beside him so he can rest his chin on the desk and look up at Bruce imploringly. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sounds dangerous,” Bruce says, frowning.

Tony tuts. “I know you like it,” he says, and pushes Bruce’s hip. “Besides. You’ve been brooding.”

“I have not,” Bruce snaps, affronted.

Tony rolls his eyes, pushes the bottle against Bruce’s book. “It’s the weekend and you’re broody and I’m bored, let’s get drunk,” he says, pouting.

“Go lift some weights then,” Bruce says, pushing the bottle away. So maybe he’s afraid to get drunk around Tony, or to get drunk at all. Before—before, he’d had a sip of wine on New Year’s, with his parents. But he’s never trusted anyone enough to try more of it, and it would be mortifying to get drunk and have Alfred pick up after him. It’s with this train of thought that Bruce realizes that he may have finally found someone he trusts.

Now it’s a question of if he trusts himself around him.

“No,” Tony whines, drawing out the vowel. “I wanna get drunk with you.”

“Why?” Bruce asks, and it comes out sharper than he intended.

Tony shrinks away from him.

“Fine,” Tony says, standing.

“No, Tony,” Bruce says, his resolve crumbling immediately as he reaches over and catches Tony’s wrist. “Okay, come on.” He doesn’t want to dwell on the strange power Tony has over him. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen, when they graduate, when he finally goes down the path he promised himself after all this.

Instead, he focuses on Tony’s wrist in his hand.

Tony turns his wrist, takes Bruce’s hand in his. “You’re too easy,” he says, sitting back on Bruce’s bed, a triumphant grin on his face.

Bruce doesn’t say, only for you.

Tony opens the bottle and Bruce reaches over to his bedside table and hands him an empty glass.

“No glasses,” Tony says, taking a swig. “We drink like men.”

“I regret this already,” Bruce murmurs, but sets the glass aside before he takes the bottle from Tony.

“Regret is for future you,” Tony says.

Bruce shakes his head and takes a pull. The whisky tastes the way it smells, and it burns down his throat. It makes his stomach feel warm.

Again, the fear bubbles up inside him. He worries about what he’ll do when he’s drunk. He worries about what Tony will do, too.

“Stop thinking,” Tony says. He takes the bottle in one hand and takes a sip. Then he stands, takes a step towards Bruce. He takes Bruce’s chin in his hand again and tilts Bruce’s chin up. “Keep drinking.”

Bruce parts his lips open, entranced by the sight of Tony. His cheeks are already a little pink. Bruce wonders how he looks, like this, mouth open and waiting. He looks up at Tony, meets his eyes.

Tony lets out a shaky breath before he tips some whisky into Bruce’s mouth, murmuring an apology as some of it spills down Bruce’s chin. He wipes it off with his thumb, and Bruce licks his lips. He blinks when he sees Tony follow the movement.

Tony steps away, sits back on Bruce’s bed.

Bruce observes him for a moment, puzzling out that look on Tony’s face, then decides to sit beside Tony.

They pass the bottle between them in silence for a while, and then Tony starts talking about the wall he’s hit while building.

Bruce listens and half-heartedly tries to offer solutions. He knows that if he gets it right, Tony’ll be out of his room and building again, and he wants Tony to stay. It’s a funny thing to admit to himself.

“What were you reading?” Tony asks, apparently giving up on finding a solution.

“A book,” Bruce slurs, and realizes with a start that he’s there. He’s tipsy. This is what it must be. “I think,” he adds, blinking. “I think I’m drunk.”

Tony bursts out laughing. “Oh sweetheart,” he says. “I think you’re fucking adorable.”

 Bruce can’t say when or why they stopped drinking, but he wakes up with his face pressed against Tony’s hair.

“Tony,” he rasps out, because there’s a bottle of water across the room but he can’t move.

“Stop shouting,” Tony says, burrowing even closer against Bruce’s chest. “Sleep time.”

Bruce makes a sad, pitiful sound. His head is pounding. He wants to die. Nothing, not even Tony in his arms, makes him feel better. (He really doesn’t want to focus on the last thought. He can’t.)

This makes Tony sigh, roll over, and feel around the side of the bed. He makes a pained sound as he lifts Bruce’s Hydroflask.

“Go drown in it,” he says darkly, handing it over to Bruce before he grabs the pillow from under them and uses it to cover his head.

***

They’re seventeen when Tony finally works up the nerve to ask him: “do you want to come over for the holidays?”

Bruce has known for a while now that Tony’s wanted to. He’s really gotten much better at reading people, which is why he deigned to come in the first place. He’s noticed the way Tony’s tried to start a conversation about it, especially when the holidays come up in class.

“Sure,” Bruce answers, smiling. “Your parents won’t mind?”

Tony snorts. “As long as you won’t mind them,” he mutters. “Anyway, it’ll be fun! Christmas in New York!”

Bruce rolls his eyes fondly. “Cold and full of tourists,” he says.

“Better than dark and depressing!”

“How dare you,” Bruce gasps, mock-offended.

Tony laughs. “Will Alfred be okay?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll have a ball. Probably have too much eggnog with Leslie.”

Tony nods, as if he’s content with this outcome. “I can’t wait,” he says, smiling.

“To spend even more time with me?” Bruce teases. He’s noticed too, now that he’s a bit older, that he might not be alone in how he feels. He’s rewarded immediately by Tony sputtering.

“Well away from all this, which makes it different,” Tony says defensively.

Bruce laughs. “I’m kidding,” he says, and doesn’t hesitate when he rests his hand on Tony’s arm and squeezes it quickly.

Tony smiles, looking a little shy. It’s these little tells that have cemented his theory. For now, he’s puzzling out why Tony hasn’t done anything about it; he’s pretty sure he’s telegraphed his desire just as loudly. He might as well have printed it out and decorated his room with signs that read: Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

 The Stark Mansion on Fifth Avenue is, in a word, grandiose. Bruce doesn’t wrinkle his nose at it, but it’s a close thing. There are too many decorations in the foyer alone, and as Bruce surveys it all, he wonders who their interior designer is.

“I know,” Tony says, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to their butler. Bruce takes off his own coat. “This is Jarvis, by the way.”

“Good afternoon,” Tony’s butler says.

Bruce laughs. “I see what you mean, now,” he says.

“Huh?” Tony asks. Then, “Oh. About them all being British.”

Bruce smiles, nods at Jarvis, and follows as Jarvis leads them inside.

“You remember that? That was what, four years ago?” Tony asks, catching up to them.

“Yeah, when we first met,” Bruce says. They have a Picasso. Has no one told them that he’s fallen out of favor?

Tony follows Bruce’s gaze. “I tried to tell them,” Tony groans. “Anyway, that’s sweet of you,” he adds.

Bruce almost stops in his tracks. Tony’s always had a knack for that, throwing such meaningful things around like it was nothing. It’s something he’s been trying to learn.

“I try,” Bruce replies, and winks at Tony.

Tony looks away, a slight blush on his cheeks.

Bruce feels triumphant.

“This is your room, sir,” Jarvis says, opening a door and setting Bruce’s bags down. “Please let us know if you’d like anything and we can pick it up for you.”

“Thank you,” Bruce says.

“My room’s down the hall,” Tony says. “Come on, I’ll show you before I introduce you to mom and dad.”

 Dinner is a strange affair.

“Tony has said so much about you,” Maria says. She’s a beautiful woman, and the way she’s coiffed her hair reminds Bruce of his mother.

“Oh, good things, I hope,” Bruce says, smiling.

���Of course, he says you’ve kept him on the straight and narrow,” Maria says.

Tony grins at him, pleased by the exchange.

“Because he seems incapable of doing it himself,” Howard says, and the smile is wiped off Tony’s face.

“Not at all, Mr. Stark,” Bruce says, and he’s not really thinking about why he’s doing this on his first dinner with them, but he also just can’t abide by this kind of talk. It’s not right. “Tony’s been helping me with math, and after that time a few years ago, I think we’ve both matured significantly.”

Tony stares at Bruce for a second before he shoves a heapful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“How are your parents,” Howard says gruffly, doing a poor job of changing the topic. It’s likely because Maria was glaring at him.

“Oh dad,” Tony says through a mouthful of food.

“Howard,” Maria hisses.

“It’s fine,” Bruce says with false cheer. Tony turns to Bruce, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, because at this point he knows what comes next. “They’re dead,” Bruce adds, really hammering it in, and also because he knows this is the kind of behavior that has Tony in stitches.

Tony chokes on his food.

Howard looks at Bruce and arches his eyebrow. “Ah, yes. Wayne,” he says. “Condolences.”

Bruce wants to punch him in the face. But then again, it’s not as if Tony didn’t warn him.

“Dessert?” Maria says brightly, clapping her hands together. “Jarvis makes a fantastic pavlova.”

“Sounds lovely,” Bruce says, and Tony finally catches his breath enough to kick Bruce under the table.

***

The next two weeks in New York pass fairly quickly. On his first official day in New York, Bruce had breakfast alone while Tony slept in. Jarvis made him pancakes.

“It’s ten,” Tony said accusingly, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s late,” Bruce corrects him.

“I concur,” Jarvis said as he handed Tony a cup of coffee.

“Traitor.” Tony said, but perked up after his first sip. “So, want to go anywhere in particular?” Tony took another sip and sat down beside Bruce. He picked up a slice of Bruce’s pancake with his fingers.

“Or do you trust me?” He asked, while chewing. He punctuated his question by licking the syrup off his fingers.

Bruce stared.

First of all, Tony had pulled it off again, gone to the heart of the matter with casual disregard. And his mouth. Good lord, his tongue.

Bruce cleared his throat and drank some orange juice.

“I trust you,” he said, voice still a little raspy. He tried to smile, as if the phrase wasn’t laden with baggage for him.

“I know,” Tony says, smiling. He leaned over and parted his lips.

Bruce glanced around, and once sure that they weren’t in Jarvis’ line of sight—he still hadn’t ascertained what their relationship was like, if they were as close as Bruce was to Alfred—he fed Tony a bit of the pancake.

“So I’m thinking, skating, hot chocolate, Central Park.” Tony said, grinning.

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Sounds touristy.”

“What would you describe yourself as?” Tony asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“Not a tourist,” Bruce groused.

“But are you not visiting this place for pleasure?” Tony asked. “That’s the Cambridge definition.”

Bruce sighed. “To go to Central Park during winter does not sound pleasurable.”

“I thought you said you trusted me,” Tony pouted.

So they ended up going to Central Park. Bruce would choose death rather than ever admit he enjoyed it. He should’ve known better—frowning was impossible when he was spending time with Tony.

***

Bruce is wearing the sweater Tony bought him. It’s comfortable, cable-knit and thick. They have a few days left before they have to head back to school, and Tony’s chosen mourning activity is imbibing hard liquor.

They have glasses, now, at least.

Bruce is trying not to think about how this is his last normal Christmas. Not that any Christmas since his parents have died have been normal—at home it was usually an austere affair, an exchange of gifts and some roast belly and cake. Bruce has never felt like celebrating. He knows, too, that when he’s done training—when he’s achieved his goals, he can never have anything like this. He won’t.

“Broody,” Tony says, as he tops up Bruce’s drink.

“Not,” Bruce says just as quickly. He continues to stare into the fire crackling merrily in front of them. He’s a little drunk, and everyone in the household has retired.

Tony’s put on a record, and he sways a little to the music as he drinks.

Bruce knows he’s trying to get his attention, so he blinks himself out of his thoughts.

“Thank you for having me,” he says, and means it more than Tony could possibly ever know.

Tony smiles, easy and loose only in the way that drunkenness can make it. “You’re welcome any time.”

Bruce grins, shakes his head.

“What?” Tony asks, sauntering over to Bruce and sitting down. They’re close enough that their thighs are flush against each other.

Bruce wonders if Tony’s done it on purpose. (Very likely.)

“Nothing,” Bruce says.

“Liar,” Tony murmurs. He leans close, rests his head on Bruce’s shoulder, and sips from his glass. “What’s on your mind?”

Bruce can’t have this—can’t have anyone that reads him as well as Tony around, if he plans on doing what he needs to. But it’s not like he ever expected to meet Tony, or get close to him. It’s frightening, how much of a mistake this all is.

“Bruce,” Tony whispers. “Tell me.”

Bruce downs his drink.

“You’re trouble, Tony Stark,” he says. He tries to keep his tone light, but he feels Tony flinch, so it means he failed at his attempt.

Tony takes a deep breath and relaxes against him.

“Not like that’s news to you,” he says.

“No,” Bruce agrees. “Suppose not.” He turns and looks at Tony, fondness swelling inside him so quickly it might burst out of him.

Tony turns to look up at him.

“Could be a bit more trouble for you,” he offers. His cheeks are flushed from the drink, and the firelight illuminates half his face, dancing and flickering and making him look impossibly beautiful.

Bruce knows he should turn away, should stand up and head to bed, shouldn’t say anything. But he’s seventeen years old and he’s never had anything of his own. So maybe this is it, his chance, even if he knows too that he’ll be the one to take it away from himself.

“Yeah?” Bruce asks, shifting a little to cup Tony’s cheek in his hand.

Tony turns his head, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into Bruce’s touch.

“A kiss, maybe,” he whispers.

Bruce lets out a shaky breath. “Sounds about right,” he says, and thumbs Tony’s cheek to get his attention. He smiles when Tony opens his eyes, and pulls him close to kiss him.

Bruce has never kissed anyone before, and Tony seems to sense that. He leans closer, slides his hand into Bruce’s hair, angling his head properly. Bruce lets himself be led, his mouth parting open without thought when Tony swipes his tongue against his bottom lip.

Kissing Tony feels electric, and in the back of his mind, through the haze of alcohol and desire, he wonders how having Tony’s mouth pressed against his feels so good, why Tony’s tongue sliding against his makes his pulse jump.

Tony pulls away with a gasp, then raps his knuckles against Bruce’s head.

“I felt you thinking,” he scolds.

Bruce frowns at the loss, and at the accusation. “Stop me from thinking then,” he snaps.

Tony seems to that as a challenge. He grabs Bruce by the collar of his sweater and kisses him fiercely, and Bruce gets lost in it. He lets Tony push him down onto the couch, lets Tony’s hand slip under his shirt, fingertips cold and calloused as they map the planes of Bruce’s chest. Bruce tangles his hand in Tony’s hair, then down Tony’s back, pulling him close. He needs Tony as close as possible, wants to melt into him, wants to consume, or be consumed.

Bruce pulls away and tries to catch his breath. “Tony,” he says.

“Yes,” Tony answers, because he knows Bruce, knows what he needs, and it’s too exhilarating to be known for it to be frightening.

They stumble out of the living room, pausing every few moments to pull each other close and kiss again; first against the bookshelf, then against the bannister of the stairs, then against the wall, by the painting Bruce hates—then they’re in Bruce’s room and it’s like a switch is flicked.

“God,” Tony groans, kissing Bruce again and pushing him towards the bed. They fall into a messy pile of limbs but Bruce can’t be bothered to right himself, instead choosing to slide along to whatever makes sense as Tony writhes on top of him, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.

“I’ve wanted—” Tony breathes out, and then he moves and kisses Bruce’s neck.

“Oh, god,” Bruce moans, because he didn’t know that you could do that. He drags Tony back up and kisses him again, and he’ll never get enough of this, he can’t.

The phrase hits him like a ton of bricks. He can’t.

“Tony,” Bruce says, gently holding Tony away.

Tony blinks. He looks gorgeous and mussed up, and Bruce looks away because he knows he can’t say what he needs to say when Tony looks like that.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks.

“Let’s… let’s not do that,” Bruce says, because he can’t and he shouldn’t, and those two phrases keep flashing in his brain like a sick mantra.

“Okay,” Tony says, sounding confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Bruce says, cupping Tony’s cheek. “Of course not.”

Tony takes a deep breath, and it looks like he’s getting ready for a blow.

Bruce knows he needs to learn to be heartless. But not now.

“Tony,” Bruce says, sitting up and wrapping his arms around him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, digging his face into Bruce’s neck.

“I don’t think I can do that yet,” Bruce lies. At least in that aspect, he’s got it covered.

Tony nods. “I wasn’t saying we should,” he says, his breath hot against Bruce’s chest.

“I know. But I wanted to say so, too.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Bruce whispers, and turns to kiss Tony’s cheek. “But could we just lie down together?”

“Yeah,” Tony says.

Bruce gently lifts Tony’s head and kisses him chastely.

They shift around a little until they’re lying down, facing each other.

“We’re okay, right?” Tony asks, looking at Bruce’s chest.

“More than okay,” Bruce says. He takes Tony’s chin in his hands and tilts his head up. “I’m really glad we kissed,” he says, smiling at Tony.

“That’s my move,” Tony says, looking up at Bruce and then away.

“Hm?”

“The hand on chin thing,” Tony says, and looks up at Bruce snorts..

“I knew it!” Bruce says, feeling triumphant. “I knew you were doing that on purpose.”

Tony smiles, looking a little embarrassed. “Like you said. Trouble,” he murmurs.

Bruce huffs out a laugh.

“Just the trouble I was looking for,” he says, before pulling Tony close and kissing him.

[kyber-kisses]

I Know

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: character death, angst, cursing, mild descriptions of wounds and torture.

Summary: almost a year after the readers death, Dean finds himself at the mercy of a witch who knows one of his only weaknesses. You.

A/n: because I’m slowly dying of boredom I decided to do Bad Things Happen bingo. Please send in your preference for the next square! 

Fucking Witches. Dean Winchester was officially done with their shenanigans and messed up thought processes. It was like they had a flare for the dramatic. If they were so into killing folks. Why couldn’t they just do it quickly?

Finding himself bound tightly to the old chair in the rundown house the witch had been residing in, Dean for once wished he had dragged Sam along with him on this case. If Sam was here there was no way the witch would still be alive.

Instead here he was. Tied in place and basically steeping in thick silence. How this bitch has got the drop on him was still beyond him. The last thing he remembered before waking up here was driving to one of the witnesses house. He didn’t remember getting out of the car or being tied up. It was almost as if it had all happened in the blink of an eye.

He had already tried struggling and pulling at his restraints but to no avail. The ropes were probably laced with spell work along with the chair, seeing as he couldn’t even shift the price of furniture across the floor. Either that or it was bolted to the floor.

“Son of a bitch-“ he hissed, slightly out of breath from pulling on the ropes. His head whipping around in hopes of finding something to help him get out, but the room was empty of everything except himself.

“Well look who decided to wake up.” It was like she was waiting for the perfect moment, because not a second later the young witch stepped out from beyond the shadows, her black hair hanging in ringlets as her lips twisted into a bright red smile.

Going through his choices quickly, Dean chose to go with the playing dumb act, pretending he had no idea what was going on. Maybe, just maybe he could somehow gain the upper hand.

“I feel like there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t have a clue as to what is going on.”

“Oh but I think you do. You're a hunter.”

“A what? I don’t know what that is. I was just in town to meet up with some old friends.”

The witch smiled again, stalking closer to the bound Winchester, a small hexbag gripped in her freshly polished nails, the polish reflecting the orange candle light slightly. “Oh don’t play dumb with me. You're not just a hunter. You're Dean Winchester.”

Oh for fucks sake. Of course this witch knew who he was. Could he ever catch a break?

“Oh well, ya caught me.” He gave in, flashing her a grin. “Now you want an autograph or something?” Time to think of another plan. If he had enough time to that is.

“Oh no, I thought we’d have some fun first.” Her white smile becoming more menacing as she stopped in front of him, tilting his chin upward and fully catching his gaze.

“No offense Sweetheart, but I ain’t interested.”

“Oh I know. You only ever had eyes for miss Y/N Y/L/N, isn’t that right?” She cooed, her smile widening when his face hardened, his mouth snapping shut, eyes blazing. “Oh struck a nerve did I?”

“How do you-“

“How do I know about her? Oh well that’s easy. I’ve been watching you Winchesters for quite sometime.” She explained, moving to tuck the hexbag into one of the inner pockets of his canvas jacket. “Dean and Y/N. Friends to. . .- well not quite lovers. You were too late for that, weren’t you?”

Everything in him wanted to lash out at her, make her regret ever saying your name, but once more the ropes restricted him from doing so. His struggle barely doing anything to loosen the binds. “So help me if you don’t shut up I’m gonna rip your tongue out.” He growled, feeling the pure white hot rage crawl up his spine.

“Must have been painful losing her, especially when you loved her so much. Only- you never did tell her that did you?”

“I said shut the hell up!”

She was toying with him. Pulling at all the loose strands of his soul. If people really knew Dean Winchester they would know that the key to fully unraveling him was to bring you up. You death had crushed him in more ways than one and now this bitch was using it against him.

“Like I said before, Dean. Let’s have some fun.” She smiled, tapping him on the nose before muttering an incantation under her breath, backing away slowly.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

The hunter was met with silence as she gave him a wink, disappearing around the corner. “Just having some fun and games. Good luck, pretty boy!”

And just like before he went back to struggling against the bindings, the thick rope burning his wrists as he twisted and pulled. He had to get the hex bag off him before it- before it-

It was like a switch had been pulled because not a second later he felt his eyes get heavy and his shoulders slumped, pulling him head first into unconsciousness. When he opened them again he found himself no longer in the rundown house but on a darkened hillside,the moon being the only source of light across the black landscape.

It took him a minute before he finally realized where he was. His eyes falling shut in hopes of finding himself anywhere but there. This was where he had found you, your blood caked body sitting limp and cold against the lone tree not too far off.

This was the night he lost you.

It was like a bucket of ice had been dumped down the back of his shirt as memories came knocking into him like bricks. It was just some fight. You had yelled yourself hoarse after Dean and Sam had returned from a hunt they decided not to tell you about. You had been furious and scared when you didn’t know where they were. And Dean ended up yelling right back, saying things that to this day haunt him. He was trying to keep you safe- and yet everything back fired right in his face. You had stormed off in a rage only for some vamps to find you and—

He clenched his jaw, battling down the memory. He had to figure out how to get out of this magically induced nightmare. He couldn’t live through this again. The first time nearly killed him.

“Dean.”

At the sudden voice he felt his body seize up. No. No this wasn’t real. It wasn’t you.

“Dean.” This time there was more force in your tone, and Dean let himself turn, his breath leaving his lungs as the sight of you.

When he woke up he was gonna gut that witch six ways from Sunday. That bitch was taking evil to a whole new level.

Sure enough, there you stood. Your hair framing your hollowed face as you bore into him, your throat covered in gashes and cuts littered your arms and legs. You looked exactly the same as when he had found you.

“Y/N-“ struggling to speak, he inhaled.

“Words, Dean. Use them.”

“How is this-“

“Witches Dean. C’mon use your damn brain for once. “ your tone becoming menacing as you stepped closer, your bare feet moving heel to toe as you moved through the grass. “But it’s me.”

“You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?” He sighed, jade eyes glazing over with unshed tears as he watched you. He had so many things he needed to say and yet? They were caught in his throat, a part of him still telling him you were just a hallucination conjured up by the witch.

“Slightly, yes.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never should have yell—“

“Don’t.” You raises a hand, silencing the hunter in front of you. “You don’t get to be sorry. I’m dead, Dean.”

“I know. And I never should have let you walk out of the bunker after that fight.”

“That was the whole reason for the fight in the first place!” You yelled, eyes widening. “Because you wouldn’t let me go on the damn hunt! You put me on lock down without telling me! Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and find the people you love the most gone without a word? And then you said you were keeping me safe!” You paused, sucking in a breath. “ Im a hunter, Dean! Or was. Either way you stopped me from helping and doing my job!”

“I know that now, and I am sorry.” His voice breaking as he looked at you. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved so much better. “I loved you too much to risk putting you in danger.”

Your jaw clenched, eyes on the verge of creating tears. “Then why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?”

“Because I didn’t know how. And you can hate me all you want but I need you to know that I am sorry.”

He could practically see the anger draining from your face- only for it to be replaced with heartbreak and tear stained cheeks. “I bet you are. And do you want to know what the worst part of it all was? I died alone and I died scared.” You own voice wavering as you looked at the older Winchester, successfully shattering his heart all over again. “I died thinking you hated me.”

That. That was what he had always feared. Ever since he found you he had wondered what you had been thinking. With those six little words you broke the remaining pieces that had somehow managed to stay together inside him. He could never make this right. It was too late.

“I think we’re done here. You better wake up.” You have him one last glare before turning on your bare heel, walking off into the dark, the moon casting stark shadows across your frame.

“Y/N, wait!”

With one more blink he found himself back in the falling apart house. He expected to be looking up into the eyes of the witch but instead he was met with the worried cobalt blue eyes of a certain trench coated angel.

“Cas?” The words coming out confused as he felt the hallucination induced tears slide off his face. “What the hell happened?”

The angel tilted his head as he began working on bindings around the hunters wrists. “You prayed earlier. I came.”

“What about the witch?”

“Dead. When I killed her it broke you out of your trance.”

Slowly rising from the chair, Dean rubbed at his tender wrists. “Shame.”

“That I saved you?”

“No, thank you for that by the way. Shame that she’s dead. Would’ve liked to end her myself after what she did to me.”

Heading towards the door, Cas was hot on his heels, curiosity easily getting the best of the celestial. “What did she do?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. It’s done with.” Digging through his coat pockets, Dean produced the keys to the impala, his new mission already set in stone inside his head.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I have yet to visit in a while.”

“Would you like me to come with?” Cas spoke, knowing exactly where Dean was headed without him having to say so. Whatever the witch had made him see it was the final push Dean needed.

“Nah. It’s alright.I need to do this alone.” Throwing open the driver side door, Dean paused to flip the keys in his hand. “But thanks man. You know for coming and pulling my ass out of the fire. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

*. *. *. *. * .

Even if the numbers on the dashboard read 1:30AM, Dean still found himself putting the impala in park at the edge of the cemetery on the outskirts of Lebanon. Moonlight curved around headstones and the grass was still damp from the earlier rain. Lampposts still lit up the space partially with orange light as the hunter weaves through the headstone, stopping in his tracks once he found yours.

He and Sam had given you a hunters funeral but he still insisted on getting you a headstone. It gave him a place to visit- even if he had yet to until this moment.

“I know it wasn’t really you in the hallucination.” He breathed, hands stuck deep into his pockets as he stared down your name carved into the piece of granite. “But it didn’t hurt any less. That- that illusion of you said some things that in truth made some sense to me. Things I have been telling myself ever since I lost you.”

A soft warm breeze ran through the cemetery, ever so slightly tickling his skin. It was easier to find words here. It was quiet. It allowed him no worries over who else might be listening. You used to say that the dead speak to those who listen. He was listening as best he could.

“If you really died hating me I am so sorry. I should never have held you back. If I hadn’t we never would have gotten into that fight and you never would have stormed out. In the end it was still my fault.” He paused.”I could never hate you.” He could feel the hot tears gathering in his eyes again as he inhaled, bringing his gaze skyward in hopes of keeping the tears in. “I think I was just scared. When I realized I loved you - that I was in love with you. I just wanted to tuck you away and keep you safe from the world. But that’s not how those things work. It took me too long to realize that and I’m so sorry.”

His eyes went back to the granite headstone, the moonlight catching the polished rock just right so that your name shone. 

Please be listening.

“I should have told you. I should have told you and not tried to bury it.” His voice cracked. “I love you Y/N. Always have and always will.” 

And with that he kissed his index and middle finger, pressing it lightly against the cool granite that was the last piece of you on this earthly plane. It would be the closest he ever came to kissing you.

As he turned to walk back through the cemetery another warm gust of wind went past him, ruffling his hair and he swore- even if it sounded insane out loud that he heard your voice interwoven through the breeze.

“I know.”

End.

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[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Hi congrats on the 750! First time I request anything, a little scared. I wanna request one where Loki is living in stark tower as punishment for New York. Reader is living there too working as an assistant or something and gets really nervous/flustered around Loki. He finds out about her crush but shes to nervous to even touch him, somewhere along he uses the phrase You can hold my hand it’s ok when he catches her looking at his hand/retreating after trying to reach for it. FLUFF! Maybe a kiss?

Oh, I hope you never feel scared to ask for another request! I promise pretty much everyone on here is super nice! And you are always welcome to reach out and just chat with me if you want. :) I hope that this is close to what you had envisioned!

Selecting a Spot

Most of your time spent in Stark Tower was bustling around after Tony Stark himself. Your nose to your phone as you took notes, made appointments, and generally took care of the mundane aspects of his life that the genius of a man was too distracted or busy to do for himself.

But, occasionally, you were given a chance to take a breath, gather your thoughts as you tried to unscramble the distracted flurry of Mr. Stark’s. Your favorite place to do so was in the vast library on the recreation floor. It was almost guaranteed to be empty, and the plush furniture, warm wallpaper, and comforting scent of old books soothed your frazzled thoughts.

You dumped your belongings, comprising a stylish messenger bag loaded down with snacks, reusable water bottles, pens, notepads, a tablet, and various jagged corners of paper onto the overstuffed couch beside you. A fatigued sigh passed through your lips, and you kicked off your shoes to tuck your feet beneath you, swiping the tablet onto your lap and grabbing a few of the scribbled notes from the bag at random. When Mr. Stark couldn’t remember to tell FRIDAY to send you a message, he would just jot it down on whatever he could find, accounting for the edges of receipts, napkins, and even the corner of a calendar littering your lap.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, making a pile of deciphered notes next to you as you either plugged them into his schedule or sent off an email with the information contained on them. It was tedious work, but you were exhausted, so you didn’t mind it.

“That is my chosen seat.”

You stilled at the low, rich voice, slowly drawing your eyes open from the bright screen. Loki stood in the doorway, eyeing you with the barest hint of disdain with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew that he was living in the tower. You sent off communications to SHIELD informing them of the updates on Loki’s ‘rehabilitation’, usually just reports that he hadn’t threatened anyone or destroyed anything. Everyone knew by now that a being stronger than himself had forced his hand during the Chitauri invasion, so his restriction to living amongst the Avengers was considered a ‘lighter’ sentencing for his crimes. Rumor had it that he had already spent time in some form of prison on Asgard, but you hadn’t dug your nose into the gossip mill deep enough to figure out if that was true or not.

But knowing that he was skulking around and facing the towering, striking god were two entirely different things. You couldn’t brush away the instant desire that clenched in your stomach at the piercing green eyes that latched onto yours and held them. All moisture dried from your mouth, and you suddenly forgot what you normally did with your hands when you were sitting on the couch.

“Um… I’m sorry?” you managed, wincing slightly at the crack in your voice. You began gathering your belongings, shoving them hastily in your bag with no rhyme or reason.

“No, stay,” he commanded you, striding passed you to sprawl onto a tall-backed leather armchair, summoning a book into his waiting hand. “Your perfume has already pervaded the space and will only distract me.”

So, not knowing what else to do, you resumed your work, only glance at him after every other email, sitting straight-backed and scarcely breathing the entire time.

The next time you were given a chance to yourself - Tony was spiraling into a project and wouldn’t come out for days - you hesitantly retreated to the library, sitting in the corner at a table instead. You didn’t want to upset Loki, to garner the attention of his fiery gaze, but you didn’t know where else to go, either.

He sauntered in only a few minutes after you, catching your attention when he came up to your table.

“You are not sitting on the couch.” It wasn’t a question, but the furrow of his brow told of his confusion.

You pulled your pen from between your lips, wetting them with your tongue. His eyes darted to the thoughtless gesture, and you could have sworn you saw his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare in response. Clearing your throat, you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could manage. “You said it was your favorite spot.”

He nodded once, turning on his heel and walking away. You barely caught his quiet response of, “That does not mean that you are required to move.”

And thus began the odd relationship between you and the God of Mischief. Anytime were given a break, you went down to the library, kicking off your shoes and settling into ‘Loki’s’ spot. He would come in not long after, pulling a book from thin air or summoning one to him, and sit on the other side of the couch. An entire cushion separated you, but it still felt so close. You’d cast glances at the elegant slope of his nose, the tick of his temple as he thought or the chiseled edge of his jaw as he tilted his head to the side.

You knew he was watching you, too. The weight of his gaze was almost a physical sensation, traveling over your skin and setting fire in its wake. It was a challenge to pretend that you didn’t notice. Surely he noticed the jump of your pulse in your throat or the way your hands shook as you sorted through scraps of paper and sticky notes. He said nothing, though, thank goodness.

But, after one evening, instead of taking up his mantle on the other end of the couch, he sat down right beside you after moving all of your various bits and bobs to the coffee table in front of you. The length of his thigh pressed into yours, warm and firm. You froze, shoulders tense, hand hovering over your tablet as your brain tried and failed to compute the sudden change in your routine.

“You come back to this room time after time, knowing that I will come.” He shifted his torso to face you, his arm coming up behind you on the back of the couch.

You gripped the tablet tightly, needing it to ground you and give your hands something to do. Somehow, you found enough courage within yourself to look up at him, offering no reply but a small nod.

He didn’t say anything, searching your face with narrowed, calculating eyes that seemed to see right through the terrible attempt at a calm facade you put on. He sighed lightly, pulling his arm back into his lap, a book winking into existence in one of his hands.

You tried to work, you really did. But it was so hard to focus on anything when his free hand curled on his leg, so close to yours, and the enticing aroma of his cologne slowly washed over you. It was masculine, spicy and clean and earthy, drawing you in just as much as his beauty did. Would he be a man that would take being called beautiful as an insult? Risking a glance at the thoughtful purse of his lips, you thought not.

He closed his book with an air of finality, shoving it onto the couch behind him before taking your tablet and giving it the same treatment.

“Look at me,” he commanded, not unkindly.

You instantly did so, eyes wide.

���Your heart beats faster when I am near you, and I am not mistaken in having heard your breath just catch in your throat. Your hands flex and shake in turn. I know you do not fear me, or you would not have returned.” He drew a long finger down your arm, making goosebumps raise over your skin.

“No,” you whispered, afraid your voice would betray you if you spoke any louder, “I don’t.”

“Then you desire me,” he concluded, mischief settling in the twinkle of his eyes and the grin tugging on his lips.

You couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t admit that you, just a regular woman interning in Stark Tower, had a crush on the handsome god gazing at you. He was intimidating, cunning, graceful, each movement filled with carefully restrained power.

“You do not deny it.”

You dropped your eyes to where his finger stopped at your knuckles, tracing over the ridges in slow circles that would quickly drive you mad. Your stomach tightened in a knot, either of desire or anxiety, you weren’t sure. Honestly, probably both. All of your senses kicked into overdrive at his rapt attention of your every movement and facial expression.

His long raven hair tickled over your face, and you closed your eyes just in time for his lips to caress yours. He was sweet, both in taste and touch, softer than you expected for such a fierce, domineering man. But there was nothing ferocious about the almost chaste kiss, or the warmth that flooded through you and loosened each muscle in your body.

“You desire me,” he repeated in a whisper, the words brushed across your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“I do.” You couldn’t deny it. You stared down at his mouth, breathing him in as your hands itched to hold his, wrap in the soft fabric of the sweatshirt he wore, tangle in his hair, anything. He was right there, well within reach, but some tiny part of you was still too timid to take that step, to touch him of your own accord.

“You may hold my hand, if you would like.” His hand skated over yours, fingers lacing together in a comfortable fit, palm calloused and warm against yours. “We have already kissed, after all.”

The light teasing in the rich timbre of his voice broke the tension of the moment, and you tilted your head back, laughter tinged with relief spilling from you. He chuckled along with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling your head into the crook of his neck.

You felt comfortable, content and safe, in this new spot, encased in his strong embrace, his mouth anchored to the top of your head and your hands splayed across his back. This was much, much better.

***

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @silverswordthekilljoy

[randomuniverses]

RWBY Volume 6 Crew Commentary Notes!

I just got the Volume 6 Blu Ray and I'm going to be watching the crew's commentary! Kerry was talking with a few others as well as Miles after chapter 1. I wrote what I found interesting or important:

Chapter 1:

They took out the blood at the White Fang Headquarters but had to add it back in later

The train station was the first new set of the season

They used Houdini for crowd shots this season

Showing what's in the bag RWBY got for Yang is planned for next season

On each boba cup lid (from the food in the background of the train station scene) has the RWBY chibi characters

Originally they planned Ilia to wear a kimono. Also a hint to seeing her again!

Kerry's mom wants him (Neptune) to be in the show more

The whole train set is a circle track

The Grimm manticore design was from an artist from the RWBY subreddit! Kerry saw it and he loved it and he contacted her to hire her.

There was an inside joke for the audio team where Dee dies it sounds like the track says "Oh Dee..."

Dee and Dudley barely graduated from their academy

There was originally going to be a closer shot of Salem in the OP but they wanted to keep the mystery about who she was

Chapter 2:

They put in some lines from the house (what Nora says) that were a response to the criticism from Volume 5 about them staying there too long

Nora was originally going to tell Blake everything she needed to know with some whiteboards on the train, but they decided to just show the house where things are explained

The footsteps in the snow were made using nulls in After Effects. They explain the process which is pretty interesting.

Oscar struggling was done in mocap

Lil Miss Malachite is an allusion for Little Miss Muffett (duh) and turns out she is the mother of the Malachite Twins

The Malachite Twins went to live in Vale and be bad guys

Jinn's hair is separated/split more than a normal character's. Same with Summer Rose

Chapter 3:

Salem's story one of the first things ever written for RWBY

They really wanted a character's story to revolve around 'happily ever after' then a few steps after that, so Salem was the perfect character for that

Originally the Lost Fable was chapter 3 and 4, but they combined them into one

The whole episode was mocapped in a single weekend

The crew has a Ruby body pillow prototype that's used during mocap

The Gods are inspired from the Gods of Greek Mythology

They want to show more natural wildlife in RWBY, but due to budget constraints it's hard

The video game Brutal Legend inspired the scene where Salem throws herself into the pool of Grimm

Originally the Gods were closer to human size but were scaled up

The story structure for the episode took inspiration from Harry Potter and Game of Thrones

Originally there was going to be more dialogue from the main cast, but they decided against it

They were originally had Salem look like her current form (well coloring wise), but decided to remove the red veins she has so she looked less spooky

The toy dog one of the children has is a Wizard of Oz reference

Jinn was meant to be an objective outside observer but also a storyteller

The children for one of Oz's reincarnations have silver eyes (confirmed)

Chapter 4:

They were excited to explore Qrow's alcoholism past it just being a joke

Hazel is the most compassionate of the villains

Salem knows how to manipulate people and has different methods for motivations for each of her lieutenants

For example she doesn't have to say that many mean things for Tyrian to take it to heart because he is so loyal

She also knows just how fearful Emerald is of her

Chapter 5:

Neo has begun to evolve her semblance, as shown in the fight

Neo wasn't originally planned to be in this Volume, but was decided when they thought of what they could do better to make Cinder's storyline better and for when Cinder gets to Atlas they thought her having a partner was cool

Brunswick Farm was another idea they had since the very beginning

The Apathy fit so well in this volume because the characters are at a low point

Blake doesn't always get the nuances of relationships and makes a misstep (when Yang and Blake talked and she told Yang she would protect her)

Chapter 6:

The Apathy came from an image of a horrifying scarecrow and they came up with the idea of a grimm that wasn't physically formidable. As well as a planet from the movie Serenity where everyone fell to sleep and died, and a short story about depression and not wanting to do anything

The Apathy work through proximity but if they see you their effect gets even worse. But you can get it jolted out of the apathy for a little while if you are startled

The artist that made the Apathy was the same one that made the Manticore

Maria is colorblind, which was evident in the episode when we learn she couldn't tell Ruby's eye color immediately

Seeing the burning Apathy, Qrow realizes that he almost let everyone get killed and now starts to hate himself (his depression changes)

Chapter 7:

Them having a restriction for how long fights could be (because fights are expensive) led to Miles thinking of a fight that had to last 60 seconds (and Tock)

Maria's weapon and use of dust was inspired from the God of War reboot as well as Marvel's Thor

Maria was originally from Volume 5 but they had to take her out because it was hard to balance out all the storylines

Originally Maria was going to have a cat, and Qrow was supposed to find her in his search for Hunstman

The Arc siblings are all a color of the rainbow, with one set of twins. Saphron is orange.

The toy Adrien is playing with is foreshadowing to the plane and the Leviathan

Chapter 8:

Only Cordovin's guards are so goofy (compared to the rest of Atlas guards), and Cordo is considered a nuisance. This was a job they thought she could do well without bothering anyone

Kerry wanted an old lady fight in the show, so he got one

The Old Lady in the Show was something Monty thought of. The boot is the foot of a giant mech. And the giant mech was originally going to be at the end of V2

Butterflies are normally not out in the winter but this is Remnant ;)

Chapter 9:

Miles likes to think of Tyrian as one of the most insightful villains. He is really good at observing people and knows how to take them apart mentally and physically

This is where they said this is the first time we see Mercury and Emerald being vulnerable to each other (I didn’t include this earlier, sorry!)

They say they’ll never confirm who the Red Haired Woman is, but they said use your brains lol

Looking up at Pyrrha and seeing the airship fly by made Jaune think of the idea to steal one

Chapter 10:

Adrian's crying is not a semblance, that's just comedy

They pitched Jaune's voice down when he says "Roger" so he can sound more serious

Originally there was going to be another episode (episode 14t) where we would see Atlas and Mantle. But they didn't want to end on that because it would require a ton of new assets because of the buildings and the people wearing different clothes

The next season will start with a bang

The Iron Giant was a reference for the mech

Chapter 11:

The mech fight was the most effects-heavy of the fights this season

Blake has always had the scar on her body since the new outfit, but it has been hard to see until her jacket comes off

Yang hitting Adam with her bike was thought of early on in the scripting process

Chapter 12:

A lot of talk about how the animations were made and such

This season had a core fight team that animated all the fights

The way Adam dies is apparently similar to how something in Nier: Automata plays out. Kerry has only played an hour of the game so he did not know that was a thing

But Nier: Automata was actually referenced for the mech fight (the mechanics of how the fight would work) since a robot was involved in the first boss fight.

Shots from the Adam and Yang fight were similar to those from Naurto, but that was also a coincidence

They called the Leviathan Levi in the script because it was easier to type

Chapter 13:

They considered Adrian being a very young baby, but later changed him to be a toddler

Gurren Laggan was another reference used for this part (haven't seen that anime but it was referenced when the mech drills the Leviathan)

They really wanted to make sure we could hear liquid in Qrow's flask

Salem is no longer willing to confine herself to a room, and is going to start being more active by creating her army of minions

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“illusion”

Chapter 15

Hi! This chapter has some sad parts but MC finally stands up to a big threat. LMK what you think!

Warnings: none, this chapter is SFW

A03 LINK // SFW LINK

The true nature of my Illusion Magic is in the way that it effects the human brain. My magic can trigger responses within the mind of another, forcing their brain to release the hormones and electric signals necessary to conjure up what I want them to perceive. Images, sounds, feelings... but one spell does this better than any other; the spell I have only cast once before.

Fear Landscape.

This spell targets a single region of the brain, the amygdala. Stress hormones are released in a massive stampede, causing pupil dilation, heart rate increase, and restriction of breathing. All of these things compound upon each other until the body shuts down. 

The first time I used it was an accident. We were on a mission in the woods, and were almost done, when a massive wolf appeared out of nowhere. The spell manifested in that moment, probably triggered by my own fear. I don't remember it very well, since I blacked out in a similar fashion to today, into a warm, golden sleep. But according to Alice, the wolf collapsed into a whimpering pile, giving us enough time to escape.

I never really thought about what happened to that wolf. I wonder if it died, just like the dozen or so men that were unlucky enough to be around me today.

But now, lying silently in a hospital bed while the nurses checked up on me for the fifteenth time tonight, I have plenty of time to reflect.

I killed that man... the general. I killed all his men. 

The nurses and doctor keep talking among themselves. From what I've gathered so far, the slime mold penetrated my body much farther than they thought at first, and kept proliferating even after the caster was dead. It'll take a while for me to heal completely.

It's been around three days since the attack- at least, I think it has been that long. My mind has been foggy and disoriented, so I can't be quite sure. My only reference for time is the light coming in through the curtains, and the three times per day that a meal is brought to me. I'm barely able to eat, but it could be worse.

After all... someone was hurt much worse than me that day.

The door creaks open once all the nurses are gone, and none other than Captain Hervey and his two vice captains come in. My gaze flickers up to Julius's face first, catching a glimpse of his worried expression. I quickly look to Hervey next. "Captain..."

I start to sit up, but Hervey raises his hand to pause the movement. "Stay still, you're injured enough as it is." He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing for a moment. "How are you feeling?"

"As good as I can." I motion vaguely at my right arm, where green mold veins still linger under my skin. "The doctor said maybe two more days before my system gets flushed of this stuff."

"I see." Hervey nods a little. "It'll be good to have you back on your feet..."

I gulp nervously, scared to ask the next question.

"Captain... is Alice-"

"She's still in her coma."

I fall silent. 

"The doctor doesn't think she's going to wake up."

... she's... not going to wake up? 

"Like... not today? Or-"

"Not ever." The words come out sharply, freezing my heart.

I was told as soon as I was conscious enough to listen. The other Shining General was a powerful ice mage. He managed to trap Julius in Ice before making a break for it. Hervey took off in pursuit, but it was too late; The general ran into Alice's group, and in the fight... 

"People don't recover from a frostbitten brain." Hervey muttered, a little callously. I'm too weak to even summon tears, but I feel every part of my soul being shredded apart. 

Alice... you have to wake up... you have to.

"But I told you; My ice magic countered his. I killed that Bastard... both of us felled Generals in this battle. That's why I'm here today."

I look back up at Hervey as he walks to the side of my bed, producing what looks like a small plaque. "Captain, what's this for?"

"It's a special commendation from the Wizard King himself," Hervey explained, giving me a strained smile. "You've been promoted to Senior Magic Knight."

"Congratulations," Malota says, giving me a rare smile of her own from the other side of my bed. "You're basically at the top now."

"You've impressed all of us. Well done."

I look at the foot of my bed, where Julius still stands, and he gives me the same smile as the others. He's happy for me, I can tell, but that tenseness is easily explained; today feels like no time to celebrate, while Alice lies unresponsive in another room.

Impressed... congratulations...

The words feel bitter in my mind.

"I... I'm getting this now... because I murdered someone, right?"

My voice is numb, cold and emotionless. My head falls back onto my pillow, and I stare blankly up at the ceiling. 

Hervey exchanges a glance with the other two before clearing his throat. "NO! Well, yeah... but don't think of it that way. You defeated an enemy of our Kingdom, and now he will never harm anyone again."

That general... his magic hurt. I remember how Giles writhed in pain, and how my mind snapped as he pushed me past my limit. But, I saw something in his eyes. He had a family... there were things in this world that he loved. But me... I can't love anything. Love was ruined for me, so I ruined it for all of them, too...

"I didn't even mean to do it." Slowly, my eyes flicker close. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, they'll leave me alone. "I was trying to escape..."

"Our bodies do unexpected things when we think we're about to die."

Julius's voice pulls me out, and my eyes open again. I can't bring myself to move and look at him, but I'm listening... I'm listening.

Julius...

"You did what anyone else would have done... but you deserved this promotion before that, trust me." 

Even from where I lay, I can hear the smile on his lips. This time, there is no tension.

How many people have you killed, Julius? You've been to battle far more than I have... and I've heard the stories of your terrifying power. That power scares me, too, but at the same time... I know it protects me.

If I had any less restraint, I would have reached out to him, begged him to take my hand, pleaded for him to stay. I don't care who sees, I don't care who disapproves, I just want him here with me, forever.

But there's just enough restraint within me to keep me still. After that awkward moment, Hervey leads the others out, leaving the plaque on my bedside table.

------------

It's not until later that night that the full gravity of the situation dawns on me. Alice, my closest and oldest friend, was going to die, and I could do nothing about it.

"You're in my group, right? So I'll protect you! No matter what. And you're going to protect me too!"

Alice said those words to Cecelia. She promised that she would live.

Alice... I'm sorry I ever doubted you. You're my friend, nothing less, and I know in my heart that you could never hurt me. As sure as the sun rises, as sure as it sets... you would have never betrayed me.

But why...

I roll over in the dark, my delirious mind breaking down as tears and wet sobs rip from my throat.

Why did I have to realize that after it's too late?!

I clutch a pillow tightly as I cry, holding onto it for dear life. And maybe it's just my imagination... but I feel it hug me back, warm and soft.

-----

When I wake up the next morning, there was no large pillow that I could have been curled up into. The side of the bed next to me is warm; at least, I think it is. But I can't see anyone there, and my fever makes the entire world burn.

Maybe that was just my imagination.

-----

"There you are! Oh, god-"

Two days later, I'm sitting up in bed, feeling good enough to eat. I look up from my soup to see the door open, and two very familiar older people come rushing towards me. I drop my spoon in surprise.

"Mom? Dad?"

Indeed, it's my parents, and a moment later they both tackle me in a hug that's definitely more rough than they should be giving me right now. I let out a hollow gasp as the air is knocked out of my lungs, but I quickly get over it and smile. "Hi... It's good to see you two."

I hug back, burying my face into their shoulders, and am suddenly overwhelmed with... nostalgia. Both of them pull back and start fawning over me, telling me how proud they are of me, and how worried they were before they could visit. It's bittersweet, and it takes everything I have in me to keep from bursting into tears. 

All the pain and trouble I've gone through, I did it for them. For the hope that I could free them from the path they think they're trapped on. Marrying a Kira will give us status for life, but now that I'm a Senior Magic Knight, we don't need that status. By myself, I can support them, and then...

"Oh!" My mom's eyes suddenly lit up. "Look who insisted we bring him with us!"

"Huh? Who-"

I look around her shoulder, and my blood runs cold.

"Hey."

Lawrence Kira stands there in the doorway, not even the faint ghost of a smile upon his face.

My heart starts to pound.

He's here... oh god...

"Congrats on your promotion." He walks inside, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "Looks like you got pretty hurt, though..." He comes to a stop at the foot of my bed, and I resist the urge to scoot back further. My grip on my mother's hand tightens slightly. "How long are you going to keep this up?"

Uh oh. I open my mouth, not sure what to say. He better not use this time to confront me... he's evil. I look over at my parents, who also start to look worried. In front of them, too! He knows that if he pressures me here, my parents will join them. They're looking forward to the wedding, and they don't want me to get hurt again... I start to panic. SHIT!

Finally, I manage to cobble together a response. Play dumb! "Um... well, they should let me out of bed tomorrow-"

"I'm not talking about that-" Lawrence snaps. "I'm talking about you playing Magic Knight for years and years. Face it, you're not cut out for this." He motions at my fading injuries. "You almost died, I don't want you to face something like that again before our wedding."

"He has a point, Darling," Dad pipes up innocently. "If you died... I don't know how I would go on living."

"I know, but I'm not going to die." I tighten my hold on my mother's hand again. She doesn't say anything, but I see something flicker in her eyes. I look back over at Lawrence, his stone cold grey eyes staring right into my soul. "Lawrence, I killed a General. A Diamond General. And I just got promoted. Do you think I'm weak or something?"

"Not weak..." He crosses his arms, and I see his cool exterior waver for a moment. "But you're not strong enough to avoid this type of injury... you Captain knows it too." His confidence returns, and he points at my plaque. "Have you ever heard of a pity promotion? It's not unusual for a weak magic knight to receive a big promotion right after they sustain a bad injury. It's supposed to convince you to leave, because you've done enough. And that's true for you." 

I feel my heart sink. No, I've never heard of pity promotions before, but that adds up.

Am I... am I really that weak?

"I... I- er-"

"FILLER WORDS-" Lawrence snaps, shutting me up immediately. He calms himself after the momentary outburst. "Stop using filler words, remember?"

I nod, my hands shaking.

"Listen... you're not being disgraceful." Lawrence offers me a shallow smile, stepping forward. I feel my heart jolt again, like a deer cornered by a hunter. "But it's time to leave this path and become what you're meant to be..."

I... I can't... I have to... I-

"My wife-"

"No."

The word slips out, and Lawrence freezes. His eyes widen a little, somehow getting colder.

"What did you just say?"

Shit, shit, shit! My heart pounds, but it's too late to go back.

"I- I said no." I take a shuddering breath, ignoring my parents' shocked faces. "I don't want to marry you, Lawrence, and I'm not going to."

The words don't quite register for Lawrence, ricocheting around between his ears. But once they do, it's obvious. His cheeks start to redden, and his wide eyes crumple with rage.

"You... you can't just say no now! We've been engaged since I was ten!"

"Honey, what on earth are you thinking?" Both of my parents look scared. Their whole lives, they placed their entire future on this marriage, not considering any other way to protect us. But now, I've found another way.

Yes... through my own strength, I forged a path! With the help of Alice, I created a fate far different from what Lawrence tried to create for me. I won't let Alice's work go to waste! I found a life I can live with pride... and I found someone that I want to love with all my heart!

"I am a Magic Knight, Lawrence." I sit up, shaking off my parents' hands, and point accusingly at the man who's caused me so much pain over my entire life. "You are the lowest of the low. You forced me to do things I wasn't ready to do. You hurt me, and manipulated me- and I'm not going to just lay down and take it any more!"

My voice raises steadily in volume, and so does my courage. Somehow, a smile starts to grow on my lips, and I clench my fist as I say the words I've always wanted to say.

"For my family, and for my own pride, I reject you, Lawrence Kira-"

Just as I utter his name, I see something in his gaze snap.

Oh- God-

Instantly, mana caves in around him then shoots out at me. I don't have time to finish my sentence. Poisonous, thistly grey vines hit my throat, wrapping around it and blasting me backwards. My parents both scream, and I hit the wall above the bedframe with a resounding CRACK. My mouth opens with a silent scream, the thistles pricking my skin and drawing blood. My back hurts, my legs kick helplessly, and my fingers claw uselessly at the tight chords that choke the life out of me. But at the same time...

That's it Lawrence. Show the world what a monster you really are.

"YOU WENCH!" he basically gargles, still overcome with indignancy and rage. A vein starts to pop out of his temple. "Do you think I'm going to just let you leave? After all the work I put into you?! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT AN UNGRATEFUL SOW WITHOUT ME!"

The thistles tighten, and I start to taste blood too.

More... more... show me more of your hate!

Lawrence looks unhinged as he clenches his fist, controlling his magic. "So... I'm going to teach you a lesson... and then you're coming right back to the castle WITH ME-"

He's cut off suddenly. I crack open an eye to see both of my parents on their feet, hands and Grimoires up. Both are already forming magic in their hands, Eye magic and Memory Magic, and both are targeted at the prince. Lawrence's eyes widen. "What- What do you think you're doing-"

"Let go of her." My dad's voice is deadly soft. Both of them aren't freaking out, but I can hear the urge to tear into Lawrence in his words. "Now."

"I don't care if you're a prince. You don't touch her ever again." My mother's voice holds the same quiet threat.

Lawrence opens and closes his mouth a few times, and I feel his thistles weaken slightly. All I can do is hold my breath and stay still as the edges of my vision start to blur. 

yes... both of them stood up for me... Mom, dad, I promise this wasn't a mistake!

"If you defy me... your status will mean nothing. Society will ostracize you," Lawrence threatens. "Are you really going to throw everything I gave you away?"

"Status means nothing, now that we know what you really are like," my dad's voice starts to waver. "Let her go before I show you what I'm really like."

After one more tense moment, the thistles disappear. I let out a deep gasp before collapsing back down onto my bed, a trembling mess. My parents immediately retract their magic and rush to my side. "I-I'm fine-" I wheeze, sitting up with their help.

Lawrence still looks mad, but that calculated coolness in his eyes returns.

"You... you'll regret this."

Without another word, Lawrence turns dramatically and storms off, slamming the door behind him.

The nurses are called back in, fixing up the wounds on my neck. They aren't deep, but Lawrence's Thistle Magic leaves millions of microscopic wounds. It hurts like a bitch, too.

But the whole time, up until my parents leave, only one thought circles through my mind.

I did it...

I'm free.

[andinewton]

Three Times There Was Mistletoe... Gavin/MC MLQC

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing:  Gavin/MC

Genre: Absolutely fluffy

Summary: Gavin is starring on a live show on Christmas Eve, but mistletoe keeps mysteriously appearing on set.

Authors Note:  I am soooo sorry it took me so long to reread this and post, it has honestly been a shitshow of a week (more but who’s counting?)  Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait!

Over the last two months you had been compiling pieces on staying safe over the festive season, from not leaving gifts on display in your home and vehicle, to maintaining control of your senses during the many seasonal parties that seemed to invade everyone’s life for one month of the year.  Gavin had been a hit, as always, and all that remained this Christmas Eve was to film the live closing segment with the host.  The final show would end with the set looking like a cosy living room, the lighting warm and inviting, the tree sparkling enough to brighten the lowest of moods.  Both Gavin and the host were wearing suits, adding to the festive atmosphere, and more than one of the staff had mentioned they would gladly find Loveland’s finest officer wearing nothing but a gift bow under their tree the next morning.  And you were no exception.

You and Gavin were close friends, but that was all it was, much to your disappointment.  You knew that you would rather have this than nothing with him, but how much you liked him was really becoming a bit of a hindrance.  You sighed as they carried out a lighting check on Gavin and the host, standing side by side, having already checked it while sitting in the overstuffed chairs either side of the tree, when an elbow landed on your shoulder so suddenly it was enough to make you jump.

‘Doesn’t he look handsome, boss?’  Minor asked, tilting his head to one side as he regarded Gavin.

‘He always looks handsome.’  You replied automatically, before straightening yourself and clearing your throat.  ‘But he hates dressing up.  I hope he relaxes somewhat before go time.’

‘He’ll be fine.’  Minor waved his hand dismissively.  ‘But it looks like they need you.’  He indicated to where Kiki was waving at you from beside Gavin while holding his cuff.

‘No rest and all that.’  You smiled at Minor before stepping onto the set.  ‘What’s up, Kiki?’

‘Does this cuff look marked to you?’  She asked, pulling Gavin’s arm towards your face.

‘I can’t see anything.’  You replied.  ‘Are you sure?’

‘Maybe take a closer look, with more direct light.  When he moves a certain way it’s like there’s a stain.’

‘Okay, let me see.  Do you mind, Gavin?’

He cleared his throat as you rested the side of his hand in your palm and moved your face closer.  ‘Not at all.’

‘I think it might be part of the material.’  You murmured thoughtfully.  ‘Let’s go take a closer look.’  A nearby table held a small spotlight and you directed it downwards to help you look.  ‘It seems okay, must just be a trick of the light.’

‘Hey, boss?’  You looked up at the sound of Minor’s voice questioningly, finding him pointing upwards.  You frowned and looked up, finding a sprig of mistletoe hung from one of the rigs.

‘Oh!’  You exclaimed, eyes going wide as your cheeks flushed pink.

‘What is…oh.’  Gavin echoed your sentiment as he followed your gaze.

‘It’s just a bit of traditional fun.’  Anna remarked as she passed you.

‘We don’t have time for traditional fun.’  You called after her.  ‘We’re live on air in three hours!’

‘Can you rain-check mistletoe?’  Kiki asked Minor loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘No time!’  You yelled, releasing Gavin’s hand and hoping he couldn’t see how red your face was.  ‘The sleeve is fine!  Places everyone, let’s run it one more time!’

The cast and crew had one last break before air time and you took advantage by finding a quiet corner to sit in.  It had been full on all month and you were looking forward to a few days break, but the day wasn’t over yet.  After filming was finished and everything closed down the whole crew were going out for drinks, as you would be finished earlier than a normal work day.  It was the final thing you had to do before you could go home and climb into your pyjamas.

‘Are you hiding?’

You glanced up to see Gavin offering you a cup of coffee, which you took with a grateful smile.  ‘Not hiding, more stealing a few minutes to mentally regroup.’

‘May I?’  He pointed beside you and you budged a little to allow him space on top of the equipment box.  ‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘Thank me?’  You frowned.  ‘For what?’

‘For convincing me to do this.’  He waved his hand at the studio in general.  ‘It���s been more rewarding than I thought it would.’

‘Not all TV people are shallow and vapid.’  You smiled and his eyebrows quickly knitted together.

‘I didn’t think that about you for a second.’

‘No, but as a group it’s easy to see why it would seem that way.’  You blew across the top of your coffee.  ‘And if we’re in a thankful place, then I want to give them to you.  You’ve really helped us, and me, out and I’m so grateful.’

‘Call it even?’  He smiled slightly.

‘Deal.’  You nodded.

‘Hey, Gavin!’  You both turned to see Minor eating a sandwich some distance away.  ‘I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose.’  He looked up above you which drew both of your eyes, yet again, to a sprig of mistletoe.

‘Get out of here!’  Gavin yelled at him, and he left, laughing to himself as the tips of Gavin’s ears turned bright red.  ‘He can be so annoying.’  He muttered apologetically.

‘He knows his stuff though.’  You shrugged, casting a glance at your watch.  ‘I have to get back to it, but thanks for the coffee.’

‘No problem.’  He replied, sighing as he watched you walked away.

‘And we’re out!  That’s a wrap!’

Cheers went up as the director confirmed you were off air and a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders.  Once everything was finished here you were officially done!  You joined everyone in the self-congratulations and began overseeing the packing up.

Gavin quickly removed his tie and stuffed it in his pocket, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt with relief.  He hated how restrictive they were.  His eyes automatically sought you out, finding you helping the assistant director, and knew you would be busy for a while yet.  Should he say goodbye?  Wait until you were finished?  He decided to wait.  It was fairly dark already and he wanted to be sure you had a safe way home.

‘Good work out there, Gavin.’  Minor remarked as he approached him.

‘Thanks.’  He replied, finally tearing his eyes from you.

‘Do you have plans after this?’

Gavin narrowed his eyes.  ‘Why?  What did you have in mind?’

‘Not much.’  Minor shrugged.  ‘We’re all going out for holiday drinks, celebrating the end of work.  You should come.’

‘I don’t know.’  Gavin shifted his feet.  ‘I’ll have to see.’

‘She’s gonna be there.’  Minor nodded towards you, just marginally, but Gavin knew who he meant.  ‘You should escort her.’

‘Me?  I mean, I can go with you, but I don’t think she needs an escort.’

‘It’s not if she needs one, but that she might want one.’  Minor leant in conspiratorially.  ‘Up to you, though.’  He shrugged again and walked away, pretty sure he had Gavin convinced.

Gavin stood and thought for a moment, watching you laugh at something the assistant director said.  No.  He would go along, even if it was just to keep an eye on you.

Finally!  You thought as you looked at the now empty space.  It hadn’t taken too long and now you just had to dismiss the crew.

‘That’s it, everyone!  Meet at the bar, first round is on me!’  Another cheer went up and everyone began filing out as you flicked off the lights, which was when you realised Gavin was standing on his own to one side, leaning on the wall with his arms folded.  ‘Hey, I didn’t realise you were still here.’  You smiled as you headed over to him, around the chattering crowd as they left.

‘I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.’  He straightened his stance and unfolded his arms, wanting to be more approachable, not that that had ever stopped you before.

‘I’m glad.’  You smiled up at him.  ‘Do you want to come with us?’  You asked hesitantly.

‘I’d like that.  If I’m not intruding.’

‘You’re more than welcome.’  You held your hands behind your back for the sake of something to do with them.  ‘Everyone deserves tonight though, they’ve worked so hard, and that includes you.  This show wouldn’t be the success it has been without Officer Gavin.’

Gavin’s cheeks heated up at your praise but he cleared his throat and tried to shake it off.  ‘Are you really buying everyone a drink?  Because there’s a lot of people.’

‘They’re worth it.  I want them to know how grateful I am to have them on board.’

‘They’re grateful to you too.’  He replied as you edged forward behind everyone else.

‘Hey, Gavin!’  Minor yelled from near the door, and you both looked over.  ‘Don’t forget, as you leave!’  Minor tapped a sprig of mistletoe now hanging over the doorway that hadn’t been there before.

Your eyes went wide as you looked down and tried to hide your embarrassment, Gavin rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he found the wall very interesting all of a sudden.

‘He’s doing this on purpose.’  Gavin muttered to himself, vowing to take down the mistletoe just as soon as he reached it.  He and Minor would be having words later, that was for sure.  He looked around to explain, but you were no longer there, having disappeared into the darkness while he wasn’t looking.

You got to the bar a little after everyone else, having busied yourself with absolutely nothing, but needing a little space and time to calm your heavily beating heart and your confused head.  You and Gavin had been dancing around one another’s feelings for some time and he showed no sign of making a move.  Maybe it was all in your imagination, you thought there was something more between you other than attending the same school and running into danger, but now you were uncertain.  Sure, Minor, and half of your staff, had made it clear that they thought all you both needed was a little push, but these mistletoe incidents might have been more of a shove.  You would rather have Gavin as a friend than nothing at all and, at this rate, they would alienate him from you entirely.  You straightened your hair, hoping it looked alright, before opening the door, a wall of sound and light hitting you hard as you plastered a smile on your face.

‘We thought you got lost.’  Anna remarked as she passed you a glass of wine.

‘I thought about it.’  You replied as she clinked her glass against yours.

‘Oh no, no backing out.  Just talk to him.  He’s only here because you said you would be, and he’s nursing a glass of coke at the end of the bar like he’s been stood up by his best girl.’  She nodded in Gavin’s direction, just in case you hadn’t noticed him, sitting with one elbow on the bar, his chin on his hand.

‘It’s not like that.’  You rolled your eyes as you made your way across the room towards Gavin, wanting to let him know you were here.

‘Sure it’s not.’  Anna muttered.

‘Hey.’  You said just loud enough to be heard over the raucous sounds of your staff enjoying themselves.

Gavin turned on the stool to face you, smiling softly.  He had known you were here but didn’t know if you had been scared off by the antics of your coworkers.  He didn’t want you scared off, truth be told he wanted to be closer, he just had to be brave enough to take the next step.  He had never considered himself a coward until you came back into his life.  ‘All okay?’

‘Yeah, I just had to…uh…check all the doors were locked at the studio.’

‘And were they?’

‘Yep, all ship shape and secure!’  You exclaimed brightly.  Ship shape?!  You had never used that phrase before in your life!  Why did you lose your cool so easily when you were around him?  Okay, that was rhetorical, you knew precisely why.

‘Good.’  He laughed.  ‘And you’ve got a drink already.’

You nodded.  ‘Anna got me as soon as I came through the door.  So, cheers.’

‘Cheers.’  He raised his glass to yours and you each took a drink.

An awkward not-quite silence fell over you both as you tried to think of something to say, anything…well, okay, not something awkward but something.  Thankfully, Gavin thought of something, and it wasn’t something you would have thought of in a million years.

‘You want to dance?’

You blinked twice before you processed the question, unsure if you had heard him properly, before rapidly blurting a reply to his hopeful expression.  ‘Yes!  Sure!  I’d like that!’

‘Great.’  He got off the stool as you cringed at your overenthusiastic answer.  He didn’t seem to notice however, and took your hand, leading you carefully through your exuberant coworkers who had created a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room by moving some tables aside.  He turned and took both of your hands, resting them on his shoulders before placing his own on your waist.  ‘Is this okay?’  He asked, and all you could do was nod.  ‘Good.’

He started you moving slowly, still in time with the beat yet far too slow for the tempo, but it worked.  You danced in silence for two full songs, neither of you seeming to know what to say, as though you were caught in some sort of spell that neither of you wanted to break.  The nearness, the heat from your bodies, your hearts fluttering at the heady combination.

‘Heeeeeeey, Gaaavviiiiinnn!!!!’  You both stopped and looked to the sound of the voice, one rosey cheeked and obviously drunk Minor, standing on a table and waving his half empty glass around.

Gavin cleared his throat and fixed Minor with a glare that would normally have had him squirming and apologising, but not with the amount of liquid courage he had so far imbibed.  ‘What, Minor?’

‘You wasted all those mistletoes!  Why didn’t you kiss her?’

Suddenly you were aware of every eye in the bar on you.  It wasn’t quite silent with the background music, but enough to make a difference.  Now you were blushing for an entirely different reason.  You took your hands from Gavin and took a step back as you looked at your feet.  You had wondered as much yourself, but it wasn’t something you would consider forcing Gavin into doing for the sake of tradition if it really made him uncomfortable.

You saw Gavin take a breath in your peripheral vision, you assumed to yell at Minor to mind his own damned business, but his reply had your head shoot up to stare at him.  ‘I don’t need mistletoe to kiss the woman I love.’

Before you could open your mouth to ask what Gavin meant, his hand caressed your cheek and tilted your face up to his.  You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to, the gentle look in Gavin’s eyes as his lips approached yours drew you in, and before you knew it your eyes drifted closed expectantly.  The kiss was tender and gentle, nothing more than a simple press of lips, but it went on for more heartbeats than you could count.  Your pulse pounded loudly in your ears, blotting out everything around you.  You had never realised that such a small gesture could fill your every sense, but here you were, completely under the spell that Gavin’s lips had cast upon you.

Gavin finally parted from you, brushing your scorched cheek with his knuckles, his eyes studying you carefully, which was when the sound around you came rushing back in.  Whoops and cheers, led by Minor, of course, but it felt like every patron was suddenly invested in the scene before them.

You dropped your head in embarrassment once more, but this time Gavin wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to him protectively.  ‘You want to go somewhere quieter we can talk?’

You nodded and Gavin began to lead you towards the exit, while Minor continued to heckle, but not for long.  Just as Gavin opened the door a freak wind blew through, knocking Minor’s legs out from under him and sending him tumbling to the floor inelegantly.

The last thing you heard as you left was Minor’s laughing reply.

‘Worth it!’

[lukin08]

Beautiful

For Kristanna Smut week 2020 Day 4

Prompt: Worship at the alter

One shot, Modern AU

Rating: M

Words: 2840

A loud tap-tap echoed off the door.  Kristoff leapt towards it, pausing before reaching for the doorknob.  He didn’t want her to think he had been staring at the door waiting for her to come for the last thirty minutes, even if that was exactly what he had been doing.  Something was off in her voice when she called to see if he was home and ask if she could come over early.  

He took a calming breath and opened the door.  Anna blew in and stomped right past him, peeling off her gloves, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“Kristoff!  You have no idea what-”

His hand caught her arm and pulled her to him.  Anna’s little startled “oh” was cut off in a puff of breath against Kristoff’s lips right before he kissed her softly.  Snowflakes melted when he brushed his hand over her hair and moved to cup her jaw.  He could feel the tension in her start to ease as she leaned her body into him.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Kristoff whispered.

Anna pushed away from his chest, turning her face away from him.  “Stop,” she said feigning embarrassment.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.  I want to.”

She looked up at him with startled blue eyes.  That’s when he noticed they were bloodshot. Kristoff ran a finger along Anna’s cheek.  “What happened?” his voice full of concern.  

He took her hand and went to lead her to the couch, but she stayed in place, refusing to move.  When he looked back, Anna had a determined look set on her face.  She took a hurried step to Kristoff, pulling him down to her, her mouth meeting him with no warning.  The kiss wasn’t soft or sweet.  This one was feral and sharp in its intensity.

Anna broke suddenly from the kiss.  “I need you,” she practically whined.  Her hands slipped under Kristoff’s t-shirt, moving up to skate over his chest.  

His head was spinning, caught in the confusion of not knowing what was happening, but not wanting it to end.  “...what?  Anna wait.  Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“Later.”

“Anna…”

“If you want to know what you can do.  If you want to help me.  This is what I need.  Right now.”

There was no hesitation as he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom.

-----

Kristoff laid facing Anna.  The collar of his t-shirt was loose on her, exposing her collarbone to him.  He wanted to duck his head down and taste it, run his tongue along the length of her neck until he found the spot behind her ear.  She always let out the most decadent little moans when he kissed her there that aroused him to no end.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked up at Anna.  He knew she had caught him staring, lost in a thought he couldn’t stop his mind from going to.  His hand moved down to the back of Anna’s neck and he rubbed.  

“Don’t be.”

Anna had torn off his shirt as soon as they had made it to his bedroom, pulling him back for a fiery kiss as he unbuckled the belt to his jeans and kicked them off.  His hands tugged at the hem of her skirt, urging it up along her thighs. Anna was happy to rid herself of the uncomfortable work clothes she had on.  But when he helped her remove her shirt, something had changed.

The bold Anna who had pressed her body to his, the one who gave him a wicked grin when he groaned with frustration as she cupped and squeezed the all too restricted erection in his jeans had disappeared.  Her lip trembled, her confidence gone as the reminder of whatever had happened earlier that evening took over.

They didn’t go any further after that.  They ended up in bed, Anna curled up in Kristoff’s shirt.  “It smells like you,” she said, offering a small smile when she laid down next to him and he pulled the covers over them.

Then he waited.

“But…aren’t you…you know…?”  Anna gestured under the blanket, her eyes casting downward.

Kristoff let out a low chuckle.  He couldn’t deny that the timing of this was less than ideal.  His entire body ached for her, but it could wait. “I’m okay.  But can you tell me what’s going on?”

“This is all so stupid.  I know it is.  I know better than to let these things bother me.”

Kristoff could usually listen to her talk all night.  There was something in her voice, the way she spoke to him that drove him crazy.  With other people, Anna’s voice was all bounce. ‘How ARE you?’  ‘It’s so good to SEE you!’  But with Kristoff, it was low and warm, with a sexy hesitation.  But that wasn’t what he heard now. Anna’s voice was timid and unsure.  It killed him to hear her like this.

“Being upset isn’t stupid, Anna.  What’s going on?”

She blew out a breath up to her bangs then rolled into Kristoff.  He rubbed her back as she grumbled something into his chest.  

“Babe, talk to me.”

“I should be used to this.  I mean, I guess I AM used to it.  I see it all the time...”

He’d heard some of this before.  About the sleazy sales rep in her field.  How some would come to her office, hitting on the other woman.  Not her, Anna would always emphasize, stating she wasn’t pretty enough.  Kristoff knew that wasn’t why.  She shared her last name with that of the company.  There was a reason they steered clear of her.  He was thankful for that, but it made his blood boil nonetheless.

Anna told him how she and her boss met one of their sales reps and a client downtown for an early dinner. “You know that one bar down on Rush where the celebrities and athletes go trying to be seen…“  

They were sitting at the bar waiting for a table when the client spotted a well known basketball player sitting in a reserved area across from them.  The client and rep started making comments about the several women seated around the player. She tolerated it for a long time until she couldn’t take it anymore.  

“... and you know what that asshole said after I told him I didn’t feel the conversation was appropriate?”  Anna paused, a bright red blush spreading across her cheeks.  It was the first time Kristoff ever heard her swear and damn did she save it for the right time.

“He told me if I found some more flattering clothes, did my hair, prettied up my face a little more and hid all my freckles that I could sit over there too!  Can you believe the nerve!”

She was a ball of nerves, her hands fidgeting under the blanket.  Kristoff slipped his hand over hers and she grasped it tightly.  He wound his other hand through her hair, hoping it would calm her down some.  He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and keep the surge of needing to protect her at bay.  He was well aware that Anna could take care of herself in situations like this, but it didn’t stop the need to keep her safe from bubbling up deep inside him.

“Please tell me he didn’t get away with that.”

Anna shook her head.  “My boss heard it all.  Cut the rep off on the spot and canceled dinner.  He made sure I got back to my car and I came straight here.  He said he’s going to handle it on Monday.  I think they're going to fire the rep.”

“Good,” Kristoff answered tersely.

“It’s going to be my fault.”

Kristoff’s hand moved down to the back of Anna’s neck and he rubbed.  “Let go of the fucking guilt.  Whatever happens, he deserves it.”

“Not like he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.  They never do.”

Kristoff’s breath became more rapid, his fingers rougher against her neck.  With all of Anna’s outwardly confidence, there was still the underlying self doubt that would rear up.  Living in the shadow of her sister, always second best took its toll over the years.  As much as he hated it, Kristoff understood why it was there from the stories she told him.  

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss into her hair.  “You’re beautiful.  Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“I told you before you don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me like that.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Anna lifted her head, pushing herself up on her elbow. Hair waved over her shoulder, wild. Her eyes were bottomless, her lips winter-chapped and swollen from their earlier kisses. Kristoff had meant what he said: she was beautiful to him.

She walked her fingers across the sheets and then up his arm.  “If you’re trying to get me back in the mood, you don’t have to worry about that.  I’m feeling better now.  It all worked out.  Just had to get it off my chest.”

“Are you sure?”

Her mouth meeting his was her answer, teeth biting at his lower lip.  They stayed like this for a long time, hands softly exploring each other.  A finger trailed down Kristoff’s arm and over his chest.  Anna rested her palm over his heart.

“You’re heart’s beating faster,” she whispered.

“You do that to me.”

“Uh-uh.”  Anna’s voice was light as she teased him, but under it, she sounded unsure.  “I’m not that kind of girl.”

She rolled away and onto her back.  Kristoff followed, moving to hover just above her.  He dipped his head down to kiss her again.  “Oh, you are.”

“Come on.”  Anna let out a small, anxious laugh.

“Why does it make you nervous to get a compliment?”  Kristoff lips trailed over her until he found her collarbone, kissing the delicate skin.

“Because...” Anna gasped, the sound sweet against Kristoff’s ears.  “That’s not who I am.  Nobody sees me like that.”

Kristoff wretched his head up and stared at her.  She was breathing hard, her hair fanned out behind her on the pillow.  He wanted her like this all the time.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

Anna’s breath whooshed out.  “Me?”  Her voice was small.

“You drive me crazy.  I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”  Anna shuddered under his gaze.  “Are you still sure you want to do this?”

Anna nodded.

“Then I would like to do it my way tonight, if that is okay with you.”

She nodded again.  “Yes.”

“And you’ll tell me if you want to stop?”

“Yes, but only if you tell me more.”

He bent lower, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.  “When I’m near you, I’m so hard it hurts.”

“Like earlier?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you hurting now?” Anna whispered.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Anna’s hand darted to Kristoff’s crotch, cupping his erection.  He swore under his breath when her hand dipped in between the waistband of his underwear, pushing them off and gripping his length.  Kristoff’s breathing was labored, rough and intent.  He was already so close, but this was not how he wanted the night to go.  Swiftly, he grabbed her and pinned Anna’s wrist to the pillow.

“Baby, I said my way.”

Kristoff waited for Anna to nod again before his fingers left her wrist.  He caressed her under her shirt, running up along her side. He cupped the swell of her breast and pinched her nipple to hear her gasp. She cried out when he sucked hard on her neck. He wanted to bury himself in her and show her exactly what she did to him.

Getting her out of her shirt took seconds. Spread out below Kristoff on the bed, she was soft, hot, solid. Her hair was the color of fire, scattered over the freckled lines of her shoulder.  His eyes scanned down the expanse of her soft curves, settling at the juncture between her legs where he wanted to sink into and never leave.

“Perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss her again.  Anna arched toward Kristoff as his lips moved down her skin.

“Amazing.”

His mouth captured her breast.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

Anna’s head jerked up and their eyes caught. Her cheeks were red. “Don’t.”

“What do you mean, don’t?”

“Don’t say that when it’s not true.  I’m not beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I...” her eyes darted away and back. “I trust you to tell me the truth. “I know you love me.  I do.  And I love you.  It's okay for you not to say that.  I just want you to be honest with me.  Any compliments I’ve gotten before… I know there was always a motive behind them.  I knew not to believe them.”

Kristoff stared up at her.  “I’m not those people.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? If I say you’re beautiful, it’s because you are.”  

Anna sucked in a breath, searching Kristoff’s face. There was so much wanting in her arched brows, her parted lips. He pinched the peak of her nipple, aiming for her sweet spot between pleasure and pain.  “Understood?” Squeezing her eyes shut, she dipped her head. “Say it. Say, ‘Yes, Kristoff, I believe you. I’m beautiful.’”

“Jesus,” she groaned. “No.”

He slapped the inside of her thigh, just enough for her to feel the sting. She jumped. Her eyes went unfocused, and her lips twitched in the little smile that always gave her away. 

“I’m waiting.”

“I can’t say that.”  

“Why?”

I just can’t. You don’t understand.”

Kristoff moved to Anna’s side, his fingers running up her thigh until he squeezed the crease between her hips and leg.  “Legs apart, baby. Remember it's my way.”

A shiver ran over her. She bit her lip and slowly opened her thighs.

“More,” he ordered.

Keeping her eyes on Kristoff’s, Anna took a deep breath. “Kris…” his name slipped from her mouth, halfway between a snarl and a plea.  Very lightly, he ran one finger over her folds.  

“So beautiful.” He stroked her, continuing to tease her. “So fucking wet and waiting.”

She whimpered then let out a thready breath. “Oh—” Anna thrust upward, her inhibitions fading as Kristoff pushed her arousal higher.  He worked a second finger into her tightness, wanting to overwhelm her. He lowered head to her, aching to fuck her out of her mind.  But he would wait.

“Gorgeous,” Kristoff whispered into her ear before kissing down her jaw to capture her mouth.  

Anna’s whimpers filled the air. Her thighs were spread wantonly, her most private places exposed to him. “Kristoff, please.”

“I know this is hard for you.” Kristoff’s breath tickled her skin as he spoke between his kisses.

“You don’t get it. I’m not supposed to think about myself.  I was always-”

Her words were cut off with his mouth.  Kristoff shifted again to move above her.  “I don’t give a fuck”, he hissed, “about what you were told or what was expected or what you were supposed to think.”

He pushed back on his knees and gripped her hips, pulling her abruptly towards him.  Anna gasped, her body bucking to meet his.  His hand found her again.  She was quivering against him, her thighs shaking uncontrollably.

“Please, I need you,” she moaned.

Kristoff pushed his face next to hers and her hands clasped the back of his head.  Heat rose from her skin.

“Now, are you ready to tell me the truth?”

She panted, her breath coming rapidly. “Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“Yes, Kris.” Her eyes were two dark wells, beckoning him to drown. “I believe you. I’m beautiful.”

“Say it again.” He spread her open.

“I’m beautiful.”

Anna clutched the sheets as Kristoff knelt over her, eagerness written all over her face.  He dove in one long thrust.  She let out a cry, her arms and legs winding around him.  Kristoff took her slowly, savoring her. Her eyes closed as he whispered more compliments into her neck, pulling up her hips to go deeper. She was so responsive. So hungry for his love that he would give her freely until his last breath.  

“Don’t stop.”  Anna's eyes were glassy with lust — she was glowing. “It’s so much, it feels so— Oh God.”  Her back bowed sharply, her mouth opening in a soundless gasp as she was sent over the edge.

“Beautiful,” Kristoff panted. “The most beautiful girl.”

His orgasm crested right after.  He squeezed her hips as he came, her breathy little moans driving him over the edge.

They stayed twined together for a long time.  When Anna scooted close, Kristoff pulled her head down to his shoulder to let her snuggle into him.  She stroked his chest, her touch gentle and intimate.  

“Get some rest,” Kristoff murmured into Anna’s hair right before sleep enveloped them both.

The next morning the sun’s first rays woke Kristoff.  He stretched out in the bed, turning and pulling Anna into the circle of his arms.  His fingers traced up and down her arm, enjoying the stillness of the new day.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

Anna lifted her head.  This time when she looked at him, there was no hesitation or protest.  Her smile was as bright as the sun itself.

“Morning.”

[too-many-baes]

Who Needs Prom

Pairing: fem!reader x Peter Maximoff

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary/Request: Work colleagues and mutual crushes at X Mansion, Peter and you both manage to skip out of chaperoning for prom. You get to talking and discover Peter never went to prom, so you do your best to make it up to him. - by @evanpeters-petermaximoff

A/N: Once again big thanks to my darling for sending me another BOMB request. This was just such a cute request and I swear I had just like the goofiest grin on my face the whole time I was writing it. I don’t think I’m the best at writing dialogue, so sorry this one is pretty much just that P.S. Sorry it took me a gazillion years to get it up. Hope y’all enjoy!

The room is quiet, the halls empty. The only sound filling the room is you rustling around in the pantry, scavenging what you can while no one’s around to catch you in the act. You smile at your find, a box of chocolate covered Oreos, tucking them under your arm as you continue your search.

A little part of you wishes that X Mansion could be like this more often, quiet and serene to match the buildings grand exterior. You shake your head slightly at yourself, knowing that you don’t really wish that at all. You love the usually loud halls, the roaring voices and constant murmur reminding you that you’re privileged enough to work somewhere that provides a safe place where mutant teens feel free and happy.

In a regular school the mutants would be the solemn and removed ones, too scared of causing a scene or being discovered to do anything but keep their heads down. Not here. Here those same kids laugh, a laughter free of care and worry. Being a teacher at such a place fills you with immeasurable pride, knowing you’re making a positive impact on their lives.

Goodies carefully nestled under your arm and feeling triumphant you head down the hallway to your room. You’d barely sat down on your bed and opened the box when a loud gust of air immediately followed by rapid knocks at your door signifies the arrival of your favourite co-worker.

“Hello Peter” you greet in synchronisation with you opening the door, the silver haired boy leaning against the bannister opposite your room.

“That’s not fair, how’d you guess?” He says as he enters your room and plonks himself in the dead centre of your bed, brushing past you and increasing your heart rate unknowingly in the process. No matter how many times Peter has come into your room, the sight of him on your bed always makes you feel like a school girl with her first crush. Absolutely ridiculous, you’d scolded yourself more times than you can count, you’re a teacher, he’s a teacher. You’re too old for sillly crushes.

“What is this?” Peter asks with a gasp, holding up the open but uneaten box of Oreos accusatorily. “A whole box and you weren’t even going to share.” You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to swiftly grab several chocolate coated biscuits from within.

“Hey!” You rush to your bedside, leaning to grab your prized box as he holds it out of reach, “I found those fair and square!” Try as you might you can’t reach the cookies, Peter having longer limbs than you.

“Oh doesn’t feel nice when someone doesn’t share does it?” He asks teasingly. Throwing your hands up in defeat you sit on your mattress directly beside him, resting your back on the wall behind. His amusement ending with your defeat, he reluctantly places the now half finished box between the both of you.

Neither of you speak as you enjoy your chocolate treat and the increased beating of your heart. You’d have assumed your veins would be accustomed to Peter’s presence by now, but every time their increasing speed of moving blood around your body proves you wrong.

If you’d known each other when you were teenagers you’re sure things would have already played out differently, when you were more flirty and confident, unafraid to make a move and make your intentions known. Things are different now, you’re older and less inclined to take frivolous risks. In favour of keeping the work place as free from awkward encounters as possible you had chosen not to act on your school girl crush for now. No matter how much you wanted to.

“So”, you begin after you’d helped demolish the box, “what’d you do to weasel your way out of chaperoning?” As you spoke the entire student body were at the large hall that had been hired to host prom. This was the first year you and Peter were working together that one was held. Having been made to attend the previous ones, you wondered how he managed to evade attending his very first one.

“You really think Professor X would trust me at a glorified party without joining in?” He queries with a quirked brow, eliciting a laugh in agreeance from you. “What about you? Would’ve thought prom would’ve been your thing.” You tilt your head and furrow your brows in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question light-heartedly, earning a disbelieving look from him.

“Oh c’mon, a girl like you? I’m sure you were prom queen five years running.” You let out a hearty laugh while you try to disguise the blush that crept its way on your cheeks with his words.

“You couldn’t be more wrong actually,” you disagree, “I was pretty forgettable in high school.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Just like the blush that had almost dissipated came flooding back brighter than before at his kind words and eyes that rested on your face.

“Okay then Mr. Class Clown”, you change the subject to bring some normalcy to your features, “what were you doing at prom? Spiking the punch bowl I bet.” Oh how wrong your joke was.

“I was never even at one.” You couldn’t keep the shock off your face which made Peter laugh lightly at you.

“Not a single one?” Your shock even more evident in your voice than it is on your face. He shakes his head, a smile at your surprise still present. “Why not?”

“I don’t know really. I didn’t get on with a lot of the kids at school and I guess I didn’t think it was important”, ending his sentence with a dismissive shrug.

“Do you regret it?” He thought on your question for a minute before answering.

“Yea… I think I do.” While you weren’t the prom queen Peter had predicted, you had always gone with a group of your friends. The photos and memories you have of those nights you cherish, the fact Peter couldn’t share in that saddened you for him indescribably. You’re sure he would have loved it. Laughing, clowning around, slow dancing… Slow dancing. That gave you an idea. You perk up instantly, tucking your feet excitedly under your body as you turn to face him.

“Peter, where’s your Walkman?” He seems confused, but like a puppy with other puppies he latches on to your excitement.

“In my room.” He ends with an upwards inflection as if it was a question.

“Go grab it.” Your hair flies around your face as you blink, seeing a seemingly unmoved Peter, but now his portable cassette player was firmly in hand. This time you all but leap from the bed, grasping Peter’s free hand in your own as you tug him out of your room.

“Where are we going?” He struggles to get his sentence out amidst his excited laughter.

“To the lake now c’mon.” You tug his hand even tighter with your last word. Unexpectedly he yanks back, briefly making you collide with his chest, effectively stilling your movement.

“I know how we can get there quicker.” You remind yourself to breathe as he quickly and firmly wraps his arms around your middle. “Hold on tight”, he speaks in your hair. You’re pretty sure you know what’s coming so you close your eyes as a precaution. One minute you were in the halls in the X-Mansion, the next you’re at the aforementioned lake separating yourself from Peter and gasping for air. Your empty lungs, while still to do with Peter, were not merely down to his presence or words alone this time.

“Sorry, it’s a bit jarring the first few times.” Eventually you settle yourself enough that you can stand up straight once more. You finally allow yourself to take in your surroundings as Peter was already doing. The lake usually shrouded with students was completely void of anyone barring you and Peter. The water rippled occasionally in the light breeze and the moon cast its beams upon it. Looking at the picturesque view before you it was almost like being in a Van Gogh painting, although you preferred your reality that included the speedster beside you.

“Set it up to start at the next song.” You motion with your head at the Walkman. He obliges, taking only a second before a genuinely innocent smile crosses his face. He hands you the right earbud, the left already taken by him.

“Haven’t worn through these ones just yet huh?” You ask, still smiling from his previous gesture which had made you notice he was using the headphones you’d gifted him. It was his birthday not all that long ago, you’d wanted to get him something so he knew you were thinking of him but you’d struggled finding an item that fit. Eventually you’d chosen the white headphones before you now, as the packet had guaranteed the buds would stay put while exercising. Perfect for a man that never stops doing just that.

“I think they’re the best ones I’ve ever had.” The music was quiet, probably due to the fact you were both restricted to one earbud. You reach over and increase the volume a couple of notches, the melody to one of your favourite songs filling your ears. It was slow too, perfect to dance to. You start swaying, but only just so it was noticeable. Peter gazes at you, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot in time with the song. Tentatively you take one of his hands in yours, holding it out to the side.

“Usually when music’s playing people dance.” Your joking probe breaks him of his momentary trance. Clipping the Walkman to his belt his places a delicate hand upon your waist, your free one laying upon his shoulder. You both sway like awkward teens making you realise you were giving him much more of an authentic prom experience than what you had thought you could. In Peter’s soft gaze your nerves dissolve more and more with every word sung in your ear. You get the courage to release his hand in favour of wrapping your arms around his neck, him following suit and encircling your waist.

If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true

Jim Croce’s voice is melodic, it fills the moonlit air around you with a magic only the two of you could feel.

The box would be empty

Except for the memory

If you had a choice you’d stay in this moment forever, just you, Peter, the moon and his Walkman.

Of how they were answered by you

As answered by the very song you were listening to you just couldn’t, time would always slip away from you, no matter how much you wanted to cling to it in the hopes of eternalising this precious moment.

“Y/N?” He takes your unflinching eye contact as a response, and with a sudden confidence he leans in, capturing your waiting lips in a chaste kiss.

But there never seems to be enough time

To do the things you want to do

Once you find them

You thought Peter was done stealing the air from your lungs but his lips moving away from yours proves you wrong. He rests his forehead on yours, close enough that the breath he stole could dance against your face.

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go

Through time with

The final notes of the song float through your ears. When it finishes neither of you can move, almost glued to one another. Maybe it was the moon, or the music that put magic in the air. Whatever it was you never wanted it to relinquish its hold on the both of you.

“Everything in my life is fast Y/N, I have trouble slowing down”, he announces seemingly out of the blue. You reluctantly move your forehead away from his to get a better look in his eyes, gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “No matter how fast, you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

If anybody else on planet Earth had spoken those words to you you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even laughed right at them. The man in front of you was the only exception to that rule. He could make dirty words sound pretty, and he could turn cliché ones into poetry handwritten for your ears only.

The smile on your face is contagious, his lips mirroring your own while you search for the right words to say. How do you even tell him how you feel? He summed it up so perfectly that any words you could think to use seem feeble in comparison.

“Really?” is the only word that manages to make it past your teeth, leaving Peter to smile at you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I had no idea how to tell you, I’ve been too nervous.” You’re surprised at his words, you’d never have pegged Peter as one for nerves. “Apparently all I needed was prom.” Peter reaches down long enough to restart Time in a Bottle.

“Just once more” was the biggest lie told all night. That song played over and over, leaving you both in that magic moment you wanted to hold on to.

This was no prom. You had no chaperones, no curfew, no rules you had to follow. You’re both adults, making your own rules as you go. You had to silently disagree with Peter on one point though.

He didn’t need prom, neither did you. Prom paled in comparison to tonight.